Apologies…

The other day my neighbor stormed over to my yard to scream at me. She was so angry! Let me set the scene. It was the end of spring and it had been a beautiful day. We had spent a lot of time working in the yard and about 8:30 that night, my son lit a small campfire and my husband, my son and I gathered around the fire making s’mores. We were talking quietly and the fire was just coals, perfect for s’mores.

All of the sudden our neighbor lady came charging over. Our backyards are where we share property lines and they have the most beautiful outdoor space. I have often looked at their beautiful outdoor space with an outdoor kitchen, beautiful furniture, a tv, a space heater, a hot tube and beautiful plants and then looked back at my own child and dog friendly backyard. I don’t think the neighbors have problems with the dog digging holes in the grass or the kids leaving yard games out and certainly she does a much better job than I do remembering to actually water her hanging baskets. But here she was screaming at us.

Apparently, the smoke from our small fire had drifted into their outdoor living area and she said she had been forced to move inside because of us. She lit into the three of us and we all just sat quietly, not engaging her and not sure who should respond. Finally, my husband simply said, “We will not add anything to our fire. We will let it die out and call it a night.” She snorted, spun on her heels and left. I looked at our little fire and it was really just coals and truthfully we had the right to have a small fire. But I also want to have positive relationships with my neighbors. We had no H.O.A. guidelines and it irritated me. Why does she get to sit on her fancy porch every night and when we start a campfire, which we don’t do often, she gets to tell us to stop? I was conflicted and upset as I went to bed that night. I went to bed praying for the situation, both that my heart softened and that we wouldn’t end up as feuding neighbors.

The next day after work, I was preparing dinner when there was a knock at the front door. There she stood. It was too late, she saw me so I had to open the door.

“Hello,” I said warmly and a little too loudly.

“I came to apologize,”she started right in. “I’m so embarrassed by my behavior. I was out of line and you have never been anything but great neighbors. So I apologize for my behavior.”

I was stunned for a moment. It was not what I had expected. She just dumped that all out.

“Well, thank you.”

“You must think I am a crazy lady and I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I’ve actually come over two other times today, but you weren’t home. I feel awful.”

This time I slowed down and looked her in the eye. “It’s all good. It’s been forgiven.” Then we proceeded to talk about her new puppy that had been keeping her up nights (and probably causing her to be grumpy with lack of sleep.)

I look at that apology and I have great respect for her. I don’t really like to apologize and when I do they are usually mumbled and short. For our neighbor to come over and not offer an excuse or not try to diminish what she did in any way was brave. I hope she left my doorstep feeling like a weight had been lifted.

Think about the weight that can be lifted when we repent to Jesus. He wants to free us from that weight of shame and embarrassment that burdens us. We can just simply talk to Jesus and tell him that our behavior was unacceptable and we need forgiveness and the weight that cripples us is instantly removed. He already knows about our sin, so repenting is just that next step in becoming more intimate with our savior. I am challenging myself to recognize when I am carrying the weight of my sins by myself and to remember to lay them at the foot of the cross. Jesus has already paid the price.

Late Night Walks…

Quarantine. Shelter in Place. Words that weren’t familiar until March of 2020. Shelter in Place was not easy for my family. Eventually, we established routines and different habits, but in the beginning it was a little dicey. Two adult children at home doing online college but it looks like kids laying around on couches, my husband trying to make sales calls, but his loud voices penetrate everyone else’s thinking and I am trying to teach six year olds in an online, engaging platform with intermittent dog barking. And the dishes. Constant dishes in the sink. So my daughter and I started our quarantine routine of late night walks.

A July late night walk – it stays lighter a lot later…

At first our late night walks started as a way to get out of the house and to vent. We would complain about the ungrateful boys. We cooked for them, we cleaned up after them and they sat and watched youtube on their tablets, loudly. The two guys in our family are more introverted than the two girls. They had been training for this moment, we had not. So we vented. We would walk from the little historical grocery store to the other end of the harbor where the historical tavern sat. We started lengthening our walk, starting further away at the city park and winding our way up and down some hills to add some more steps to the counters on our phones. As we became entrenched in this routine, a couple of things started to happen.

