There is a lovely song that says, "The morning breaks, the shadows flee." What time of day is the best for you? I have always been jealous of "morning people." You know, those people who wake up enthused at the possibility of a new day and race right into it.
I don't get up really early, but I do enjoy the freshness of a new day. I usually get up at the crack of 9 a.m. I'm retired so if I want to, I can go back to bed and nap. When I awaken to a blizzard raging outside, I am grateful that I don't have to battle those elements. Sometimes I go back to sleep and awaken after the blizzard.
I did work from 8 to 5 for over 30 years. Those days I awakened (or rather my body moved like a zombie) at 6:30 a.m. This was especially difficult since I still didn't get to sleep until midnight or 2 a.m.
Nyle, Ardis, and I really had a good thing going. All of us were nocturnal in varying degrees. If Nyle and I couldn't sleep at night we'd get up at 2 or 3 or 4 in the morning. We'd wake little Ardis up, change her, and take her with us on our middle of the night fun. Sometimes we'd get breakfast, other times we'd explore, little roads that we had not yet traveled, or perhaps a 4 wheel trip. "Rough roads," is what our darling oldest called them.
THEN CAME SARAH! At first I actually wondered if the dear Lord had given us the wrong child! A MORNING PERSON? IN OUR HOME? She would awaken between 6 and 8 am every single morning. It didn't matter when she went to sleep...her internal alarm would awaken her and she was ready to live!
When she was a toddler that could speak she would toddle in to our bedroom. "I want to play!"
Ardis was still sleeping. Nyle was still sleeping. Sarah wanted ME to get up with her. I would stagger to the TV and turn it on for her. Then she'd say these immortal words, "I want YOU to play with me!" These fateful words precluded any further attempts at escaping back into dreamland.
In college, Ardis scheduled her classes (at least when she could) at the civilized hour of 9 a.m. or later. Not Sarah. Even though Sarah went to school in Rexburg, Idaho (which we used to call ICEBURG Idaho. The phrase explains a little about the winter weather), she would get up and walk a mile or two to get to her class at 7:45. She took classes early ON PURPOSE! She said, "I like to get up and start my day early.
Again, I repeat, if I did not witness that our beloved girl was born of me...I sometimes might wonder. She now teaches school at a school that is far away from our home. This necessitates a long commute night and morning. Each evening at 9:30 or 10:00 she is snuggled into her bed, and then asleep quickly. (Not nocturnal)
Ardis and I are up until around midnight usually. I often stay up until 2 and sometimes more like 4. If our dear Nyle were still on earth with us he would be sound asleep by at least 10 A.M.! He was the most nocturnal of us all. Often he would awaken me at 4 a.m. He would want to share some wonderful idea, or discovery that he had found. Once he awakened me to watch TELETUBBIES! I watched....and he fell asleep.
Since his death I awaken many times at 4:00 a.m. Apparently Nyle still has wondrous things to share with me. Now I believe the wonder he wants to share is the beauty of the quiet world at 4 a.m. Of course, if I'm awake, our cute little doggy absolutely MUST get up and go outside. The amazing beauty of 4 a.m. in this place and space is very powerful. AND THEN...I go back and climb into my warm, cozy bed, and go back to sleep!
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass....it's about learning to dance in the rain!
Monday, October 13, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Random Acts of Kindness
The word kindness is often seen as a description of someone weak, ineffectual. In my lifetime I have seen that kindness is the truest measure of character. People who are genuinely kind usually carry that kindness through to the rest of their lives. Kind people do NOT seek to control anyone! Kind people do not beat their children. Kindness is loving, warm, and encouraging.
Living in Utah I have personally witnessed an exception to the above paragraph. The people that I meet in stores, medical clinics, and public places in general are always extremely kind. Then how is it possible that those same kind people climb behind the wheel of a car and turn into selfish, unkind, self absorbed drivers?
I have lost count of the times that I have been cut off, charged over, or even hit, and the driver did NOT know that anything had happened. These drivers consider themselves the most important person on the road, and others had better just watch out for them.
My hubby, daughter and I were driving north bound heading to visit our other daughter at college. There was road construction but not a lot of warning signs. Suddenly out lane just quit! No warning, no way to continue forward without hitting many dangerous things. The driver on our right did not even know we were there! She was merrily chatting away on her cell phone, completely oblivious to the emergency situation to her left.
I was ever so grateful that my husband with his amazing reflexes was driving. He managed to keep from running into the chatty lady. On the other hand it drove us into a couple of cones and broke off our rear view mirror on the driver's side. We continued to drive north. We saw the woman again 10 minutes later, and she was still chatting away on her cell phone, not even aware that she had caused an accident by not being aware of the drivers around her.
The worst example of all was the accident that my family experienced. They were in my daughter's old clunker car. It had stalled on the freeway. So they were in the emergency lane with the flashers on. They were letting the car coast to get as close to home as possible. With towing charges per mile they were aware of each mile.
A nineteen year old boy hit them...on the rear, right side of the car. He did not even brake. He was traveling at 75 miles an hour. The impact was so extreme that it flipped the car completely around, and forced the trunk of the car on the right to move forward and encase my husband in metal hell.
In the aftermath my daughter who was driving could not find her cell phone to call for help. Her Father was dying, her sister's arm was shattered, and she was in shock.
The boy came to her car door (she didn't want to leave her Papa and sister) and said, "Are you all OK?"
She responded, "NO, we're NOT! I can't find my cell phone. CALL 911!"
This happened three times in about 20 minutes and the boy still didn't call 911! Did I mention that my husband was DYING?
Finally my daughter was able to locate her cell phone, and miracle of miracles it was working. So SHE called 911. It took an hour and 45 minutes to pry my hubby from the jaws of death. He broke all 12 ribs on the right...some of them were shattered to dust, five levels of his back (they had to rebuild his back, he lost an inch and a half of height), broke his right arm, and his right shoulder, punctured his lung (amazing that he didn't puncture both lungs with those sharp shards of ribs floating about), and had numerous other internal injuries.
It was a miracle that he survived the accident. He spent six weeks in the hospital. Then he spent six months trying to let his back heal. His ribs NEVER healed. I believe that his life was shortened. He only lived another two years and then died at 54 years of age.
Our daughter in the left side back seat had been leaning to the right half asleep. It was 1:35 in the morning. They had been playing board games with some of our family. The impact shattered her right arm, and damaged her occipital nerve. It also damaged soft tissue in her right shoulder, and damaged several portions of her back. She now lives with constant, unrelenting, chronic pain.
Our other daughter was driving. She had the least amount of visible injuries. The injuries that couldn't be seen, or quantified by a CT scan began to become apparent less than a year later. She too will live with chronic pain all of her life.
