Well, Bless Your Heart....

      Bless your heart. Living in the South, you can get away with saying nearly anything if you follow it up with a , "Bless your heart". I have such a love/hate relationship with that phrase.  Love it if it's directed towards someone else.  Hate it if it's directed towards me. I learned that firsthand last Friday. 

      That afternoon, I had to make a run to Publix, my favorite grocery store.  I love going to the grocery store.  Ryan and I usually go together, but he was at work and I needed a few things right away.  I feel almost "nekkid" if I walk into Publix without him.  Sadly, just about everyone who works there knows us.  Ryan especially...he tends to stand out in a crowd a little more than I do :)  We walk in and the Meat Manager comes over and slaps Ryan on the back, "Hey!  Big Man!  How's it goin'?!" I love it.  I love that my sweet Ryan makes friends everywhere he goes.  Anyhow, I already felt somewhat out of sorts waltzing through Publix without "Big Man" by my side that afternoon.  I had my two littlest ones buckled in the cart and I was deciding what butter to buy when a sweet little old lady pushed her cart over to me.
     
      "What beautiful little girls you have!" she said.  I thanked her and then she dropped a bomb on me.
    
        "Are they excited for the new baby?"  I was totally confused.  Baby?  What baby?  I even glanced at my cart to see if I had given birth to an infant since arriving at the store.  I told you I was feeling out sorts, so who knows what I could've done in those first five minutes, browsing the butter.  I must've looked like a confused puppy because I cocked my head to the side and just stared at her blankly.  Then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
    
        "Oh, I'm not pregnant," I said softly, partly because I didn't want to embarrass her and partly because I didn't want to embarrass myself.  This sweet old lady looked as if she were about to cry.
    
       "Oh! I'm so sorry! I just...I thought...your blouse...well, bless your heart."  I couldn't help but laugh.  She put her hand on my arm and kept apologizing.  I kept laughing.  She kept trying to explain why she thought I was pregnant.  I kept laughing. 

      "It must be your blouse, dear.  Oh, bless your heart.  I do apologize."  I told her it was okay and I do have what I like to call "permanent baby belly", since I've had four children.  Well, that struck a chord with her.  She also had four children.  I learned all about them.  And their spouses.  And their children.  And her husband is a preacher.  And they always go grocery shopping together (just like us!) She said she could tell I was a Christian by the way I handled her thinking I was pregnant.  I took that as a compliment :)  And she is also one of four children.  And they are all in their 80's.  And she turned 85 on April 4th.  After a few minutes, she said she must go because she could see that her husband was getting a little wild in the potato chip aisle.  She squeezed my hand and said, "You're so sweet.  I do hope we meet again."  I said I hoped the same, and I turned to walk down the ice cream aisle.  I had a coupon for the best ice cream bars on the planet.  They are a little pricey, so when I have a coupon, I have to buy a box.  Just as I reached in the freezer case and pulled out my beloved bars, my new friend was looking at me, half ways smiling.

      "Okay," I said, "This is really why I have 'permanent baby belly'."  She laughed and gave me a look that I KNOW said, "Well, bless your heart."