I'm Quirky and Proud Of It....Sort Of!

I have a lot of issues, quirks, habits, obsessions, whatever you want to call them.  From not being able to go barefoot to silently counting the number of letters in sentences and needing them to always end with an even number of letters.  There are so many things, that I dare not bore you, by listing them all here.  I use to think I was a complete nut, and then I read Jen Hatmaker's blog post about this very thing.  Reading her "issues" made me giggle, but reading the blog comments made me feel much less nutty.  There are some quirky people in the world.  :)  Some of my quirks are things that literally drive me into a silent frenzy....fortunately I am old enough now to know to just leave the room to regroup or try to deal with it.  Some of my quirks just bring me a sense of comfort.  Some of my quirks are because I'm on the spectrum somewhere....aren't we all?  Learning about so many other quirky people has certainly helped me in embracing my weird idiosyncrasies.  Thank goodness for honest people!!

The Memory

Today I was thinking about my children....not as a group....but each individually. I was thinking back to their firsts...steps, words, food, friends, day of preschool, day of kindergarten, etc. While I was thinking about my soon to be 17 year old, a memory washed over me. She was in kindergarten, and my son was in a special ed half day class at her elementary school. Every day that I would pick him up at 11:00, I would drive around the back of the school; so that I could see her playing on the playground. It was her recess time, and I would see her chubby cheeks smiling and her blonde curls bouncing as she ran and played with her classmates. One day I was driving by, and I was going slow as I always did; so I could savor another moment of watching her. I spotted her standing in a circle of little girls. As I drove and watched, I saw them all run away from her. What I saw next ripped my heart straight out of my chest. I watched my curly blonde, chubby cheeked little girl hang her head and slowly walk away alone. I watched as she sat down on the railroad ties, that surrounded the play equipment, with her head hung low as the other girls frolicked away. I wanted to pull over and grab her up in my arms, but I drove on crying my eyes out. When I picked her up that day, she was as happy as always; and I never mentioned the scene I had witnessed. It might have been the first time her feelings were hurt by friends, but I knew it wouldn't be the last. I have shared this story with her since, and she doesn't remember that day. But I do, and it breaks my heart every time. Parents feel the pain of their children, sometimes more than the children. If we could, we would suffer it for them.  It's amazing that we have a Savior who has suffered more than we can imagine, so that we can have eternal life. He feels our pain and suffers with us.
The Lord is near to the broke hearted and saves the crushed in spirit.  Psalm 34:18