I was supposed to be with them that night. If I had been, either I or our daughter would have been seated behind my husband. Anybody between Nyle and the trunk would have been crushed.
So, we counted many miracles. All three of them should have died. I actually had an EMT come find me in the ER. He explained that the previous week he had attended an identical accident, and all three of those travelers died.
Nyle did live another two years. His injuries were so massive that he suffered with them for the next two years. On the other hand we were ever so grateful to have him with us for those next two years!
Our oldest girls injuries became worse and worse. Her shattered arm did not heal properly. A surgeon re-broke it and put pins and a titanium plate inside. He did a miserable job and it left her with what she calls, "Robo arm." She can only use it in very specific ways. She used to play the violin...she has not since. She is brilliant and has found many, many ways to compensate for the new normal she has, but she lives with pain, every single day.
The boy said that he just looked away for a moment. The moon was brilliant that night, a golden orb floating in and out through clouds of silver. I know, because I enjoyed the moon myself that night. I don't believe that the boy was doing any such thing. He was texting. The boy claimed on Facebook that his favorite thing was his Blackberry. There is nothing wrong with that, except when you are using it while driving a car late at night going 75 miles per hour, and driving in the emergency lane of the freeway instead of the freeway lanes.
We were inundated with kindness as we moved through this tragedy. My husband had so many injuries that it was close to impossible for regular nursing care to be sufficient. I stayed with him for most of his hospitalization. This was excruciatingly hard because both of our girls, though they were adults, were struggling horribly.
Dear friends of Ardis' came and stayed with the girls. They made certain they had medicine when they needed it, fed them, and helped them through that ever so difficult transition. Having them step up when they were so desperately needed made it possible for me to stay with Nyle.
The nursing staff at the hospital were amazing! The male nurse assigned to Nyle watched over him with the care of a Papa Penguin. When Nyle was so desperately ill, fighting for his life, Josh was there...teasing Nyle into doing things that he might not have done otherwise.
Nyle had written a song before the accident. The title, "You Can Go to Hell or You Can Drive in Utah, Either Way it's Just the Same.) The irony is that Nyle and I learned to drive in this fair state. We are/(were in Nyle's case) both excellent drivers. Unfortunately, the scales have tipped. It seems as our population increases and our roads widen the drivers become more and more selfish.
I will end this post with the lyrics from Nyle's song,
You can go to Hell or you can drive in Utah
Either way it's just the same
You can go to Hell or you can drive in Utah
Either Way you've got the Devil to blame!
The idea that I prescribe to end this trend is, random acts of kindness. Be aware of the cars around you! Get off your cell phone, never, EVER touch your texting screen while driving, and remember that in reality you are driving an enormous weapon of mass destruction. How will it make you feel if your urgency to get ahead of another driver, or impatience with someone trying change lanes or merge ends in a car accident? The driver that you have hit is dead, or maimed for life. You are left with crippling, chronic illness. Is that extra 3 minutes that you earned by cutting someone off worth living the rest of your life in either situation? Or worse, worth giving your life up for that selfishness on your part?
Living in Utah I have personally witnessed an exception to the above paragraph. The people that I meet in stores, medical clinics, and public places in general are always extremely kind. Then how is it possible that those same kind people climb behind the wheel of a car and turn into selfish, unkind, self absorbed drivers?
I have lost count of the times that I have been cut off, charged over, or even hit, and the driver did NOT know that anything had happened. These drivers consider themselves the most important person on the road, and others had better just watch out for them.
My hubby, daughter and I were driving north bound heading to visit our other daughter at college. There was road construction but not a lot of warning signs. Suddenly out lane just quit! No warning, no way to continue forward without hitting many dangerous things. The driver on our right did not even know we were there! She was merrily chatting away on her cell phone, completely oblivious to the emergency situation to her left.
I was ever so grateful that my husband with his amazing reflexes was driving. He managed to keep from running into the chatty lady. On the other hand it drove us into a couple of cones and broke off our rear view mirror on the driver's side. We continued to drive north. We saw the woman again 10 minutes later, and she was still chatting away on her cell phone, not even aware that she had caused an accident by not being aware of the drivers around her.
The worst example of all was the accident that my family experienced. They were in my daughter's old clunker car. It had stalled on the freeway. So they were in the emergency lane with the flashers on. They were letting the car coast to get as close to home as possible. With towing charges per mile they were aware of each mile.
A nineteen year old boy hit them...on the rear, right side of the car. He did not even brake. He was traveling at 75 miles an hour. The impact was so extreme that it flipped the car completely around, and forced the trunk of the car on the right to move forward and encase my husband in metal hell.
In the aftermath my daughter who was driving could not find her cell phone to call for help. Her Father was dying, her sister's arm was shattered, and she was in shock.
The boy came to her car door (she didn't want to leave her Papa and sister) and said, "Are you all OK?"
She responded, "NO, we're NOT! I can't find my cell phone. CALL 911!"
This happened three times in about 20 minutes and the boy still didn't call 911! Did I mention that my husband was DYING?
Finally my daughter was able to locate her cell phone, and miracle of miracles it was working. So SHE called 911. It took an hour and 45 minutes to pry my hubby from the jaws of death. He broke all 12 ribs on the right...some of them were shattered to dust, five levels of his back (they had to rebuild his back, he lost an inch and a half of height), broke his right arm, and his right shoulder, punctured his lung (amazing that he didn't puncture both lungs with those sharp shards of ribs floating about), and had numerous other internal injuries.
It was a miracle that he survived the accident. He spent six weeks in the hospital. Then he spent six months trying to let his back heal. His ribs NEVER healed. I believe that his life was shortened. He only lived another two years and then died at 54 years of age.
Our daughter in the left side back seat had been leaning to the right half asleep. It was 1:35 in the morning. They had been playing board games with some of our family. The impact shattered her right arm, and damaged her occipital nerve. It also damaged soft tissue in her right shoulder, and damaged several portions of her back. She now lives with constant, unrelenting, chronic pain.
Our other daughter was driving. She had the least amount of visible injuries. The injuries that couldn't be seen, or quantified by a CT scan began to become apparent less than a year later. She too will live with chronic pain all of her life.
I was supposed to be with them that night. If I had been, either I or our daughter would have been seated behind my husband. Anybody between Nyle and the trunk would have been crushed.
So, we counted many miracles. All three of them should have died. I actually had an EMT come find me in the ER. He explained that the previous week he had attended an identical accident, and all three of those travelers died.
Nyle did live another two years. His injuries were so massive that he suffered with them for the next two years. On the other hand we were ever so grateful to have him with us for those next two years!
