A "Kathy Moment"

I like kids. I really do. While I don’t get all excited when I see them, I’m not grumpy at them either. People like that are just mean.

But I’m not like my friend Mitch. He loves kids. When Mitch sees a little kid, he’ll do whatever he can to make that kid smile, giggle, or laugh. When Mitch sees a kid with a lemonade stand, he always stops. Always. And not just if he’s walking by; Mitch will stop his car, park it, and walk over to a lemonade stand, even if he’s in a hurry. Mitch goes out of his way to make sure that kid has a good day. No, I’m not like that!

Then there’s Kathy. She loves kids, no matter the age. And I mean “LOVE” with all capitals, in bold italics and flashing red letters! She loves newborns, even though all they do is eat, sleep, cry and poop! And toddlers, and elementary kids. She loves middle school kids, even though it’s a scientific fact that they are the strangest humans on the planet. Yes, and high school kids as well. But it’s not just that she loves them. She completely lights up when she sees a little one. She is changed, transformed. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she’s putting on a show. But no. That’s the real Kathy. No matter what mood she’s in, when a kid comes by, her whole life gets better. Kathy’s life hasn’t always been easy, and she’s definitely had her occasions for grief, but Kathy finds joy in children, even during her hardest times.

So the other day, during a run, I came across a group of elementary age kids standing near the street, obviously waiting for the school bus. They were laughing and talking, and all wearing backpacks which were essentially as big as they were. As I ran by, the bus approached, and one kid squealed “The bus!” Then they all got excited, started waving at the bus driver, waving at their friends, and got in line to get on the bus. And that was my “Kathy moment.” Because while I was running, I had been thinking about how tired I was, how far I had to go, what I had to do when I got done… But for just a moment, seeing the natural youthful joy in those kids, I was uplifted. The sore heel didn't matter. The excessive miles I had yet to run didn't matter. The tired thigh muscles didn't matter. And I didn’t think about all the stuff waiting for me after the run. I was just uplifted, as simple as that. For a period of time, my life got better.

I know what Kathy sees in those kids. And Mitch too. Although they’ve never told me, I know what it is. It’s joy. Pure and simple. After all, we all search for joy in our own ways. At least I hope we do, because I think that’s kinda what life is about. For some of us, joy comes easily; for others, life makes it more difficult. But no matter what hand life has dealt us, we can always seek joy. It’s what drives us. And if life has given us a bum deal and we don’t have a naturally joyful existence, we seek the joy in what we already have. And for some people, like Kathy, it’s kids. And I get it. Really. Adults are complex, and our emotions are not always pure; even when we’re happy, many times the bad things are still lurking in the backs of our minds, bugging us just a bit. But when a child laughs, his whole body laughs. Everything is good in his world. And how can we not find joy in that?

Sometimes I wish I were more like Kathy and Mitch. But I’m not. And I know that the world needs all kinds of us, so I’m really OK with that. If I can have a few “Kathy moments” periodically, then I’ll be happy with that.

Thinking about this, I said it wrong earlier. I said “Kathy finds joy in children, even during her hardest times.” Knowing Kathy, it should have been “Kathy finds joy in children, especially during her hardest times.”

That’s just the way she is. And Mitch too. And that’s a really good way to be.

I Don't Think I'll Get Another Dog

He’s an old dog. Real old. Just about 15 (in human years!) His owner, Rob, didn't have to tell me that. Just looking at Jake, it was pretty clear. I've watched the chocolate lab for a while now, and honestly, it’s hard. He walks out the front door, concentrating on every step. His legs move awkwardly, wrongly, as he shambles across the porch floor. When Jake gets to the edge, he looks over the 6 inch drop to the ground as if he’s on an imposing precipice. Finally, after he stokes his courage, over the edge he goes. At most, he makes it about 15 feet from the front door. Yet it's clear Rob still loves Jake. Sometimes when Jake just can't find the energy to make it back up onto the porch, Rob picks up his big old dog and carries him inside. Jake looks like a real good dog, but his body has just stopped working for him, and it is clear he doesn't have much time left with us.

While I didn't know Jake when he was a puppy, I saw the same thing happen with my dog. When she was young, Pepper would run just to run, bolting from the yard whenever she thought we had our backs turned. Just for, I assume, the joy of running. But the puppy became a dog, and the dog became an old dog, and with the years came the aging. Eventually her run was a trot, then a shuffle, then just a series of painful movements. We've all seen it happen, and it breaks our hearts to see the pet we've loved, become the helpless animal, who we still love. Finally, we have to decide if we allow our four legged friend to continue shuffling through the delight of just being alive, or whether we have the moral right to end the suffering and put him down. It’s a decision every one of us fears.

Which is why I don’t think I’ll ever get another dog. Don’t get me wrong, I really like dogs. I like the friendship, the companionship, and the love they bring. I like that, when it seems the whole world is against us, they still greet us happily, eagerly, and joyfully, almost as if they’re saying “I don’t care what other people think, I’m not other people; I’m a dog and I love you.” Well, maybe they’re not saying that, but it sure feels like it.

Yet, as I watch Jake, I’m not sure I can go through that again. Because as wonderful as dogs are, for the most part, they just don’t age well. But then again, I guess either do most of us. So when it comes time to think about getting a dog, I’m just not sure.

But you know, that’s the thing about love. Whether it’s a lover, a child, or a pet, we enter into the loving relationship willingly, expectantly, even sometimes foolishly. We know how it might end up; with disappointment, separation, or even death. Yet, eagerly, even wildly, we embrace it, all the while knowing that at some time down the road we’ll probably endure heartbreak and pain. Yet forward we go, accepting the sweet, the glorious, the promise of that which makes life worth living, letting the foreknowledge of the future drift away to somewhere in our minds and hearts that we rarely travel, conveniently hidden away from our conscious thoughts. Allowing us to enjoy, without fear, the love as it should be enjoyed; for all the wonder and joy which it can bring to us. In some ways, it is the ultimate risk/reward choice. And yet, we accept love, almost every time. And that is, I think, as it should be. Life brings pain and heartbreak, yet along with it all comes wonder, joy, and all the things that make us as God intended us to be. Which, when taken as a whole, is a very good thing.

You know, thinking about it again, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ll get a dog after all.