The Ever Changing Name

I have a bag, or sack, really, hanging on a hook right next to my washer. Before we moved it was the same bag that I had hanging on the back of the laundry room door. It needed to be someplace I found myself often, somewhere easy to get to, easy to stick a note that I had jotted down on whatever I saw at the moment it happened.....something cute, that is. You see, when I had my sweet little baby boy at home all day, there would be times when he'd do something I thought was "cute". You know, that NO other baby had done before, Ever. At least that i was aware of. I had read and been told by many that this time when my kids are young will fly by, how i would be so busy, and to remember the little things because one day i will look back and realize they were the big things. So I took a paper bag with handles, wrote "cute things our kids do" with black pen on it. Hahahahahaha. I will have to snap a picture to show you. That title has been edited. It now reads "cute (and not-so-cute) things our kids have done/said". Since that day, I am chuckling, I have written "and things our kids have done that I never want to remember. Ever". I notice 2 things. One, that the 2nd change indicates that I never want to remember some of the things they do or say, yet it is a "remember bag". Ironic and funny to me. And two, how experiences change your perspective. What will the next name change be?

Overhearing

Today I overheard some things. I was downtown at an antique store. It was quite. No music playing. It was 9:02, so the store had just opened. I was without child. My oldest was at preschool for a couple hours and my younger 2 were at a play date at church for about an hour and a half. Precious time of solitude. Anyway, while I was wandering from booth to booth, lingering at some and just glancing at others, I overheard two things. Two conversations. The first was a lady talking to the store owner..."we'll, how'd we do this weekend? Ahhhh, fifty dollars. Hey, I'll take a fifty dollar day. I know other people might not like to see fifty, but that is good for me". The owner is apparently just listening because there is no response. The lady continues, "My son is in Germany....he sent me a text this morning. It said "Are you there? Meaning, are you awake." Then I looked at where the text came from, and it was Germany. Oh, thank goodness, he's made it, I thought. And then he proceeded to tell me about the bombs that had been going off 300 kilometers away from where he was. But that he was ok. I just, you know.....hate that. But I am glad he let me know where he was." The store owner, obviously a friend, too, said, "you just wish he would have left that part out, right?" "Right", she answered. That Mom did not come into the store only to check her earnings. She came in for some support. From a friend. she got a text that was both comforting and unsettling and she isn't sure how she feels, but talking about it helped her. I think. Don't you think? How often do I just listen? Not often enough. Still meandering the aisles, picking up a huge basket, turning it over, looking to see if it would have a long or short life (at my house), living amongst basket predators. Did you know that if was once in pieces and it has been put together to serve a purpose, but then enters a house where boys reside for 3.2 seconds then it will, once again, in that amount of time, be in pieces. Just because. Just a tidbit for you. Anyway, back to walking around the antique store. Why buy new, right? I am walking around a corner, and I hear "John, did you see those? Those aren't really old, they're just made to look that way". He has me interested. Yes. I should walk the other way. I did, I enter the skinny hallway to another part of the store. The two men follow. "John, does this go to more of the same store?" "Yes, just another part, looks like" "Ok. All right, then. John, I think I'm gonna use this bathroom" "Ok" I keep walking, looking for a specific booth I wanted to revisit, since i had visited with the gal that rented the booth while she was there earlier. She was adding items and situating them, so I told her I would come check it out after she was done. I found the booth. I enter it. I hear a groan through the wall, then some words I will spare. It is quiet. Then I hear the hand dryer, another set of similar words. I hear a door open, then "John?" The man who I now know goes by John says, "ya." "I just wanted to make sure you were over here." The man I have been hearing the last few minutes rounds the corner, walks past the booths down to his friend."well, look at that. You know what that is? He leans in a booth to get a closer look. He groans. More choice words. "I don't know what is going on with me. I nearly fell over in the bathroom." "Really?" John asks. "Well look at that, I haven't seen one of those in....., you know what that was used for, don't ?.......ahhhh. I don't know what just happened." John must have asked something about medicine. "No, I didn't take anything. Just a vitamin. I just don't know. I almost feel like I got a trimmer. You know? Shaky." Both men then walked on as if nothing was wrong, shopping, and their conversation was out of my range. Thank heavens, you might be thinking. Yes, I was eavesdropping. I really thought the next few minutes of our lives would change very quickly. I had a vision of performing CPR, calling 911. I felt in my pocket for my phone. Looked at the clock on the wall of the store, I know, funny right? Clock on phone.(Maybe it was because I was taken back in time in the antique store.) it was almost time to pick up the babes at the church, so I looked at the men one more time. Side by side. I thought it was ok to leave. If something terrible had happened to him in the bathroom (mini stroke, heart attack) he was going to need his friend. Now that I am writing this from the comfort of my home I am kicking myself for not mentioning what I had witnessed to at least the store clerk, so that if something happened after I left she would have a little background on the situation. I regret not. He did seem fine and he did have someone along side him. What (do you think) you would you have done? My walking around continued, I began thinking about what i had heard. How helpless she must have felt the first time her son stepped away from her side, the first time he spent the night away from home, the first time she heard the word "bye, mom" like I heard from Henry for the first time EVER on his first day at preschool. No tears. None from him, for the first time. Lots from me, for the first time. I can't imagine how she felt when she heard the words "army (or whichever branch), stationed, Germany, overseas, bombs, etc" and how "bye, mom" made her react. And while I enjoyed every minute of my hour and a half to myself, I made a purchase, got back in my messy, messy minivan with stickers all over the windows, and a smell I just can't figure out at the moment, and drove the 2 miles down the road and waited to see my boys again. And I am reminded, once again, that I have been blessed by our God, not burdened.