Our oldest girls injuries became worse and worse. Her shattered arm did not heal properly. A surgeon re-broke it and put pins and a titanium plate inside. He did a miserable job and it left her with what she calls, "Robo arm." She can only use it in very specific ways. She used to play the violin...she has not since. She is brilliant and has found many, many ways to compensate for the new normal she has, but she lives with pain, every single day.
The boy said that he just looked away for a moment. The moon was brilliant that night, a golden orb floating in and out through clouds of silver. I know, because I enjoyed the moon myself that night. I don't believe that the boy was doing any such thing. He was texting. The boy claimed on Facebook that his favorite thing was his Blackberry. There is nothing wrong with that, except when you are using it while driving a car late at night going 75 miles per hour, and driving in the emergency lane of the freeway instead of the freeway lanes.
We were inundated with kindness as we moved through this tragedy. My husband had so many injuries that it was close to impossible for regular nursing care to be sufficient. I stayed with him for most of his hospitalization. This was excruciatingly hard because both of our girls, though they were adults, were struggling horribly.
Dear friends of Ardis' came and stayed with the girls. They made certain they had medicine when they needed it, fed them, and helped them through that ever so difficult transition. Having them step up when they were so desperately needed made it possible for me to stay with Nyle.
The nursing staff at the hospital were amazing! The male nurse assigned to Nyle watched over him with the care of a Papa Penguin. When Nyle was so desperately ill, fighting for his life, Josh was there...teasing Nyle into doing things that he might not have done otherwise.
Nyle had written a song before the accident. The title, "You Can Go to Hell or You Can Drive in Utah, Either Way it's Just the Same.) The irony is that Nyle and I learned to drive in this fair state. We are/(were in Nyle's case) both excellent drivers. Unfortunately, the scales have tipped. It seems as our population increases and our roads widen the drivers become more and more selfish.
I will end this post with the lyrics from Nyle's song,
You can go to Hell or you can drive in Utah
Either way it's just the same
You can go to Hell or you can drive in Utah
Either Way you've got the Devil to blame!
The idea that I prescribe to end this trend is, random acts of kindness. Be aware of the cars around you! Get off your cell phone, never, EVER touch your texting screen while driving, and remember that in reality you are driving an enormous weapon of mass destruction. How will it make you feel if your urgency to get ahead of another driver, or impatience with someone trying change lanes or merge ends in a car accident? The driver that you have hit is dead, or maimed for life. You are left with crippling, chronic illness. Is that extra 3 minutes that you earned by cutting someone off worth living the rest of your life in either situation? Or worse, worth giving your life up for that selfishness on your part?
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
My Favorite Daughter - Who was born second
They laid our precious child on my tummy. I looked down and was startled because she only had 4 toes. FOUR toes on each foot. Of course, I was prepared to love my child no matter how many toes or fingers, or how few for that matter! Then the little girl popped those reluctant toes out. They had been hiding behind the others. PHEW...I was relieved.
In the nursery of our teeny, tiny, country hospital was a preemie weighing 4 pounds at three months old. I felt almost guilty when they laid our beautiful 8 pound 14 oz. baby girl next to him. She came into the world absolutely perfect. She did fake her Mother out. Well, just for a moment.
Sarah Elizabeth was to be her name. She was named Sarah for her Maternal Grandmother, and Sarah Elizabeth for two of her maternal 2nd great Grandma's We wanted her to have a strong name! We wanted a name that would give her righteous role models. We had no idea that her name was so beautiful that many, many others also carried that same name.
Sarah had a rocky start in life. The tubes in her ears were formed in such a way that caused them to be chronically irritated and often infected. This also led to chronic colic. Sarah cried...A LOT! Looking back I wish that we had gotten tubes for her little ears, much sooner. The doctors all said that we should wait. They advised that the problem with her ears would get better as she grew bigger.
They were wrong. Her ears finally reached a point when they NEVER CLEARED of infection! At the age of three we had tubes put in her ears. She was a new child! She was happy almost all of the time! (That's about all any of us can say, right?)
She had been language delayed because her ears were so full of fluid that she couldn't hear well. Now she chattered like an adorable little birdie. She was eager to discuss any and all things.
Sarah was unstoppable! She wanted to run, run, and run some more. On a soccer team she didn't really care much about what the other team members did with the ball. She just wanted to run. Run she did, up and down the field. She even ran in her sleep, her chubby legs pumping the air vigorously.
Seven years old and alone with her beloved Daddy one day she proved her courage. Her Daddy had a biopsy in his throat. The incision popped open and began to hemorrhage. This would be a nightmare for anyone, but especially a 7 year old child.
She went and found a clean washcloth. Next she put pressure on the incision to get it to stop bleeding. All of this was done calmly, no histrionics, just something that had to be done.
Growing up with two parents who had serious physical challenges; Sarah learned empathy and compassion. From her earliest years Sarah was very aware of others around her, and longed to lift and love.
Sarah had a powerful passion for the magic of dance and singing. At six months of age she began to sing, little tunes that enraptured her. At the same time she became aware of rhythm and movement. At the age of eighteen months, Santa brought her a lovely, brand new, walker. The type that you pop the child in and off they go. It had wheels, but they couldn't seem to move fast enough for this little go getter. The best part for Sarah was that there were all types of ways to play rhythm and music. She would sit in that little chair and sing, dance, and rejoice. She was happiest when she could sing and dance.
Several years later we went shopping one day. There was a large circular stage in the middle of the immense electronics store. There had been some type of performance earlier in the day. The stage had not been cleared away. There was music playing on a loudspeaker. Many children were dancing on that stage. Ardis quickly joined the company. Shy Sarah was a little more difficult to convince. It didn't take very long after her sister began to dance. At first Sarah was timid, aware of all the people that might be watching. It was not long before Ardis became bored and went off to a different part of the store with her Daddy.
Sarah was entranced. It seemed as though she had forgotten that there was a world outside of the universe where she danced. She danced with the joy that comes from interpretation of music. Her face was filled with transformative wonder. When it came time to stop and go home it took a great deal of convincing (and perhaps some bribery) to lure her away from that stage, and dancing to that music.
Sarah and her Sister attended a special middle school for the arts. This allowed them to dance 5 days a week for an hour. Both of them took to dance like the proverbial duck to water. They were both happiest when they were dancing.
At home we sang together, danced together, and sometimes performed at church functions or family get-togethers. We were all happiest when we shared music in whatever form as a family. Grandma Sarah's favorite memory from our family was marching in the circle between our front room and kitchen to a children's hymn. Nyle led the marching, Grandma Sarah proudly marched behind him (she was in her 80s at this point), then Sarah and her sister Ardis. I Mama played the piano.
Sarah brightened every place just by entering. Her energy is legend. One of her roomies at college told me that you could hear Sarah's unique laughter all across the campus. (Sarah has a hearing loss from those years of infection. Sometimes she is a bit loud without knowing it.) Her laughter lightens and brightens the air around her. Her roomie said, "I love to hear Sarah's laugh. It makes the day seem happier."