First, in our little town, we noticed things. We noticed things that were out of normal and we noticed the very mundane, routine things that we saw every night. We noticed the couple that routinely watched the 10:00 news in their bedroom. We wished they would buy curtains. We noticed that men congregated in one specific parking lot with free wi-fi that appeared to be enjoying online porn. We took dog treats every day from the business who left them out for our dog with every intention of one day gifting some treats back. We saw painted rocks with hopeful messages hidden throughout the bushes and fences of the downtown harbor walk and we would rehide them. We saw a couple making out in the gazebo near the Christmas store. We looked for the corgi puppy who was being potty trained. We watched our asthmatic dog bark every night at the sculpture of the fisherman near the museum. We envied the parties we heard on the boats in the harbor as people got tired of being locked up and snuck away on their boats, their drunk laughter filling the night air. We saw the police help an aging veteran in his full military uniform, find his way back to his car while giving him honor and dignity. We saw snails racing down the sidewalk after a rainstorm and we repositioned them so that the race was fair.

One of the stand out moments was the homeless lady we encountered several times early in quarantine. She was about my age, but tiny with wild, curly hair. We would pass her on the sidewalk and she would pretend to be asleep but after we passed, she would turn and watch us. So we decided to offer her some food, just a little bag of goodies. We hadn’t done this before and it was a little out of our comfort zone, but we were up for the challenge. Sarah and I put together a gallon ziploc bag of water, granola bars, an uncrustable sandwich and a couple other things that were all pre wrapped and good to go. Then, we went out hoping to see her. And we did. She popped up at the museum and Sarah called out to her. She stopped and eyed us and Sarah said, “We thought you might like some food.” With all the Covid-19 stuff we didn’t know what to do, so I laid the food on a fence and she came and took it, but she looked nervous, like an animal not wanting to get tricked. She clearly wanted to know who we were and what our agenda was. But we got her talking and… couldn’t stop her from talking. She told us about her daughters. She told us she was trying to get to Canada. She told us she had been emailing President Trump with the nuke codes and he wasn’t getting back to her. She then told us the nuke codes. She told us about her daughter being thrown off the observation deck of the Space Needle and she told us about her own sexual assaults. She told us things that were unbelievable and probably a little delusional. We stood and listened and tried to back up as she seemed to be getting upset. Clearly, there were mental health issues and probably some spiritual health issues going on. Our little bag of food was not going to help this woman much. The next night we saw her on the corner, screaming profanities and the police were called. We never saw her again.

The second thing we learned was that our walks were healthy for us. It was good for us to get out… BUT spending the walk, venting and complaining wasn’t healthy. So we changed our M.O. We started praying for people we encountered, praying for businesses that were closed down and praying for our family. We talked about recipes we could cook and about Sarah’s upcoming wedding and marriage. We talked about forgiveness because that is something I am always talking about. How do you forgive? How do you forgive someone whose behavior doesn’t change? Our walks became energizing and we came home not irritated by the candy wrappers the boys had left laying on the couch, but energized and positive. We spoke life into situations where there seemed to be none and we believed in the power of declaring truth over our community and family.

I am excited for our upcoming summer walks. I think we will see more people, more activity and more prayers answered.

Happy Anniversary…

Yesterday was Shane and my 28th wedding anniversary. How do you celebrate during a pandemic? Heck, how do you celebrate normally? We’ve had our share or anniversaries. Some have been very thought out and purposeful, including trips, shows, flowers and special dinners. And there have been ones that have been forgotten or let’s just say, “less special.”

This year we decided to sneak away with the family to Coeur d’Alene. We figured we could all use some time away from our home and that we would sneak away, just the two of us, for dinner one of the nights we were there. We had everything planned, when life happened. Shane was told he was needed at a training for work for two of the four days. We both agreed that these meetings were important for many reasons and he needed to stay home. But he felt awful.

As I got ready to go with Tom and Sarah, the dog appeared to be sick. Zelda is hyper, a little anxious, very food driven and has a stomach of steel, but she had bloodshot eyes, a sore snout and a scab on our nose. We weren’t sure what was going on. Poor puppy was even a little snappy. Shane assures us he will take care of the dog and sends us on our way with promises of updates from the vet. Off we head over the mountains looking forward to taking off our masks as we sit on the deck of our condo on Lake Coeur D’Alene. On our way there, Shane updates us about Zelda. He had to take her to three vets that day and it took almost all day, but she has an abscessed tooth…and needs surgery. They sent her home with pain meds and a surgical appointment a few days out. After looking at pictures of the sad dog, the kids and I pull into the condo check in. After our six hour drive we were looking forward to cold drinks and games on the deck. Instead, we found out that our reservation had been unintentionally cancelled. Some kind of covid mix up. There is no room in the inn. My groceries are starting to thaw. Crap.

