It was a beautiful night. I went to watch Molly cheer and the JV boys in black and blue play football.
Soon after my arrival, Molly hollered to me from the cheer platform that the Sharps were at the game. I had imagined as much as their youngest son plays for red team on the field. It is Molly’s plan to be a Sharp by marriage or adoption, either will do.
I made my appearance in our stands, checked on Molly’s hydration needs and made my way over to the far side of the field. I might have stood out in my lost and found black and blue sweatshirt as I approached the stands of red clad cheerers. I paid no never mind and moved confidently up the risers to stand before my dear friends’ adoptive three-year old. Her eyes lit up to see me, her arms reached out as I lifted her into my counter colored arms. Her Dad and Mom grabbed me tight and drew me into a seat alongside theirs. Honestly, in such company, I felt more me, more home, than among my coordinating comrades.
I yelled for my future grandchildren’s possible papa more than most about me. Later, we girls wandered over to see Molly cheer, holding Danielle’s hands between us. The three-year old yelled as mightily for Molly, her usual Saturday night playmate, as she did for brother, Miles.
I walked them back and lingered amongst them as long as Mama Duties would allow. Miles played well , though he will also be black and blue today. Molly’s colors scored many times more often, earned the “W.”
Today, of all days, is a good day for me to remember the lesson of last night and see through the eyes of a child.
“… and a little child will lead them.” – Isaiah 11:6