I'm sipping some coffee and gathering my thoughts. That's a funny phrase, "gathering my thoughts". Almost like your thoughts can be scattered all over the place and you have to herd them like children on a vast playground. Trying to get my thoughts all in one place standing in line at attention is an almost impossible task these days. But that is what I'm attempting to do this morning...gathering my thoughts so that I can move ahead the rest of the week.

I sent off a rocket last week at Aly's school. They were having their end of the year field day centered around the theme of outer space. I had the responsibility of assembling and executing the successful lauch of a 16 inch rocket. I'm not much of a wires-and-explosives-guy, but I managed to figure out the logistics of intermediate rocketeering.

The children were alive and spry, perched on the side of a grassy nole. I was high fiving them and getting them all lathered up over that which I knew very little about, really. It's funny how you can distract people with personality and emotions so much so that your expertise is really of little value. The fact of the matter is that the kids thought I was the "Rocketman" extraordinaire and gave me unwavering respect. It was as if I was about to climb into the space shuttle as a trained astronaut, minus the sterile white suit and big, round helmet. They were poised for an exibition of pirotechnics and a display of epic proportions. And I, honestly, was scared that it wouldn't work. I had no dry run, no mock launch, no testing ground. When I hit the little red button, I was a novice crossing my fingers hoping for a miracle. I feared the worst, an anti-climactic finish to the festive morning. Kids sitting still on the side of the hill gazing at the open field waiting for the thing that I had fired them up about, wide-eyed and expectant, only to find out that the moron that they thought had "walked on the moon" was a fraud posing as a mad scientist and astrophysicist. I imagined that they would form a mob and gang tackle me. In my mind's eye, I visualized 74 children all weighing somewhere between 50-75 pounds crushing me like a grape and my blood pouring out like fine Italian wine. I was nervous this wasn't going to pan out like it was planned out. Very nervous actually.

But it did. It went without a hitch. The kids had a blast. I was brought to life with their intoxicating joy. It was worth the worry.

There's so much more that needs to be gathered by way of my thoughts, but I have not the time nor the energy to do so now.

It's important for me to write these stories down for my heart's sake. Random and rushed though they are, they remind me of the glory of life and the hope that still emerges like a root out of dry ground. When I read this in my old age, I hope that it will continue to stir in me the desire to fix my eyes on the glorious privilege of being alive and to appreciate life's wondrous delicacies.


mama2dibs said…
I love that you are ALWAYS at the coffee house drinking coffee!

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