Guest Blogger: Love Notes from the Fickle Monster, Part 16
Some commercial told me, "Stress causes belly fat."
Well kids, I am going to look like Santa by the end of the summer.
I am currently working at the Boys and Girls Club of America, an easy summer job. Sike. My days look like snot, Clorox, 74 seven and eight year olds, crayons, grass, band aids, books, blood, sweat, and tears...lots of tears.
On Monday, I was considering what great catastrophe could be an excuse never to come back again.
Tuesday offered a teaspoon of optimism as the day was "a little, tiny bit better than Monday."
Halfway through the week, I counted the number of hours until 6 p.m. on Friday, and figured I could make it.
On Thursday, my two weeks notices was drafted in my head as I cried a little in the afternoon. Yea, I am sensitive.
And finally, Friday. Blessed Friday! I did not think about quitting, and I did not cry. Progress.
My job looks like a sidewalk. Frustration and anger are the cracks which divide the concrete. Between the cracks, drawn on the slabs of whole rock, are pictures in sidewalk chalk, the medium of children and naivete and creativity. My job looks like a sidewalk, pure and simple; I suppose most do.
If I were callous or prideful or blind, I would miss the beauty of my sidewalk, moving right past great lessons and laughter and joy.
This week, my knowledge of God was extended in a simple, sweet lesson.
One of my kids couldn't tie her shoe. She asked if I would show her how, which I did. I explained the process carefully and let her watch, step by step. After I tied her shoes, she began to move but I quickly untied her laces and said, "Now, it's your turn." She was upset at first, rightfully so, but she was able to walk away, just a minute later, having tied her own shoes.
How often does God do the same for us? We ask for help. He shows us, and then offers us a chance. We balk and complain and sometimes walk away, or we try. Sometimes, we fail. Sometimes, we succeed.
We have been shown the way. So, bring it; I'm walking on.
Tonight, I dare you to be thankful for your sidewalk, for the cracks and the color, the stress and the love.
And, I dare you to try tying your own laces or at least acknowledge you need help.
Just don't give up.
Don't quit.
Please, don't.
You and me, we are going to learn some lessons and draw some pictures and tie some laces.
I dare us.
P.S. Someone, please remind me I wrote this when I am pissy next week.
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Well kids, I am going to look like Santa by the end of the summer.
I am currently working at the Boys and Girls Club of America, an easy summer job. Sike. My days look like snot, Clorox, 74 seven and eight year olds, crayons, grass, band aids, books, blood, sweat, and tears...lots of tears.
On Monday, I was considering what great catastrophe could be an excuse never to come back again.
Tuesday offered a teaspoon of optimism as the day was "a little, tiny bit better than Monday."
Halfway through the week, I counted the number of hours until 6 p.m. on Friday, and figured I could make it.
On Thursday, my two weeks notices was drafted in my head as I cried a little in the afternoon. Yea, I am sensitive.
And finally, Friday. Blessed Friday! I did not think about quitting, and I did not cry. Progress.
My job looks like a sidewalk. Frustration and anger are the cracks which divide the concrete. Between the cracks, drawn on the slabs of whole rock, are pictures in sidewalk chalk, the medium of children and naivete and creativity. My job looks like a sidewalk, pure and simple; I suppose most do.
If I were callous or prideful or blind, I would miss the beauty of my sidewalk, moving right past great lessons and laughter and joy.
This week, my knowledge of God was extended in a simple, sweet lesson.
One of my kids couldn't tie her shoe. She asked if I would show her how, which I did. I explained the process carefully and let her watch, step by step. After I tied her shoes, she began to move but I quickly untied her laces and said, "Now, it's your turn." She was upset at first, rightfully so, but she was able to walk away, just a minute later, having tied her own shoes.
How often does God do the same for us? We ask for help. He shows us, and then offers us a chance. We balk and complain and sometimes walk away, or we try. Sometimes, we fail. Sometimes, we succeed.
We have been shown the way. So, bring it; I'm walking on.
Tonight, I dare you to be thankful for your sidewalk, for the cracks and the color, the stress and the love.
And, I dare you to try tying your own laces or at least acknowledge you need help.
Just don't give up.
Don't quit.
Please, don't.
You and me, we are going to learn some lessons and draw some pictures and tie some laces.
I dare us.
P.S. Someone, please remind me I wrote this when I am pissy next week.
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Cora Ruth Flottman is the best friend, college room8 and a complete inspiration to Sheila.
She is an actress, teacher, christian, lover of the written word and men who can change the tires on a car.
She blogs here every Friday!
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