Muddy Puddles Keep Me Humble
I hate to admit this, but I’ve stepped in my fair share of puddles…mostly because I don’t see them, and sometimes the cane just misses them. Today, for example, I had just gotten off the light rail and was racing across the parking lot to catch the bus that was just entering the station and about to round the corner to its stop. . I was coming home from a play group at the park and had my infant in the carrying pack and my three-year-old in toe. WE live about a half mile from the light rail station, but with little legs, this walk takes us close to twenty mins. If we could make the bus, we could save ourselves about fifteen minutes. We were getting tired, hungry, and hot, so I really didn’t want to miss this bus. So, I decided to cut across the dirt-trodden area around the corner rather than stay on the side walk. Right before hitting pavement, my foot sank deep into a puddle of mud! Thankfully, I was able to guide my little guy around it and avoid both of us encountering the mud. I was wearing flip flops too at least, which on one hand makes it dry faster, but on another, you’re left with a dirty, gross foot. I stepped onto the sidewalk and kicked off my flip flop in disgust and tried to wipe the grime off the bottom of my foot. As I looked up to see the bus turning around the corner in frustration, my sweet little guy picked up my shoe and in the sweetest voice said, “Mommy, It’s all right. We can get a towel or something and I will wipe it off for you.” His tender, futile offering brought a smile to my face. I quickly slipped my shoe back on and told him thank you but that it was all right and we’d be home soon. We quickly continued over to the bus and were the last ones to hop on. I sat there wearily for the short ride feeling slightly embarrassed to be sitting there with a muddy foot, feeling a little sorry for myself that I can’t drive or have a driver at my beckon call, and feeling jealous of the other moms whom I had just left at the playgroup who didn’t have to sit on a public bus wearing a squishy muddy shoe. A few minutes later when we got off the bus and my son saw my foot again, he excitedly said, “Mommy, I know…when we get home, I will get the hose and spray your foot off and clean it before you go in the house.” My heart instantly melted and I felt so humbled. Fighting back tears, I happily agreed. Oh how I love this sweet little boy. I know he has no idea how much his gesture meant, nor how his behavior brought to mind a similar time when someone much more important than I will ever be offered to clean the feet of those he loved. I began thinking of all the good things I had right then. My choice little children. Fun times with them. A beautiful warm day. Cheap flip flops. Bus drivers who wait for you. My son’s sweet little grimy hand holding on to mine. And I realized that it just doesn’t get any better than this.
