Look at the Stars.

The other night Dame came home from a school budget meeting - a budget forum. (Yawn).

He was the best parent to send to this district-wide meeting and it made me feel like we were doing our household share by having him in attendance.

Plus, the meeting was held in the cafeteria of his old high school so I think he secretly wanted to be there. Or at least, this is what I told myself as I sat wrapped in a cozy blanket and sipped a warm cup of de-caf tea. At home.

I was somewhat startled by the sheet that he nonchalantly dropped on our kitchen counter after the meeting.

One of the areas the district is scrutinizing is transportation (busing) and the document indicated that "NY State law governs the maximum mileage that a district may require students to walk to school is 2 miles for K-8."

It goes on to indicate that "the school district community voted to reduce the maximum limits to .5 miles for K-8."

WHAT?!?!

****

On the same day, I got an email from Dec & Nonie's dental practice about Halloween candy indicating that they will "collect unopened candy (no bites please) on Tues Nov 2nd from 8-5 pm. Candy will be sent to the Troops serving our Country. For every pound collected our Ghosts and Goblins will earn $1 per pound and receive an electric glowing toothbrush!"

I'm sorry but, WHAT?!?!

****

Then there was the silent Saturday Soccer notice we got about parents being discouraged from talking (at all. to anyone.) at their children's soccer games and practices. You know, out of respect for the players... this one Saturday was devoted to silence.

So, sidelines sat quiet while
Players scored on the wrong goals.
Confused corner kicks.
And silently played a game of quiet soccer.

Just that one Saturday though, the rest of the season parents are allowed to shout at the kids from the sidelines.

What?!?
****

That very same day I had my recurring thought that I have (no lie) every day. This is the one thought that grounds me and forces me to not take myself too seriously. It is clear as day:

I picture God laughing.
I can just see God laughing at the crazy world. At us.
Laughing.
At all of us here on Earth.
I picture God looking down from above with the thought:
Really?
That is what you've all done with the wonderful world I gave you?
You worry about walking too far, eating sweets, coaching kids from the sidelines, and spend hours with your heads focused on electronic gadgets.
Really?
That is not at all what I'd envisioned for you. My people.
You're zooming from here to there in the blink of an eye and barely connecting with the incredible people I've surrounded you with.
You're worrying about money, social status, houses, cars, vacations, and all the things I never comprehended when I set you all down on that magnificent planet in the first place?

Really?
That's what you've done with all that I gave you?


****
The other morning we woke the kids early to head to Vermont.

It was well before sunrise and Dec was the first I scooped to carry out to the car.
During my first few trips to the car with snacks, books, clothes... I'd noticed the sky was glowing with stars. I paused. For the first time in a long time a gazed at the night sky and marveled at it.

In the moments it took to get Dec wrapped in Ba-Ba, snuggled under my chin and down the stairs, I had told him once and then reminded him two more times to be sure to look at the stars in the night sky once we were outside and heading toward the car.

The night was brilliant. It was vast. And I had been suddenly reminded of how seldom I venture out with the kids to look at it.

Just as we stepped out the door and as the crisp air circled us, Dec immediately lifted his head and looked up.

And I relaxed and found peace because I just knew he was seeing what I'd hoped he would see.


****

It is a really different world they live in. My sweet children.
Far different from the one I grew up in.
I ate every last piece of my Halloween candy as a kid.
And I know I walked far to bus stops and friend's houses.
(That was part of the fun).
And I'm not sure how'd I've improved as a soccer player without my Dad embarrassing me from the sidelines during games.

Sometimes I feel so helpless because I know there is no turning back.
And I get caught up thinking that our systems (most of them anyway) are fundamentally flawed (For example, if we ask kids to walk 2 miles - that's great - but AT LEAST provide sidewalks.).

I often conclude that there is nothing I can do to turn things back to the good old days.

But then I turn to the stars - and am comforted.
I turn toward the stars and I know.

The same night sky that I would turn to as a child for answers, hope, and inspiration
will always be there for my own children in their search for the same.

I Look at the Stars.
And when I take time to do this simple, simple thing
I feel in my heart that

God's laughter stops.