HIS FINEST WHISPERS

A couple years ago, when Wes was 5, he began to talk to me about salvation. He would randomly say, “Mom! I just asked Jesus in my heart!”  I’d follow up with, “Well, did you hear God speak to you?” He would always say no. He’d leave it at that and then go to sleep. My dad has always said, “If you can put them off, then it isn’t the Holy Spirit. If they come to a place where you can’t put them off, then you know it is the Spirit.” He’s done this forever with parents, so I took his wise advice.     For the last year or so Wes has asked me, “When is God going to speak to me?” I would respond, “He will talk to you when He’s ready. Remember you won’t hear His words in your ear, you will just sense them in your heart.” This had become quite a controversy at our house though. He would sometimes be brought to the point of tears and say, “Mom, why won’t God speak to me? I still haven’t heard him.” I would reassure him again, “Wes, God knows what He’s doing. He...

Wes was four years old. We were shopping at Target. He had come dressed in his batman outfit; full on with his mask and sword. As I shopped, he chopped. Invisible bad guys were being taken out all over the store. I began playing with him, chasing him a bit with my cart. We were laughing about it. He would run around to the next aisle and I would run around with my cart and he would giggle, then we’d do it again on the next aisle. We were both enjoying it.  He zoomed around the next corner and shortly after, I did too. This time, when I pulled my cart around, he wasn’t there in the aisle. I giggled and went down to the next aisle, but he wasn’t there either. I called his name, “Wes?” No answer. I said, “The game is over Wes. I need to see you. Where are you?” No answer.   I left my cart and began briskly walking down the aisles, one after the other, calling his name. He wasn’t on any of the aisles. I began to run. Still nothing. I made it to th...

We arrived in College Station, Friday evening. On Saturday afternoon, Wes was outside playing with a friend. He came running into the house with this wild, yet fascinating story about a stick , my car and seeing the keys on the passenger seat. It was quite the report. I couldn’t follow much of it but I assumed he was just being melodramatic. This is common. Still though, having a long history with this child of mine, I decided it would be best to check out just what type of shenanigan was really going on.  I went outside. There was my car. There were all 4 doors, locked. And there were my keys…staring at me from the passenger seat.  Great. Somehow my kid had gotten into the car with the keys, had manually locked all the doors with my keys inside. Really. I didn’t even think this was possible with my specific keys. IT WAS possible and Wes had done it flawlessly.  I came back inside to fill my mom in. Being the great mom she is, she went ...

I recently found myself in the hands of a spa gift card. This does not happen often so I relish these particular occasions. I chose something different this time, over the normal, adored pedicure. I bravely took on the application of synthetic eye apparel, more commonly known as false eye lashes. I met with the man at the counter, he asked me a few questions, then he took me back to this little room where peaceful spa music was playing. He told me to lie down on the soft bed, covered me up with a little blanket and then told me to close my eyes. Seriously? Like, an actual slice of time for me to relax and listen to calming music?   This is already worth the whole gift card I’m about to fork over. About an hour later, he was done. AND LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. I opened my eyes and BAM!  Like, SHAZAM! I was a whole, new woman. BRAND NEW WOMAN. Heeeeelllllooooooo Hollywood! Y’all can’t even understand this. It was like a miracle, probably up there...

On December 13, at 8:30 pm, there was a knock on my door. I was not expecting anyone and was already in my pajamas and my warm little lamb socks. I was sure I wasn’t going to answer it. I stood in the hallway and yelled, “Who is it?” No answer. The nerves kicked in. I called out again, “Whoooooo iiiiiiis iiiiiiit?” Still no answer. I went to the front of the house to look out the window. Make note that I went to the far side corner of the window, crouched down beneath the window and barely peeked up enough to peer right over the sill through the curtain. (You can roll your eyes here and insert your comment of, "Get a grip Lauren. No one is trying to get you. And also you are the worst spy I've ever seen.") I saw no one out the window, no cars, no neighbors, nothing. Bigger nerves hit, but don’t worry, I decided to calm those nerves with my Sig 229 .40 caliber. I finally inched my way to the door and opened it slowly. (Because clearly the robber would be ala...

Dear unknown man who is thinking about taking out a single mom, The following do’s and don’ts have been personally experienced. You might find them helpful. You might find them offensive. I’m just one single mom out there who chose to write about the things she liked and didn’t like on her first dates. Of course, most of this won’t be an issue if a relationship develops, but as for a first date … 1.     DO offer to pay for her sitter. Before you drop your jaw in disgust, I do fully understand that this might be deemed super high maintenance. Here’s the thing: She has said, “yes” to going out with you which means she likes you enough to work all day, come home, stay off the couch, get dressed up, wear make up past 7:30 pm and then pay someone to come keep her kids in order to spend time with you. Way to go dude! Count this as a major win! It takes a really great guy for me to do all of that. Now, concerning the babysitting, this will most likely cost aroun...

“You will not cry about this any longer. That is it! It is time to MAN UP. If you want to be a navy seal, this is your first lesson. Sometimes, you just gotta be a man, so GIRD UP.” That is what came out of my mouth to Wes yesterday while riding his bike. You know, the bike that he said he would neeeeveeeeerrrr ride? He asked me if he could go outside to ride his bike without training wheels. I stared at him dumbfounded and wondered if he was having a seizure. Once out on the hilly terrain of West Creek Drive, he started out really strong. He was riding, unafraid of any turbulence and also sturdy, like a robust mountain lion. (That might be a motherly exaggeration.) Then we took our standard turn for the worse. Hi fear.   He began grabbing at me and leaning at a 90-degree angle towards my direction. I’m like, “How are you gonna steer those handles while ridin’ parallel to the street? And just how is your hiney still on that seat while you’re inclining...