Protect

Yesterday I sat here.  Struggling to find a topic.  I can only write if the passion flows.  Words usually purge right outa me if I am excited.  Inspired or just plain interested.
I filled the page with my soap box lecture on "Its not my child".  Then I erased the entire thing.  I realized that Its just too damn simple.
Yes 'IT IS YOUR CHILD'- Its all of our children.
But those who need to listen won't.
So forget about it.

Now I'm interested.

Here is a subject matter that I talk about a lot.  I have an amazing forum. Right in my hair salon.  The public (aka my clients~friends) are allowed to freely discuss while having their hair done.  No pressure, no judgments.  Just good old fashion conversation.

We have been discussing Nate's basketball game.  Talking about it in great detail.   How beautiful it is to see a young boy or girl with the use of only one arm command the ball like Jordan with utter poise.
To witness the determination on the face of a child that is wearing leg braces run down the court with such grace as  Mikhail Baryshnikov.
Beautiful sights.
  Moments embedded in your mind for a lifetime.  Lessons learned with no lectures. No guide books, no tests.
  Visuals so damn powerful. Words have already been written by great poets. Stories have already been told.  But these moments are different. Bold, vivid, life changing moments.
The moment when YOU realize, its not about the score.
At the end it truly is how you played the friggen game.

They all played with a smile.  Grins from ear to ear. Patting the back of their opposing teammate when they scored.  Helping a friend get down the court with a helping hand. No fighting, no pushing.  No drama.  No worries.  No cares. Just good old fashion basketball.

Of course there was a little dancing. 

But the salon conversation always leads to tears.  Either from the present or from the past.  But tears. The stories of how they welled up.  How their husbands began to melt.  But tears. Salty stains trickling down their cheeks.
But why?

That is what I ponder.
Tears?
Alas- through much discussion we figured it out. (for the moment at least)
Yes, we are proud.
We are happy and full of bursting joy.
We are humbled by the standards set by those that may be seen as 'handicapped'.
We are moved.  We are ...........Hmmmmmmm?
We are just watching a basketball game.

We tear because we in that moment. In that second of time.  We  understand the simple lessons. The obvious is written in sharpie....Be proud, be humbled, be happy.
BUT-

"Protect those that need to be protected."
Wow- I got it. LOUD and clear. I am a mom of children that need to be protected. Maybe one more than the other.  I didn't know then.  I don't think I signed up for this.

Tears are not necessarily from sadness.  Tears are wet wake up calls. A reaction to something that is unexpected. A tug at  your heart. 

You felt it.  You tasted it.  You too will wear the duty with honor and integrity. You will PROTECT!
  I wear the badge with grace and humility.  It takes very strong shoulders. But with your gentle nudge we can do this.  We can honor, love, nurture and believe.  It truly does take a village.

Do not feel sorry.
  Do not be sad.
  The tears are gentle warm reminders that its nothing more than a game. 
 After the score boards lights are off.  The stands are cleared of candy wrappers and remnants of time gone by.  These Special children just need our love.  Our joy.  Our helping hand.
They just need us to protect them from harms way.  To give them the right road to travel. To gently guide them through life with a soothing helping hand. To protect.

Lessons learned my friends.
Its just NOT the score. Its how you played the game.