So...what I really had envisioned (a couple of months ago) was this day coming and me being able to say "I survived". Well...I survived? Turns out, survival wasn't the point.
Last weekend, when I was making my millionth "Hurricane Sandy" trip to the store to buy essentials (such as cartloads of junkfood), I ran into my friend Lee. He said to me "I'd like to hear more about that." I was all ??? He said "Cheerleading." Because, we all know I'm the least likely candidate ever to become a cheer coach? (A coach of anything, for that matter?)
Reality is there is too much of that story to tell.
The short of it is I ignored the first (and the second and the third) call asking for someone to be their coach.
That sort of thing is for other people, you know. And I have spent most of my life not "getting" what the point of cheerleading is. I'm not anti-cheerleaders, but, I mean...it's 2012. Why are we putting girls on the sidelines of athletic achievement to look all cute while cheering on boys? Don't even get me started on the whole image thing. Suffice it to say I know too many girls and grown women who have fallen victim to the trap of not ever being visually good enough...huge, life controlling trap. Blah. (I feel the need to maybe apologize for possibly being offensive. I don't mean to be. Just being honest with where I was. Not exactly in that same spot anymore. It's possible I took 1 step from that spot. A small step.)
At some point, though, I became acutely aware I was supposed to do it. And subsequently freaked out and argued with God saying crazy things like "Can't I just go to Africa or something?" You know it's not going to be a comfortable place when you'd rather go to some third world place where bathing probably doesn't happen daily and you'd probably be fed questionable animals. Bathing and knowing what I'm eating are important to me.
Sigh...I said "yes". Because you can argue with God if you want to, but you aren't going to win. Disobedience=Misery. Been there, done that. I don't recommend it. Still...I left Africa on the table just in case.
I'm not going to pretend I suddenly get the point of cheerleading. Because, I don't. Not in itself, anyway. Turns out, the purpose wasn't to make me get that point. It wasn't even about cheerleading. Cheerleading was just the venue. I did get the point of why I had to do it. The answer to that is too much for here.
The "take away" I will share is that God knows what He's doing and He's always right on time. In my mind, I had made it a situation where I was going to be the one doing the giving. I had approached it with the attitude of "I am only doing this, because you will make me miserable if I don't." (Because it's all about me?) It's more than humbling to walk away from it knowing the giving didn't come from me. What I received was way more than I could ever give. Stuff I didn't even know I needed. Exactly when I needed it. More interesting (because it isn't all about me), is witnessing someone else be the recipient of that giving. I don't think they realized it, at that moment in time (or maybe even now), but I saw it...and knew exactly what was happening in the moment it was happening. Sigh...does it get any better than that?
So...yeah...I survived. More than survived. It's kind of early to be saying such things, but...I might be going to cheer camp this summer. To learn about stunting. Because, honestly? Stunting totally freaks me out.
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Getting ready to go to dinner with them soon. It's probably the last time I'll be together with all of them this year. I made them these little books. They are having a sleepover and I thought they could write little notes to each other.
Forgive the pictures. The light is kind of funky in my house today.
It figures I picked one with imperfect binding to photograph, right? Will fix that before I leave. I bought a binding thingie for this project, but haven't taken the time to properly learn how to use it.
(Click on the pictures to make them big, Grandma. :-) )
1st page...I left the inside front cover blank in case they have some kind of momento/picture they want to glue in there.
Pages 2/3...blank spaces/tags to write on...
Pages 4/5...team picture and more pockets/tags/etc...to write on...
The last page/back cover...I wrote them each a little note for the envelope. P.S...my note to her gets nicer? I give her a hard time all the time about not being interested in the content of my class. It's kind of a joke now between us. ;-) Don't want anyone thinking I'm mean...
I hope they like them.
