"The Coolest Jeans Ever in History"

They were the  most amazing pair of jeans I had ever seen. In all my thirteen years of fashion expertise, I KNEW those were the jeans that would launch me into seventh grade stardom.I dreamt of all the amazing things that would happen to me as soon as I owned what I was now referring to as, "the coolest jeans ever in history"... I would become class president (halfway through the school year), I would be asked out by the most popular guy in school (who at the time was three inches shorter than I was).. on and on. I did not, however, think I would actually own them. As good as I had gotten at not asking for things by simply suggesting our purchasing an item "for Christmas", my eyes could not hide how much I loved these jeans.

My father worked graveyards when my sister and I were younger, causing my mom to spend weekend afternoons looking for ways to get us out of the house. Walking around the mall was always one of our favorite pastimes. Growing up, we were no where near poor. We had everything we needed, plus some. But we did not have room for extravagant items. Name brands were fewer and farther in between, and most of our wardrobe came from Target (as an adult I can't imagine anything greater then the wonderland that is Target).  My sister would spend hours picking and choosing items when she would shop, and always looked great as a result. I, on the other hand, was like a tornado whipping through these stores and picking one of  everything I could until I reached the end of my budget. We loved fasion as little girls, we just didnt always have the money for it. To buy clothing from the mall, THE MALL!?!??!?, was a big deal to us.

Which is why it never occured to me to dream out loud that the "coolest jeans ever in history" would be mine. How could I evem fathom I would own a pair of flared, light wash jeans, with black and white stripes down the side? (I mean, who is THAT lucky :)) When my mother had me pick out my size and a couple of shirts to go with them, I remember my heart pounding so hard with excitement at the possibility these jeans could be mine. Trying them on was amazing. THEY FIT! "The coolest jeans ever in history" fit me!!! I couldn't stand to ask my mother for the clothing she allowed me to try on, the disappointment would destory my dramatic seventh- grader self if she said no. But she didn't. She took my clothing to the counter and she put them on lay-a-way. Four weeks later I owned those jeans.. and two new shirts!.... and I wore them a TRILLION times.

I think of that moment often, usually when I'm at the counter to pay for something. I am not limited in the clothing I can buy anymore. It has become less exciting to buy something from the mall. I am not rich by any means, and neither are my parents, but it has been a long time since we've worried about paying a bill. I am on my own now, and there are rare occasions I can't buy something I want because I don't have the money. I was leaving Target (wonderland) the other day, thinking about "the coolest jeans ever in history". There was a time when anything extra was just that, extra. It was a huge deal to me, and I wasn't just appreciative I was indebted. I would look forward to a sleepover at my friends house for weeks sometimes, now I go anywhere I want, when I want. I always dreamt of the life I can now live when I was little, but the thing is, it's not what I thought it would be. I miss the overwhelming excitement of getting a c.d. I'd wanted for weeks. I miss saving my allowance to purchase a name brand shirt or overpriced pair of shoes. I miss EVERYTHING being exciting. My version of anywhere I want is probably funny to world travelers and others with more monetary possession than I, but that is irreletative to me. The point is, waiting, building an excitement towards something and finally acquiring it... there's something special to that. God promised the Israelites the promiseland- but there would be work. Abraham was 99 years old before God gave him his first child, and a nation was born from him. Sarah was an old lady before she bore sons, and Mary's cousin was told she was barren when God blessed her with an offspring.

Not everything in life loses its value if it sits on the shelf awhile.

I cry when I think of the day my mom put "the coolest jeans ever in history" on lay-a-way for me. I cry because I look at where my parents are now and I see how their hard, very hard, work and the budgeting and saving they taught us about, has paid off. I cry because I am an adult, that has a couple hundred set aside to go shopping on a weekend and has to buy a new tire with it instead, and I wonder how many hundreds of times my mom had a twenty in her wallet to buy herself a coffee before work, and she gave it to me to see a movie with my friend, or spent it at the grocery store, picking up cookies for a pot luck I told her about the night before. I cry because my mom gave us everything she had, and more. If my mom had five dollars, she would give us six. Every. Single. Time. My parents taught us to be humble, to be grateful, to be appreciative. I am not a lot of things, but those three things are who I am to the core. I still find myself getting excited over the simplest of things, and I still tear through stores like a tornado when I shop. But now, when I stand at the counter getting ready to pay, and I look at the handful of items I have in my over-flowing hands, I ask myself, "would you put it on lay-a-way?".. and I end up putting more then half of the items back on the rack. Matthew 6:21 says, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also". My mother's heart was ALWAYS on her kids. Both of my parents' hearts. When I walk up to the counter, I remember those jeans, and my heart fills with such pride and thankfulness, genuine and overwhelming thankfullness, that my mother stood there at the counter and signed that lay-a-way sheet, that I feel like I have more than I could ever need already, and I put it all back...

Except the vaccuum bags. For some reason I need those all the time.