Tuesday, December 19, 2006
"Grace"
At least I looked like a mom trying to stay fashionable. I was wearing a cute jean skirt, a trendy jacket and my tall brown boots. I had dropped off some things at the school office and was visiting with the principal at the bottom of the stairs. We were standing beside the two lines of junior high students waiting to go outside after finishing lunch.
Upon completing my conversation, I excused myself through the line and headed toward the doors - only a few feet away. As I am walking forward I notice several of my son's friends at the front of the lines. One greets me, I smile and return the greeting . . . . . .
Have I ever told you about me taking dance lessons? I took them for several years. The family joke is that my mom enrolled me in classes because I never could quite negotiate the turn around the kitchen table and down the hall to my bedroom without bouncing off the refrigerator - in other words, I was not very good at walking.
When I say several, I really do mean several. I probably took lessons for five or six years. Ballet, jazz, tap - yes, that was me. Somehow I never did master the art of gracefulness.
Growing up it was not uncommon for me to trip over the "imaginary lines" in the carpet or on the floor. My mom would often quip, "Grace" when this occured. If either of my boys had been girls, their middle names would have been Grace. It would have covered several bases - an old family name AND if my daughter ever tripped and her Grandmother quipped, "Grace" she would have simply answered, "What?"!
. . . and somewhere in the midst of turning my head back toward the doors, one of the door mats jumps up and trips me. Unfortunately, it was not a small trip. No, it was one of those take a couple of very awkward giant steps forward and pray that something stops you before you fall flat on your face type trips.
Good news, the doors did allow me to catch my balance before I went face first to the ground with my skirt up around my head. Bad news, I did scuff up my boots.
After regaining my balance I go back and fix the 3X5 door mat which has literally folded in half with my antics. I manage to laugh and mumble something like, "Wow".
One thing about growing up ungraceful, it has allowed me to learn how to gracefully be ungraceful.
simple faith
At least I looked like a mom trying to stay fashionable. I was wearing a cute jean skirt, a trendy jacket and my tall brown boots. I had dropped off some things at the school office and was visiting with the principal at the bottom of the stairs. We were standing beside the two lines of junior high students waiting to go outside after finishing lunch.
Upon completing my conversation, I excused myself through the line and headed toward the doors - only a few feet away. As I am walking forward I notice several of my son's friends at the front of the lines. One greets me, I smile and return the greeting . . . . . .
Have I ever told you about me taking dance lessons? I took them for several years. The family joke is that my mom enrolled me in classes because I never could quite negotiate the turn around the kitchen table and down the hall to my bedroom without bouncing off the refrigerator - in other words, I was not very good at walking.
When I say several, I really do mean several. I probably took lessons for five or six years. Ballet, jazz, tap - yes, that was me. Somehow I never did master the art of gracefulness.
Growing up it was not uncommon for me to trip over the "imaginary lines" in the carpet or on the floor. My mom would often quip, "Grace" when this occured. If either of my boys had been girls, their middle names would have been Grace. It would have covered several bases - an old family name AND if my daughter ever tripped and her Grandmother quipped, "Grace" she would have simply answered, "What?"!
. . . and somewhere in the midst of turning my head back toward the doors, one of the door mats jumps up and trips me. Unfortunately, it was not a small trip. No, it was one of those take a couple of very awkward giant steps forward and pray that something stops you before you fall flat on your face type trips.
Good news, the doors did allow me to catch my balance before I went face first to the ground with my skirt up around my head. Bad news, I did scuff up my boots.
After regaining my balance I go back and fix the 3X5 door mat which has literally folded in half with my antics. I manage to laugh and mumble something like, "Wow".
One thing about growing up ungraceful, it has allowed me to learn how to gracefully be ungraceful.
simple faith
# posted by simple faith : 8:16 PM
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Well, you married into the right family. Everyone on your hubby's mom's side aren't the most graceful. I'm the leader of the stumblers and bumblers!
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