"A good cheerleader is not measured by the height of her jumps
but by the span of her spirit."
I got an email this afternoon. The kind that have several short inspirational stories. I don't know if any of them are true or where they came from, only that they've undoubtedly been around the world a few kazillion times. One of the stories made me laugh. Another brought tears to my eyes even though I've read it before. The following made me say, "awwwww!"
"Jamie was trying out for a part in the school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen.
On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. 'Guess what, Mom,' he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me.....'I've been chosen to clap and cheer.'"
I no longer need to wonder why God put me on this earth! I've been chosen to clap and cheer!
I love cheering people on.
I love clapping!
I love jumping up and down and high-fiving and saying, "good job".
I love to see other people succeed.
My (ex)in-laws used to tell the story of Mamaw wetting her pants because she'd get so excited watching her son run around the far end of the track and head for home. I'm that kind of a cheerleader!
Oh, and do I need to mention that tears stream down my face, too?
Take tonight for instance. Father/Brother Georges came by after church. That's not so unusual. He nonchalantly hugged us all (I love the way he kisses my father and says, "Luther, I love you) then blurted out the news that the thing we've all been waiting for for 14 months - his immigration papers - have finally been approved.
Woohoo! This is a really big deal. It means he can stay in this country. It means he can leave to visit his sick mother in Italy and get back into this country. And it means he can start talking seriously about finally marrying his Canadian fiance. The piece of the puzzle that is still missing is the one marked J-O-B. But now that he's got his visa, I can concentrate my prayers on his finding gainful employment.
Talk about cheering and clapping. All of us whooped it up. Even Dad. It was great fun.
Over the years I've struggled with the question of "who am I?" I think everybody does. Maybe now that I'm in my middle years the answer is becoming clear.
Mother, daughter, lover, sister, nanny, friend, caregiver, writer, quilter, dreamer, cheerleader. All the parts are coming together and I'm liking it.
Hey, Merry ME - you rock!