Happy Hookers

Melissa and I have been taking a rug hooking class.

We are two of the four pupils in the class. It's funny, the other two women and I discovered last week that we all live within probably about 1/2 mile of each other. We also share a lot of the same interests, though we are at different stages in our lives. We've talked about wanting to learn how to pressure can, making our own laundry detergent, our crazy puppies, other classes we'd like to take.

Small world.

Our teacher is a wonderful woman whose boundless energy amazes me. She works two days a week, takes care of her grandsons two days a week, is taking classes and completing projects to become a certified rug hooking teacher, dyes and cuts her own wool, knits, takes care of her older brother's health needs... and more, I'm sure.

Something she told us last week made me pause and realize that sometimes I take my relationship with my children for granted.

I am always surprised when I hear of the strife my daughter's friends and acquaintances at school often have with their parents. There is one set of parents who insist their daughter get straight As and won't allow her any extracurricular activities unless she complies. She gets mostly Bs and obviously has a horrible relationship with her parents. It makes me so sad to hear of this; I can only imagine what will happen to this poor girl. I do know she's likely to run as far away from her parents as fast as she can when she turns 18.

And for what?

A parental power trip?

They don't know what they're missing.

Our rug hooking teacher told Melissa and me she was talking to a friend of hers last week about us.

Hmm?

Well, she thinks it is so neat that we're taking the class together and loves how we interact. Melissa and I joke around a lot, poke fun at each other, respect each other and share a profound, tangible love. I guess I didn't realize how obvious the love is from the outside.

Our teacher told us she shared with a friend how special Melissa's and my relationship is and as she told us, she started to cry.

Apparently, her son, as a teenager, committed suicide.

Treasure your relationship, she told us. So many parents don't.

And the loss is nearly unbearable.

I came home that night with a renewed sense of the rightness of my relationships with my children and a greater appreciation of them.

Someone once said when your child walks into the room, he/she should see joy on your face. The joy you have in their mere existence. The love you have for them should be tangible, obvious, and all-encompassing.

I've always tried to remember that.

Because my children are my joy.