Wednesday, August 13, 2014
J went for a run yesterday. I can’t keep up, but I walked in the same direction. I passed a large park where there were two different young kids’ teams practicing football. I saw parents coaching, watching, and waiting in cars. I used to have that role. And I was reminded of my limitations of that role as a mom.
It was B’s senior season. He had suffered what eventually became a season ending injury the previous week. I recall the next Friday night was rivalry week. There was some hype: the pep band led a parade of the team followed by the mass of students into the stadium. I looked for B. He was easy to spot- only two kids were injured and thus just wearing their jersey with street clothes. He was the one with a high and tight haircut and black sweats. He stood next to the coaches during the warm up sprints, and then was very busy on the sidelines managing the defensive play clip board, and always holding a football with his other hand.
I sat in the stands watching him walk out to take his usual spot next to his quarterback lined up for the Nation Anthem. As my eyes fixated in the lights by the flag, my thoughts turned to an experience I had when I was 5 years old. It was just a few weeks before Kindergarten when my dad told us the empty house next had sold and we would be getting new neighbors. To my sheer delight he told us that they had 2 daughters, one of which was my age. My new neighbor quickly became my best friend. Her dad was the new principal at the high school which was adjacent to the elementary school we would soon attend. As my friend and I readied for Kindergarten our mothers wanted us to have no doubts in the course we were to walk to and from school. They walked it with us many times, making sure we knew the way. Several weeks into Kindergarten, the library was introduced to us. I quickly found a book to borrow and take home. The librarian reminded us to take special care of these books and return them next week in exchange for another. We agreed. The next week, my friend and I met out in front of our homes on the sidewalk. She was so excited to tell me that her dad told her of another way we could go to school. I tucked my book beneath one arm and clasped my hand in my friend’s as we skipped down the sidewalk on our NEW way to school. At one point conflict arose as the sidewalk’s concrete was broken. It was marked off and we could not pass. We noted our options and justified that since no cars were coming and it would be a short walk into the street, it was okay. As I stepped off the curb, I tripped. Immediate fear overtook me. My fall caused me to drop my library book which fell into the water run-off grate beneath the street. I cried. I cried for my disobedience in going the wrong way to school, walking in the street, and failing to take good care of my library book. My friend insisted we should continue on to school and that her dad would take care of everything. I didn't listen. Instead, I broke another rule. I turned around the other direction and ran home as fast as I could sobbing the entire way. Unexpectedly my dad was still home. I poured my regretful heart out to him. I recounted the tragedy as it had unfolded. My dad made a phone call, then took my small hand securely within his. I did not understand what we were going to do, but I knew I could trust him and did so by following him. A man from the city met us there. He removed the large bolts and the grate. My dad borrowed his ladder and retrieved my library book. Then without a word but of gratitude to the city worker, he walked with me to school.
My dad was my hero that day. He made all the fear and sadness go away.
As the team took the field, I felt sad for B, that he couldn't be out there with them- that he couldn't finally get to play a position he had worked so hard to be good at. I felt bad that I couldn't be his hero and make all the hard parts about this go away. Then I thought about how this trial is one more part of the refiner’s fire that my son has the opportunity to work through. I thought about how much stronger he could be if he chose to remain faithful during this adversity.
I was okay with not being able to rescue him. After all, he is no longer five. I prayed that the Lord would be generous in compensating him, and that we can all be patient with the Lord’s time schedule and His perfect wisdom.
That was years ago. My role of hero definitely continues to have its limits. But these healthy waffles will allow you to at least bask in momentary hero status :)
½ cup steel cut oats blended in food processor (or a full cup omitting flour)
½ cup flour (I use whole wheat)
3 egg whites
1 cup of cottage cheese (I use fat free)
1 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. nutmeg
Blend all ingredients together in a food processor until smooth. Scoop out about 1 cup of batter and cook in a waffle maker. Top with fresh fruit, maple syrup, peanut butter, or whatever is your family’s favorite topper.
These waffles are packed with protein and lean carbs delivering the right kind of energy to keep your family playing football, recovering lost library books, or fighting through adversity.
Posted by jae little at 8:34 AM