Rip-Off

If the make-shift carnival rolls into town, DO NOT take your children, no matter how pathetically your 3-year-old begs you. If you are blinded by the bright lights that shine amidst the carny stereotypes, you will be forced to pay three (freakin') dollars per ride. If you make the mistake of buying tickets (no refunds mind you) even after you realize there are only like four other carnival-goers there, your children will not ride the roller coaster or the spinny thingy as they manuever at speeds that should be outlawed for riders under 42 inches. If your daughter refuses to ride anything, you will resort to force, threatening her to either ride the slide or not be able to play a game so she can win a prize. If you pay ten dollars for the tickets under the guise that you can use the tickets to throw darts at balloons as well, you will be disappointingly aggravated and want to grab the carny by the throat and shove the tickets down her throat. Er, I mean smile sweetly and pull the five out of your pocket so your screaming kids can shove a dart into a balloon. And if you do that, your son will win the thrill of choosing either a 1-inch stuffed heart or a black rose as his prize. If you begin to feel the carnival germs seeping into your pores after less than ten minutes, you will drag your children back to the car saying "you better be thankful you got to come at all!" If your daughter taunts your son telling him a heart is a girl prize, your son will step out of the car and throw it on the ground declaring "Hearts are stupid!" If your husband is waiting for you when you get home, be warned he will not be sympathetic to your tale but will laugh mockingly and say "I told you so."

Does this make me crazy?

I have inappropriate urges. Urges that involve pens and ankles. Exposing your ankle to me whilest I have a writing utensil in my hand could be a stumbling block for me. I will feel an insatiable desire to grafitti the empty space just below your ankle. I do it to myself constantly if I am sitting still. But, I did not realize that I felt the need to "tattoo" other people until I was sitting next to a friend during lifegroup a few weeks ago and she was barefoot. It was all I could do to keep my hand from infringing upon her space and doodling a quick cross. I was so distracted by my lusting after the blank slate before me that I couldn't concentrate on the Word. My ankle was already covered with hearts and stars. I needed to create a masterpiece, and there was the perfect canvas. I had to take my thoughts captive in order to overcome the temptation. No wonder my daughter still struggles with writing on herself, furniture, the walls, her dolls. I know how she feels. The passion for creating overcomes logic in that moment. (Our pastor coined that phrase Sunday, and it has been very applicable in my life!) Keep the ankles covered people. Well, the whole foot and the hands for that matter. or BEWARE of my idle hands!

Yeah, so Does that make me crazy?


2 Cor. 5:13
"If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God...." (Amen)