Venial

Ron "rode" the phone last night with the police, making sure the wild party got the music down.  It was so loud I could feel the floor vibrating under my feet.  I live in a ground floor house, two blocks away. 

I will say this, they did shut up eventually, and they kept their friends over so no one drove drunk.  Smart. 

Today it's pretty quiet, so enough about that.  I will say I do envy the deaf sometimes, when neighbors are having a loud party, Ron is yelling at me (not last night), or I'm having an auditory hallucination. 

The blog has been good for me, I'm a lot more open about my illness and pretty honest about it.  Which brings me to yesterday. 

Ron and I, for a lark, went to Walmart after work.  I am out of soda and have been drinking the instant mix tea/punch/lemonade packets.  I like pretty much all of them EXCEPT strawberry.  I loathe strawberries. 

I don't have a lot of cups.  I am nervous about glasses with a blind man in the house.  I had some plastic cups but they got old or ruined, and I never got more. 

I have considered going the old school southern way and getting some quart "mason" canning jars, drinking out of that.  If you watch Duck Dynasty you know what I mean. 

However, they are glass, and I'm back to the blind man in the house.  I'm not always graceful, either. 

I hunted up some nice one quart plastic glasses, 88 cents each.  I got 3.  I basically just reuse the same one over and over and over, like I was doing with those takeout cups, but they got pretty gross.  I remember I finished a drink and got ready to make another, opened the lid, and actually looked inside.  It had some mold.  I threw them all out. 

I put the glasses in my cart and headed off to checkout.  I paid and left, sitting outside with Ron.  Ron wanted to know the price on an item I'd paid for, so I looked at the reciept.  I don't usually check my reciept unless it's for work. 

Oops.  They only rang up 2 cups.  I admit it, for at least a minute, I sat there thinking "Walmart can afford it" and "I don't want to get back in line".  "No one knows".  "It is her fault for not ringing me up".  And then I thought about God.  He knows. 

I also read something in one of my devotionals, it basically said little sins lead to big sins.  I got up and went back in the store.  When I explained, the cashier gave me quite the look.  I told her, "I have to answer to God, and I don't want to steal."  She thanked me, I paid, and I went back out with my now legal cup. 

Am I tooting my horn?  I'm so holy?  No.  I'm an imperfect sinner, and will remain one until I'm glorified by God, either death or rapture.  In the meantime, it's my job to stomp out sin when I catch it. 

I sin.  I make mistakes.  But I will not sin if I can avoid it.