Glitter on the Side: It's in a touch

I was once again privileged to do something wonderful last night.
Thanks to Nathaniel.
Being his mom makes me feel like a VIP.
Not just once in awhile.
But daily.

Every magical moment.
Brought to me,
by him.
Who would have known.

Last night our local High School's baseball team sponsored their first baseball clinic for special people.
As usual I was "Nate's mom"...no name....just the coat carrier.
"Leave Mom"...was the first thing said as we entered the gym.

Instant independence was on Nate's agenda.
I could do nothing more than watch.
And,
thank God that I was given VIP access.

Each Brother Rice player was given a special person to mentor.

The young men took their hands and guided them through their world.
If only for a night.

Nathaniel was guided through baseball drills.
Pitching.
Catching,
and fielding.
He among others swung the bat with reckless abandonment.

Making contact with the tiny little sphere brought immense pride from all.

Joy was contagious as the kids ran from base to base.

Laughing,
dancing
squealing
clapping
filled the air with acoustic brilliance.

But what I noticed was simple.
What I saw gave me goosebumps.
What humbled me was the team.

Teen aged boys gathered here on a Friday night.
No one checked their watches or answered their phones.
They came to do what was expected.

But they did more.

They got on their knee's and spoke with their child.

Eye to eye.
Man to man.
Friend to friend.
Person to person.

They held their child's uncertain hands with grace.
They wore pride on their jerseys as if this was their child.

Some of these high school boys were out of their comfort zone.
Some of these young men probably had never been around any one special.
To have gentle contact with a stranger.
Let alone a stranger that may look different.
Or act different.

I looked around in awe.

They all accepted.
They all taught.
They all understood.

This may have been the beginning to something magical.
The real deep down inside your heart jolt.
The stuff that does not come from winning.

Yes, these amazing young men taught our children somethings about baseball.
But I guarantee our children taught these boys even more.

I teared when I saw the gentleness of these boys hold the hands of our children.
Guiding them with dignity through the maze of baseball.
They offered the sweetness that is kept away from locker rooms.

I pray that these moments are now embedded.
Deep into their beings.
Remembering this night as the beginning.
To accept all those.
All those who may look different,
act different.

They touched.

They felt.
They saw.
They lived.
And if only for the moment they looked through the eyes of a 'not so perfect' child.
And it didn't matter.

My only hope is that these moments leave a lasting reminder to these young high school athletes.

We may not all make the team.
We may never wear the jersey.
Or hold the trophy.

But we all feel the same joy.