February 9 – “A Paws Patrol Moment”

The school week is finished.  Eight to five for three days.  That’s a total of - what? – 700 hours of school in one week?  What’s that?  24?  You have to be kidding me.  I totally understand the plight of the youngster in our country today.  By the end of the day yesterday I was exhausted.  And of course it was Thursday, so I had to lead Bible study at Home Group when I got home.  No decompressing for me until sometime around 9.  And how does said decompressing happen?  Well, it varies, but last night an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine did the trick.  Klingons searching for the sword of Kahless.  Archaeology.  History.  Indiana Jones-ish excitement. Can’t beat it.  

The last day of school was all about role playing the group interactions part of critical incident stress management.  Not really my favorite, although it is fun to act out the various scenarios.  The problem is, they are never close to reality as I have seen it.  The instructor stacks the deck with ringers who he coaches to be either absolute obnoxious jerks, or some other extreme emotional victim.  Then the ones playing the role of the helping team has to figure out how to deal with them.  In reality, there may one or two of the extreme kind of person in any group.  Most others are really looking for help and want to be there, so they tend to be bending over backwards to cooperate.  The pretend team members all did quite well, though.  We all earned our course certificates and training hour credits.

And on to the important stuff, we went back to the barbecue place for lunch.  Had to try the actual barbecue at least once.  The baby back ribs were really good, too.  But the cream of the crop award had to go to the fried okra.  Best I have had in I don’t know how long.  Very crispy, just as I like it.  Recommend that place highly, but I don’t remember the name of it.  Sorry. 

While we waited in line a little boy joined us with his mom.  He was riding on the door handles and playing with the bottles of beer on ice and in general being a little boy.  But I noticed right away that he was wearing some Paws Patrol fire fighter boots.  I commented to him that I really did like his boots.  His Mom saw my Fire Department hat and coat, so she told him I was a fireman.  The little guy’s eyes just about bulged out of his head.  He wouldn’t shake my hand.  Too timid for that.  But the grin on his face was about as wide as they come.  Worth the moment.

Psalms 33:1 says, “Sing joyfully to the Lord, you righteous; it is fitting for the upright to praise him.”

Father, take care of that little guy as he grows.  Draw him close to you.  Amen.