Sarah drove and I started googling hotels. On a summer weekend. During a pandemic with 50% occupancy. And we needed a kitchen. We found a townhouse for the last two nights. Yay! A kitchen! But it was 5:00 pm and we weren’t finding a hotel for that night…until…the Pink Flamingo Motel had a room available. Cheap too! Right in historic downtown Coeur d’Alene. We drove up to the door of unit #4. Lucky us! We got the golf themed room. We also decided to sleep on our own blankets on top of the bed and bought some ice for the cooler. Meanwhile, on our anniversary, Shane calls to say he found a garage sale “deal of the century” and asks if it was ok to spend some significant money. “Sure,” I say “And so you know, I’m sleeping tonight at the Pink Flamingo” As it turns out, he’s sleeping with two dogs, one who is on pain meds.

Before we settled down for the night at the Pink Flamingo, I had a jolting thought. The drain on the cooler…is it plugged in??? If not, it will leak all over my car. Thank you Jesus! Late at night, I sneak out into the motel parking lot and find that indeed the drain on the cooler is open. In fact, it’s more than open, it’s broken off. How do I plug the hole in the cooler while crawling in the back seat of my car in the parking lot of the Pink Flamingo? Well… I got all MacGyver. Sarah and I gathered supplies and we plugged the drain using a maxi pad that we rolled the long way, shoved in the drain and covered with plastic and a pony tail holder. We also used some of Shane’s underwear that accidentally fell into the suitcase in case any water made it past our plug. Problem averted.

We woke up the next morning to hear that Zelda was feeling better, albeit a little drugged. Shane was working in the garage all day, Tom wanted to play on his computer and Sarah and I headed off to the spa. And the cooler (mostly) held through the night. We did some shopping, some eating and found our new townhome. And there was that spa day. A much better, less weird day.

And so is marriage. There are hard, difficult days when you are overwhelmed and annoyed. And you work through them, you just do the hard work. There are also days that are awesome, when you connect and when you remember why it was you got married. When you remember that God gave you to each other for a reason. But life happens and these days get all junked up on each other. By God’s grace we remember the good days just a little bit more than the other days. The anniversary that we spent apart, Shane with the sick dog, me at the Pink Flamingo motel will be remembered but there will also be other memories still to be made. Somedays, you just got to let it go and give it to God.

Defund

I love her thoughts on this….let’s discuss it, but I’m not about defunding police.

Waking up on the Wrong Side of 50

There’s been a lot of talk of defunding the police…

Much of it has come from celebrities who have state of the art security systems, panic rooms, gated entries, private security and body guards, and send their children to private school….

But I digress…

So defund the police…

I’m a little slow to think this morning…

Let me warm up with something I rarely talk about…

2001 was set up to be a banner year. I had a great job. I was getting married. I was able to go to Bora Bora which had been a lifelong dream, and I was pregnant with my first child.

And then there was that day in September.

Changed my whole outlook on life.

I remember actual fear as I walked home that day- scared of which way to walk because I had absolutely no idea what was to happen next.

The vision of…

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Bring on the ringer…

Years ago, I sat in the bleachers at a middle school gym watching the girls warm up for a basketball game. Sarah had made the local 8th grade premier team and we were about halfway through the season. The team was doing ok, with about a 500 record, but our intense coach was not satisfied, especially since some of the losses were close ones. I was sitting next to another mom, chatting about middle school and girls and all of that drama which could have kept us talking the whole game, when the coach approached to chat us up.

“Yea, I’m picking me up a ringer for this team. She’s a great player. I called her and she’s willing to help us out.” He gruffly said. Honestly as two moms, we just kind of stared back at him not knowing how he wanted us to respond, but he continued talking. “Yep, the ringer can play both ends of the court. She’s a helluva rebounder and plays great D.” We nodded and smiled and he let us know that she would be here anytime for our game. “Ringers got some other stuff going on so she’s going to be a little late, but she should make it by tip off.” He informed us.

He walked away and the other mom looked at me, “Really? Do we need to bring on a ringer? My daughter hardly plays as it is.” She sighed, “I just want her to enjoy basketball and play a little. Doesn’t sound like she will be playing much if we are bringing on a ringer.” I nodded my head in agreement. Sarah played more than her daughter did, but still I didn’t see why it was necessary to go out and recruit some ringer and let the other girls have less playing time. And goodness, is the poor girl a machine or does she have a name? Do we just call her “the ringer?”

