Monday, December 2, 2013

Red and White Polka Dots

It was an unusually sunny, dry day in the mountains of West Virginia. Dad drove the curvy, hairpin turns so fast, I could hear my luggage slide around in the trunk. Mom told me to stare at the double yellow centerline painted on the road. She knew if I glanced down, even just long enough to tie my shoe, that we’d be pulling over to the side of the road. Over the years she had tried every trick in the world to combat my carsickness, but nothing seemed to work.

Mom knew that my emotions were high, which would probably trigger the inevitable. She tried to distract me by initiating games for my brother and me to play. My favorite was the “A, B, C Game.” But my brother and I would get in a fight because I said he always cheated. He saw letters on signs that we’d already passed, so it couldn’t be verified. In hindsight, I know he just wanted to win so he could get back to reading his comic book. It took an especially long time to play because on the narrow mountain roads there were no billboards. Matter of fact there were very few signs at all. Oh, there was an occasional tobacco advertisement and maybe a road sign saying that we were 100 miles from nowhere, but that was it.

Mom decided that she might as well start preparing me for what was coming when they left me at camp for a whole two weeks. I was 10 years old and had only stayed away from home for a few nights travelling with my grandparents, but never this long and without my family. My brother snickered at me because he would have the rule of the roost with my parent’s undivided attention. Mom said I could call collect if I needed them and they would be there in 3½ hours. She told me she was certain I would have fun. I wasn’t quite so sure—there were bugs and snakes and who knows what other wild animals lurking in the woods.

They walked me into the big lodge where the camp counselors lure the parents into thinking this is a safe place for little kids like me. I just knew as soon as they walked out the door it would be kiddie boot camp. When Mom said goodbye she got tears in her eyes, especially when she saw my bottom lip quiver and knowing that my blubbering would follow shortly thereafter. My brother had tears in his eyes too because he was laughing so hard that I had to go to camp and he didn’t.

Things were going pretty well after I met some other girls. Meeting some really cute boys helped too. After dinner we were told that activities for the next day were going to be different than listed on the agenda. I thought, “Oh no, here it comes.” This is different than the schedule they gave our parents to make them think this camp would be fun. Now the drudgery starts. They said because of predicted rain, the hiking and camping trip would be moved to another day. We would still have outdoor activities so we should get our rain gear ready.

When I got back to my cabin and looked for my little red coat with large white polka dots, it wasn’t in my suitcase. I told my counselor and she said they’d find it.

The next morning it was cold and wet. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but hoped they’d think of something. We had indoor crafts in the morning as we listened to the song Bridge Over Troubled Waters . . . yeah, that described me. That afternoon we would venture outside in the rain for an ecology lesson.

My long face brightened when I saw my counselor carrying my red coat with the white polka dots! My dad had driven the entire distance to drop it off and then drove back home. I learned later that he and mom were afraid that if I saw him I’d want to leave camp. So their plan for him to sneak in and out without me knowing it, worked. That little red polka dot raincoat got used a lot during the next two weeks because it rained most of the time that I was there.

I was reminded of my helpless feeling when I heard about the homeless people in our town that needed warm clothing. Our church announced that it is collecting coats and winter clothes.

Today’s gift was to gather Tim’s and my winter clothes and drop them off for someone who so desperately needs them. I can’t give someone the comfort that my polka dot coat gave a scared little girl, but at least the clothes will help keep them warm and dry.

In Giving,


Robin


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