They Don’t Know You Like I Do, Ma

I will never be cool enough to go viral . . . shoot, I’ll never be cool enough to be cool in my kids’ eyes . . . well, maybe in my step-kids’ eyes, but they never had the ‘luxury’ of actually living with me, so I’m not sure that counts.

Some years ago, while attending seminary as a second-career student, some fellow seminarians actually younger than my own kids, opined that I just might be the coolest old person they knew.  I was very flattered and rushed to call son Ben and tell him.  Without missing a beat, his reply came over the line at the light-speed of the sharp-witted: They don’t know you like I do, Ma.  

We both still laugh about that one. . . so funny because it is so very true.

I love Jesus and I love my family and friends and I love my church and I love my life and am generally a very content woman . . . but every now and again, like when watching the Blackberry Night Bikes commercial (this is not an endorsement, but I love, love, love those bikes), I wish I were that cool . . . or at least cooler than I am . . . cool enough to have my 15 seconds (used to be minutes, but things move a lot faster now than they used to) of fame for something totally silly . . . totally unimportant to world peace . . . and totally me . . .

Alas, it is not to be . . . I am a great audience for other people’s creativity . . . but there are no Guinness Book of World Records records for the cool of appreciation . . .