I felt my jaw tense and wanted to snap at the girl who told me that my daughter’s dentist appointment was made for the office in the neighboring town, not the one I was standing in.
“Let me see if I can get your daughter’s chart transferred from the Prescott office to this one.”
I managed a smile and was glad that she was willing to fix their mistake. Hers? Mine? Should I be getting mad yet?
“We’ve never been to the Prescott office.”
I plucked my son from their Seuss-like walls, changed his pull-up and watched Chloe flit from corner to corner – waiting – before we were ushered into an exam room.
“Were your daughter’s x-ray’s done at the Prescott office? I can’t find them here.”
Jaw tightens again. No wonder I have TMJ.
“We’ve never been to the Prescott office.” Do they think I’m cheating on them with the Prescott office?
I want to be the Bicycle man.
The bicycle man never had a bike as a child. He never got to soar around his neighborhood like a child who firsts feels a breeze kiss their face and blows miles of joy into their hair, as they discover the speed of delight.
So instead of blaming his parents, the town’s leaders and eventually the country, he focused on the lessons of his own depravity.
He grew up, filled his garage with old bikes he collected and fixed, and shared them with his neighborhood.
A steady stream of children lined up to sign out a bike for the day, learning to say “please” and “thank you” from the man who gave all of his free time and fun money to others. They also received lessons on bike repair, the older kids fixing the bikes of little ones. (Check out this link)
He doesn’t let the fear of lawsuits stop him. He doesn’t expect the children to pay for his generosity. He just gives his all that he has – and never had.
I foresee heavenly mansions in his future.
Me. Me. Me. That’s what we have learned from our overindulged culture. This is the sound of the piper, calling for our children to follow behind before they realize the fate that awaits them.
No. It’s time to learn from the bicycle man. Miles under feet shouldn’t be from walking over each other, but bearing the fruit of generosity.
Thoughts on current cultural attitudes? Have you found ways to teach your children the value of generosity? Let us know in the comments.