Cast and Wait....

I embarrassed myself. I locked my keys in my car and burst into tears. I called the fire department and begged for assistance. They have a nifty tool that unlocks electric door locks in a matter of seconds. They asked me if it was an emergency. I whimpered. They asked me if a child was locked inside the car. I wailed. They asked if the car was locked with the engine running. I sobbed. They couldn't have known that I had received a Mother's Day card that read "to a beautiful middle-aged mother." They couldn't have known that I had reached that stage in my life where I was once again experiencing that well-known early adolescent malaise - raging hormones. By the time I hung up the phone, they were quite aware.

A friend of mine locked her keys in the car and reacted in much the same manner. Hysterics. It was just the last straw for her, too. She called a locksmith who unlocked the car for her and presented her with a bill for $40. She paid him and then threw the $200 worth of groceries in the trunk; uncontrollable tears by now. The Tom Thumb manager felt so sorry for her he made an extra set of key for free!

I broke down and called the locksmith. And then the wait began. I waited. And I waited. An hour passed. Lightning flashed in the distance and I could see waves of swollen rain clouds rolling in my direction. Yet, I refused to go inside and wait in the safety of the school. I had so much to do and so many places to be and I was mad. Patience is not one of my virtues. I wanted - no, NEEDED - to be by myself.

I sat on the curb and was soon thinking about one of my three-year-old students. This was the one who gave me sardines for a Christmas present. He had brought a baggie of sardines to school for lunch. They were gooey with a tangy mustard sauce. Hmmmm. He asked me if I would reach in this little handy lock baggie and get the sardines out for him. "They're kinda slimey," he told me with a grin. I shook my head and backed away from the table, fighting the urge to run to the bathroom. Imagine my surprise when I found a cute little can of sardines wrapped in candy cane-striped ribbon in the Christmas stocking he presented me with at Christmas.

This kid lives to fish. H comes to school regularly with fish stories and tells me about using peanut butter as bait. He thinks the school should raise lots of money to put a big lake on the playground and stock it with fish so we can go fishing. As I sat on the curb waiting for the "Ready-Lock Have-You-Got-A-Couple-of-Days-To-Wait locksmith, I had to agree with him. I don't go fishing very often but when I do, I find it very therapeutic. Cast and wait. Cast and wait. I envisioned myself at the cabin in Red River casting and waiting. I didn't even care if I caught anything. There was just something gratifying about nurturing that part of me that so often absent. The calm, patient, persevering me. Cast and wait.

I imagined my little friend and myself sitting side by side quietly fishing. Well, probably not quietly since he has the vocabulary of a twelve-year-old with the curiosity and energy of a three-year-old. But something told me that after a couple of hours fishing with this kid, I might even catch something. He might even let me borrow some of his peanut butter bait.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of fat raindrops hitting the concrete. I dashed to the protection of the covered porch. I waited another hour for the locksmith. As he drove up, the bottom fell out of black, ominous clouds that hung low over the school parking lot. Serves him right, I thought, for charging me $40. He even had the nerve to smile as he handed me my soggy receipt. I am one of those who thinks we can learn a lesson from everything we experience - good and bad. I searched for the lesson to be learned. Don't be in such a hurry. Slow down. Take a deep breath. Be patient.

Cast and wait.