Today I cried.
I had previously had a great morning. A wake-up hug from Manny and then a warm shower under the heater fan that just got fixed this week in our master bath. I’d made myself coffee in the most beautiful kitchen I thought I'd never own, and then one of my closest friends invited me out for brunch! I hummed around as I gathered my things, finding them all right where I expected them to be, and ran out the door to meet her. It was a good Friday morning!
Not long after, I turned up at First German where Manny greeted me with a kiss on the cheek in front of his whole class, (GOLLY!) and insisted I sit and wait in his classroom with him until the bus loaded them all up to go. It made my heart so happy to see how much he wanted me there. God gave me him.
As I sat, I watched the other 5th- 8th graders get their snow gear on and thought back to my own weekend ski trip as a middle schooler. Back then, I didn’t own my own snow pants. I didn’t have my own pajamas. I didn’t even have friends. My experience had been a 48 hour long episode of shame and humiliation, and I hid my face until it was over. So today, I brought along a spare pair of snow pants and looked around for a kid who might need some, or for an outsider sitting around unexcited, but I didn’t find either. I thanked God for our First German family. God gave me that.
Before taking off, I put on my own fancy adult snow pants and a pair of winter boots I got from Macy’s for $12 a few years ago on clearance. I thanked God that Manny and I had all we needed and more today. What a different experience it was for him at his middle school Winter event. God gave me that.
Next thing I knew, I was driving alone in my van, singing along to One Headlight, by Radio, following behind 2 school busses full of First German kids on their way to Kewanee Winter Park for a snow tubing day.The lyrics played:
Come on try a little, nothing is forever
Got to be something better than in the middle
Me and Cinderella, we put it all together
We can drive it home with one headlight
I didn't really know what the song was about, but as I sang it, I remembered my days of conjuring up the gumption to “put it all together” and “drive it home with one headlight.” Images of my NO-car days! The day I walked a sick, little baby Myah 2 blocks in a winter storm to the doctor’s office to confirm RSV and get her admitted to the hospital. She struggled to breathe before we even left, and I worried about her breathing through the wind, but worried even more about waiting any longer at home with no car.
I remembered one of my first cars, and how the back windows didn't roll up, and the girls having to brave the cold wind all the way to their daycare so that I could get to work.
I remembered even, the way, WAY back days, as a kid, when my mom’s actual headlights were out and her tags were expired, and the worry I felt that she might get caught again driving with no license and go to jail.
I thanked God I didn’t have to worry about that today, and that Manny didn’t have to worry about that. Today, my gas tank was full. The van ran well and blended in between the other parent's cars. I thanked God out loud. “Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God.” I said it repetitively. I knew I had so much to be thankful for.
The notifications chimed from my work phone in the passenger seat as I drove, so I glanced to find a conversation of workers praising me. They'd said that certain things make them want to pull their hair out, so they’re thankful to know I’m there to find the solutions. I grinned. WIDELY. I probably raised my eyebrows. I do bust my butt. I mean, I do. I'm smart! I can double the work in half the time, I told myself. I know they see it. I got a rush from the recognition. Sometimes it doesn't seem worth it otherwise. I drove along and tooted my own horn. Not the van horn! My own. I patted myself on the back.
Instantly, still driving, the Holy Ghost spoke to me. “I gave you that, too, you know.” “I gave you all those skills. Every strength.” I got a flashback of who I "used to be”. All the stupid things I’d done and said and participated in. All the mistakes people witnessed me make, and the ones nobody knows about. Yuk, I thought. Embarrassing. I used to be the dirty neighbor kid that nobody wanted their kids hanging out with. I was from the "can't keep a job" camp. I thought back. Long before I ever taught parenting education to negligent parents, I was a pregnant teenager, smoking cigarettes on the sidewalk while I waited for my own teen parenting class to start. I humbled my heart and thanked God again for pulling me out and developing me. Making something of the mess I was.
God supplied every single thing. So anyway, I cried. And then I enjoyed the rest of my day with Manny.