Tuesday, November 17, 2009
This weekend we spent a long day at a swim meet, and about five hours into it, my daughter began to have lower back spasms. She lay face down on a blanket and stayed there until we were ready to leave. She sat up, her legs in front of her slightly bent at the knee preparing to stand. That's when she saw Ty walking through the gym toward his towel. She raised both arms up in the air toward him, and he grasped her hands and pulled her gently to her feet. He didn't jerk her or grab her ribs to tickle her afterward like some teenage boys might. He knew her back hurt.
"Do I get a hug?" he asked.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "You're all wet."
After a few minutes of negotiation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.
I watched the scene as I packed our collapsible chairs and folded towels.
Grace had lifted her arms to Ty like she had to me as a baby in her crib. There was no doubt in her mind that Ty would come to her and pull her to her feet. His devotion, his friendship, his love for her is unconditional. At 17, almost 18, I don't think she knows yet how rare it is to have a friend she can always count on to pull her to her feet. I want to caution her not to take this for granted.
But lessons like that must be learned rather than told.
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