Divine Wonder and Life's Wrinkles

The second Saturday in August found Buddy swimming in his niche. Nope, my tall son was not in a water pool, as faithful readers might assume.

At the State Special Olympic Masters Bowling Tournament at the Golden Cup Lanes, Bud sauntered and smiled amid the crowd of parents, coaches, volunteers, and athletes. The alley echoed with jokes and chatter and plenty of gleeful shouts. In that din, in order to get someone’s attention Buddy would scratch the shoulder of a friend with his right hand. That would start a round of grinning hugs.

It took parental nudging to get his attention and body back to his assigned lane for his turn. For Bud was in the team competition between four teams competing for the three medals and additional last place ribbons. There may have been ten such competitions at this alley, and more at the other bowling alley in town.

My Beloved Hubby, my Maria, and I stood in the back with the crowd. Some were caregivers or guardians while many others were never to be empty-nester moms or dads. Some of the athletes had as much silver hair as their parents. Only the athletes had less of life’s woes etched on their faces.

This mom’s forehead lines etched deep as she watched Bud’s bowling ball slide right and left grazing a pin, or, even worse, as his positive coach called it, “Straight down the middle of the gutter.”

Mom had hoped Bud’s new eyeglasses would help him accurately bowl. Mom hoped her instructions between plays would mow down more pins. Mom hoped and paced herself into a pout. Wisely, MBH had Mom leave the competition with Maria, who was throwing her hands up a bit too much. All the while Bud was not the least bit upset.

“He doesn’t want you around,” his jovial coach winked. “He’ll get strikes as soon as you’re out of eyesight.”

It was not in Bud’s mind to consider his fretting mom’s presence “bad luck.” Bud has more faith in Jesus than fear about cracked mirrors, walking under a ladder, not knocking on wood. I am pretty sure he is clueless about charms, lucky or not.

For instance, Bud’s currently sanding a rusty horseshoe he got from Cowboy, a horse he learned how to feed while out with his job counselor. He doesn’t know or care that his shoe is considered a talisman. But he can fixate on the horse that wore the shoe.

“If you hold out an apple for Dollar, guess what? It’s gone!” he exclaims. “If you have a carrot, it’s gone!” Buddy's eyes pop as his hand covers his mouth in delight and wonder. Crunch!

Wonder savors the moment. 

Wonder decreases life’s wrinkles.  

Divine, childlike wonder might be that secret to contentment.

Paul of Tarsus once declared, “I have learned the secret of being content in any situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want, I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.”

Buddy bowled several strikes and a 10-pin spare and guttered after I left. "I had a good time," he told me later. Indeed he did.