Green for Vets, Red for Hookers

We were on our way to a basketball game when from the back seat of the van we hear, “What’s the green light mean?”
Bewildered, I ask “Huh?”
“The green lights.  On some people’s front porches.  Why are some green and some aren’t?”
My own light went off in my head “Oh!  Well, that means a veteran lives there.  Just like a blue light means a police officer lives in that house.”
“And” Jason proudly interjects, “a red light means that’s a house where a prostitute lives.”
All heads and eyes turned toward him.
The children are stunned.
What do you even do with that?!
What?!  Haven’t you heard of the red light district?
Um, yes.  In the hood of Memphis.  But not on people’s front porches in Flatwoods.
So, this Christmas, choose your front porch decor carefully.
Or else Jason will think you have started a side business….
In all seriousness, the holidays are coming up and I can already feel my levels of anxiety rising.
I have one kid who has asked for a $350 gaming chair.
I can’t even…
Nothing brings out the worst in people than the holidays.
Most years I literally want to check out from about November 1st until about January 4th.
But this year I’ve determined to not run away from home and instead tell the holidays who’s boss.
Usually Thanksgiving consists of my party of 6 and my mom, dad and brother.
While at this same basketball game (the one where we learned the important lesson of red, blue and green lights) his year mom has added a few six more to the table, my brother and his new family.
When she told me of our expanded table, I honestly was less than thrilled.
My plans were being interrupted.
Kinda like when you walk into church and someone is sitting in your pew.
You confidently walk in the sanctuary, smiling pleasantly, speaking all holy with a “God bless you brother!  Good to see you!  Praise the Lord!” here and there.
You stop dead in your tracks when you reach the end of your row.
Someone is in your seat.
Who is this harlot?
This whore of Babylon?
CLEARLY she doesn’t know that I have been sitting in the last seat of the 4th row from the front for 17 years.
I don’t care if she needs Jesus!
She’s. In. My. Spot.
I reluctantly told Jay about our new plans and he too was less than thrilled.
Mainly because his plans of sleeping, and fat pants, and eating all day too would be interrupted.
Did I mention the holidays brings out the worst in people?
I’m kinda glad though, because I’ve made a promise to God that whenever He shows me something ugly about myself, that I’d deal with it.
And this ugly selfishness was definitely something I did not like.
And I know God didn’t either.
“Hey, I’d like to introduce you to my sister!  She writes a blog about Jesus but she really doesn’t want us here, because you know, fat pants and naps and what not.  She’s judgemental in a nice kinda way.”
Insert awkward smile and wave to brother’s new family….hi
Something about that little nudge from God didn’t settle just right.
The one that said “Jill, I hate to break it to you, but contrary to what you think, you aren’t the gatekeeper to Heaven.  Remember the scripture, “consider others higher than yourself?”  Chew on that a bit sis.”
*sigh*–maybe an eye roll–repent.
So.  I have decided something.
The only light that will be seen at my house, is going to be the light of Christ.
Because Christ is saying, “Come to me, all who are weary, all you veterans, police officers, hookers, and Christians who are works in progress, but REALLY love Jesus, and I will give you rest.
All y’all are invited to His table.
*Fat pants not required.
Me.  You.  We are all invited.  None of us are worthy on our own.
But Jesus…
I kinda like it when God interrupts my plans because it usually means that something better is on its way.
I’m really looking forward to Thanksgiving this year…

I’m a book-shelving, former tap dancer, wanna be writer, singer,
and banjo player, mother of 4, wife of 1, follower of Christ,
walking in the shadow of the Proverbs 31 woman
and redeemed by the grace and love of an Almighty God…
just living the dream.

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