August 1 – “Pranked”

We got pranked.  It happened sometime yesterday or the night before.  The truck was parked in the street so Josh and Christi could get their minivan in the driveway.  That gave them an easier way to get the boys in and out of carseats.    Little did we know that at that very moment pranksters were afoot, planning their next diabolical deed.  And sometime – we know not when, but it was certainly at that one opportune moment (for the pranksters) when we were either not at home or perhaps comfortably engrossed in a quality Astros game or enjoying a family discussion or watching wild and crazy maneuvers performed by a group of grandchildren – sometime, someone, known only as the pranksters, drove down our street.  Perhaps they had recently been to Sonic and the idea had emerged there.  Or perhaps McDonalds.  Or Whataburger.  Or maybe their own home.  Somewhere with an excess of condiments.     For as they cruised by our lonely, unsuspecting house they exploded.  From the windows or perhaps the bed of their vehicle came an onslaught of blood-colored mushiness that splattered against the sides and windows of the only line of defense available to our poor estate – the truck.  That line held, however, for the house and all within were safe.  Not even disturbed in fact.  Blissfully unaware that the assault had even occurred.  But alas, the truck fared not quite so decently.  Though there was no permanent damage and definitely no injury to life or limb or rear view mirrors, the truck did sustain considerable residue from the bloody all-out attack.    Rumors abound that a congressional medal of honor is already in the works for the heroic sacrifice.  In the meantime an aquatic salute this morning served both to honor and to cleanse the brave vehicle of the last remnants of ketchup.   Psalms 20:5 says, "We will shout for joy when you are victorious and will lift up our banners in the name of our God."   Father, you have won the only battle that counts, the last one.  Amen.