For those of you who may not subscribe to my newsletter yet, here's an excerpt.
Article: "Birthday Bowling"
(c) 2006 Christine Louise Hohlbaum
If you want to experience true purity of heart, take a half-dozen seven-year-olds bowling. If you want to see divine light on Earth, watch their eyes as they knock down a few pins. If you want to witness the unadulterated human spirit, clap with them as they cheer, "You're the best!" when the littlest on the team bowls a gutter ball.
It didn't matter that most of them had never bowled before. It was Sophia's seventh birthday party and, by golly, they were going to overcome their uncertainty of the sport to celebrate their friend. Sophia had wanted to have her birthday party somewhere special. When we finally found a location that suited her, she had a hard time deciding who to invite. There was only room for six of her friends at the bowling alley. We made a list, then cut out cardboard bowling pins and balls to make the invitations.
"Do you think I should invite my best friend?" Sophia quizzed me. I tensed. What would her mother say if Sophia neglected to include her daughter? I imagined breathy, frenzied phone calls to discuss the matter, late-night visits to smooth things over and a behind-the-scenes argument that might damage our friendship. In the end, I convinced Sophia it would be a good idea to include the girl.
Other horror scenarios flashed before my eyes. What if one of the kids got knocked in the head by the 6 pound ball? Or one of them slipped? Or they started arguing and had a cat fight in the middle of the alley?
As the day approached, I grew more apprehensive. Children's birthday parties are admittedly not my favorite thing to organize. I never know if I've supplied enough food, the right kind or if it is entertaining enough to sustain the interest of a large group of children for several hours.
The moment the kids piled out of our cars and into the building, the most amazing thing happened. Each child got on her own bowling shoes, took care of her own things, and accepted the order in which each child would take a turn. No one complained.
The children stormed the alley, cheering a little louder each time a player rolled the ball down the waxy floor. For two hours, I witnessed these kids in all their beauty, compassion and love. They traded turns, not caring which score they got. They happily ate their pizza we had ordered, the muffins I had baked, and the drinks I had provided. No one argued. No one got hurt. One girl even bowled a strike.
As I humbly gathered our things at the end of the party, my daughter approached me with the widest grin on her face.
"This was the best birthday party ever, Mom. Thank you." She turned on her heel to join her friends who lifted her up as the Jolly Good Fellow of the day. I shed a tear at the beauty that unfurled before me. I never knew pure love could reside in a bowling alley, but there is no doubt that it did in ours that day.
