Now that the WGA writers' strike is over, I am apparently on strike. :-) Just trying to ride out the last few weeks of my time at typepad. This is from my very first month at typepad. March of 2005. I still think of this kid. So I thought I'd share it again.
To the Kid in the Red Beret
My family was very active in church camp each summer. My parents and their Sunday School class spent one work weekend every spring and fall fixing cabins, building out buildings, painting and some such. Each summer, my mother was a councelor for 1 week. My brother and I always attended a week of camp for our age group. And once we were teens, we worked as CITs (counselor in training) or councelors.
I always got more out of being a counselor than I did as a camper. One summer, there was this one kid there. He was 12? 13? About that age. He was also fat. And church camp or not, the kid got teased. A lot. But he was the COOLEST person! He wore a red beret all the time. Yeah, this kid was his own person. He was comfortable with himself and didn't care about peer pressure. He knew who he was and was happy with that. I admired him. Even though I was several years older than he was, I knew that this was the type of person I wanted to be, but wasn't sure I was brave enough to do it.
In the mornings, the campers were split into smaller groups for Bible lessons and craft projects. I don't remember the lesson or anything except we were discussion life in big general terms.
This chubby kid looked at my mom, and in answer to a question he said, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."
He wasn't sad. He wasn't depressed. He wasn't upset about it. Just factual. "God never said life would be easy."
We have remembered this kid for years. We stopped volunteering at church camp when my dad became ill. He had ALS. Lou Gehrig's Disease. Mom and I used to say periodically, when discussing Dad's illness, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."
After he died, my brother and I went with my mother to pick out his casket and plan the funeral. In the car, on the way home, my mother said, as much to herself as to John and I, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."
During the next decade, she and I were say this to each other in answer to work difficulties, problems with the kids and such. In 1999, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer--the same cancer that took her mother's life. After the first appointment with her oncologist, Mom said, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."
And three years later, after we had buried Mom, I thought to myself, "Lee, God never said life would be easy."
What brought this up? I am still sorting through boxes of stuff from Mom's house. I can only do it in small doses. I found a box with my brother's Boy Scout stuff. Did you know that part of the boy scout uniform was a red beret 20 or 30 years ago?
I found this red beret. And thought of that kid. I don't even know his name. But I can still see him. Fat. Freckled. Longish brown hair. T-shirt and long cut off shorts. I wonder what happened to him. Is he still true to who he is? Did the world finally beat him down? Did he always keep the strength to stand true to himself? To stand for God? Did he find security in the phrase "God never said life would be easy" or not? Did he even remember saying it? Does he have any idea how deeply, how permanently he touched me and my mother? God bless that kid!
Perfect chicken soup for my soul this morning - I love this!
Posted by: Sharyn (Torm) | March 02, 2008 at 08:24 AM
That really is a good story worth repeating! Now tell me you are not going to quit blogging. That would be sad.
Posted by: Traci | March 04, 2008 at 07:08 AM
Totally love this!!
And, really, you're going to quit blogging? :(
Posted by: Steph | March 05, 2008 at 07:42 PM