Now, Sarah is a fifth grade school teacher. She decided that teaching was a way for her to bless the lives of others. Twenty-eight adorable children are blessed to be in Sarah's classroom each and every day. She laughs with them, helps them to feel safe in her space, and she teaches them how to find joy in everyday life. Oh, of course, there are the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic. She simply integrates those subjects into real life. She doesn't want the students just to read and regurgitate. She wants them to look forward to a lifetime of learning.
Sarah helps care for me, her disabled Mother. She and her Sister insist that I took care of them, now it's their turn to take care of me. She is ever so loving. Laughter rings through our house when Sarah is home. Not that Ardis and I are gloomies. It's just that Sarah has this magical power of laughter and love. She carries it with her wherever she goes.
Maybe naming her after excellent role models was a good idea. She does her best to emulate these terrific ladies, while adding many of her own elements, the magic and joy of good humor, the power to change, the motivation to be better everyday.
I am grateful every single day for this darling dynamo. She entered the world strong and large. Then she grew into a tiny little body. Tiny but mighty is how I always think of Sarah. Her fifth graders are mostly taller than she is. Parents have assumed she was a student on multiple occasions. It doesn't matter. Her students love and appreciate the gifts that she gives them. I suspect that Sarah's legendary energy will last her well into her 90s. She will always be a positive power to be reckoned with!
I give thanks everyday to God above for the privilege of being Sarah's Mom!
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Dr. Who, What, When, and Why?
For those of you who are not interested by the television show Dr. Who, (a sci-fi drama that has been around for over 50 years). The basic idea is that Dr. Who is a thousands of year old alien (no he's not from Mexico, he's a genuine space alien, from a different planet). He's a very charitable alien. He spends his time jet setting about in a space ship that looks exactly like a pay phone in England. (The series is British, but many of we "Colonials," also enjoy it).
You climb in the ship, (which is MUCH larger inside than out), and poof you land two hundred years ahead.
That was my feeling last Friday evening. I spent almost an hour and a half trying my best to look my best fifty-eight year old self. I went all out...yes, I wore jewelry, AND did my make-up! I was a nervous wreck by the time I arrived at the venue.
Walking in I recognized two faces. They were ladies I have known since 5th grade but hadn't seen for at least thirty-five years. They rushed forward to hug and welcome. That would have been even nicer if they had treated me like that 40 years ago.
To put it plainly, my attitude about this experience was stinky! Grades 1-12 for me were Hellish. I was tormented on a daily basis. I was an odd kid. I had beat death many, MANY times by the age of 6. This living with fragile health thing made me grow up very, very fast. I felt more comfortable with my over sixty year old friends than I did with my peers. I had much more in common with my elderly friends.
In High School, if I walked in through the main door there was a group of "Jocks" that sat in a bench there and they would judge the girls walking in. They didn't give me any number from 1-10. They would just bark at me. I dare you to start your day that way sometime...have people sitting on a bench judging you, and finding you seriously deficit. I learned where all the other doors were in the building to try and avoid this early morning greeting.
Sexual harrassment? That phrase had not been coined yet. In one of my English classes (the subject that normally was my favorite class), three boys sat around me. They would constantly barrage me with images of their various male apparatus. They even passed me a drawing once. If that didn't receive the required "Reaction," they put a tack on my chair, many times. It took a few times before I got smart and ALWAYS checked my chair before I sat.
The final straw came when they threw a pen AT ME. It hit me in the forehead about an inch from my eye. It hit hard enough that it stuck in my forehead. I had to pull it out.
Mama took me to the doctor who cleansed it (Gratefully, it didn't need stitches). Mama marched me into the Vice-Principal's office. She demanded that justice be dealt to the miscreants. (I think I just channeled my husband the attorney''s spirit. I don't usually use words like dealt, justice, and miscreant in the same sentence). The Vice-Principal said, "Mrs. Cheney, they are just teenage boys going through a phase. It wouldn't make any difference if I did call them in to my office and discipline them. In fact, (I think I saw the light bulb above his head as he had a new idea), they would no doubt, torment her even worse."
Another day Mama went by herself to speak to my English teacher. He was an excellent teacher, but I soon found out a miserable advocate for justice. He had given me an U in citizenship for the class. A U was pretty close to failing. I had NEVER received a lower grade than S for Satisfactory. The U was UNsatisfactory. Mama told him about the torment I was enduring, and asked about the citizenship grade. (I was also far too timid to earn a U in citizenship).
He said, "Nobody else would sit by those boys. Where would I put them in the class?" He continued, "I gave Caroljoy a U because she does not participate in class."
When Mama reported I was stunned. I didn't participate in class because I was too busy trying to run away from the harrassment and cruelty of these boys. I would read, read, read, anything, all things, to try and deflect the misery of their non-stop comments.
I did my best NOT to tell my parents about the daily almost non-stop torment. I had a wonderful home life. My home was my sanctuary from my school misery. I DID NOT, wish to to bring that misery home with me. In addition I had seen first hand that having my parent intercede in my behalf did NOTHING. If anything it accelerated the ongoing misery.
The really odd thing to me was that after leaving high school I attended a wonderful college in another state. I did NOT change in any obvious manner. My skin still broke out from time to time. My hair still liked being frizzy. My teeth WERE perfect now. That was awesome. Suddenly I was popular, people wanted to be my friend. There were even some young men that liked me. I had my first serious boyfriend that year.
You might ask, "Why would I ever want to return to the group that made my life so miserable?" I am a proud third generation Davis Dart. My Grandmother, Grandfather, and Mother also attended this high school. I am proud of my heritage! I refuse to let the cruelty I experienced sabotage my academic heritage.
It was astonishing, forty years later, to be treated as a valuable member of our class! I didn't get up and mingle very much. I have two bad knees, and a really bad back. I didn't have to stand and go to others to mingle. They came to me! What fun it was to associate with these people of my youth, with the daily harrassment gone.
I fully intend to attend my fiftieth high school reunion if I make it that far. Now, I'm interested, invested in these people. After forty years, it seems as though they have finally grown up. Maybe I have too? Grown up enough to realize that we were all just kids, the torment that I received grew out others insecurities.
Was it OK for those kids to bully me? NOT AT ALL! At the same time one of the greatest experiences in life is to understand the motivation of people who seem to be your enemies. In understanding them, their behavior loses some of its sting. In forgiving them, letting go of the past, lies true freedom and self-knowledge. In striving to be the best self I can be, is the greatest power that I may receive in life.
You climb in the ship, (which is MUCH larger inside than out), and poof you land two hundred years ahead.
