One of the many things I love about my husband is that he loves these certain crazy things about me.
We got all dressed up the other evening to attend a $350-per-plate dinner. We don’t do this often. We were guests of a prominent person in our state. I will spare you the details of how this came to be since it is not important. The important thing was my purse and what was written on it.
Now, I am well aware that many women have names written on their purses. Louis Vuitton, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Marc Jacobs, Christian Dior. The name written on mine is Teresa Boas. You might not have heard of her. She is my daughter with Down syndrome. She wrote her name in Sharpie on my little teal leather Coach purse, followed by the number 15 because she is 15 years old. I don’t use this purse often because it is too small for all the ridiculous items I unknowingly carry around on my shoulder on a daily basis (cool-looking rocks, Lego mini-figures, mate-less unlaundered socks). But this empty little purse was hanging in the hallway for a number of months, so I grabbed it on my way out the door to our swanky event, planning to transfer my cell phone and a tube of lipstick from the mother ship to the satellite on our way to the event.
I knew I wouldn’t have need for rocks or toys or dirty socks at a five-star resort where a Pulitzer Prize-winning author/historian was the keynote speaker, and the mother ship is not exactly dainty. (Not as big as the Millennium Falcon, but too large for a black-tie affair.) Now, to be honest, I was aware that the little purse bore my daughter’s name because I got a glimpse of it on my way out the door. I had my plan: carry the inscribed side facing me and the blank side out. No one would ever know that I have a child who writes on my purse. But when we pulled up to a stoplight that flooded the car with light, I happened to look at the other side of the purse. In bold Sharpie, it read “Mom Boas.” Now the only choice was which side to show the world. I chose the Mom Boas side because being Mom Boas is one of my greatest joys.
My husband asked me, on our way to the ballroom, as we hoofed from the parking garage, through the parking lot and past the valet attendants, “Why are you not mortified by that purse? I love that about you.”
I really didn’t have an answer and still don’t. But I will say, as I reflect on all of this, one thing becomes clear: God knows what He is doing. I have my more-than-occasional doubts about my qualifications to pull off the life I’ve been given. But every once in a while, I get to see that I am the right mother for a special-needs kid. I am that woman who would rather carry a purse with my kid’s name than one with Coco Chanel’s.
We had a lovely meal that evening and enjoyed the speech immensely, and if anyone noticed my purse, they never said a word all night. It would have remained so were it not for my husband.
At the last minute, we ran into a friend of ours – a judge. My husband picked up my purse.
“Look at this, Randy,” he said, with a huge smile. “This is what I love about Sherry.”
And that is what I love about Phil, and why I know he is the right father for a special-needs kid and the right husband for Mom Boas. Yep, God knows what He is doing.
Copyright 2017 Sherry Boas