The taste of happiness

Last night I was having dinner ( and too much wine )with a friend, a children's centre co-ordinator like me. With our first glass of wine we decided that we could probably write a play about the daily craziness that is life in a Childrens Centre, by the second glass we thought it should probably be a soap opera and by the third we realised that actually it would have to be a sit com.

Like all jobs, running a Children's Centre has it highs and lows. But since no two lives are the same, neither are any two days at work. There are parents who come in crying because they are about to lose their house, their partner, their children, their lives.  THere are parents who panic if their children are more than two steps away from them and parents who don't e seem to know where their children are or care what they are doing. There are families, newly arrived from other countries, who walk through our door hoping that we can guide them as they begin their  life in England, children and adults in wheelchairs and walkers coveted by children who can "walk normally." There are teenage parents who arrive angry- expecting to be judged, volunteers with learning difficulties who have walked the edge of society looking for somewhere to be accepted and belong.  Parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, step-cousins.And all accompanied by the the cry of new born babies, the tears and laughter of young children and the chatter of parents and carers.  What we hope, is that everyone who walks through our doors feels unconditionally welcomed.  Sometimes we manage it, sometimes we don't.  But we will never stop trying.

It is the half term holiday at the moment, so it is a bit quieter than usual.  I am covering in the Community Cafe while our manager is on holiday, proudly producing squashed paninis and overfilled, untidy sandwiches.  Yesterday one of our teenagers with learning difficulties was helping me.  He's been going through a hard time lately, his future lying scarily unshaped before him. And helping too,  was one of our mums who has had to fight many demons to walk back bravely through our doors.  And together, with her guiding and him listening, they made the most amazing chocolate chip cookies: huge with melted chocolate buttons instead of  chocolate chips. And as the cookies cooled, my heart warmed.  Two lost souls, coming together, creating  something  delicious.  Both so proud of what they had done and for just a few minutes so engrossed in what they were doing, that they  forgot the sadness and troubles weighing them down. Today, we will sell the cookies in the cafe and I am sure that everyone who takes a bite will smile.  That's what happens when you taste happiness!