My goal was to visit my Grandma and Grandpa. My plan was to hold a fund raising garage sale. As I was pondering on this, another idea came to me. As is my habit, I immediately acted upon this idea. I emailed all of my friends and family and asked them to save anything that they no longer loved for my sale. I felt very clever. Then I prayed.

I should have learned by now that when you ask the Lord for something, you need to be prepared to accept the consequences. In this case that meant dealing with a two car garage packed to the hilt with boxes, beds, bags and other unloved items. Before all was said and done, it was spilling over into nearly every room on the main floor of my house and even into my back yard.

When the day of the sale finally came, we found ourselves up to our necks. We had 17 long tables set up and an unbelievable number of things yet to be unearthed. We prayed. Then we waited. People came and went, without purchasing a thing. We were getting very nervous. Surely in all of these things they could find something they wanted? But as the day grew later, we found that we had no reason to fear. My sister kept whispering the words "If you have it, they will come." My mother kept counting out money. I kept refilling tables. It was a lot of work. Toward lunch time, my dad and his band stopped in. We danced, talked with the many neighbors who came to visit us and ate hot dogs and drank lemonade.

I was just starting to relax and have a good time when an unnerving sight caught my eye. It was my five year old son, painstakingly dragging a cardboard box across the grass toward me. Anybody who knows Evan at all knows that this is not a good thing. This particular box I knew to be occupied by a donated race track. The kind with lots of little pieces and far too many items to step on. When finally he reached me, he looked hopefully up into my eyes. I couldn't help wondering what his plan was. After a few seconds of silence, he opened his little fist to expose a handful of shiny rocks. That moment created the kind of emotion in me that always makes me want to laugh out loud. And not just a little laugh. A great big belly laugh. The kind that makes you cry and your abs hurt for days. I was overcome by a mixture of pride, hilarity and heart break. Here was my sweet little boy trying his best to barter for something that he really wanted. I took him aside and explained that the rocks were very lovely, but just not the kind of currency we were looking for. He was crushed. I felt horrible for him. So we came to an agreement. I would put the toy aside for him in exchange for slave labor. He quickly agreed. I thought the situation was handled. I soon found that I was wrong. It wasn't that my son had learned the value of a little work. And it wasn't that he had learned something about money. No, sir. When I wasn't paying attention, he learned that you can still buy brownies from mema with pretty rocks.