Article by Curtis Beaird
Photography by Curtis and Norma Beaird
The Chosen.
Oh, to be chosen. I never
knew why, but I always knew who would be picked to choose the recess softball
teams. It was not me. Two students, the same two, were teacher-chosen for the
coveted roll of Team Captains.
I never quiet grasped the process
that Mrs. Daniels used to decide on her pair of playground stars. But, the power
she bestowed, seemed to this twelve-year-old, ominous in its reach, almost godlike in its power. Why Frank and John Paul got the nod was forever a mystery to
me.
There were a few things this
pair did make crystal clear. They had the power. They both understood the
power. They wore their status like a coat of divinity.
They were the Chosen
Choosers, and knew it.
The rest of us? Well, we
just waited. Probably, like you waited.
More than likely, like untold numbers
of us, who to this day, are still waiting.
Remember? Do you remember
that less than uplifting feeling of being left out from the beginning? Hanging on the edge of permanent relegation,
to the ranks of the overlooked, the left out, the dare I say it, the
unworthy? Remember?
I stood there. What other
choice did I have? Mrs Daniels looked like the tallest person in the world
wearing those black high heels. So, I stood there looking at Frank, then at John
Paul, hoping to hear those magic words.
The words that would set me free from
the icy feeling of isolation. The words that would allow me to move from the
outside to the inside.
I, like you, on
one foot, then the other........waited.
After a few rounds of that
less than fun schoolyard drafting process, and just before I was crushed by the
feeling of "never-going-to-be-chosen", I heard the words. The magic
words.......my name. "Curtis" followed by the command of acceptance,
"I'll take you."
John Paul set me free from
the prison of doubt. He spared me the status of leftover. I belonged. I was in. I wasn't picked last
either. Next to last, but not last.
The glimmer of joy I was
trying to coax into a glow faded fast. I was dispatched to right field. In the
sixth grade, that position was about as far from the action as you could get, unless when it was my team's turn to bat. There, I found myself in the same slot
as the Chosen Chooser had selected me, next to last.
Recess had a way of ending
before I got a turn at bat. I could go days without having a chance at taking a
swing at the ball. Why, you ask? Because Mrs Daniels picked her Chosen Choosers
and put us through the drafting process everyday. Shuffling from team to team
was a constant for those of us in the consolation section of the team.
Those experiences were not
wasted on me. I learned. No, I didn't learn to play better ball so I could get
picked sooner by a Chosen Chooser. No, I didn't learn to be leery of tall women
in high heels. No, I didn't learn that life was unfair. It took awhile, but I did learn.
What I discovered was a very
simple lesson. If I was going to be a first round draft choice I needed to pick
myself. I realized that waiting to get
the nod from someone else was at best, boring, always a constant aggravation, and
a catastrophic waste of time.
I decided, that
if I wanted to be at the head of the line,
I needed to form the line.
Waiting
for a Mrs. Daniels takes too long.........and it may never happen.
Who knows, you may not like the Chosen
Choosers.
Pick yourself.
Galatians 3:26 - 29 (King James Version)
26 For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.
27 For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ.
28 There
is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is
neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.
29 And if ye be Christ's, then are ye Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise.
Copyright 2013, Curtis Beaird. All rights reserved.
