Posted by Michelle Grenier on Mon, Nov 02, 2009 @ 07:59 PM
It was a beautiful fall morning. My husband, two toddlers (three and five), and I were taking a road trip from Boston to Portland, Maine. I was scheduled to be sworn-in to the Maine Bar later that afternoon and would receive my Certificate, or as I described to my children for clarity purposes, my "Paper Trophy." In an attempt to provide a great example and lesson for my children, I reminded them of how I studied real hard, passed my "quiz" and how I will now receive a Paper Trophy. I also reminded my children that the Paper Trophy, was just as much their achievement as it was mine. They had helped so much with their love and support, not disturbing me during my study time and being so good for their "Dadda," during a period (that seemed endless at times) when I was not able to be around much.
In fact, having practiced law for the past ten years in Boston, this swearing-in ceremony was simply an inconvenient formality for me, while at the same time it was an exciting adventure for my kids. My children remained quiet near the back of the courtroom, my five year old standing and my three year old in my husband's arms, as the ceremony coordinator called out the alphabetical list of the names of persons to be sworn in. Anticipating that at any moment their "Momma" would receive their Paper Trophy that they worked so hard for, my children listened intently for "Momma's" name to be called. "Melissa George, Samuel Gray, Michael Groden . . ."
Confident that the coordinator had inadvertently skipped over my name, I approached and said with a smile, "you forgot me." He checked the list and then checked again. No Michelle Grenier on the list. I was directed to the court clerk and explained the situation. We walked out into the hall and I further explained that I had traveled two hours from south of Boston, to attend with my family, including two toddlers. The clerk volunteered to discuss the matter with the Justice presiding over the ceremony. When the clerk returned she stated that unfortunately, the Justice would not allow me to participate. It was clear that there was nothing anyone could do at that point. The clerk said "I know what you are feeling." I said, "no, you don't understand. It's not me . . . I've been practicing for ten years, this is simply a formality for me. It's my children . . . they are so excited."
I pulled it together and held back the tears as I opened the courtroom door. Like a flight attendant pointing out the emergency exits, I directed my husband and children to come out of the courtroom. My husband had been watching intently and understood that I had not been included in the roll-call. He bit his tongue, wanting so badly to discuss, but knowing that the slightest negative talk could spur a meltdown with the kids. My three year old held out her arms, quietly asking me to hold her. I took her in my arms and lead the march to the elevator.
The children were reasonably confused. "Where are we going "Momma" . . . what about our trophy?" I responded simply with "it's o.k., sometimes these things happen." The questions continued and I promised to talk with them once we were outside of the building. On the way down the elevator I realized that this was a great opportunity to provide them with an even better lesson than the "work hard - receive reward" lesson that I had originally planned. When we arrived outside, I took my two confused children by the hand and lead them to a quiet place on the sidewalk next to the building. We continued to hold hands, as I knelt down beside them.
With a smile, I explained, "you see . . . sometimes these things happen, but it's o.k.! You remember I studied real hard, I took the quiz and passed and today I was supposed to receive a Paper Trophy. Well, someone made a mistake and I was not on the list. They didn't call my name and they do not have a Paper Trophy for me today . . . but, that's o.k. See I don't need anyone else to tell me I did a good job or that I am good enough. I know in my heart that it's true and that is all that matters." At that moment my five year old bent down to pick something up and with the biggest smile, a sparkle in his eye and the most brilliant glow, he held a shiny dime in front of my face and said, "I have a trophy for you "Momma" . . . here you go . . . you don't need their trophy, your trophy is right here."
My feelings of gratitude were beyond words. I said, "so it is . . . yes my trophy is right here (hugging my children) . . . right on this sidewalk. Thank you so much." I could have cried for happiness.
Later that night after dinner at the Olive Garden, I asked my children, "what was the most important lesson that we learned about today." My five year old exclaimed, "I know "Momma" . . . what's important is that you have fun and do your best . . . we don't need a trophy!"
Who could ask for anything more!
© 2009 Michelle L. Grenier, Esq., Grenier Law Offices, PC, www.contactmylawyer.com