Yesterday was
Christopher's first day of middle school and he came home exhausted and
starving and worried about the next day's bus ride because apparently
the school bus broke down first thing in the morning. "For an HOUR... AN
HOUR!!!! We waited in someone's yard." He has a great flair for drama
and likes to spin a tale a bit.... and I love that boy.... because he
reminds me
of, well, ... ME.
So
I
told him the bus thing was just a thing - one of life's adventures
that make it fun - and asked if the lady of the house - the one where
all 30 kids were hangin' in her yard - offered them refreshments for the
wait. No southern hospitality there because no lemonade or cookies or
kind words were offered to encourage the young ones along their way.
But they drove off with a story to tell, and that's definitely worth
something.
This
morning in class - a lady came up to me and said, "You've got a feather
on your
butt." Not like a Las Vegas showgirl kind of feather - just something
stuck there which obviously didn't belong. And it wasn't really a
feather, it was just dirt from our dirty YMCA floor that looked like
tail feathers, I suppose. But a friend loves at all times... even when
they have to tell you that you have something on your rear end. Another
adventure and another story to tell.
I know that sometimes people are mean. Sometimes people are nice. I think I'm a mix of both. Hopefully more nice than mean.
I know that people care. And most want to care. They just have to be given the opportunity and the open door to make the offer.
I know that plans change.
I know not to wear flip flops to climb stairs. Just don't.
I know that if I forget or choose not to take time to pray, I stand a good chance of all hell breaking loose and having a generally sucky day.
I know that a trip to summer camp brings with it lots of memories, new skills, and in our experience, nearly severed fingers, lice or diarrhea. Every time. Every year.
I know that if someone hurts one of our kids.... it hurts the mom just the same. And we get mad,too. Like poking a bear with a stick.
Hell hath no fury like a 6th grade girl scorned... be warned.
And sometimes people say one thing and do another. Actions speak louder than words. If it looks like a duck, and acts like a duck, it's probably a duck.
I know strong bodies still get injured. And strong hearts still break.
But like I told Christopher about his school bus, it's a story to tell. The every day stories that make up who we are. And I want to be a great story teller.