That was my feeling last Friday evening. I spent almost an hour and a half trying my best to look my best fifty-eight year old self. I went all out...yes, I wore jewelry, AND did my make-up! I was a nervous wreck by the time I arrived at the venue.
Walking in I recognized two faces. They were ladies I have known since 5th grade but hadn't seen for at least thirty-five years. They rushed forward to hug and welcome. That would have been even nicer if they had treated me like that 40 years ago.
To put it plainly, my attitude about this experience was stinky! Grades 1-12 for me were Hellish. I was tormented on a daily basis. I was an odd kid. I had beat death many, MANY times by the age of 6. This living with fragile health thing made me grow up very, very fast. I felt more comfortable with my over sixty year old friends than I did with my peers. I had much more in common with my elderly friends.
In High School, if I walked in through the main door there was a group of "Jocks" that sat in a bench there and they would judge the girls walking in. They didn't give me any number from 1-10. They would just bark at me. I dare you to start your day that way sometime...have people sitting on a bench judging you, and finding you seriously deficit. I learned where all the other doors were in the building to try and avoid this early morning greeting.
Sexual harrassment? That phrase had not been coined yet. In one of my English classes (the subject that normally was my favorite class), three boys sat around me. They would constantly barrage me with images of their various male apparatus. They even passed me a drawing once. If that didn't receive the required "Reaction," they put a tack on my chair, many times. It took a few times before I got smart and ALWAYS checked my chair before I sat.
The final straw came when they threw a pen AT ME. It hit me in the forehead about an inch from my eye. It hit hard enough that it stuck in my forehead. I had to pull it out.
Mama took me to the doctor who cleansed it (Gratefully, it didn't need stitches). Mama marched me into the Vice-Principal's office. She demanded that justice be dealt to the miscreants. (I think I just channeled my husband the attorney''s spirit. I don't usually use words like dealt, justice, and miscreant in the same sentence). The Vice-Principal said, "Mrs. Cheney, they are just teenage boys going through a phase. It wouldn't make any difference if I did call them in to my office and discipline them. In fact, (I think I saw the light bulb above his head as he had a new idea), they would no doubt, torment her even worse."
Another day Mama went by herself to speak to my English teacher. He was an excellent teacher, but I soon found out a miserable advocate for justice. He had given me an U in citizenship for the class. A U was pretty close to failing. I had NEVER received a lower grade than S for Satisfactory. The U was UNsatisfactory. Mama told him about the torment I was enduring, and asked about the citizenship grade. (I was also far too timid to earn a U in citizenship).
He said, "Nobody else would sit by those boys. Where would I put them in the class?" He continued, "I gave Caroljoy a U because she does not participate in class."
When Mama reported I was stunned. I didn't participate in class because I was too busy trying to run away from the harrassment and cruelty of these boys. I would read, read, read, anything, all things, to try and deflect the misery of their non-stop comments.
I did my best NOT to tell my parents about the daily almost non-stop torment. I had a wonderful home life. My home was my sanctuary from my school misery. I DID NOT, wish to to bring that misery home with me. In addition I had seen first hand that having my parent intercede in my behalf did NOTHING. If anything it accelerated the ongoing misery.
The really odd thing to me was that after leaving high school I attended a wonderful college in another state. I did NOT change in any obvious manner. My skin still broke out from time to time. My hair still liked being frizzy. My teeth WERE perfect now. That was awesome. Suddenly I was popular, people wanted to be my friend. There were even some young men that liked me. I had my first serious boyfriend that year.
You might ask, "Why would I ever want to return to the group that made my life so miserable?" I am a proud third generation Davis Dart. My Grandmother, Grandfather, and Mother also attended this high school. I am proud of my heritage! I refuse to let the cruelty I experienced sabotage my academic heritage.
It was astonishing, forty years later, to be treated as a valuable member of our class! I didn't get up and mingle very much. I have two bad knees, and a really bad back. I didn't have to stand and go to others to mingle. They came to me! What fun it was to associate with these people of my youth, with the daily harrassment gone.
I fully intend to attend my fiftieth high school reunion if I make it that far. Now, I'm interested, invested in these people. After forty years, it seems as though they have finally grown up. Maybe I have too? Grown up enough to realize that we were all just kids, the torment that I received grew out others insecurities.
Was it OK for those kids to bully me? NOT AT ALL! At the same time one of the greatest experiences in life is to understand the motivation of people who seem to be your enemies. In understanding them, their behavior loses some of its sting. In forgiving them, letting go of the past, lies true freedom and self-knowledge. In striving to be the best self I can be, is the greatest power that I may receive in life.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Beads on a string...
My ever wise and wonderful sister-in law once told me a grand truth. She said that dishes and other similar tasks in a household are like putting beads on a string with no knot on the end. You know the tasks...laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping, dusting, tidying, etc. etc. All of these tasks are important. Yet as you finish those nasty dishes and sigh in relief, you remember that it's time to make lunch! Oh, did I forget to include meals in that parade of endless tasks?
It was evening, dinner was finished. Our girls had settled down to do their homework. I was exhausted. I had been moving and doing all day long. I had done the dishes, sorted clothes, washed clothes, folded clothes, and put clothes away. I had tidied the house at least twice. I had prepared three meals, (trying to make them nutritional). With all of that moving and doing, my house looked as though not one single task had been accomplished.
I HAD done all of those tasks but these are the type of tasks that cry out to be done, over, and Over, AND OVER, as long as life goes on. Am I suggesting that we live in a filthy home that is never cleaned? Perish the thought. Who wants to live in messy and cluttered ALL of the time? We all have relative levels of what is clean in a home. On one side is Polly Perfectionist. Her home is NEVER in disarray. Not a cluttered spot anywhere! The other extreme is Hilda Hoarder. You can not walk anywhere in her home and actually touch the floor. She has collected so many belongings that they have taken over her home. She can't even find clothing because they are literally piled so high everywhere.
BALANCE? PRIORITIES?
I'm suggesting a different strategy. We CAN make household tasks seem meaningless very, very easily. Is it possible to view even these tasks in a positive light? As I make the suggestion you should know that I will NEVER find a way to enjoy washing dishes. The only way that I can do them over and over is by singing to music, or chatting on the phone with ones that I love.
How about if we break up those household doldrums? Ever have a party with a friend and clean? I'm always amazed at how quickly tasks can be done when I am doing them with a friend. Then you switch and YOU help them with their household tasks.
Along my life path I have come to understand that the only difference between work and play is (WAIT FOR....) YOUR ATTITUDE! That's right, I said it...an attitude of joy can diminish the feeling of CRAP, I HAVE TO WASH THE DISHES!
