This early morning was spent cutting out 12 bags to be sewn and given to women living in a shelter for abused women. Next the prayer cards for the Mission Blitz were modified and forwarded to the person for printing. An article for the church newsletter was sent via email. A handout for our UMW for newcomers was completed and ready for publishing tomorrow. The list of needed items for the abused women was printed for distribution to the women's circles.
Finally it was time to shower, dress and arrive at the church nursery in time to care for Brody. Brody is a precious little toddler that is so sad to be away from his parents. I volunteer in the nursery only about once a month. But when there is a child that needs some special care to become comfortable with the nursery I will go in for about three or four Sundays straight. That is usually enough time to help the child begin to feel comfortable.
This was my third week with Brody. I have committed to two more Sundays as Brody is not ready to stand on his own. What a sweet little child. He hardly cried at all this week as we watched birds and felt the chilly breeze coming in a slightly open window. He even smiled and played catch with children and workers while he remained safely in my arms. Yes, a couple more weeks should have him managing very well.
After attending a thank you luncheon for nursery volunteers we came home and dressed down for the remainder of the day. Gene settled in with his laptop. A call from Gene's niece updating on Ken who is in the hospital with double pneumonia, left the rest of the day open. Grabbing my new Valentine gift, I began streaming a little movie on Netflix.
'That's What I Am' is based on true events. It is set in a junior high school in 1965. Once my anal mind got passed the incorrect autos and bikes for the era, I was sucked into the story. The story is about a 12 year old 'A' team type paired with a very tall, red-haired, big ears boy on a project. No spoiler alert here as I will tell you no more. I enjoyed the movie and Ed Harris' portrayal of the teacher that paired the young boys.
This story brought back to me one of my worst memories. Let me say that in my teen years I was on a good day at best a bench warmer of the "B" teams of whatever. I was overweight, bookish and very homely. And this is not an exaggeration. My hook nose along with the protruding chin gained me the nickname of parrot. One would think I would have had compassion on the others of my same social level.
Bobby Hamby was a freshman. He and his older sister were disliked by the 'A' team in Allen, TX. I would always speak to Bobby cause I could see no problem with him. The high school had fewer than 80 students. How the heck can there be an 'A' team with a school that small? But intolerance knows no size, it has no sensibility. And this is where confession starts. Bobby was being bullied by the guys in my class. They literally had him on the ground beating him. I walked over and did the unthinkable. I kicked Bobby. The look Bobby gave me was not of fear but understanding. The 'A' team had let me in for a few moments and he understood.
I have sinned many times over in my life. That one kick is my sin of sins. And Bobby's look? A look surely close to that of Jesus on the cross looking on Peter. And that is just one more reason I will go back next week to hold Brody.