Second Innings

Bumblebee, So-and-So says I can’t be in their group anymore, because I can’t do the sport they’ve made up.

Thus, a younger Brownie approached me this week, telling me her Sixer was resfusing to let her be part of things because she couldn’t turn cartwheels, as part of an invented Olympic sport the Six had come up with. Red lights  flash. I’m not on the school field with the Brownies anymore. I’m back in Year 8 Drama, being told I can’t be part of the small group act because I didn’t contribute to it.

No, I say. No, that’s not right.

I march (goodness knows how fast I actually moved…) over to the Six, ask the Sixer what’s happened.

Well, we said she could do something easier instead, but she didn’t want to, so we carried on.

So I talk to the Six about the Olympic (!) values  of friendship, and understanding differences, and making sure that everyone can take part, and I encourage the younger Brownie to join in, with not-quite-cartwheels.

I was shaken.  Again. The strength of my initial reaction to that incident frightens me, in retrospect. When I first heard what the Brownie said I was ready to fly at that Sixer for all I was worth. I was back in Year 8 Drama. But by the time I reached her, I was calm. Calmness in that kind of situation can’t have come from me alone. I haven’t attempted confronting the issues raised in Shaken. Maybe that incident was God’s way of helping me realize I can deal with the past. Maybe.

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