Stories about hope

Have you ever been picked last on the playground in elementary school? Or worse not picked at all? 

I would love to tell you that this phenomenon ends when you grow up. Sadly, it doesn’t. As you “Adult” it’s not about Playground sports teams or being chosen for the part in the school play. As an adult, it’s about relationships.

Sadly, people just don’t (or can’t) make you, their priority. There are many times I have felt ignored or that I was just not that important to someone. And I know I am just as guilty of hurting others this way. It used to be our answering machines that were silent, telling us who didn’t call while we were gone. 

But now with Facebook and Instagram the silence is deafening. 

When you see people who are important to you, choosing others before you, it’s a little mind-boggling. When you see what appears to be their perfect reality (even though you know very good and well that it isn’t) it can hurt. 

There are times I just don’t look – I just don’t want to know. 

I don’t know why but this feeling that I’m experiencing even now, takes me back to when I was in elementary school. 

Whenever I talk about myself & growing up, I tell the person I am speaking to that I was THIS tall in 6th grade. They don’t believe me. I don’t believe me either, but I have pictures to back this up. 

Before 6^th grade and the radical changes that my body and hair went through, I was a pretty cute little girl. I had long curly red hair or short pixie cuts, the style depended on my mom growing tired of dealing with combing out my knots. I also had chubby cheeks, and chubby little legs. Freckles were all over my nose.  

I have some very sweet memories from my early childhood. Pictures and stories tell me how I think I remembered it. I have a cherished picture of me and our dog Pete (the pup) on the beach. I loved that little dog. I also have one riding a pony as a little 5-year-old. I don’t think I remember this event in real time, but I loved when my mom would tell me about the time I took the pony pictures.

A man came around the neighborhood with his pony, coming to our door with his pony behind him, he offered to have me dress up like a cowgirl and take pictures of me. My mom knew not to deprive me of that pony. I also loved the little outfit he brought however, I would NOT wear the man’s hat that he provided. I had to wear MY own hat.

I proceeded to ham it up for the camera and that was the day I had my 15 minutes of fame.

My mom purchased several of the pictures from that infamous photo shoot. These pictures made such an impact on my childhood that in my adult life, I MADE all 3 of my boys take the very same picture.  

A few years later an evil enemy entered and brought it all to an end.

PUBERTY!

” When the cute little redhead child began to become the awkward giant of a  girl.”  

Maybe not an actual giant but I sure felt like one. 

It all happened between 5th & 6^th grade. My hair, my teeth and my height. All changed.

Instead of nicely shaped long red curls that bounced as I walked, the curls disappeared and in their place was a red frizzy brill-o pad type mess. I had no idea what to do with my hair. No one did. The hair products available then were Alberto V-O 5 and Aqua net.  Neither one did a thing to keep the sheer volume of my hair in check. 

The feathered bangs of Farah Faucette were replaced by “The Hamill” made famous by Dorothy Hamill the figure skate. Oh man, I wanted this haircut so badly.

I asked my sister Dori who was studying cosmetology for the haircut. I showed her pictures, I showed her how Dorothy’s hair looked when she twirled on the ice. She tried her best but, it turned out the exact opposite of how I dreamed it would. It turned into a sort of afro. 

The way my unruly hair responded to this new hair cut was, in fact, so bad that I tried to wear a beanie to school the next day. Unfortunately, beanies were not allowed to be worn in the classroom. It was a dark day for me. 

Dori always felt bad about that haircut. But she wasn’t really responsible for the hair, and she couldn’t do anything about my height and lack of athleticism.

I was the tallest in 6th grade for certain, I know that because I have a picture of my 6th grade class and there I am. 

𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕣𝕠𝕨 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣 – ℝ𝕖𝕕 𝔽ℝ𝕆 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝.

My mom didn’t do much In The way of keeping up with my baby book. No measurements, no annual pictures. She told me that she didn’t have the time. 

I’ve 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 my sisters’ books. The genealogy of the family. Annual pictures, stories about them as a baby. My dad was an only child. He wanted a big family. I’m told there would have been a 6^th child, but his cancer diagnosis changed their plans. They stopped at 5. 

Maybe by the time mom got to me she was just done with all the things. She was maybe just busy and tired. I guess when you get to the 5^th child and 4^th girl you certainly do run out of time.  

