What shocks you?

Today I was driving in my husband's truck and I kept getting the strangest long glances from people I was passing by or next to in traffic. I kept thinking "I know this is a sweet ride, 1970 pick up with an aqua stripe down the side, but really this southern Missouri, it's been done before." As I kept driving, thinking about the starved for entertainment citizens of Joplin, I caught a glimpse of what my two front seat passengers were wearing. I was traveling with spider man in full body Spidey suit, and Cinderella complete with tiara. We looked like we were going to a Halloween party. No wonder the odd looks in August. So perhaps the most revealing question of the day for me was "When did it happen?" When did traveling with a circus become something that is so the norm that I don't even notice anymore? What else in my life have I become so accustomed to that it's shock value has worn off and I have become calloused.
Josh and I are going through a major re-evaluation time. What do we have just to have. What do we think we need because the world tells us we do. What have we become so accustomed to putting up with that we don't even notice it's offense to us, or to God? So far we have come up with Coke is in, SUV is out. Coke is in, sayin crap all the time is out. Coke is in, cell phones out? (jury is still out on that one). Can you tell I have a slight addiction. Learning how to be best friends again is in, buying lots of shoes is out. Learning how to trust God when the checkbook makes us sad needs to be in, trying to do it all ourselves is out. Living each day as a blank page for Him to fill is in, over scheduling is out.
As I glance outside the window at Spidey mowing the yard with daddy, I think some things are definitely OK to get used to and I pray that I will always be shocked by those that aren't. (As long as it's not Coke :))

94

Ninety-four didn't mean anything to me 1 week ago. It isn't the number of M&M's I just consumed (maybe close though). It isn't the number of days until Christmas (I don't think). And it isn't my waist size (unless I keep eating m&m's). It is, however, the reason I will join hundreds of other mothers and squint my eyes for two hours 3 days a week for the next 2 months. It is Carson's football number. It is an odd feeling to watch someone I know every inch of; someone I have watched, fed, loved, fed, obsessed over, and fed for eight years, throw on a jersey and a helmet and get lost in a sea of identicle football droids. I see him, I blink, I lose him. So 94 is my lifeline to my little droid. I am not allowed on the field. He doesn't need the cute red igloo I filled with ice water and wrote "Beck" on, because "Mom, the coach gives me water." For two hours his coach slips on my size 8.5 shoes and Carson's allegiance is to him. As I sit back and watch #94 follow instructions to run at high speeds into immobile objects knocking out anything in his way, I wonder "What happened to my shy little guy who still wants me to walk him into school and make sure his nightlight is on?" How quickly we can change who we are to match the company we keep. We tell our kids "Don't forget WHO your are and don't forget WHO'S you are." Do I do that? Do I remember that even though the Little Ceasar's pizza guy forgot to write down my 10 pizza order that I specifically called in 2 hours early to make sure that the unenthusiastic teenage manager had plenty of time to do his job. Do I do that Even though I took time to plan my day around a 5:30 on the dot pick up giving me just enough time to get home to the 17 people aggitated with hunger and awaiting my arrival? No one, not the manager, not the 12 trainees eagerly awaiting instruction and a"Little Ceasar's" t-shirt, not the nurse clutching her keys and a $20 in line behind me, knew that I belong to someone. I did though. I knew that Someone knows my number by heart and is squinting at me, hoping I wouldn't forget that I promised to belong to him and live my life for him (even among fast food employees who don't appreciate my schedule or timely service).
As I watch Carson run over for a drink he helps somene up and lets them in front of him in line. He gives me a thumbs up. He didn't forget today. Hope he never does. Wish I had 94 more just like him.

Shopping for football gear is a man's job

Carson is playing football. Insane amount of practices but we are going to give it a whirl. Pretty excited about everything except the part that took me to the store to buy a cup and a jock strap for an 8 year old. First try...went to the store....looked at the various sizes....laughed like I was 12, looked around grabbed the kids (who were trying on various equipment I'm sure they weren't suppose to touch) and left vowing to make Josh go back to get the job done. When the next practice day rolled around and my husband hadn't been able to "get the item", I set my jaw, made a beck train of 5 holding hands through the parking lot and hit the football aisle again. This time all eyes were (5 of them) were on the jock strap section. "Mom what's that?"..."Nothing, don't touch". "Do you wear them on your face?". "No. Look over there, water bottles!"
Finally a sales lady (LADY YEAH!!!) came to my rescue with the last youth size available and the Beck train heads for the check out with Hagen announcing, "Carson, we got your wienie protector!" I pretend like I don't hear, we check out and head to the car. I did it!!! Assuming the humiliation is over I smile as I pull out of the parking lot, pretty proud of myself. As I glance over I notice Carson in the front seat next to me, wearing the jock strap on his head using the cup like a boat on the dash board. The humiliation is never over. How long is football season?