the boy in the pastel polo

Sometimes you wake up and don’t feel well. Sometimes you can’t remember the last time you felt well.

You walk around the house frustrated. Actually, you walk around the house feeling weeks upon weeks of frustration attacking you this very day.

Even the cutest puppy in the world isn’t as loveable when she mistakes your hand/arm/toe/hair for her favorite chew toy…over and over and over again.

Then you show up to work and see that thousand thirty folding chairs and a few tables have to be put away. The clouds grow darker. Ugh, but I really don’t feel well today.

You feel like a monster, because you are only faced with tackling chairs, and your husband is currently in Houston visiting Lizzie during her chemo treatments. But yet, that doesn’t even cure your anguish.

While fighting with a stubborn chair, 100 15 preschoolers blast like superheroes into the gym.

You lift a chair onto the top rack to be stowed and it slams lightly taps you in the face.

You run to the bathroom because you are unable to halt the uncontrollable flow of saltwater from your eyes.

You stare at yourself in the mirror wondering how many people can hear your sobs all the way in the gym. But you’re actually asking yourself how many more days will this go on?

You throw your tear-soaked toilet paper in the trash and pull it together, because you refuse to show your weakness. But oh, how weak you are right now.

You continue to fold and put away the chairs one by one when a tiny 4-year old in a pastel-colored, blue and pink Polo makes his way to the bathroom. A few feet short of the door, he pauses to take a moment to lift his shirt up and play with his bellybutton. Then, after a few pats on his tiny tummy, his reaches his destination.

His random act of funny was enough to make you smile but not redirect your attitude.

He emerges like a victorious king from what he calls the potty where he finds his friend awaiting him. Like twins in motion they dash toward the gym hoping their red and yellow push cars are still where they left them.

The friend makes it to his, but you notice the little boy in the polo has stopped. He’s staring at you. You muster up enough cheer to say, “Hi!” and he responds with an enthusiastic wave.

“What’s your name you ask?” and he responds, “Joshua.”

The words dance out of his mouth.

He finds more joy in giving you his name than you seem to have found in the last week.

“Well, nice to meet you, Joshua!” you spout with much less effort than last time. Surprising yourself, you might even be grinning.

He lingers a few seconds longer, synchronizes his huge smile with his huge wave goodbye, and skips off to find his playmates.

Last Sunday you cheered as the tiny ones waved their palm branches down the aisle. Tonight you will attend Mandy Thursday service. You’ve been actively partaking in Lent. You know in your head that Easter Sunday is three days away.

But it took a little boy in a polo who stopped for a moment to say hi and bye to the sad-looking girl with the chairs to let you in on the sight of Easter. And it wasn’t the pastels he was wearing.

For almost 40 days you have been journeying to the cross. Tonight you will “Do this in remembrance of me.” Tomorrow, your focus switches to the crucifixion. And on Sunday, joy will rise with the sun as the resurrection is celebrated.

It is about the journey. You can’t delight in the resurrection if you don’t understand the cross. Today offered you one of those reminders. There is always hope. There is always joy. Even in a dark church bathroom, light shines in.

In your head you thank Joshua for allowing you to experience the grace brought forth by Easter. Sometimes you need a little grace. And sometimes you find it in a well-dressed 4-year-old.

Plus, your boss has you babysitting bunnies at work this afternoon, so there really isn’t any room for tears today! (Pic is before they started pooping up a storm!)


One thought on “the boy in the pastel polo

  1. Pingback: A look back | love in lufkin

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