Happy New Year Everyone!
By the way, this post contains mild language, naughty kids and possibly offensive material…. proceed with caution.
DH gave me a giant cow picture that I LOVE SO MUCH!
Here’s some pictures from this year’s events and a random (true) story that has nothing to do with Christmas… just because.
This story should come with a severe warning. It is not for small children, easily offended, or sour-pusses. Only those with a hardy sense of humor are allowed to read this. 🙂
This is another one of those stories where I am not swearing, but someone else did, and a direct quote isn’t a direct quote if you change the words. Without further warnings or viewer discretion: Here ya go!
This story was recently brought back to my mind at the Sophomore House a couple weeks before Christmas. I volunteer with the high-school ministry in my church. We meet every week where we read the Bible, talk about life and have lots of fun.
We are working through Ephesians 4 and came to verse (29), “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up…”
The girls then began a conversation about swearing/ cussing. The debate was lively and interesting and thoughtful as they navigated whether saying cuss words was a sin or not. At the end of the discussion it was agreed that swearing/ cussing may or may not be a sin depending on the individual and the circumstance.
- If you know it is wrong to say it and you say it – it is sin.
- If you are a new Christian and don’t know it is wrong – it isn’t a sin.
- If you think the word in question is just another adjective or noun – it is not a sin.
What? The girls couldn’t understand how a person could not know that certain words are clearly offensive to most people. That’s how this story came back to life…
We were at the ball field. It was the beginning of summer and the season was coming to an end. My youngest son was playing baseball.
Of course we were out in the country because that’s where we live. Out here most people are good ol’ country folk who love their families, their cows and their God. Of course, some folks can be a little rough around the edges. As Christians, we love people where they are and try to look past the trivial things.
So, the little guys were playing. It was coach pitched and the kids on the team were all 6-7 years old. DH and I were in the bleachers watching the game. Our other kids were bouncing between the snack bars and the play grounds. Baseball games are fun for everyone.
It was a hot, hot day in early summer and the boys were playing hard.
No one, especially not the baseball league, wants any little, ball players to dehydrate. Therefore, the snack bar provides free drinks to all the kids in the league.
There were plenty of spectators on the bleachers and around the ball field that day: moms, dads, aunts, uncles, friends and dozens of children frolicking here and there.
One particularly sweaty player left the ball field and approached the fence line in front of the bleachers in a hurry. He was catching his breath, his cheeks were rosy and he had sweat running down the sides of his face. As he hit the fence he looked at his mom and called (loud enough for everyone in attendance to hear),
“B**ch, go get me a Gatorade.”
What the what?
Did that 7 year old just say that?
Who was he talking to?
Did he just call his Mother a B***h?
Is someone going to do something?
Am I on another planet?
Luckily, his daddy was one of the assistant coaches on the team and was standing close enough to here what the small child just said to his mother.
Dad quickly jerked his head in his son’s direction, obviously appalled by what he just heard come out of the little guy’s mouth.
Everyone on the bleachers (DH & I included) were now silently waiting to hear the reprimand that was about to spew forth from this upset father’s mouth. Boy was this kid about to get an earful. This was going to be some good ol’ country parenting. Everyone pay attention….
The dad walked over to his child. Raised his hands and said with exasperation:
When you ask your, um, … mother… to “Go get you a Gatorade.” be sure you say, “Please.”
Moral of the story…..
“B***h, go get me a Gatorade, Please.” is the correct way to ask for a Gatorade – in case you were wondering.
Did this child know that he just said a curse-word that could silence everyone on the bleachers that day? I’m gonna say, “no.”
Christmas was a blast:
- We danced.
- We drank nog flavored coffee.
- We attended Christmas recitals.
- We had BIG surprises.
- We torched the tree.
- We wore cutoff jean shorts and sandals because it was unbelievably warm.
- We wore chicken hats.
- We cooked and we ate!
Big, big fun Christmas.
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