I owe much of my capacity for resilience to the years I spent on the Meridian Elementary school playground in the early 1990s.  Unlike the posh playsets and forgiving surfaces that characterize today’s facilities, this playground was primarily constructed from discarded junkyard items.  If you were able to successfully navigate the rusted monkey bars, you still had to be wary of being impaled by the splinters on the Medieval Oak Jungle Gym.  If the pile of old truck tires didn’t snipe your ankles during a game of Toilet Monster Tag, you could still probably get bitten by some kid pretending to be a Shark once you entered the darkness of the Tunnel Slide.  And even running was fraught with peril since the entire playground surface was covered in MILLIONS OF LOOSE PEBBLES.  Even if you survived the Sharks, Splinters, Tires, and Toilet Monsters, you could still incur a mortal wound on your skinned knee as you were staggering back to the classroom on the staphylococcus-infused shale.  Very few of us survived to Middle School.

But in the middle of this minefield, there was another random tunnel.  Not a Tunnel Slide, and not a Jungle Gym, but a cylindrical structure with the head of a fish.  And this relic of ancient pagan worship (what else could it have been???) had come to be known as “The Tunnel of Love.”  Because it was there that couples with “crushes” would surreptitiously sneak away to carve their initials and a plus sign inside a heart on the surface of the tunnel interior, thus commemorating their eternal affections until the inevitable break-up after Lunch Recess.

And one day as I was sprinting away from a Shark, I took refuge near the Tunnel of Love.  And to my shock and horror, I saw Colton and Jessica not only violating the “hands to yourself” policy, but also sharing FACIAL CONTACT in an act that could generously be described as “kissing.” Although honestly, what they were doing much more closely resembled some amateurish mimicry of the tunnel’s Fish Head. 

Righteously indignant and rightfully repulsed, I shouted at Colton to desist this debauchery.  And Colton picked up a handful of rocks and threw them into my face…and one rogue pebble went into my open mouth and down my throat.

Although I had survived the Toilet Monsters and the Sharks, my bowl-cut covered brain knew that this was something far more serious.  And as I walked to the Nurse’s Office, tears poured down my cheeks as I gathered my thoughts.  It had been a good run.  I had been given a beautiful life.  And I had gotten 100% on every Spelling Test I had ever taken.  But I needed to call my Mom.  I needed to say good-bye.  I figured that this unintentional rock digestion was imminently fatal, and it was only a matter of time.  I was 6 years old.

And through my choking sobs, my Mom deduced what had happened. And while stifling her own laughter, she reassured me that “things would all come out in the end.”  And the next morning, a Toilet Rock Monster proved her to be correct!  I had been given a new lease on life!

Sometimes, people throw rocks in your face.  Sometimes, you may swallow something bitter…or even your own pride.  But it’s not worth catastrophizing…you’re probably going to live.  It all works out in the end😊