He's been playing a lot more backyard hoops, too. Sometimes Hunter joins him, but mostly he reenacts games all on his own, complete with full commentation. I hear the play-by-play even with the windows and doors shut. It's his happy place.
I am envious of him. I wish I could so easily escape to my own world where nothing else matters and I always win. I have been in turmoil; my own personal March Madness.
Last Thursday, suddenly and almost inexplicably, my job was taken from me. Poor communication, lies and accusations for others' actions have left me to cry bitter tears. Lots of them. Why I am made to carry the load of blame is an injustice I will never understand.
I've spent three years building a highly competitive program. I have 6 state champions under my belt. How is it that my talents are not valued? Even the uproar of outraged parents, those whom I have diligently served, could do nothing to reverse the situation--though their respect and support has helped soothe my wounds. Still, it feels that my own good name, hard work and dedication have been marred. So unfair!
Having to hold our sobbing daughters has perhaps been the hardest part. How do we help them understand a situation that we as grown adults can't comprehend? I've used up countless cell phone minutes as I've fielded texts and phone calls from those who know and love me best and pledge their undying support. Still, it hurts.
I listen to Caleb in his backyard world, living out his March Madness while I sit at the table highlighting a conference talk on forgiveness.
I want a happy place. And some chocolate, too. That would be nice.