Sunday, August 7, 2011

I hope Jesus doesn't hear my gun

The summer of violent toys continues with the cap gun purchase.  While the big kids were at grandpa's, JT  was pretty lost.  He didn't know how to play by himself.  So my husband Tim stepped in and played the role of a 10 year old (remarkably well I should add).
JT, he looks more like a farmer, less like a cowboy.
Until you add the good old fashioned Billy the Kid Cap Gun his dad got him.  Now he is more nervous, excited cowboy.

One afternoon I came home to find them melting a plastic Army guy, with a blowtorch.  When I asked why in the world?  Tim replied, "that's what boys do" which sounded eerily like his logic behind getting Peyton the pocket knife.

While the violence is disturbing, I can't argue that JT loved it.  And he really loved playing with his dad.  As I have mentioned Tim is a fabulous player.

After a few days of shooting his gun in the backyard, JT said "boy I hope Jesus doesn't hear my gun."  

" you think Jesus wouldn't like your gun?" I asked.

"Nope," said JT.  "He would say 'you shouldn't shoot that gun little boy,'" JT said in his deepest voice, sounding more like Fat Albert than Jesus.

"If Jesus thinks it is wrong to shoot a gun, does it make it okay to do it just because he can't hear it," I asked slowly in my best know-it-all mom voice.

"Yup," he said pointing the gun at me.  "Put your hands up."

Clearly, there is trouble ahead.

Even though Jesus may not approve of the gun, we were at church this morning.  Wade was baptized.  Up at the altar were all my floppy-haired kids.  JT and Lucy held the baptismal bowl while Peyton stood with his hand on JT's shoulder.  I took a deep breath.  

Listen, the whole church takes a breath when my family gets near the altar.  More like they hold their breath.  There was a Christmas pageant incident a few years ago that involved a little angel of the lord we all know and love dangling the bottle of frankincense over the baby Jesus' head(played by a real live little baby).  There was some hay throwing and grabbing the microphone and yelling "be not afraid" during the reverend's sermon.  No one has forgotten.

So there we were today up in front of the church family.  And I am sure some people were scratching their heads wondering how we could have had decided to have so many kids.  Especially after supposedly "ruining" the Christmas pageant and a few other minor little church incidents.

But none of my children threw anything today, no one got violent.  Today as I and other members of our church watched my children, they looked...sweet.  It was definitely a holy moment, fleeting, but holy.  Because very quickly JT splashed his hands in the bowl and I thought for a moment he was going to flick the holy water at the reverend, but he didn't.  

I sighed with relief.  And thanked Jesus.
An adorable line up, I mean picture at church.

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