That Time My Brave was Shotblocked

Have you ever had a brave moment, one of those where you clearly saw your options and you chose brave, only to have it completely rejected by another player? Let me tell you, friend, it happens. And it stinks.

But if you look a little closer at the situation, you’ll actually see that the brave is on your end. Making the righteous choice, no matter how hard and then leaning in and getting it done, is your brave. Don’t confuse that with the reaction you get from other players. I had this tested once.

Not too long ago I was at Winco with my crew of four little helpers. As is often the case at this grocery store, if all my helpers behave well during our shopping trip they are handsomely rewarded by means of picking out a treat from the bulk bins in the back of the store.

Side note, mamas: Bulk bins are treat magic for mamas and kids alike. There are dozens of options to choose from, which my kids think is glorious. On the mama side, you throw a small handful of gummy bears in a little bag, the clerk weighs it and it costs you all of about $0.14. Portion control? Yes. Thrifty? No doubt. Happy kids? Certainly. Happy mama? You bet! Bulk bins are magical.

Double side note: I think I developed my love for bulk bins somewhere around the age of 7. Although at the grocery store my mom shopped at it was more like a wall unit of Brach’s candy tubs. But, let me tell you, magic is found in humble places. About once or twice a year, usually in conjunction with an upcoming camping trip, my mom would stand us in front of those Brach’s candy tubs and I felt like the heavens may have just opened up as we got to choose every kind of candy our little hearts desired. So, a little added value there, friends, bulk candy bins are helping you make lifetime memories.

Anyhow, back to my story. In the bulk section. With my crew. And I happen to notice that my sweet little four year old is eating something. Duh, duh, duh. Can you feel the instant tension in this mama’s heart?

Can I pretend I just didn’t see that? Maybe she found an old goldfish cracker in her pocket and is eating it? Maybe she is just chewing on her tongue? Maybe she found some gum on the ground and decided it still had some life in it? Because all of that would be better than what I know just happened, right? Better than what I know I need to do with this, right?

So I stop. I gently ask her if she is eating something. And in one swift movement a half chewed Swedish fish pops out of her mouth, onto the floor and with frightened little eyes she tell me, “no, mama”.

These are tough moments for this mama. But her very response to my question tells me that she knows she has done something wrong. It may have been pre-meditated or it may have been completely absent-minded but either way, it was wrong. And now 4 little sets of eyes are on this mama wondering what this is going to look like, how this is going to play out.

This was a critical teaching moment for me and I knew it. Even if it I didn’t really want to teach it, even if I was in a hurry or tired or impatient, right now at this very moment I had all of their attention like never before.

So I rummaged through my purse, found a crumpled old receipt, because apparently I’m not the mom who always has those cute little designer Kleenex packages on hand, and I picked up the slightly mangled remains of the partially chewed fish.

Then after explaining to my crew why it’s not cool to eat out of the bulk bins, I told my four year old juvenile delinquent that we were now going to march ourselves up to the cashier and pay for our treat.

And there were tears. Lots of them. And there were questions. Lots of them. Mama are the police going to come? Mama is she going to jail? Mama can’t we just go home?

We made the brave decision and now we needed to take the brave action. And I can promise you, we all would have rather have avoided this one.

But let me tell you one of the reasons we didn’t. I already knew, long before that day, the decision I was going to make. I had watched my own mama make that same decision when I wasn’t much older than my four year old. My brother was the child delinquent in that story. And it involved a candy bar. And a trip back to the grocery store and the checkout line. But that brave choice by my mama, the choice to teach a lesson even when it’s uncomfortable, not only affected her own two children, but was now affecting her grandchildren. See we aren’t just raising sons and daughters, we are raising the next moms and dads. Brave decisions extend far beyond our life, friends. They are the stuff of legacy.

So with my terrified kiddos in tow, tears still dripping from my four year old, we waited in the checkout line. And when it was finally our turn, holding my four year old’s hand, I explained the situation as briefly as possible and told the cashier we would like to pay for what we took.

The cashier, who I am sure was weary from a long day of standing on her feet, didn’t even try to hide her annoyance when she asked “do you have the price code?” (background for you non-bulk bin shoppers: the protocol for bulk bins is that you put your items in little bags, tie them with paper covered twisty ties, and label them with the proper price codes which tell the clerk how to ring them up. Crumpled receipts from nervous mamas trying to workout their brave amongst three scared and one crying kid is NOT protocol. Just an FYI.)

Feeling the disdain from the cashier and the hot stares of everyone in line behind me I quickly apologized, “No, I’m sorry I didn’t grab the code. Would it be possible to use a different code? Or just charge a flat fee like a dollar?” Seriously friends, I would have paid $25 to get this lesson over as quickly as possible! Her quick and biting reply was “No, I can’t do that. That won’t even register on the scales. I don’t even know what it is.” Then she abruptly grabbed the crumpled receipt out of my hand pulled out her garbage can and tossed the evidence in the trash. Followed by, “I think your kid is sad enough!”

I was speechless. I was trying to be brave and then this. I was trying to teach my children the kind of lesson my mama did. The lesson where the warm and kind clerk puts on their serious face that can barely hide their generous smile and says “Thank you for your honesty” and “I hope you have learned your lesson” not “I think your kid is sad enough!” As if that is my goal here, to work a little sadness into my kids’ life every now and then.

So I bit my lip. Hard. I paid for my groceries in deflated silence while my children, usually impatient in the checkout line, just stood and stared. I’m not really sure if they were processing the exchange that just took place or keeping an eye out for the police to show up and haul off their sibling, but I was thankful for the silence while my mind was racing.

When we got to the car we all took a deep breath and talked a bit. We talked about right and wrong. About making mistakes and about forgiveness. And the mood lightened as we made our way home.

And on the drive home, I realized that in trying to teach my kids a lesson, I learned one as well. See, that scenario didn’t go down like I thought it would. At all. But I still chose brave. And my kids still learned grace.

My brave was not minimized by the cashier’s response or the onlookers’ stares. Brave is not minimized by the outcome or results. Bravery is your choice, your action in the moment. How others choose to respond is on them, not you. No one can shotblock your brave.