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Family Daze
Voice from on high spoke during skating rink trip
By Debbie Farmer
I looked forward to being a chaperone for the annual Girl Scout field trip to the local skating rink. I hadn't roller-skated since high school, but I thought it would be a good opportunity to spend quality time with my daughter and her friends.
"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?" my husband asked. "You get dizzy pushing a shopping cart down the produce aisle in the grocery store."
"After carrying a 2-year-old on my hip, an infant on my back, a diaper bag on my arm and a backpack on my shoulder," I said, "trying to balance on four wheels strapped to the bottom of my feet should be a piece of cake."
When we got to the rink my daughter found her troop and we checked out our skates.
"Don't worry, honey," I said as we laced them up. "Skating takes a lot of hard work and practice. Just hold onto my hand tightly and you'll do fine."
When we made it to the edge of the floor, she glided into the rink and spun in a double axel.
"This is fun, Mom!"
I held out one hand towards her, but I lost my grip of the wall, made a 180-degree turn and fell to the floor.
"Cool," she said. "I bet Daddy couldn't do that."
I got up and shuffled along the edge of the rink until an old rock song I remembered from high school came on the loud speakers. I held my hands out to the sides, threw my head back, and rolled to the beat as it pounded through the building. I felt the ground move under my feet and the wind whip through my hair. Suddenly, I was a teenager again.
"Mom." A tiny voice broke through my thoughts. "You're going too slow. Let go of the rail. My friends are staring."
I let go. Then I heard a booming voice fill the rink as if God were speaking to me. "Do not block the floor," it said. "Keep moving."
I was moving. Just not very fast. "God is being too picky," I said.
I made it into the middle of the rink, and I heard the voice again. "All skaters back against the wall for a game of Red Light, Green Light."
There was silence, then "GREEN LIGHT" boomed through the rink.
A mass of Girl Scouts dug their skates into the ground and took off as I held onto the rail and tried to remain upright. Then I held my breath, counted to three, and forced myself to push off.
"Red light!"
I sailed past the other girls.
"Ma'am," the voice cried. "You must stop or you have to leave the floor."
According to the law of inertia, I hadn't much of a choice. I tried looking for my daughter, but everything was a blur. I sailed past the snack bar and finally stopped by grabbing onto the popcorn machine. A group of Girl Scouts gathered around me.
"Whose mom is that?" one of them asked.
I realized this wasn't quality time. My daughter and I hadn't bonded, and the only thing I was closer to was the floor.
"Mommy, where are you?"
I heard my daughter call through the crowd, and I tried to get up before she saw me, but it was too late. I leaned against the rail and watched. Then, as she skated towards me and held out her hand--I vowed the next field trip I chaperoned would be to the library.
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Saratoga, California Since 1975