You can break up those endless tasks that life seems to spawn. Wash the dishes, play with your children, or your beloved dog or kitty. (Those other tasks, children and doggy are the most important!) Mop your floor, dance to "Just Dance," or exercise to Kick Boxing, or about a million other DVD's you can buy online, or at a thrift store. Take a treat to some friend...and visit for awhile.
Wash the clothes, and dance, or pick up your adorable child and dance with them. After lunch, read your child a story. I don't care that your laundry is threatening to eat your laundry room alive!
In ten years what will you remember about today? Will you remember that you cleaned your kitchen to the level of sparkling, and then had to fix a meal and all that work was undone? Will you remember that you spent time with your husband, children, parents, family? What thing can you do today that will make life better in ten years?
There is the entire crux of the matter. WHAT WILL matter in five years, ten years? Will it be the fact that your children learned to clean so well from your example that their homes sparkle? Or do your children hoard, and live in chaos? Is there a balance in their lives? Have they learned the ability to prioritize well, and to understand what matters most in life?
Sorry, I just took a break to play with my little doggy. Then I spoke with a beloved friend on the phone. There ARE dishes piled high in my kitchen. The laundry is threatening to cause a landslide hazard in my basement.
I know that in ten years what will matter is the singing, the dancing, the loving, the enjoying that I did today. So, call a long lost friend, or "friend" them on Facebook. Wash the dishes while you chat. Mary Poppin's was right, "A spoonful of sugar DOES help the medicine go down!"
It was evening, dinner was finished. Our girls had settled down to do their homework. I was exhausted. I had been moving and doing all day long. I had done the dishes, sorted clothes, washed clothes, folded clothes, and put clothes away. I had tidied the house at least twice. I had prepared three meals, (trying to make them nutritional). With all of that moving and doing, my house looked as though not one single task had been accomplished.
I HAD done all of those tasks but these are the type of tasks that cry out to be done, over, and Over, AND OVER, as long as life goes on. Am I suggesting that we live in a filthy home that is never cleaned? Perish the thought. Who wants to live in messy and cluttered ALL of the time? We all have relative levels of what is clean in a home. On one side is Polly Perfectionist. Her home is NEVER in disarray. Not a cluttered spot anywhere! The other extreme is Hilda Hoarder. You can not walk anywhere in her home and actually touch the floor. She has collected so many belongings that they have taken over her home. She can't even find clothing because they are literally piled so high everywhere.
BALANCE? PRIORITIES?
I'm suggesting a different strategy. We CAN make household tasks seem meaningless very, very easily. Is it possible to view even these tasks in a positive light? As I make the suggestion you should know that I will NEVER find a way to enjoy washing dishes. The only way that I can do them over and over is by singing to music, or chatting on the phone with ones that I love.
How about if we break up those household doldrums? Ever have a party with a friend and clean? I'm always amazed at how quickly tasks can be done when I am doing them with a friend. Then you switch and YOU help them with their household tasks.
Along my life path I have come to understand that the only difference between work and play is (WAIT FOR....) YOUR ATTITUDE! That's right, I said it...an attitude of joy can diminish the feeling of CRAP, I HAVE TO WASH THE DISHES!
You can break up those endless tasks that life seems to spawn. Wash the dishes, play with your children, or your beloved dog or kitty. (Those other tasks, children and doggy are the most important!) Mop your floor, dance to "Just Dance," or exercise to Kick Boxing, or about a million other DVD's you can buy online, or at a thrift store. Take a treat to some friend...and visit for awhile.
Wash the clothes, and dance, or pick up your adorable child and dance with them. After lunch, read your child a story. I don't care that your laundry is threatening to eat your laundry room alive!
In ten years what will you remember about today? Will you remember that you cleaned your kitchen to the level of sparkling, and then had to fix a meal and all that work was undone? Will you remember that you spent time with your husband, children, parents, family? What thing can you do today that will make life better in ten years?
There is the entire crux of the matter. WHAT WILL matter in five years, ten years? Will it be the fact that your children learned to clean so well from your example that their homes sparkle? Or do your children hoard, and live in chaos? Is there a balance in their lives? Have they learned the ability to prioritize well, and to understand what matters most in life?
Sorry, I just took a break to play with my little doggy. Then I spoke with a beloved friend on the phone. There ARE dishes piled high in my kitchen. The laundry is threatening to cause a landslide hazard in my basement.
I know that in ten years what will matter is the singing, the dancing, the loving, the enjoying that I did today. So, call a long lost friend, or "friend" them on Facebook. Wash the dishes while you chat. Mary Poppin's was right, "A spoonful of sugar DOES help the medicine go down!"
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Advice From Your Fears...NEVER!
I don't know if I'll ever conquer all of my fears. I have grundles of fears. ( Grundle...more than a bundle, and even more than a gross! Grundle.) I do understand that my fears reflect my life experiences. I've had ever so many life experiences. I generally prefer to focus on all of the grand ones, and I've had lots of those, but for the sake of this post I'm going to chat a bit about my fears, where they came from, and the attempts I've made to beat them back.
Darkness. A loving friend once told me by way of comfort, "There's nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light." GONG, NOPE...how is that comfort? I am completely and utterly aware that in the light there are plenty of things to cause fear. The biggest difference is that during the day you can SEE what you fear, and that takes away a little of the hair raising, goose bump creating, adrenaline pumping, fright.
Heights. I remember being very, very young, probably two or three and my six foot two Father swinging me up on his shoulders. He had a firm, safe, hold on me but I went wacky. I pulled at his hair, screamed, kicked, and cried until he put me down on terra firma. I can NOT ride in a lift chair at a ski resort. My feet simply can NOT dangle hundreds of feet in the air with nothing underneath. I can do slightly better in a tram, but NOT if the floor consists of see through anything. I see no powerful reason to face this fear. Maybe someday when I want to encourage grandkids to face their fears.
Choking. I was born allergic to this world. Seriously, I have had many, MANY allergy tests performed. I react to every substance. I've had allergy shots three or four times in my life. They HAVE helped, but I still remain very allergic. I never know what substance I'm going to react to. Choking happens less than it used to. HOORAY! I just never know when it will happen. Sitting in a very sacred worship service, suddenly I feel my throat swelling, my air passages narrowing. I can't just stand up and retreat. Fortunately, I almost always carry a lozenge of some type with me. (I have to even be careful what type of lozenge. If they have honey, sometimes the honey pollens make me react!) The lozenge tends to beat back the swelling.
Dentists. My teeth are almost gone, and I'm just fifty-eight. It happened by a combination of factors like illness, car accidents, etc. etc. I've been through root canals, crowns, cavities, fractured teeth, many, many other dental horrors. I can NOT sit calmly in a dentist chair and let them work on me. I can only be worked on through the use of Nitrous Oxide/Laughing Gas. It doesn't make me laugh but it takes the fear firmly away.
