They Don't Know You

My first grade teacher, Mrs. Jabblow, was a petite brunette with white horn rimmed glasses and a pointy nose to match her pointy toe pumps. Once when I left my workbook at home my Dad brought it to school on his lunch break. (This was before parents needed a DNA screening to enter the building; back when they could walk right up to the class room door and knock.)

When she opened the door my father a husky truck driving sort of guy at six feet four inches filled most of the door way dwarfing my teacher in the process. A boy named Bobby whispered in awe "wow, is that your Dad? He's a giant." For a moment I was the star of the class as the teacher called my name and I walked bravely to this giant of a man who had entered the room.

I had the inside scoop, this wasn't a scary giant, this was my Daddy a big teddy bear with huge callused hands stained with diesel grease and stiff from years of gripping a truck steering wheel. And I was his fishing buddy who scuttled out of bed before sun up to play with the worms and "talk quiet so we don't wake the fish" about important things like monkeys and puppies and why Bobby pulls my hair at school. I was his "go to" girl the next year when my Mom would spend two months in the hospital fighting liver cancer and I was his co-pilot who could fall asleep sitting straight up in the passenger seat of his 18-wheeler within the first ten miles of a trip. To others he was a scary giant and I was a forgetful blond (I started early). But they didn't know us and they were wrong.

It's been 33 years since my fishing buddy and hero passed away. The kindest man I ever knew until I met the Hubs. He is a husky truck driving sort of guy a little over six feet tall who has a scowl that makes those up to no good head in the opposite direction (remember? Shrek "stay out of my swamp"?). But he also has a smile that lights up a room and certainly my heart. And I am his camping buddy who scuttles away every chance I get to sit around a camp fire and talk about important things like our dreams, our future and how blessed we are to have found each other. Some thought we were crazy for getting married after seven weeks and one date. But they didn't know us and they were wrong.

People are often quick to judge by what they see and what they think they know. When surrounded by doubters and critics remind yourself "THEY DON'T KNOW YOU!" and prove them wrong!