My whole life I have lived with a curse. Actually, it’s more of an annoyance than a curse. Curse is rather dramatic. And to be fair, I come by it naturally. Several members of my family are cursed.
I get cranky when I am hungry.
I turn into a bear. And not a friendly bear. Hunger turns me into a crazed man who snaps at anyone who dares pokes me. If you haven’t heard, one should not poke a bear.
Beth learned this about me early on.
“Hey, sweetie! How’s your day?”
“Horrible. Everyone is out to get me. I can’t do anything right. My job’s at stake and it looks like I might be coming down with leprosy!”
“Get a taco and call me back.”
She never broached a major topic of discussion until I was full. Dragging me all over north Texas buying supplies for VBS always started off with a hearty lunch. She would ask me to help her with a long day of errand running, “if I promise to feed you first.”
Unfortunately, for her, the kids have the same gene. So she would keep this snack box in her office so we could keep the edge off. While we were losing our heads and snapping at each other, she would look at us like we had lost our minds.
“If you guys don’t stop it, I’m going to make you eat something.”
I miss eating snacks in her office. It was one of the highlights of my day. She would be busy wrapping up the end of her work day and I would come in from school. The kids would sit on the floor, working on homework, and we would raid the snack box. Beth and her three bears.
I have tried keeping snacks in my office, but it’s not the same. She showed us how much she loved us with this simple act of practicality. She didn’t have to, but she wanted her office to be a happy place for us.
And it was. We were fed. And we were happy.