A few highlights of the past week:
1. A kid peed his pants in class, I think on purpose.
2. Bravo was stolen, or miraculously escaped from his leash.
3. I discovered mangos.
If the list above is any indication, there is a sweet ending to my problems. School is relentlessly long, and I'm utterly tired at the end of the day. And yet there are little things that keep me going, like mangos: somewhere in between the shape and density of a swollen fist and an oblong softball, they are meaty and heavy. It's common to eat them with salt and chile sauce, which makes for a sweet, sour, salty, and spicy taste.
There are experiences, weighty and complicated in taste, that also compel me. One of my kids, Darwin, is reckless and pushes girls instead of working. But he also carries my books for me and shines with the slightest compliment. I had to put Darwin in the "Red Zone," which means he behaved badly. I told his mother after school, and her eyes got sharp, and Darwin began to weep right in front of me as she scolded him. "Discúlpame!" Tears were now streaking his face. His mom made him say it louder. "Discúlpame! Discúlpame!" I had to stand, shoulders straight and no emotion, watching Darwin in his shame.
Discúlpame loosely translates as un-fault me or un-guilt me. It seems that this is how we might approach God with our failings, soft and confused. Discúlpame for the religious sentiment. I won't indulge myself by concluding the mango metaphor, as sweet and salty and sour and spicy as it is. You can do that yourself.
1. A kid peed his pants in class, I think on purpose.
2. Bravo was stolen, or miraculously escaped from his leash.
3. I discovered mangos.
If the list above is any indication, there is a sweet ending to my problems. School is relentlessly long, and I'm utterly tired at the end of the day. And yet there are little things that keep me going, like mangos: somewhere in between the shape and density of a swollen fist and an oblong softball, they are meaty and heavy. It's common to eat them with salt and chile sauce, which makes for a sweet, sour, salty, and spicy taste.
There are experiences, weighty and complicated in taste, that also compel me. One of my kids, Darwin, is reckless and pushes girls instead of working. But he also carries my books for me and shines with the slightest compliment. I had to put Darwin in the "Red Zone," which means he behaved badly. I told his mother after school, and her eyes got sharp, and Darwin began to weep right in front of me as she scolded him. "Discúlpame!" Tears were now streaking his face. His mom made him say it louder. "Discúlpame! Discúlpame!" I had to stand, shoulders straight and no emotion, watching Darwin in his shame.
Discúlpame loosely translates as un-fault me or un-guilt me. It seems that this is how we might approach God with our failings, soft and confused. Discúlpame for the religious sentiment. I won't indulge myself by concluding the mango metaphor, as sweet and salty and sour and spicy as it is. You can do that yourself.
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