About five minutes before tip off, she arrived. She did look confident and she did look athletic. She also looked really nice. I took my position behind the scoring books. The score book person in basketball officially records the score, who scored what and how many fouls each player has, plus some other stats and it is a job that I have always loved doing. So, I readied the score book for the game that day, writing everyone’s name down on the roster when I realized I didn’t know the ringer’s actual name.

She was right in front of me, so I called out to her. “Hey, #3…What’s your name?”

She looked over at me and smiled. “Rachel,” she replied.

“What’s your last name?” I continued.

“Ringer.”

Oh my goodness. This girl actually is a Ringer and not a “ringer.” In our listening, we had heard what we wanted to hear, or maybe what we didn’t want to hear. Ringer was just a name. I got all fired up for nothing. Embarrassing. However, she did lead us to an undefeated season the following year.

Missing my First Graders…

Teaching remotely is weird. I miss connecting with my first graders. Today is a little shout out to those funny little six year olds who kept the classroom alive. And while we have funny moments in our Zoom meetings, nothing will compare to talking to students in a classroom setting. Here’s a shout out to those moments from the first 120 days of school.

**We have a reading unit that explores pioneer life – it’s one I always enjoy teaching. One day I asked the first graders, “What would it be like to not have cars?” I thought they were going to be flush with ideas, but they were not, nothing. Finally, one little girl says, “We would have to walk so, so so far to get our Starbucks.”

**We were doing a particularly high level lesson for six year olds – they were writing about their favorite place and then rewriting their final draft into a Google Doc. If they had enough time, they could add an online picture and share the document with me. So I put one little girl’s document up on the screen. She had chosen Legoland. The picture she had chosen from a Google image said Deutschland Legoland. I commented, “Oh, looks like you found a picture of the Legoland in Germany.” I had two little boys, hush me.
“Don’t talk about Germany, “ Said the first in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Remember…Hitler??” Said the second boy.

**The fire department send in the local fire safety educator once a year. She asked my class, “What is your address?”
“It’s the place where Amazon delivers your stuff.”said a little boy.

**”Mrs Hansen?”
“Yes?”
Grace keeps saying that she’s half Jalapeno and I don’t believe her.”
“Grace, are you trying to say Filipino?”
“Yea…that’s it!”

**”Mrs. Hansen, what’s that thing about giving up something for 40 days?”
“Lent?”
“Yes! I am going to give up not brushing my teeth for Lent.”

**”Yuck! I don’t want a skeleton in my body. That’s gross.”
“Wait a minute…if we didn’t have a skeleton or bones, what would our body look like?”
“You would look like a slug or a jellyfish!”
“Right…”
“Do we need hair?”
“What do you guys think? Do we need hair?”
“Well, we saw that video about the hippo and how it had hair so it didn’t get sunburned.”
“Yea my grandpa is a baldy and he always wears hats so he doesn’t get burned.”
“I think you are right, I have gotten the part in my hair (pointing to my part) burned before. So I know hair helps me not get burned.”
“That’s not a part – that’s a bald spot.”

**“Hey friends, let’s not sniff glue sticks.”
“They kind of smell like farts…” replied one girl
“Than I think that’s another great reason not to sniff them.”

**“Can I take home my journal?”
“No, I would like that to stay at school. But you could make one or ask Mom to buy you one. They cost .79 cents at Target”
“My mom won’t buy one. She says I am a turd.”

**Going over sight words with a young girl and she stumbles on the word, “pull”
I say the word aloud to her, stretching out the sounds.
“Oh… like there are three kinds of pull. Like you pull your dog on a leash, you dance on a “pull” and you can swim in the “pull”
“OK…” I say convinced we need some more lessons on letter sounds and to find out what her mom’s occupation is

Hey Mary!! Mary!

One of my favorite Christmas memories happened when Sarah was about four. Shane and I had taken all of the kids to the living nativity at the local Baptist church. In the past, it had been a drive thru nativity, but this year they opened it up to walk through. If you were to go to it now, it has become so popular that it is wall to wall people and hard to even walk through. But back 15 or 16 years ago, it wasn’t crowded, so we had our own family tour guide. Our guide was an older man from the church, looking a little like the kids’ grandpa. He guided us through each scene carefully explaining what we were seeing. We started in the busy town of Bethlehem and traveled through to the Angel of the Lord who appeared to us and was very loud and bright and finally we made it to the stable where baby Jesus was laying with Mary and Joseph. At this point, our guide turned to us and told us about an angel appearing to Joseph telling him that Herod was out to kill baby Jesus and he needed to get out of town. Truthfully, this had not been a huge point of the nativity story that we had stressed with our children. The kids all looked at us as if to say, “You kind left out a major plot twist.” But little Sarah was upset. So she went right over as close as she could get to Mary (or the poor actress playing the part of Mary) and screamed, “Hey Mary! Mary! Mary listen to me, Mary!” Finally the actress, broke her role and acknowledged the screaming child. “Mary, listen carefully. You gotta get baby Jesus out of here!! Someone is coming to try to kill him!! Mary?! Did you hear me?” Mary quietly nodded her head at Sarah and Sarah was satisfied that Mary was going to take care of baby Jesus.

