"Church of Hard Knocks"

I recall a conversation with my mother a couple years back. I was explaining with decisive certainty how sheltered an existence I had lived in comparison to many of the people in this world, prior to my marriage at age 19. This conversation took place years after getting married, obtaining my degree in Criminal Justice, being employed by the Massachusetts Department of Corrections, and having my son Zayne. I emphatically referenced experiences gleaned from some of these milestones. My mother glanced sideways at me from her place at her kitchen sink, with an eye-rolling expression, and said "Janelle. You were no stranger to the world. You lived plenty by the time you were 20." I knew what she was referring to. My enrollment as a student in the "School of Hard Knocks".

There is a logical practicality blended with stubborn stupidity driving this propensity to "live & learn" vs. "listen & learn". It only makes sense that this self-educating approach vacillates from the secular to the religious. To which I'll appropriately term, "The Church of Hard Knocks."

Today's discourse came while teetering through Kroger in black stiletto heels & church clothes; maneuvering a shopping cart through a sea of pre-Thanksgiving Day shoppers, with Zayne in tow (picking up every desirable item in the reach of a four year old and asking "Mom, can we get this"), to make our way to the back of the store for milk.

It's not as if this was a one time occurrence. Rewind back a few months to when my sister flew down for the weekend. Of course the sacrament meeting talk that Sunday was "Keeping the Sabbath Day Holy", the week I hadn't made it to the grocery store (new baby, guest prep, etc.) So as I didn't really want to feed her Oatmeal Squares for the third straight meal in a row, and let's face it with a new baby at home? The prospect of going to the grocery store ALONE, sounded like a mini-vacation. But what ensued was far from my imagined oasis of solitary bliss. I found that 75 percent of my list was unattainable or the ingredients had to be amended in such a way that none of the recipes I was shopping for were workable.

Today after years of sermons, lessons, preaching, and lectures on "Keeping the Sabbath Day Holy" combined with several unpleasant Sunday trips to the grocery store, culminated my ah-ha moment of realization. Even disregarding obedient adherence, Sunday is honestly the worst day to shop. It's busy, depleted, and they play "Coming to America" on the crackly sound system.