I believe our lives are shaped by a multiplicity of "a-ha" moments. We are all capable of changing our opinions and habits, but what drives us to do that? I heard a man say once that if you can't identify the moment you "changed," then you probably are motivated by other sources and it is not genuine and lasting. (This was of course in relation to politician's changing their stance on political issues. If say, the politician is against something one day and for it the next, what was his "a-ha" moment? If he/she cannot give a real and thoughtful representation to his moment of change, than you might consider chalking it up to campaign contributions.)
I feel some truth to this. When I was a young girl, this was one of my "a-ha" moments. Thirty plus years later, I can still recall this event with clarity. I was changed, thankfully for the better. Does it mean I was perfectly perfect in this thing? Nope. Not at all. I still am not. But when I have failed again, there is always this dreaded fear in my soul and I try to recommit again to kindness and charity. It is not always easy, but it is always easier than any other alternative in the end.
Summer's Son
"I call pitcher!" Euphorically I ran to take my place in the center
of our neighborhood street and caught the red rubber ball tossed to me. The warm evening sun is just above the roof
top of the house at the end of our block.
We have plenty of time yet for fun.
“Can I play?” Asks John, Kathryn and David’s 6 year old
brother.
Ugg! We already started! We are half-way through this neighborhood game of kick
ball. There is no way David is going to say yes. He is a
little boy and these teams are made up of the big kids today. No mixing of age-pools, if you get my
drift. Let’s just say that if my 6 year
old brother asked me if he could play at this point of our game, I would definitely
tell him to take a hike or better yet, I might ignore his question altogether. It is the only way kids will learn their
place in our unspoken social hierarchy.
"Uh….Sure. You can pitch,"
David agrees. “Just stand right here.”
He just said yes and he gave away MY position. I am
pitching! I called to be pitcher first! Awww! This is just my luck. I never get to pitch! well, I'm not going to argue about it. I don't want to look like I am mean or something.
I toss the ball to John with a glare
no one else sees, not even John, and resume an outfielder spot on the street
where we play.
The thing is, I like playing kickball,
but sometimes, ok most of the time, I miss those easy fly balls and when I do,
everyone groans. It is humiliating. It is much harder to screw things up playing
pitcher… so I naturally prefer that position. Kristy always gets first dibs and for once, she
didn’t call for pitcher so I was finally going to have a turn at it. Then this
little “Kindergartner” had to spoil everything just when I was about to shine.
His first pitch is tossed out. “Re-pitch!”
Troy, one of the 11 year old boys, gently tosses the ball back to John. He is coached and encouraged by those around
him to make it a little smoother. Oh bother. Just get on with it.
Troy kicks this time and races for first base. The excitable six year old has followed him
and placed himself right in Troy’s running path. It is an acrobatic near-miss as Troy lands
safely on his street base. I am pretty sure if
someone that big ran over John playing this game, he would be severely injured
and sorry for his intrusion. Maybe then
he wouldn’t ask to play with us again. He
really should be playing with kids his own age, NOT with 5th and 6th
graders!
Kathryn is up next and she kicks the ball high in the air
right above me. I hold my arms out,
close my eyes...and feel the ball swoosh right through my arms. There is a mixture of laughter and groans as
I consider how much I hate tonight's game.
*******************************************************************************
Saturdays are a special day. It’s the day we get ready for Sunday. Literally. I have been doing my chores all morning because...well, I HAVE to before I can play. I've already cleaned the bathroom (my assigned
chore) and now I am doing a bonus job, sweeping the front steps, just to stay
in good favor. It is a little trick I
have learned. If ever I want a sleep
over or a special privilege, I just make sure the house is extra clean (complete
with vacuum lines) and have one of Mom’s favorite records playing when she
comes home from work. I am just hoping this
will be my last job and I will be free to go play when I am done. Plus, being outside might attract a friend or
two over to play.
A bike rider racing around the corner catches
my eye. It is John. His legs are pumping his little dirt bike so
fast they are almost a blur. Excitedly
he hollers from his moving bike to Jared, his peer and my little brother, “We're going swiiiiiiiiimming!"
Great. Now he is bragging. Yesterday he got to play in our kickball game
and now he is bragging about getting to go swimming. Well if you had stopped, little boy, I would
have told you that you aren’t the only one that gets to go swimming. We go ALL the time. In fact, we may even go today once all the
work is done. But you won’t see me bragging about it when we do.
*********************************************************************************
I cannot even remember what I was doing before mom told me. The news is too
shocking. Too horrifying. This has never happened to someone that I
know. I knew it was something bad because Mom's voice was funny during the phone call she answered. Sweet little John drowned at the pool
today. Somehow he got separated from his
family and they found him at the bottom of the deep end. He is in the hospital on life support. My mind is reeling as I try to wrap my head
around this information. What does this
mean? Is he going to be okay after a few
day? He was just riding his bicycle this
morning and was so excited to go swimming. Swimming is supposed to be fun!
Our church congregation is going to hold
a special 24 hour fast for John. I don’t
normally like to fast, and being honest, sometimes I sneak food. On our regular Fast Sundays all I can think
about is food and water! But this time,
I am really going to do it. For John.
John is not a bratty little boy.
He is really good natured.
I don't like this feeling in my gut. I feel like I have done something really bad
and just got caught. My stomach flips
and swells as I recall yesterday. Why
wasn't I nicer to him? Well, I wasn't exactly
mean to him to his face but only because if I had been, everyone would have
been mad at me. We all like John well enough but only I know
what I was thinking. I am ashamed.
John is just a little kid. I just
had my nose out of joint because he got to pitch instead of me. Pitching is the easiest job and it was the
right place to put him.
And then about this morning... who wouldn't be excited to go
swimming? I can totally understand why
he was so happy.
John. You are my brother's friend. You are my friend's brother. You won't die. You can't die. You have to go to school next week! I am sure
your teacher already has your name beautifully taped to a desk just for you.
Heavenly Father, if you will let
John live, I promise I will let him be the pitcher every time we play kickball
and I will never be jealous when he gets to do something fun.
*********************************************************************************
The ward members who fasted met at
the church today to close our fast. Everybody
in the chapel knelt as the prayer was offered for John's life to be spared….if
it was God’s will. I cried during the
prayer and needed a tissue the whole time but didn’t have one. I feel
like everything is going to be okay. Perhaps we are going to see a miracle!
*********************************************************************************
I approach John’s small casket with tears already flowing.
John’s mom is trying to comfort me when I should be comforting her! She has her arm around my shoulder and is telling
me about paradise, the resurrection, and forever families. I already know all that. That isn’t why I am crying. I am crying because I have a secret. She doesn't know my secret--no one does—except
for Heavenly Father. If only I had another chance to give John that kickball
and have my heart in the right place. If only….
The one good thing in all of this is that David has no regret. He let his brother play one last game with
him--even without knowing it was going to be the last time. David won’t feel the same pain I am feeling
today. He was a good brother.
*********************************************************************************
The sun is setting one of its
beautiful Idaho sunsets. The first feeling of fall air pricks at my skin. The street is quiet even though it is still
perfect weather for evening games. I
know I don't feel much like playing yet so maybe no one else does either.
I am not the same person I was a
week ago. I feel differently. I feel more.
I slowly pedal through our empty
Park Street kickball diamond in front of John's house.
I am going to choose to be nicer—to my
brothers, my sisters, my friends, my friend's brothers and sisters-- because sometimes
things happen and you never know when it will be the last time you see
them. You might not get a chance to make
a wrong right. Regret doesn’t taste very good.
I hear Mom ring the cow bell. Must be time to come in. Big day tomorrow. School starts.
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