So in this Christmas season and into the new year, I am going to challenge myself to have that same zeal for Jesus. That child like excitement that is bold and can’t be shut up!

Fair Season – An Inside Look at the Dog Barn…

The Fair. It had become a tradition for Sarah and I. Each summer we would spend several days at the county fair living it up in the Dog Barn. Usually, we took Izzy our sweet, faithful corgi. But this year we included Zelda, also a Corgi, but not nearly as ready for the trials and tribulations of… the Dog Barn.
The fair begins with us showing up on a Wednesday for a long day of barn cleaning and decorating and culminates with a vet check. Then we are back to the camp grounds with two dogs and a small, hot trailer. But there is also a sense of community at the fair. Kids talk to other kids who have animals in other barns. Dog kids know each other and I think the dogs kind of even know each other. So we settled down for four days of dogs.
DAY 1: We shower at the fairgrounds, buy our early morning coffee and are in the dog barn with both dogs, ready to go by 9 am. Izzy competes in Showmanship. This is the 4H equivalent to the Westminster Dog Show. Sarah dresses up in her 4H appropriate clothes that leave no skin showing and prances with Izzy around the ring. Zelda doesn’t get to participate as you can only show one dog in this event. Sarah chose her show dog who gets a Reserve Champion ribbon. Zelda gets to stay on the bench all day, with only brief potty and dinner breaks. She is nutty. She barks constantly. We give her a Benadryl – nothing.

DAY 2: Both dogs get to compete. Izzy competes in the more advanced obedience class that includes some off-leash portions. Zelda competes in the very basic class. Izzy gets a blue ribbon, Zelda gets a white ribbon. And Zelda barks. And she whines. She watches everyone who walks in and out of the barn door. She paces. Izzy curls up and sleeps. Zelda does not. Sarah feels like the mother of the baby who won’t stop crying in the church nursery. Everyone is trying to be nice, but secretly they are really annoyed. Some of them even complain to the barn superintendent about how annoying Zelda is. Sarah calls the vet and they prescribe something that is the equivalent of doggy Prozac. It doesn’t work. We try to two Benadryl. It still doesn’t work.

DAY 3: The competition for today was what they call “Brace.” This means both dogs were chained together and go through an obedience run. Picture synchronized swimming. But no water. With dogs. Chained together. Izzy was not thrilled about being chained with Zelda. There was some snapping and growling in the ring. Izzy was annoyed at Zelda’s lack of composure and Zelda didn’t like being chained to the perfect dog. Another white ribbon was earned. Back in the barn, Sarah and I tried to sneak away for food and respite. But we were called back to the barn as Zelda had explosive diarrhea all over the dog bench and was panting hard. People were also complaining of her constant barking. We came back with essential oils from a vendor on the fairgrounds. Truthfully, those worked better than anything else that had been tried. But we finally decided enough was enough for this poor dog. Our 4H leader and the the Dog Barn superintendent got together. It was big pow wow. Dogs just don’t leave the barn in the middle of the fair. It doesn’t happen. So…they decided that Zelda could finish the day, sitting outside near the potty ring, out of public view. She would not be allowed to return the next day and Sarah would have to forfeit all her prize money. (The prize money from Zelda amounted to about .47 cents) She would also not be welcome to return the next year. This was a huge relief. I freed up Sarah to have a life and enjoy the fair. Zelda and I got two camp chairs and sat on the edge of the woods. We were near the potty ring so other dogs would come by. Zelda sat in her chair outside and I would toss her sour cream and onion potato chips. Everyone who saw her quietly sitting in her chair was thankful she finally shut up. Other dog owners came and told us all their dog troubles. Finally, another girl about Sarah’s age came and said, “Why don’t you give her some doggy weed?” What? Sarah and I were a little surprised and the girl continued. “Yea, probably ¾ of the Dog Barn is using weed.” She went through the dog barn pointing out all the dogs in the barn that were using pot to help them get through the week. It had never occurred to me that there was doping in the dog barn. I felt guilty enough giving her Benadryl. My husband came that night when the fair closed and took Zelda home. She did not have to stay for Sunday. But thoughts of a documentary on “Doping in the Dog Barn” kept flashing through my head. Maybe someday we will do that documentary, or is it a mockumentary? Maybe it’s a dogumentary…either way check out the dogs at the fair the next time you attend. Pay special attention to the dogs that don’t have the munchies, those are the dogs that are truly giving it their all.

