I referred to my handy dandy notebook with the daily schedule so lovingly put together for me by my shared with me so I could adapt it for the trip I was leading this year.incredible daughter--okay that's the blatant lie of a mother who would like to believe the world of her children revolves around her, so let me rephrase. I referred to my handy dandy notebook that my incredible daughter put together for the youth trip she led last year and lovingly
"Oh good, " I thought, "Relay races. Who doesn't like relay races? AND the added bonus is it will get some energy out."
I announced the activity and only heard one groan, "I don't like relay races and games." so I thought I was in the clear of anything going wrong--thought is the operative word here.
We started with the wheelbarrow race. First let me say--not everyone even knew what a wheelbarrow race was--clearly they did not go to Montgomery Elementary and have the amazing field days I did--can I get a shout out my fellow mustangs?
I explained how it worked, and we got ready to begin. Let me start with my first mistake. Each pair was to go down and back--no not down and then switch places but down and back without switching places. Second mistake, everyone had to be both the wheelbarrow and the handle at some point. I heard groans but said to myself, "this will take awhile" (How many of us plan activities thinking it will take 20 minutes and it only takes 5?) and again, they'll get some energy out. (They did but not necessarily the kind I wanted--more on that later....)
On your mark, get set, go!
Some started laughing immediately, some started pacing worrying about when it would be their turn, some watching said, "I'm not doing it." Others started telling me why they couldn't do it--lower back aches etc...wah wah wah, I thought. None of the first pair was very good---sorry just speaking the truth here.
And I was getting irritated--my mind started going to the whole old people thinking of, "Back when I was a kid" and "They just don't get out and play anymore--phone and video obsessed kids." Those thoughts were completely contradictory to the fact they had no phones on this trip and NOT ONE had complained--or I'll add has complained five days later--AND most of them had been outside playing volleyball for hours. But really does logic have to follow when the image you have had in your mind of perfect, fun, energy releasing relay races does not include complaints and not being able to do it and that image is being shattered before your very eyes?
Some of them begged me to let the game be over--I didn't comply. Others began cheering their friends on and others became very quiet.
One youth finished being the handles, dropped her "wheelbarrow" and ran off into the building. They had me pause. This was not a youth who usually did that no matter what happened. Others were concerned and I could feel my perfect evening slipping away. "I'll show them," I thought, "This is so not hard and they'll think it's funny that Mama Doyle is doing it." I knew I had to save the mood even if that meant humiliating myself. Plus to be honest, I really believed I was going to show them all up. (I'm pretty sure there is a psychiatric disorder which includes grandiose thinking...)
I grabbed a youth and said, "Let's do this." I could hear chants of "MAMA DOYLE, MAMA DOYLE!" and hear my co-leader, "Katherine you're going to hurt your knee. Are you crazy?" But I was determined and irritated and desperate.
AND IT WAS FREAKING HARD!!! My arms ached, my core ached (in my defense I've had 4 c-sections none of them can say that). I couldn't go straight, but I was damned and determined I was going to succeed (and show them up), so I kept going, until I couldn't. (And yes I could also hear someone say, "Bless her heart." I also heard, "I'm videoing this and sending it to her children." --maybe I should consider whether he was the best choice of a chaperone.) I fell to the ground and laughed, but also began to think.
I asked them to do something I hadn't tried in years--and although I thought I remembered racing the full length of Montgomery's field, my memory may be a bit off--that wasn't smart. I also thought about the different reactions. Like so many other times, these youth taught me lessons in life and taught me about their strength, endurance and resilience.
They didn't all want to do this race or any of them, but they wanted to be a part of the group so they joined in discomfort and all. As they were racing, some were determined and focused, some laughed at themselves as they fell--some because they really thought it was funny and some because they were so embarrassed and that was their best defensive reaction. I thought about the youth that had to go isolate for a moment and realized my request, my insistence had taken something from the person--had cost the person and not in a good, uplifting way.
Five minutes after I finished my "show" (really probably a bit longer--it takes awhile for a 51 year old to get off the ground) they were all back together and ready for the next race. It didn't break them--it brought them together (possibly against me, but oh well).
So many things I learned--first and foremost it's not all about me (See above) and more importantly while I want to challenge and push the youth (and myself) into stretching ourselves, I also need to listen to them. I need to know more fully what I'm asking them to do. I need to flexible in my thinking and my expectations. I was reminded we all take life's challenges on in different ways--some laughing, some crying, some quietly, some fussing, and some wanting to conquer the challenge.
We are all different--all created in God's image--but all different. We have different strengths and weaknesses. we have different ways of responding to life's challenges. We come into situations carrying our past. We come into situations bringing past challenges. I was reminded by these remarkable youth of all these things. But that wasn't the most important lesson.
These youth taught me about forgiveness, and fortitude and strength. They were irritated with me, some down right mad as hell. They were embarrassed and uncomfortable, but they stayed connected. They stayed in the group, and they moved on--together.
They are amazing and I am deeply grateful for the privilege of journeying with them.
