Facebook these days is a mishmash of cartoons, political statements, advertisements for whatever you last googled, (am I the only one out here in reality world that finds that creepy?) photos of people's kids, dogs, spouses or meals, and very occasionally, a post that is truly inspiring. I read one of those posts today, written by a mom who wanted to give heartfelt thanks to someone who had made a difference in her child's life.
She is, rightfully, proud of her child, and for all the right reasons. But she also wanted to recognize the role played by her child's teachers, because she understood they were crucial to her child's success, and more importantly, to her child's sense of self-worth. She has no idea how right she is.
I have been thinking about that post all day, because it hit a chord down deep inside me. I have always been... shall we say... athletically challenged. I cannot make sense of a ball, whether it is in my hand, on the ground, in the air, or anywhere else. If I run too hard, I get exercise induced asthma and cannot breathe. I broke my foot playing soccer in elementary PE because I am a klutz. I can't dance, I can't jump without losing my balance, and I am hopeless at games of any kind. I am uncoordinated and I can't Just Do It, no matter how much I may want to, or how hard I try.
Friday, August 25, 2017
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