Saturday was a get up extra early and drive 2+ hours away for 1.5 hours on the ice, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. He was so proud of himself. I am so proud of him. He did his best and had fun, and scored some goals. This mama's heart is bursting with happiness for this young man. God is good, all the time!
Monday, January 18, 2010
This weekend was good. My heart has been and still is, on the people of Haiti. But my life here is still happening and while I won't, or can't, forget what's going on in Haiti, I need to live my life. So, let me tell you about my dear boy. He is 8. (going to be nine one week from today, but I am hoping that if I don't mention it, he'll forget and stay 8 -- its not looking too good though) He is a tender hearted boy. He is a funny boy. He is a smart boy. He has asthma. He is not so athletic. Do you know what generally happens to nice, funny, smart boys who can't always hit the baseball or run with endurance down the soccer field as the asthma burns his lungs? The boys who are athletic aren't always so nice. And that has broken this mama's heart for the last few years as he catches on that some people aren't nice and just don't give you a chance to improve by practicing with them. The thing about nice kids, is they don't understand meanness. Granted, my dear one has most definitley picked up his mother's sarcasm, no doubt about that! He has no problem bantering with Steve and I. But to be deliberately mean to someone, really isn't in this boys make up. I prayed for something that he would like to do, that he is able to do that maybe wouldn't involve some of the same old kids who like to make things hard for those who aren't as "good" as they are. Along came hockey. Really?! Okay, God, but hockey?! The boy has asthma! Did you forget this? Cold weather induced asthma??! Sure, lets try it. Its in another town. Only a handful of friends from school were in it, and they were generally the nice boys too. So, we gave it a whirl. We are on month 4 of hockey and look at that face. Try to not see the annoyance in his eyes that his mom is feeling the need to take his picture between games. He finally got to play in a real game. Not the scrimmages that the first half of the season entailed. A REAL GAME. " I am a Tornado, Mom!" Yes, yes you are, and you're a great one!