Epilogue: Zelda did not return to the fair the next year. She stayed home with a dog sitter. But, since Sarah went to college, I have been taking Zelda to dog agility classes. She is doing incredible! And she is doing it without performance enhancing drugs.

Who Doesn’t Want to be a Flower Girl??

In first grade we spend a lot of time early in the year talking about friendship, empathy and how to deal with strong emotions. As I was teaching one of these lessons on jealousy – one of my favorite stories from my children’s younger years popped into my head. And my students loved it! They could totally relate…so this story and a Junie B Jones book about a jealous flower girl and we had a heck of a lesson on jealousy.

The story starts at my cousin’s wedding. My oldest daughter Hannah was about four or five and had already been a flower girl on two other occasions. This was not one of the those occasions. On the way to the wedding, her dad and I explained that while this is a relative’s wedding and they really love her and think she is super special, they had chosen another little girl to be the flower girl. Hannah was not taking the news well. She spent most of the car ride processing what this meant to her. I have a pretty dress? I have done it before and know what to do? Why wouldn’t they choose me?

The wedding was held in a tiny, historical church up in the mountains. We filed in and let Hannah sit on the aisle so she could get a good view. The music swelled and the bridesmaids started coming down the aisle. Then the arrival of the flower girl. She had a beautiful, full white dress with pink flower accents and long blonde hair curled to perfection. She had a beautiful basket and was very carefully throwing petals with just the right Mona Lisa smile. When…out of nowhere, Hannah jumped up and tackled the flower girl around the waist, pulling her into our pew. The flower girl looked alarmed and confused. Hannah quickly hissed something into her ear. I leaned across the two girls and forced Hannah to release her grip on the poor girl. The flower girl untangled herself from my daughter and went back to her job, albeit a little shaken.

It happened so quickly. I grabbed and Hannah and whispered, “What did you say to her?”
“I told her that I could do this job better than you can.” Awesome. Can’t wait to see the wedding video. At the reception, all was forgiven and the two girls played together for hours.

My class of first graders loved this story so much, they wanted to act it out. Poor Hannah. Jealousy is an ugly little green monster!

Fixing My Tags…

You know when you’re talking to someone and they reach over and adjust your collar or fix your tag? I have to admit…I hate that! I shouldn’t. It’s just someone who cares for me, trying to help me look my best. But for some reason, for some insecurity of mine, it bugs me. I think it feels like they are judging me or subtly letting me know, that I’m just not quite acceptable the way I am. Again, in my head, I know that’s not what friends and family members are doing when they lean in to tuck my tag back in. I do get it, but it still bothers me.

One example: I was at Burger King and I reached up at the drive through with my left hand to get my food. My wedding ring, which truthfully is a touch too big, had rolled so the diamond was not sitting directly on top of my finger, but was sideways. The young cashier at Burger King, leans out the window and says, “Oh, that just drives me crazy!” and reaches out and adjusts my wedding ring. Isn’t that a little weird?

But my worst experience, and it happened years ago, so I should let it go, was when I was very pregnant with my second child. The family had made an outing to Costco a week or two before my due date to load up on frozen meals and diapers. It was a warm spring day and I was looking pretty big in my t-shirts and maternity shorts. We were checking out and I left my husband with the cart and our toddler and went over to buy three hot dogs for our lunch. I forgot the hot dogs came with soda so I ended up trying to rest three hot dogs and three sodas on my big belly why Shane pushed our cart. We were slowly making our way through the parking lot, when I saw this woman start to head my direction. She was very well dressed, especially for a Costco outing. Her makeup and hair were flawless and she was even wearing heels. While Shane is unloading our cart and putting little Hannah in the car seat and I am balancing soda and hot dogs precariously on my belly, she says to me, “I just wanted you to know that your shorts are riding up the crack in your ass.”

I was stunned and mumbled something about “these darn maternity pants.” But seriously? Who says that to a stranger? So I promise to work on letting other people fix and correct me with loving ways – whether it be my collar or something bigger. But, not everyone needs to speak into my life. There are some people that I will choose to ignore when they offer their critique.