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by christina britt lewis today started off rough. i was all pissy to tim because i screwed something up and blamed him. 'cause you know. he was standing there. tim just listened to me bitch and then showed me how to fix the problem. all calm. i couldn't hear him though. i was deaf due to pissiness. a little bit later i was driving to today's redesign in our jeep. what i did not know until i had one is that jeep wrangler owners are a tight tribe. we pass the peace sign when we pass each other. you do not stay pissy long while passing peace to your jeepy brothers and sisters. you just don't. the music plays, the wind blows, and you start to feel all bob marley, mon.  so i was feeling less pissy when tim called. he said... hey baby, wanna see something that is going to rock your world? i said... yes. i totally do. but first, i'm sorry i was so bitchy this morning. he said... pfffft...who cares? wanna see? i said... yes. he said... look left. and there in the car to my left stopped at a red light next to me, was tim. how this man does not get mad at me, i have no idea. i'm still awful. and he just makes me laugh. today got a whole lot better after that. our redesign is one where we used what they already have and love and only bought a few new things. those are my favorite ones. but they really needed a new kitchen table and chairs and what we came up with is apartment therapy worthy. totally not what your neighbor has. can't wait to show you! BUT THEN... my dad takes cole and camden out for dinner on redesign days because my mom and i are big believers in real, homemade food and our men don't get to eat out much. my mom and i are no fun to eat out with because we are wicked frugal and we can't stop ourselves from saying "i could have made this for $3" and other annoying things. but tim has clients tonight and i was starving, so i crashed man night. i had one of those moments when i walked in the restaurant...you know when you see yourself in a store window or something, but you don't realize it's you for a split second? well, i didn't realize my family was my family for a split second. and in that split second i thought "who are those handsome men wearing my boy's t-shirts making the waitress laugh?" apples don't fall far from trees. dinner was great, but here is the thing...my parents are generous. part of why we so confidently started our lives over is because we know my parents always have our backs. they thought we were crazy and disagreed with our choices, but they believe in Jesus and practice His unconditionally loving and ridiculously generous ways. when facebook became a thing, most every person i reconnected with said "how do i get in touch with your parents? i have to thank them." and then story after story of how they helped people over the years surfaced.  my mom and dad are how we know that if you continually give, you will continually have. we are very happy that we made it on our own, but knowing you have support makes risky choices easier. that's the whole truth. our bill was under $40. my dad paid the bill with his credit card and handed the waitress $20 cash. she said "i'll get you change." dad said, "no, that's for you. for putting up with me. i know i'm a pain in the ass." or something. she laughed again and then seriously thanked him. he brushed off her gratitude while my boys explained "he ALWAYS tips like 50%. just take it. it makes him happy." or something. and in that moment i realized that while i have been feeling like the worst mother in the whole wide world, my boys have been learning Jesusy generosity. i'm losing track of how many times i was wrong today. AND THEN... cole insisted on riding in the jeep with me on the way home even though that meant he had to sit with a tool box at his feet and a steamer in his lap. he insisted because "mom, i gotta play this song for you. you're gonna love it." and as the music played,
the wind blew, and i passed peace to my tribe, i realized that what my mom always says is true... sometimes when you think you lost, you won peace... christina Comments are closed.
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