when you cover your knees with band-aids and vow to never ride a bike again,
when you're crying because you struck out for the millionth time on the softball field that summer,
when you start to fail that English class because your research paper had very little research,
or when the track county championships come down to the 400m relay that you're the second leg of,
the last thing you want to hear is "can't never could..."
But growing up, my Aunt Kathy would always tell us "Mama T always said that can't never could..."
(Mama T was my great-grandmother. A wise old soul who died when I was two, but she was still very much a part of our lives.)
I never gave those words a second thought, and always gave up when the doubt would creep in.
On several occasions, I’ve wanted to throw a child-like fit, shed some tears, and cry, “I can’t.”
And maybe more than once, I have.
Since I've been back in Germany, I've called Momma to check on the boys every day, sometimes twice a day.
She always has lots of stories to tell about Austin and Cade.
One day early last week, she told me that she had tied one of the gates on the backyard fence shut so that Austin couldn't wander out into the driveway.
A few days later, she said that he had found the second gate, and it's now tied shut too.
Of course a few days after that conversation, she was telling me that she caught Austin climbing over the fence.
I thought to myself, "There's nothing this child can't do."
He's been thrown into a new environment without his momma or daddy by his side. And he's still trucking. He's exploring everything around him, and laughing, and getting in trouble, just like he were at home.
He's adjusting. And learning to go with the flow.
It caught me off guard.
And I realized, I need to be more like him...
When someone ties my fence shut, I need to learn to climb over it saying,
"Can't never could. And I know I can…"
