Welch Whirl

Under a Bushel

So my parents are moving thus the last time they visited us they brought a truck-load of my memories with them. (I guess they didn't want to keep track of my old junk anymore). Those boxes of junk now reside in my bedroom. My not-so-happy-about-that hubby told me to downsize the memories before we store them. What? Choke. Cough. Sputter. After some careful consideration it seemed fair enough right? The question is what do I get rid of? These are not just memories, but proof of my

coolness
charisma
grace
athleticism

or in other words - evidence that I may have had a talent or two at one time. To whom am I needing evidence for? Well, I guess the kiddos and my delicate ego. Wiley always seems shocked when I mention a sport I played. Just this morning, Rosa tried on a pair of my ballet slippers and they fit her. She couldn't believe that my massive feet were ever her petite size.

So where do I draw the line? Do I toss out my favorite swimsuit from 1992? Actually, it was is my favorite suit of ALL TIME. It is 19 years old and proves that splashes of neon were all the rage! This suit is my favorite because it was my first big-girl suit. (It has a lining and little padded cups.) As a 9th grader I felt pretty special sporting a fake chest. Hey don't judge me. Didn't we all want to have a bigger chest at that age? The elastic is dried up and dead but on a brighter note I can fit one leg in. AWESOME.

 Do I toss out my beloved trophies? They represent hour upon hours of after school workouts. Notice that my school gave out mugs, or beer steins. Weird right? What message were they sending to the students? But heaven forbid that I toss out porcelain that says I was the MVP. When Wiley hits high school he is gonna want to see this. Right?  Won't he want to see my trophy that says "Super Citizenship" 1989-90, my pin that says "Student of the Month",  my blue ribbon that says "PARTICIPANT" . . . of course he is!

What about the pile of 1,500 or more stack of Spanish flashcards. I had five years of Spanish (7th grade to my junior year) and can barely put a sentence together. Oh and lets not forget two years of Spanish in College as well. Let's just say that I don't retain well. Perhaps Spanish is not a gift, but I do have an accompanying paper award that was given to me in my Sophomore year that was for "Most Improved" that says otherwise. Donde es el bano? Al le izquierdo?

A picture of me in 3th grade jump-roping. Cool right? I was in a very elite jump-roping performance group. Our major performances were held in the lobbies of hotels such as the Sheraton and at school assemblies. Yes, I was a Beartooth. Bouncing. Bear. So few can put that feather in their caps.

I have journals for my posterity.  I was a very prolific writer. Loads of them are filled with juicy details that give my descendants a little glimpse into my extraordinary life. How could I part with a single item?

 
Yes, over the years I have honed some unusual talents. Basically the talent just seeps out of me. It's a good thing I have them all documented and boxed neatly in my room.

I have joked many-a-time that when the bell went off in heaven to come pick out your talents that I must have been dosing off under a tree somewhere. . . I eventually got to the talent table but all the cool talents were taken and I reluctantly picked up what was left over. But even though my talents have been unusual ones I have had a sense of pride about them.

So what is the gospel lesson to be learned here? Should we hide our talents under a bushel? I say NO. They must be shared!!  

Pause. Thinking hard. . . . now I just need to find the perfect venue in which to share them. Jump-roping lessons anyone?