Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Both Joy And Tears

Interesting day today . . .

A new year.  Our first day of school. 

Remember those days?  So excited.  So scared.  So worried.  Need to make a good impression.

The night before we settle on just what to wear.  Has to be perfect.  Have to look nice.  Organized the backpack.  Labeled our folders.  Nice and neat.  Ready.

I stand on the first floor and greet kids as they come into school.  Some ask for directions to their rooms, their lockers, where to find . . .  While some, well, they look so scared.  Heads down.  Eyes nowhere, but everywhere.  Ears open.  Antenna working overtime.

One little girl in Tears because she couldn’t find her homeroom and was afraid she’d be late.  Told her not to worry, but worry she did.  We got her there in time, but so scared.

Other kids so happy.  Smiles.  Laughter.  Hugs and handshakes.  Joy.

Several kids so small.  Tiny, really.  I can’t imagine I was ever that small even at birth.  No way.  Yet there they were on their first day, lugging their heavy backpack.  A backpack about as big as he/she/they were.  Hunched over from the weight.  I had the urge to stop them and say, “Hey, what’s in there?”  I’m thinking, ‘They’re hiding a small VW Bug in there!’

Both Joy and Tears.

Parents sending their son, their daughter to school for the first time.  Walking them to the bus stop.  To the school door.  With a wave and a hop, they disappear.  A parent’s heart about to burst.  Tears, perhaps.  But oh, the smile on the child’s face.  Especially the young ones.  Excited.  Eager.  Joy.

Both Joy and Tears.

So much of life is the same coin, just opposite sides.  The same coin, though.  As the coin flips, Joy turns to Tears, and Tears turn to Joy.  Sometimes, Tears mean Joy.  Still, the heart breaks.  There’s a sigh.  A catch of breath.  Our smile falters.  We wave as our child waves back at us with a smile, and little do they know we die a little inside.  Inside, where no one can see.

I imagine there are those of us who go through each day like that. 

A smile, yet sadness hidden behind that smile.  A laugh, only to hide the pain, the sorrow.  Reminds me of the song Smokey used to sing, Tears Of A Clown.  Zak Brown has a lyric that says, “Sometimes I feel like a clown, who can’t wash off his make-up.”  How many of us are like that?  Each day.  Every day.  Sometimes.  Maybe not often, but sometimes.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!


Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe