Profoundity

The agency I work for had a thank you party for our donors and volunteers. I had to speak, which isn't unusual for me. This was a group of folks whom I know, most of them anyway, and I've asked many of them to speak for us from time to time, so it was a friendly crowd.

The trouble is, particularly when I'm with a group I respect, I feel like I have to be the one who says the profound thing. The thing that haunts people, that they talk about on the way home. And I just don't have that in me.

I guess that's not entirely true. I don't have it in me to be profound about every single subject. I'm kind of a straightforward gal, not sentimental or romantic. Really a boring broad if you want to know, but if I had to say something to folks to pull at their heart, this is what I'd say:

I'm the mother of a twelve year old boy who loves to talk about, well, poo. His favorite joke is anything that involves passing gas, he believes having to attend school is a human rights violation, and would endure any three painful alternative activities rather than voluntarily read a book.

But everytime he embarrasses me in front of my colleagues with scatalogical humor, everytime we fight about the math homework, everytime beseiges me with requests for expensive video games, I want to shout to heaven how happy and grateful I am. He is alive!

It seems to me like that is the only truly profound truth left in the world: life is good. Being alive is the greatest gift, and we really do not get that.

Having the awareness that I have is also a gift. To konw you are blessed is a separate blessing.

That's what I'd say, and then I'd leave the podium and go find my kid and let him rag at me for leaving him with the babysitter while I went to "AH-nutherrrr meeting!" Truly, it's like music.