Foreshadowing

I've been going through pictures that Bruce and I took while we were on our trip out west. Oh, it was such a great trip! I want to do it again. But I'd rather cram those eight days into four so I won't miss the kids so much. Or maybe even take them along next time.

It's going to take awhile to upload all the pictures onto the blog, and even then, they won't do the area justice. It's truly stunning. But very different than home, which I still think is one of the most beautiful areas God created, too.

While we were gone, we rented a Mustang convertible to drive around in. Mostly because Bruce is thinking of selling his motorcycle and getting a Mustang convertible. We thought a long test drive would help him be certain if that's what he wants to do. (Anybody in the market for a nice motorcycle?)

As we toured through three different states, we enjoyed the Sirius satellite radio the car was equipped with. Otherwise, we probably wouldn't have had any radio in some places we drove, because we were way out in the boonies.

I have always loved music and listening to the radio. But about 10 years ago, I quit listening to mainstream music and went solely to contemporary Christian music. It wasn't a conscious decision. We lived in a suburb of Dallas at the time and there was a wonderful station that I found and just stuck with.

Then when we moved back to Bruce's home town, I felt blessed to find another great Christian radio station, so it never really occurred to me to find a mainstream station.

Bruce has stuck with mainstream music. And sometimes he'll have me listen on the computer to a song that he likes. But most of the time, I haven't agreed with him. So many mainstream songs have lyrics that just rub me wrong because of my beliefs as a Christian.

We played a little game of radio shuffle while we were on our trip. And once while Bruce was having his way, I heard a song that I just loved. I thought, "I could even let the kids listen to this one." Granted, it's probably a song that my brothers would have made fun of me for listening to, like they did when Eddy Grant's "Electric Avenue" came out. (Seriously. How can you not like "Electric Avenue"? Brothers! What do they know?!)

Here's the song.



The band's music video is better, but I can't upload that here. Go to this link if you want to see it. It has tons of cool old toys in the video. It's worth seeing just for that.

So now I've programmed a mainstream station into my radio in the van. I'll hop over there if the two Christian stations I listen to are both playing commercials or something else I don't want to hear. And if I hear some of the songs that we heard on our trip, I get all warm and fuzzy.

Topic change.

I felt like I should warn you. Because Bruce says I change topics without warning when I talk. I can't see why that's a problem for him. After being married for 15 years, he should be reading my mind by now, right?

The other day, Clay brought home a flyer. The kids are always bringing home flyers for one activity or another. This one was for the local Ruritan's football homecoming. For a dance. For grades 4 through 7.

What?!

Since when do Fourth graders go to dances? I know I just turned 40 and all that, but the first dance I ever went to was a friend's birthday party when I was in Sixth grade. The first public dance I ever actually went to was when I was in the Seventh grade.

And I remember them both being awkward. Really awkward. Boys on one side of the gym, girls on the other. Slow dancing like two stiff robots standing a foot apart. (Now that I'm a parent, I'm thinking that part sounds okay.)

You know, there's a reason that most schools separate elementary kids from junior high kids. (Yes, I know. In this area, it's supposed to be called "middle school". I'm feeling rebellious so I'm going with what it was called where I lived when I was that age!)

I also know that the grade that separates them fluctuates. My school considered Sixth grade still elementary. Sixth grade is middle school... junior high... here.

Fourth grade?! That's nuts. My boy isn't even a double digit age yet!

So, you see, I was in a quandary. Because every single one of those thoughts above flew through my head in about two seconds after I read that flyer.

I didn't want Clay to go. But Bruce accuses me of being overprotective, and I agree that that's my nature, so I try to be realistic and at least consider things before I just blurt out, "No. No way. Not my baby. Not now. Please, he was just learning to crawl, like, last week!"

I spent about five minutes trying to be realistic. But it just wasn't working for me.

I spent five more minutes trying to come up with a good, valid reason I could tell Clay he couldn't go. A reason that wouldn't make him feel like a baby. Because he is growing up. And that's all nice and normal and the way things are supposed to be. I considered purposely planning something else on the date of the dance and pencilling it on the calendar really quickly. But that felt like a lie, so I didn't.

I hadn't come up with a single good reason when I called Clay into the kitchen to talk. I figured I'd wing it after a quickly mumbled, "Jesus, help me."

I held up the flyer as Clay walked in and he immediately saw it.

"Yeah, Mom, I know about the dance," he said. "I don't want to go, okay? I'm too young. Plus, I can't even dance."

I felt my jaw unclench and my belly unwind. Still, I had to play it cool.

"Well, Clay, you know, I can teach you to dance," I said without any noticeable warbling.

But he was certain. He did not want to go. I fought the urge to say, "Well, okay, if you insist, I certainly won't make you go." I didn't think I could be a good enough actress to carry that scene very well.

God blessed us with Clay. He has such a good head on his shoulders. He gets that from his daddy. And his Daddy!

After supper, with Bruce, Clay and me in the kitchen, I showed Clay how to dance.

I'm pretty sure that helped set in concrete his decision to skip the dance!

Know something else? A few days later, Clay came home with a birthday party invitation. And the party was being held the same night as the dance.

Nice touch, Lord. Thank you very much!