That is enough of fear. Just by relating those fears I feel my heart pumping harder, and my adrenaline beginning to ramp up. I speak of them only to express the difference between living with fear firmly in control, or living with FAITH in control. For those who do not believe in any sort of religion, or God inspired ideas let me bring in common ideas. Faith is NOT just about God, or religion. It takes faith to go to sleep at night. Faith to wake up and live. Faith to have a family. Faith to work at a job. We need faith in ourselves to achieve, and grow. Faith is a living, vital power. Not simply "The evidence of things unseen..."
I love the quote that says, "Never take advice from your fears." NEVER! Stop and think of the profundity of that quote. It doesn't imply SOMETIMES, any period of time, allowing fear to control your life choices. IS THAT POSSIBLE? Can we literally, actually NEVER allow fear to tell us how to live life? Please understand I am NOT suggesting that you immediately sign up to jump from a plane, or climb a rock face on a mountain. There are many more simple ways to fight fear.
What would that mean in your world? For me it would mean not watching murder mysteries before bed! lol That's a simple fix for my intense fear of the dark. In the hour before I retire to sleep I need to fill my mind with thoughts of power, and inspiration. I need to focus on Ideas that elevate, and bring me into my strongest self.
How do we do that? Beat fear with faith? Is it even possible? I am all too human. I DON'T always manage. Yet reaching for the brightest within myself, the strongest possible self is the grandest adventure of life.
Let me re-state that. When you think of an adventure how do you define it? Do the characters in pirate movies have adventures? Do you think of swashbuckling with a sharp, bright sword your fears away. That is an excellent image. Using something powerful and sharp to slash those fears away!
Adventure? Robert Louis Stevenson (one of my favorite writers and humans), wrote "Treasure Island," before he ever saw an island. He wrote of those adventures from his sick bed. He was born with severe allergy asthma. That was a terminal diagnosis at that time. There wasn't even canned oxygen to give him when he would struggle (yes, and choke) for oxygen. Yet he had a grand adventure...IN HIS MIND!
Is that possible? I validate that YES it is! I wrote my books for years from my bed. As a small child, ill most of the time, no worthwhile children's daytime television, and not old enough to read, I would write stories in my mind. Those early childhood ideas cogitated for over forty years before I began to put them on paper.
When I would make up strong, valiant, people in my mind I would also strengthen myself. I would face my fears instead of letting THEM face me!
YES...I have lots and lots of fears. Yet I am aware that it IS possible to face them. I like to envision myself sticking my tongue out and stamping my foot and saying, "I AM stronger than you!" I do not wish to give another minute of my life away to being ruled by fear.
Today, find a fear moment, and conquer it! Build some mental armor. Helmet, a quote that inspires you, breastplate, a friend who helps you to be your best, lower part of the armor (Can't remember the name), prayers or meditation, Shield, a physical activity that creates endorphins (dancing for me, or water aerobics). In your mind, put on that armor and FACE YOUR FEAR! You may be surprised by how empowering this small activity can be in your life.
Darkness. A loving friend once told me by way of comfort, "There's nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light." GONG, NOPE...how is that comfort? I am completely and utterly aware that in the light there are plenty of things to cause fear. The biggest difference is that during the day you can SEE what you fear, and that takes away a little of the hair raising, goose bump creating, adrenaline pumping, fright.
Heights. I remember being very, very young, probably two or three and my six foot two Father swinging me up on his shoulders. He had a firm, safe, hold on me but I went wacky. I pulled at his hair, screamed, kicked, and cried until he put me down on terra firma. I can NOT ride in a lift chair at a ski resort. My feet simply can NOT dangle hundreds of feet in the air with nothing underneath. I can do slightly better in a tram, but NOT if the floor consists of see through anything. I see no powerful reason to face this fear. Maybe someday when I want to encourage grandkids to face their fears.
Choking. I was born allergic to this world. Seriously, I have had many, MANY allergy tests performed. I react to every substance. I've had allergy shots three or four times in my life. They HAVE helped, but I still remain very allergic. I never know what substance I'm going to react to. Choking happens less than it used to. HOORAY! I just never know when it will happen. Sitting in a very sacred worship service, suddenly I feel my throat swelling, my air passages narrowing. I can't just stand up and retreat. Fortunately, I almost always carry a lozenge of some type with me. (I have to even be careful what type of lozenge. If they have honey, sometimes the honey pollens make me react!) The lozenge tends to beat back the swelling.
Dentists. My teeth are almost gone, and I'm just fifty-eight. It happened by a combination of factors like illness, car accidents, etc. etc. I've been through root canals, crowns, cavities, fractured teeth, many, many other dental horrors. I can NOT sit calmly in a dentist chair and let them work on me. I can only be worked on through the use of Nitrous Oxide/Laughing Gas. It doesn't make me laugh but it takes the fear firmly away.
That is enough of fear. Just by relating those fears I feel my heart pumping harder, and my adrenaline beginning to ramp up. I speak of them only to express the difference between living with fear firmly in control, or living with FAITH in control. For those who do not believe in any sort of religion, or God inspired ideas let me bring in common ideas. Faith is NOT just about God, or religion. It takes faith to go to sleep at night. Faith to wake up and live. Faith to have a family. Faith to work at a job. We need faith in ourselves to achieve, and grow. Faith is a living, vital power. Not simply "The evidence of things unseen..."
I love the quote that says, "Never take advice from your fears." NEVER! Stop and think of the profundity of that quote. It doesn't imply SOMETIMES, any period of time, allowing fear to control your life choices. IS THAT POSSIBLE? Can we literally, actually NEVER allow fear to tell us how to live life? Please understand I am NOT suggesting that you immediately sign up to jump from a plane, or climb a rock face on a mountain. There are many more simple ways to fight fear.
What would that mean in your world? For me it would mean not watching murder mysteries before bed! lol That's a simple fix for my intense fear of the dark. In the hour before I retire to sleep I need to fill my mind with thoughts of power, and inspiration. I need to focus on Ideas that elevate, and bring me into my strongest self.
How do we do that? Beat fear with faith? Is it even possible? I am all too human. I DON'T always manage. Yet reaching for the brightest within myself, the strongest possible self is the grandest adventure of life.
Let me re-state that. When you think of an adventure how do you define it? Do the characters in pirate movies have adventures? Do you think of swashbuckling with a sharp, bright sword your fears away. That is an excellent image. Using something powerful and sharp to slash those fears away!
Adventure? Robert Louis Stevenson (one of my favorite writers and humans), wrote "Treasure Island," before he ever saw an island. He wrote of those adventures from his sick bed. He was born with severe allergy asthma. That was a terminal diagnosis at that time. There wasn't even canned oxygen to give him when he would struggle (yes, and choke) for oxygen. Yet he had a grand adventure...IN HIS MIND!