I wasn’t signed up for dance, wasn’t a Brownie or Girl Scout. I didn’t get ballet or tap dancing lessons, music lessons. I finally took 6th grade guitar at school & in 8th grade, piano lessons which I paid for myself. 

In 5^th and 6^th grade, mom did send me to day camp for several weeks during the summer she said it was to keep me from being bored. But I think it was keep me from getting into trouble with my sisters. 

“ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ꜱᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜɴ”

I loved my time there. I learned how to swim, going from a “guppy” all the way to a “shark”. To become a shark, you had to pass the “tread water test”. If you could tread water for 45 mins, you got the prestigious “Shark” t-shirt. We also rode mini quad dirt bikes, spent hours with horses, practiced archery, jumped on the trampolines, and went on adventures at the local park that was full of rocks to climb, streams to wade in and lush grassy spots to rest from the heat of the San Fernando Valley summers.  ☀️

Although I was good at swimming and archery, I wasn’t gifted in other Sports. 

I tried baseball and could hit the ball but couldn’t hit the ball and then run to first base. I just couldn’t run very fast and could never hit the ball out of the infield. 

I tried Tennis my friend Juliet was my tennis buddy. She was really good at it. She thought maybe she could teach me however, I failed miserably. The hours she spent trying to get me to just hit the ball back. She got frustrated and I would collapse in fits of laughter.

When the boys in elementary school would play kickball, I would watch them from a distance. I was pretty sure this was a game I could play. After all, who couldn’t kick a giant red rubber ball? How I wanted to be out there with them! 

During one lunch/recess, one of the guys (Mike) seemed to feel bad for me and suggested to another guy (Ken) that they could let me “try out” for the kickball team. 

So, Ken asked me if I wanted to try to play. I was thrilled.

“Yes! I would love to try” 

He looked at me square in the eyes and said,

“O.K”, “First you need to name the entire infield for the Dodgers”. 

I looked at him like he was joking. It was as if he said to spell my own name. 

I was a huge Dodger fan. I knew every (and I mean every) player on that team, pictures of the famous infield happened to be plastered all over my bedroom walls. I was a member of their fan club. I had acquired Steve Grevey’s Autograph. I also knew the outfield, starting pitchers & catchers.

Of course, Ken didn’t know I knew this, so when I rattled off, “Garvey, Cey, Russell & Lopes” Ken and Mike looked a little taken back. 

“Alright, Name the outfield” “Buckner, Wynn, Crawford” I kept going “Mota, Auerbach, Ferguson, Yeager, Sutton, Hooton, Hough & Vin Scully is the Announcer”.  

Poor guys, now they HAD to let me play. Luckily for them, they said, “try out” and that would be their ace in the hole. They didn’t have to let me play after that day. I could still be told I didn’t make the team after my “tryout”. 

However, that day I discovered that I was right. I could play kickball. 

The boys seemed surprised as well. I had strong legs and somehow was able to kick the ball far enough to make my way to first base. I could also make an outfield catch easily. I was the best left fielder on the team. 

Mike was the captain of the team of one of the teams. Although I was picked last, Mike would always shout at me when I made a good catch. 

“Great catch Red”, or “Big Red” or “Cush”

 However, His favorite nickname for me was 

“Towering Inferno”.

The number one box office hit of 1974. Starring Paul Newman & Steve McQueen. 

Just my luck

Being that I was taller than all the girls AND the boys in Elementary School and being that I had a massive head of red hair, the name fit. Unfortunately, it fit. 

However, when he would yell “Hey! Towering Inferno! Come play kickball” I felt seen.

For the first time since 4^th grade, I felt that someone saw me as more than just the awkward redheaded girl.  

I didn’t really like what I saw in the mirror every day, but I felt accepted by Mike. 

He made light of my appearance and helped me feel like I was accepted because of who I was and not what I looked like on more than one occasion. 

He was never mean when he would use one of my nicknames, he would always say them with a laugh and a funny little grin. 

I tell you, love your enemies. Help and give without expecting a return. You’ll never – I promise – never regret it. Live out this God created identity the way our Father lives toward us, generously and graciously, even when we are at our worst. Our Father is kind; YOU be kind.  

Luke 6: 35 – 36 The Message

I think about Mike often. His well-developed self-esteem that could handle playing kickball with the awkward red-haired girl. I will forever be in his debt for his kindness.