I went for a run this morning before the sun came up, and I am amazed that I have as much stamina as I do. Then again, maybe the endurance I've built up from years of butt-kicking and name-taking I've done on a daily basis on behalf of my kids for the better part of the last 10 years has something to do with it.
Anyway, I went out, still grinding my teeth over the email from last night, and somewhere between miles 2 and 3, that small still voice began nattering at me.
"Yeah, but," it said. "Isn't your problem a good one to have?"
Between miles 3 and 4, I stood in some woods, the sun suddenly up as it often is at this time of year, listening to the chorus of birds all around me, and really absorbing that fact. Yes, I have to work uphill against ignorance and prejudice, yes, I have to work harder to keep my kids motivated, to keep them believing in themselves when the adults around them fail to. Yeah, I know, I GET IT.
But the fact remains, as one good friend points out continuously, as much as my kids have stacked against them, they have as much--if not more--to work with.
In other words, kwitcherbitchin'
Once again, the inner voice shut me down--the complaining me, anyway. Which is fine. That needed to be done. I came home and got ready for the day, which included swim lessons (good ones for both boys), registration, G's last soccer game and a pizza party.
The last two are what have me sitting here, wistful. As stressful as the coaching experience was, I'm glad I did it, glad I had the opportunity to work with a wonderful bunch of little boys, and I guess I am sad because I know I will never do this again, or I might once the kids get older and I have time to volunteer for stuff like this.
I'm sad because I'll miss the kids. I'm glad I got to know them. And I wish every last one of them the very best life has to offer. God speed, little men--and thank you.