Words Can Change a Trip to Buc-ees
I burst into tears at the Buc-ee’s in a small town in Alabama. And, it wasn’t because I was so overcome by the beauty of an enormous convenience store with World Famous Restrooms.
When you wonder if your words matter to others, they do. They absolutely do. Good words matter. Mean words matter. Words matter and our ability to know what to say to each other and when to say it matters too. This is true in real life. It is true on social media. It is true in church and at the ballpark.
Someone spoke to me at Buc-ee’s and it affected my day and the day of my kids. In fact, it is still affecting me, so I’ll tell the story.
When I was growing up and we would travel, our favorite place to stop was Stuckey’s. Every time we passed by an exit on the interstate where there was a Stuckey’s, we stopped. We stopped so that we could pee in what felt like a safe, clean space (this was of the utmost importance to my mom which became so important to me that I would pitch a fit and make the family leave a gas station if the bathroom grossed me out.) We also stopped for the fudge. It was a convenience store that had souvenirs and pecan logs and home-made fudge. And, we only got to go there if we were on a trip, so it always felt special.
Buc-ees is like if Stuckey’s was a mild-mannered scientist researching why sometimes people have super-human strength and purposely bombards itself with an overdose of gamma rays in the lab. It is the Hulked out version!
Buc-ees began in Texas (you know, where everything is big!) It is a gas station which has more pumps than any gas station you have ever seen. And, they do not allow trucks! It is a truck-stop that doesn’t allow truckers to scare the families. Buc-ee is a beaver and his face in on everything from onesies to lighters to cups. There are magnets and shot glasses and, of course, t-shirts. One of my kids is obsessed — the one who becomes obsessed with such things — after taking a trip with a youth group to Texas and having the opportunity to experience it. Now, there is one right on the route between our home and Hubby’s family lake house. So, naturally, we HAD to stop.
When I got dressed that morning, I knew we would be stopping at Buc-ees in small-town Alabama. As I slipped my t-shirt on, I paused for just a second. It wasn’t long, but it was a pause. I was slipping on my Mama Bear t-shirt. It says “Mama Bear” on it and has a small bear with pink and blue stripes standing in the shadow of the big bear. For anyone who has ever seen the transgender pride flag, they will know what it means. I guess there are some who would just think it was a cute shirt about a mama. I have not worn this shirt outside of areas that I’m very comfortable often. The pause was short but it was a pause. I kept the t-shirt on.
As my two kids and a friend walked up to the gigantic consumer frenzy that is Buc-ees, another family was on the sidewalk. We kept our distance. There is still a pandemic, you know. As the kids passed them and I was bringing up the rear (always), one of the other family pointed at my shirt. I immediately tensed up, but they said, “Hey, I LOVE your shirt!” They glanced toward my kids and just nodded. They said one other thing but I was already tearing up and now I can’t remember what it was. I thanked them and followed the kids inside.
It became clear that we would need a shopping cart. Overwhelmed by the consumer frenzy, I jumped right in and bought too much — mostly food. (Have you had their cinnamon coated cashews? Oh my goodness! The smell when we walked in knocked me over.)
So, I told the kids, “I better get a cart,” and I walked out to where they kept the carts to do so. As I was pushing the cart back through the entrance, that same family was standing nearby. Apparently, Buc-ees is so overwhelming that there is a lot of walking in and walking out, getting one’s bearings, changing one’s mind, going back for one more piece of fudge.
The same person stopped me again.
“I just wanted to thank you. Your shirt is amazing. I’m non-binary. My nephew is transgender” as they pointed to a young person near the stack of Buc-ees related chairs and water floats. They went on, “I started the first non-binary sports league in our town in Georgia. I just love to see parents who are supportive and proud of their kids. We need more people like you.”
By this time, I was crying. I can’t even explain why. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. I said, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate you.”
Then, as we walked away from each other, God nudged me (I really believe it was God. You can decide for yourself.)
“Hey,” I called back over my shoulder, “We need more people like you too.”
“Damn right, we do!” they said. And, I laughed through my tears because this is so true.
When I took the shopping cart to my kids, I realized they had been watching from a distance. Likely they were terrified that I was doing something that would utterly embarrasses them making it impossible to ever go into Buc-ees again.
As if choreographed, they flanked me at the cart. In unison, they asked, “What were they saying?”
So, I told them. Through tears, I told them and they both said, “Awww.” There wasn’t much conversation to have about it. It was just a moment when someone’s words had helped our day. It had been a bad day in a lot of ways that included a spilled chocolate shake (the horror!) and a wasp sting. So, we needed to see some goodness in the world and this person provided it. All it took was some simple and kind words.
I’m about to go grab some cookies that I’ve ordered to be delivered to my house. They are a surprise treat for Kid #2, the baby bear on my shirt. Today marks the one year anniversary of the moment a judge approved a legal change of name for them. And, I still miss that name that we said goodbye to a year ago. I do. I guess I always will. But, I will celebrate this kid and this kid’s name because words matter.
