Warm Fuzzies

Sometimes things happen that just make you feel right about the world.  As if the things you always suspected were true, but for which evidence had been recently been stacking against, are suddenly thrust into a spotlight with flashing neon lights directly above, reading “This is TRUTH”.

Here’s a little bit of my truth, wrapped in a story about yesterday … a day which started out a little less than perfect.

I am the Volunteer Coordinator for my son’s youth football league (yada, yada … you’ve read it all before).  People have a tendency to be less than willing to volunteer.  People like to beat me up.  (Metaphorically.)  I had to call out a particular mom yesterday for laying down on the grass in front of her daughter’s cheer squad, instead of being in the concessions stand, flipping burgers, as was her assigned slot for the day.  I’m not saying she was hiding down there, but … well, it looked like she was hiding.  Until half time of the game she was supposed to be working.

I approached her, with the roar of the crowd around me and when I asked WTF was up (OK, I didn’t actually ask like that.  I said something like “Hey … did you find someone to replace you or something?  Because you are on the schedule for cooking and there is no one in there and it is nearly half time and I really need you to go in there and work.”  Seriously, I think it was that run on and everything.)

She responded with “OK”.  And continued to lay there.  I looked at her and said, “Like right now … it’s nearly half time.”  She replied “OK” again, and I moved away to the outer ring of people and waited.  Maybe 5 minutes later, she got up and went over to her duty … and I returned to the sound booth where I act as booth manager for the games.  Later I learned that she had trashed me up and down for being rude and mean and whatever else.

In comparison to the things I usually have to deal with, this is nothing.  But when all the ladies in the concessions booth were circling around to inform me of the delinquent mum’s words, I felt sad.  Defeated, really.  Not angry, just … deflated.  As if all the work I do to try and make this organization run smoothly really doesn’t matter and I get to be nominated Queen Bitch on a daily basis, even when I try to remain calm and use my adult words.  (The non-four letter ones, that is.)  I told the ladies that I really didn’t need to hear anymore of the complaints about me and went back to cleaning up the field so I could go home and lick my sorry, little deflated wounds.

But when I got home, I found this in my email.  This, right here, which was absolutely sent to cheer me up and make me feel as if I do have something useful to add to the world.  This, right here, which made me feel absolutely wonderful.  And made me cry.  Because, it is hard to go through life knowing a fairly large number of people believe you to be the Queen Bitch.

(I gave you 3 links to the same post because it meant that much to me.)

I have a tendency to view all people through eye glasses stained by the few, instead of the glasses cleansed and shined up by the many.  One errant statement, flung thoughtlessly in my direction, can derail my entire week.  Unfortunately, knowing this tendency of mine doesn’t make me any better at changing it.

I am so grateful to Caitlyn for taking the time to let me know my words helped.  She made me feel worthy and valid and completely undid all the crappy feelings I had brought home with me from the field.

She restored my faith in the human race … and that makes me smile.


One thought on “Warm Fuzzies

  1. ❤ i'm glad my post came at a great time! love how that works out sometimes. the universe delivers right when you need it to. ugh and sorry about that rude lady. you'd think she'd understand that you were doing everyone a favor by taking on the role and that you needed her to be where she was supposed to, to do her part. way to exemplify responsibility for your daughter, lady.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s