September 13, 2006
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Telemarketing. it makes me feel fake. because no matter how “perky” i feel, after my neck cramps from holding the phone and 5 answering machines…it is ALL fake. i hate answering machines. they are living record of all my mistakes and “umms” and whatever happens to pop out of my mouth. Mr.James had me calling people this week about the game TOMORROW, asking if they wanted to come and support the kids…and i will tell you what, over 50% of those people (who had donated in the past) were very OLD. i do not mean this irreverently or anything–one lady was boasting about how she was 90. yep, boasting. i would be too. but it made me rather nervous…because in a couple of years, no one will still be alive to support the mission. Telemarketing is also rather draining. because everyone has problems so they decide to lay them on the person who randomly calls their house. One guy was telling me about how he was burying his mom and packing up all her stuff, so he couldn’t come to the game. Another just got out of surgery. Another was telling me how she’d never been in such pain and to never get a dislocated disk in your back…honestly, it would have been easier to just hear “i’m not interested in your stupid game.” (not that i think it is stupid. actually, i am looking forward to it. i get to run the scoreboard)
But it does give you an opportunity to pray for other people. even though i felt rather like a dump where everyone laid their garbage.
Please pray. one friend has a mother in jail. another is struggling with suicide. and me? i feel inadequate to do anything.
The open house was amazing. wonderful. great. so many people shared love with my parents. sweet. thank you. they were off Tuesday morning for the Smoky Mountains. and they made it in Dad’s ratty car (mom was a little worried) and said it looked even better than the website (whew).
i am learning a lot from Kindergarten. today Ily feel off the monkey bars–i mean flat out on her stomach–and for someone under 3 feet, that is a long way. i brushed her off, the teacher hugged her and comforted her, and then three or four other girls patted and gushed over her until it was all better. it was funny to see their little troop. funny, and somehow i felt an ache. i guess because i wish life was still like Kindergarten. someone there to pick me up, someone to hug me and comfort me, and then a group followup until i smile…and even go on the monkey bars again. and yet we all seem to be flat on our faces, still dazed by the fall.
