There are times when my faith in humanity are shaken more than they normally are. I'm a generally cynical person these days, so it doesn't take much to make me wonder what the hell happened to society.
There are times like today when I question not just humanity, but all the rest of it. Cosmos, fate, the wisdom of a higher power.
When bad things happen to good people, I think that's a normal reaction. At least it is around here anyway.
Welcome to my jaded head.
Anyhow, I picked up the girls from school this afternoon and headed to a school the next town over for my oldest son's wrestling match.
They start them at 3:30, which makes it almost impossible for most parents, even the stay at home variety, to ever make it on time. Consequently, I'm always hauling ass to the school to try and make sure I get there in time to see him.
I walked in the doors just before his name was called for his first match.
Parenthood...it's not about all the times you are there, it's the one time you're not that they remember.
I take my own memories of that from my childhood pretty seriously, so I patted myself on the back for not screwing it up this time.
I found a seat in the bleachers with the rest of my herd. You know, my three other kids. First, the ADHD child who cannot physically make herself sit still after 4pm no matter what I do. I could literally sit on her and she'd find a way to squirm out from under me. The younger daughter who is always so terribly bored with everything in the world and needs to check out the bathroom everywhere we go almost constantly. And the 4 year old who always has the attention span of a gnat.
This is what I'm dealing with, while I'm trying to ignore the fact that the gym smells like farts and feet, knowing it's at least another hour and a half before his next match.
My patience was about shot, my emotions for the day long ago spent, and I had no cell phone reception (which is a tragedy all unto itself when you're spending over two hours in a middle school gym).
I was tired and worn out, beaten down a little by life.
Then, something happened.
Something strange and beautiful.
There are two differently-abled boys on my son's wrestling team. The school is phenomenal with including each and every kid who wants to participate. One of them was called for the next match, and two of the boys helped him across to the check in table next to me.
He struggles with communication, so they told the judges his name. They patted him on the back and wished him good luck.
He stepped onto the mat, shook hands with his opponent and the match began.
Then, one by one, the boys from our team lined up at the edge of the mat to cheer for him.
All the anger and frustration, negativity and sadness in my heart melted away as I watched these spandex wearing tweens yelling and clapping for this boy.
It was amazing.
They told me that there is good left in people, that our youth aren't as spoiled and entitled as we sometimes believe, that kindness is stronger than judgment, that a team isn't made of athletes, but of friends.
I was proud of them all.
I needed that bit of hope today.
Ignore the lady crying in the stands. It's just me.
Nothing to see here, move along.
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