She says the stupidest things, bless her heart

Brad and I put on our fancy duds and went to a wedding last night.  We ran a youth group some ten odd years ago and one of our girls, Bethany, had graciously invited us to witness her vows of love and fidelity to Eric before God.  It was an honor and a blessing to watch as this committed couple took the first steps along Matthew 7's "narrow road."  Like so many other things in today's society, relationships have taken on a disposable quality.  Whereas once the natural end to a marriage was the inevitable death of one of its partners, the synonym for marriage today is "divorce."  Even worse...why bother to marry at all?  How courageous for a couple to pledge their loyalty, love, and lives to one another.  How humbling to know that Brad and I played a microscopically small and insignificant role in Bethany's younger years and have been afforded this amazing opportunity to see how the subsequent chapters of her story have played out.

Later, at the reception, Brad and I were delighted to have been seated at the young people's table.  Even better, we found ourselves reunited with Holly and Kristen, who had also been part of that original youth group.  Holly has been married a year to her long-time boyfriend, engineer, Phillip while Kristen is currently seeing Chris who is also an engineer.  Conversation was intelligent and lively.  "The bridesmaids' dresses are a beautiful color," someone observed which started a twenty minute argument.  "What sort of purple is that?"  "Plum," one member of our party said confidently before getting dogpiled upon.  "Plum, my rear," came one response.  "Who made you Little Jack Horner," asked another color consultant.  Then began the listing and ultimate dismissal of every shade of purple ever known to mankind.  To end the debate, I snagged a passing bridesmaid.  "The color is called sangria," she informed the table.  Shocked silence descended momentarily on our group.  We sure hadn't seen that coming.

With our colorful debate settled, we then discussed Phil and Holly's seven-toed cat until our entries arrived.  Apparently the youthful aspect of our table worked against us as management didn't trust us with knives.  Adaptable, we spread our butter with the back of our spoons but the roast beef posed an etiquette issue.  Responding to our petition, the busy waitress begrudgingly assigned our desperate group of knife-less knaves one semi-sharp serrated implement.  We shared it without complaint.

Not surprisingly, we began to reminisce a bit.  As youth group leaders, Brad and I always tried to be models of virtue.  Unfortunately, we find out, more often than not, we fell miserably short.  "Why are you throwing me under the bus here," Brad asked, "This little anecdote has nothing to do with me."  "Remember those vows you took," I reminded him, "we're a team here, buddy."  The girls were eager to share that, even after all these years,  an Amy Mosiman quote had found its way into their everyday vernacular.   On our way home from one of our youth group excursions ("The one where we were almost caught up in a tornado?" Brad asked.  "No."  "The one where someone almost drowned?" Brad asked.  "No."  "The one where a tree almost fell on our tent during a wind storm?" "No."  "The one where you made the associate pastor with one lung blow up a four-foot-tall inflatable palm tree?"  "No."  "The one where we were stalked by a mountain lion?"  "No."), the one where we defied our pastor's concerns and took the kids to the coolest haunted house EVER, I was driving the noisy girl van (as opposed to the stinky boy van) when we passed a uniquely decorated house, painted a hideous shade of purple (not plum or sangria).  Without thinking of my role-model status, I said, "That is the ugliest house I have ever seen."  As the girls suddenly quieted to look at this spectacle, I realized it was still someone's home so I quickly added, "Of course I mean that in the nicest possible way."  REALLY?  Ten years and THAT is what they remember? I must have uttered SOMETHING somewhat deep and meaningful when I was with them.  2 Timothy 2:16 warned me but did I listen?  No-oo-oo.  Avoid irreverent babble (but Tim, I am the Queen of irreverent babble.  It's my primary language!), for it will lead people into more and more ungodliness (That seems a little harsh there, Tim-bo.  Humorously negative...yes.  Ungodly?  C'mon, really?).  My table correlated my witty little observation with the Southern equivalent for immediately negating harsh observations.  "She must have cut her hair in the dark with children's safety scissors, bless her heart."   "Her cooking tastes like crap, bless her heart."  "You're ugly, bless your heart."  Well, in that light, it appears that our friend, Tim may have been onto something.  This has been a valuable life lesson for me.  I believe I will make a vow.  A vow pledging to say only pleasant, positive things.  I know what you're thinking...this will be her last blog.  Well, you're wrong, bless your hearts.

Song adaptation:
                                         Oh, be careful, big fat mouth what you say.
                                         Oh, be careful, big fat mouth what you say.
                                         Or your careless words might get repeated every day,
                                         And quoted back to you ten years later....-ay.
                                         Oh, be careful, big fat mouth what you say.