Luck and Blessings

Our last day in Jamaica was spent on an amazing beach with crystal clear water, white sand and blue sky for miles.  It was beautiful, I loved watching the teens have fun, it was glorious to wiggle my toes in the sand, and we were able to see some truly amazing fish--but you know my heart was still at the orphanage.  This was our decompression day, but it was difficult for me to decompress.  Okay, so it's difficult for me to decompress on any given day. 

Our bodyguard/tour guide/minder extraordinaire had chosen a private beach club of sorts for us.  The idea was that we wouldn't be bothered the street salesmen selling their wares as we relaxed.  The club had security guards patrolling the stretch of beach to keep street salesmen at bay, but really, there's only so much one can do with open waters.

My best friend swears I stood on the nearest lifeguard stand yelling, "TOURIST WITH AMERICAN CASH!!  TOURIST WITH AMERICAN CASH!!!  COME AND GET IT" as I waved wads of cash in the air.  And the way Noah acted, I really actually did.  I bought several things from a few of the  salesmen, much to Noah's horror.  You have to remember, he was my protector on this trip, and he took that role seriously, especially when I engaged with the locals, and especially when I attempted to haggle with the locals over my purchases.  I knew I was getting taken, so to speak, but as I explained to a very frustrated Noah, that's just kind of the role you know you are going to play as a tourist.  Each and every one of them pled to me about having to eat and feed families, mon, and well, I just wasn't going to be that gullible.

"Mom, you're going to get both of us shanked."
"Noah, they want my money, calm down."
"Exactly!" *hissed through clenched teeth*

I still think it's kind of funny Noah used the word 'shanked.' Does that make me a bad mom?

One of my purchases was a necklace for Avery.  The gentleman I bought it from insisted it was handmade, and insisted even further the beadlike thingamabob on it was some sort of expensive African wood that brings good luck (it looks like plastic to me), therefore I should pay $20 American cash for it.  I told him I would give him $10.  "A man's got to make a living, mon! $15!" I did get it down to $10; after all, a missionary has to live, too.  And, as I explained to him--I'm a Christian.  Luck means absolutely nothing to me (Noah hissing in my ear and pulling on my arm: "Moooommmmm......").

Avery wears that necklace almost all the time now.  And I hear him tell that story to anyone who will (or won't, as sometimes the case may be!) listen.  He even includes the part about Noah telling me I'm going to get us shanked.  I'm not sure Avery knows what 'shanked' means.  It makes me smile, and even laugh a little.  I love hearing Avery tell this story.

"I'm a Christian, so this luck bead is meaningless to me, but it's still kind of cool because it's from Jamaica.  Or it's from Africa.  I don't know.  But my mom almost got shanked over it."

I smile because I know he isn't just repeating what he's heard me say.  I know he understands the difference between luck and blessings, and what they mean to us. He corrects me when I say I'm the luckiest mom, "No Mom, you're the blessiest mom!  We don't believe in luck!"

So yes, I paid $10 for a luck bead.  But my blessings are priceless.