I thought the world would come to a standstill the day I discovered my ideal wasn’t real.
It was a Sunday afternoon after church, December 2004, when my oldest son, a freshman in college at the time, walked in the front door, through the kitchen, into the family room and emptied his pockets of his most prized possessions, laying them gently on his daddy’s chest.
The weight of my son’s wallet, checkbook and car keys woke my napping husband. As if innately ready for turbulent air, he pulled his “dad” recliner to its upright position.
“What’s this?” he inquired, looking at the bundle of goodies on his chest.
My husband who we refer to as Big David when lil David is around (I told him having the same name would be confusing one day), always told the boys if they blew it, (meaning if they weren’t responsible with what had been given them) their car, and their money would go back to the original owner. Him.
With a sheepish chuckle lil David humbly mumbled, “I got my grades.”
I’m not sure what Big David was feeling, but for me, call me a pessimist, but I knew in the pit of stomach what was coming next was not good.
Lil David had just finished his first semester at Auburn University. I talked to him on a weekly basis and every time I asked him how it was going, he answered.
“Everything’s good mom.”
“You’re sure?” I’d say.
“Yes ma’am.” he’d answer.
And like a big dummy, I believed him. This day would prove to crush my naive reality.
His dad went on to ask him, “So what did you make son?“
With another uncomfortable chuckle Lil David snorted, “Uh, .5.”
His Dad responds, “You mean a 1.5?”
“No sir, you heard me right, a point five.”
I thought, Jesus was a commin’ any minute because this was surely the end of life as we knew it!