Wow…I am SOOOO glad to be here today. You all have no idea.
No, seriously. I am SOOO thankful to still be alive after yesterday. I am holding my enemies close and my loved ones even closer – well, all except for my teenage sons – I don’t hold them so close cuz they kinda’ smell like – well, teenage BOYS – so the farther I can hold them, the better. Trust me on that.
I really thought yesterday was IT. The day I bite the big one. The end of the world as I know it. The day where my family would be gathering for my wake and having a big old party to memorialize me and drink toasts to the memory of the Drama Queen.
Why, you ask?
I wore jeans to church.
(insert big DUN-DUN-DUMMMMMM music here)
In my defense, Kansas City was hit with a record-breaking blizzard on Christmas Eve – which lasted all through Christmas Day. And although the blizzard “ended”, which just meant the 40-50 mph winds ended, the snow didn’t. It kept snowing Saturday and Sunday…piles and piles of snow. Snow as far as the eyes can see. Lots of snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. (okay, you get the picture).
The snowplows can’t keep up with it – and hence, our roads are a mess. Half of the drivers are getting stuck and then having to wait for the other half to come along and push them along on their merry, snowy way. There's a lot of sticking and pushing going on our streets here.
And so – I wore jeans to church yesterday. On the good chance that either:
1. we’d be stuck and I’d have to get out and push, or
2. someone else would be stuck, and we’d have to get out and push.
Either way, I knew there’d be pushing involved. So – being the good Girl Scout I am, I was PREPARED. I wore jeans.
I arrived at church and then held my breath - and waited for God to smote me. Lightning bolts to come through the church ceiling and strike me down. Right there in the pew. I knew it would just be a matter of time, because growing up, my wise & all-knowing mom would tell me I’d get smote if I wore jeans to church. God was a loving God and all, but He didn’t love blue jeans in church. According to my mom.
And it didn’t happen. Huh. And – for the first time I can remember in a very long time, a good majority of the people there were in blue jeans. Just like me. Apparently, we were all thinking the same thing while getting dressed for church. We were all PREPARED.
And I’m telling you – if 400 people wearing jeans in church didn’t get smote, then I guess God loves us all – whatever we wear to church. And maybe – just maybe – my Mom was wrong. (insert DUN-DUN-DUMMMM music here, too. Because if you know my Mom - you know my Mom is like, never wrong. Ever. So when she IS wrong - she deserves dramatic music. I'm just sayin'.)
And maybe – just maybe – I might just do it again. Maybe. Or maybe I won’t push my luck. You just never know.