McFive went swimming yesterday, when, after four straight days of 90+ degree weather, we confirmed plans with Jen and her boys and headed to our state's capitol. Big Strong Man had to work, as did Jen's other half, but these two mommas and our combined five boys headed to where the tulips grow by the thousands in the spring and where 7-year-old Thatcher proudly proclaimed, "that building looks like the back of a coin!" In fact, the building did, and we were all inspired by his quick thinking and accuracy.
The public pool was delightful in all the ways a sanctuary of water and enough activities to entertain 5 kiddos can be. It cost a fortune but was time well spent. Because they are old-ish enough and both Jen and I are practicing the life skill of "letting them be independent" (a horribly tricky objective for mommas). We agreed that the four older boys could buddy-up and take off, realizing that, big as the pool was, they weren't going anywhere without us. And while all of the boys ran to find their first activates, Thatcher headed directly to the diving board. All or nothing, that kiddo.
It is a funny thing to be at the public pool. If you think of it for too long it can gross out even the most non-squeamish among us. Add this to the fact that most women's swimsuits resemble underwear and it is no wonder I kept finding myself in shock over how I was actually walking around enjoying myself while wearing a two-piece. As a 30-something, this is a marvel to me because I can still remember so clearly the near-impossibility this was to do as a teen and 20-something. (An advantage of age: you care less about the fluff- literally and figuratively.)
Together, sometimes with brothers and friends and sometimes as a mother-son tag-team, Thatcher and I slid down water slides, rounded the lazy river, and sat in shallow water, talking. His ever-excitement was a joy to watch and carried him through a solid two hours of sun and movement. Eventually, the kiddo was going to crash. And so it was, as he grew tired enough to fall asleep at the picnic table after enjoying his hot dog. The kiddo really needed to get out of the sun and have a good lie down.
While he slept, I read and watched the others play. Eventually Jen joined me and we talked all things books and family memories. We looked at pictures on her phone and laughed until I near peed my bikini bottom. At one point, a girl walked by. She was probably an older teenager. I had noticed her earlier while playing hide and seek tag with my boys in the big pool. She was so dang pretty.
Because I didn't want to feel awkward, or risk her feeling so, I kept my mouth shut. This didn't stop the fact that I noticed her and, in the most non-creepo way possible, I kept noticing her. After awhile I remembered something I heard as a teen and which has since stuck with me. I remembered how good it felt when someone paid me a compliment and I remember someone sharing the encouragement to always tell someone the good stuff- if you can see it, say it. It matters.
So I sucked up the weirdness factor and when she walked near enough to Jen and me that I would not need to scream to be heard, I told her. You are incredibly beautiful, and I thought it was important to let you know. There, I said it.
The girl smiled and thanked me and I will have no idea if anything more ever came from it, but I like to imagine that goodness begets goodness. That when she looks in the mirror, she sees beauty. I like to imagine that, for any of us having a rough day, a day where kindness towards ourselves is often too difficult to come by, speaking life and goodness to another (and receiving the compliments when they are offered to us) might be one of the most valuable treasures that return to the forefront of our memories and in that moment when we need it so desperately, we are then very thankful that someone took the time to speak such kindness over us.
May we be encouraged to speak such beauty over one another. And when it is spoken to us, may we be gracious enough to receive it without denying, excusing, or belittling it away. May we both give and take kind words with gracious and thankful hearts.
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