Is that possible? I validate that YES it is! I wrote my books for years from my bed. As a small child, ill most of the time, no worthwhile children's daytime television, and not old enough to read, I would write stories in my mind. Those early childhood ideas cogitated for over forty years before I began to put them on paper.
When I would make up strong, valiant, people in my mind I would also strengthen myself. I would face my fears instead of letting THEM face me!
YES...I have lots and lots of fears. Yet I am aware that it IS possible to face them. I like to envision myself sticking my tongue out and stamping my foot and saying, "I AM stronger than you!" I do not wish to give another minute of my life away to being ruled by fear.
Today, find a fear moment, and conquer it! Build some mental armor. Helmet, a quote that inspires you, breastplate, a friend who helps you to be your best, lower part of the armor (Can't remember the name), prayers or meditation, Shield, a physical activity that creates endorphins (dancing for me, or water aerobics). In your mind, put on that armor and FACE YOUR FEAR! You may be surprised by how empowering this small activity can be in your life.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Can We Create Our Own Reality?
Reality...it's a word that has many, many meanings. The basic idea is that the word represents the life that each of us lives. Reality is supposedly a law that has strict boundaries. The sun is shining outside. Today that is a reality in my word. It can be proven simply by looking out the window.
Last night there were angels flying through our home. The joy and peace that they brought with them helped me to relax and sleep. I could not SEE those angels with my human senses. In other words, that was not REALITY.
Reality means the things that you can define with your senses. If you can't see, hear, touch, taste, or feel with your hands, the experience falls outside the definition of reality, or does it?
I attended a lecture where the speaker said, "Each of us have our own reality."
To that point I was very comfortable seeing life as reality...and now he was telling me that MY reality might not fit in someone else's perception? How could that be possible.
When my husband attended Law School, into his brilliant mind was pounded the concept of "Relative truth." That was another mind stretcher for me. To this point in my life, truth, much like reality was either black, or it was white. There was no gray shading shadowing reality or truth!
Imagine taking a test where every single answer was correct? Your task? You had to choose the MOST correct of any of the answers given. Welcome to a great portion of the Oregon Bar Exam. Relative truth must be understood to pass this test.
I believe that each and everyone of us is capable of creating our own reality, our own truth. I wake up in the morning every single morning, feeling physically miserable. I live with many, many chronic illnesses. I could choose each morning to make my reality the struggles of living with disability. Some days, by necessity, I must face some unpleasant realities that come with living with physical challenge.
On the other hand, why would I wish to give any portion of my life away. Why would I wish to see ONLY the DIS in the word DISability? Why wouldn't I wish to find all of the ABILITIES that I still have?
Nyle related a story to me about an athlete who was paralyzed from the waist down in an accident. His response? "Before I had limitless things that I could do. I still have at least a million things that I can do!"
Healing from that injury he became involved in para athletic events. He was riding a hand controlled bicycle in a race. He turned the corner and ran head on into a car that had ignored all the barriers, and warning signs and driven the wrong way on a one way street. He lost both of his legs. Again as he regained consciousness to this new grim loss his response was, "Now there are at least 800,000 things that I can still do!"
I wish that I were this endlessly positive. I'm not. Yet I do realize that it's very, very important to remember the law of focus. If it's not actually a law, it should be. To end my discussion I will tell a simple story.
Sadie was an adorable 8 year old girl who had been cranky all morning long. Her Mother was at the end of her patience. She wanted to help Sadie change her attitude. So drawing Sadie with her to the window the Mother said, "Sadie, look out the window and tell me what you see."
Sadie said grumpily, "Yuck Mom. Don't you ever wash this window? There are dead bug guts, and streaks all over it."
Sadie's Mother took a long, deep breath. Then she answered, "Honey, look THROUGH the glass. What do you see beyond that glass?"
Sadie giggled, "Oh, there is my dolly that I couldn't find this morning. I must have forgotten to bring her inside last night! I don't remember the grass being that green. Oh look at those fluffy clouds. One of them looks like a bunny hopping!"
Her Mother now said, "Sadie, which one would you rather focus on, the bug guts, or the green grass? Life is about focusing on what is the most positive."
Lest anyone say, "That's denial. That's not reality!" I remind you, Sadie SAW those bug guts, and the streaky window. She didn't ignore them or pretend they didn't exist. Instead a conscious choice was made to look beyond those negatives and see the positives.
Last night there were angels flying through our home. The joy and peace that they brought with them helped me to relax and sleep. I could not SEE those angels with my human senses. In other words, that was not REALITY.
Reality means the things that you can define with your senses. If you can't see, hear, touch, taste, or feel with your hands, the experience falls outside the definition of reality, or does it?
I attended a lecture where the speaker said, "Each of us have our own reality."
To that point I was very comfortable seeing life as reality...and now he was telling me that MY reality might not fit in someone else's perception? How could that be possible.
When my husband attended Law School, into his brilliant mind was pounded the concept of "Relative truth." That was another mind stretcher for me. To this point in my life, truth, much like reality was either black, or it was white. There was no gray shading shadowing reality or truth!
Imagine taking a test where every single answer was correct? Your task? You had to choose the MOST correct of any of the answers given. Welcome to a great portion of the Oregon Bar Exam. Relative truth must be understood to pass this test.
I believe that each and everyone of us is capable of creating our own reality, our own truth. I wake up in the morning every single morning, feeling physically miserable. I live with many, many chronic illnesses. I could choose each morning to make my reality the struggles of living with disability. Some days, by necessity, I must face some unpleasant realities that come with living with physical challenge.
On the other hand, why would I wish to give any portion of my life away. Why would I wish to see ONLY the DIS in the word DISability? Why wouldn't I wish to find all of the ABILITIES that I still have?
Nyle related a story to me about an athlete who was paralyzed from the waist down in an accident. His response? "Before I had limitless things that I could do. I still have at least a million things that I can do!"
Healing from that injury he became involved in para athletic events. He was riding a hand controlled bicycle in a race. He turned the corner and ran head on into a car that had ignored all the barriers, and warning signs and driven the wrong way on a one way street. He lost both of his legs. Again as he regained consciousness to this new grim loss his response was, "Now there are at least 800,000 things that I can still do!"
I wish that I were this endlessly positive. I'm not. Yet I do realize that it's very, very important to remember the law of focus. If it's not actually a law, it should be. To end my discussion I will tell a simple story.
Sadie was an adorable 8 year old girl who had been cranky all morning long. Her Mother was at the end of her patience. She wanted to help Sadie change her attitude. So drawing Sadie with her to the window the Mother said, "Sadie, look out the window and tell me what you see."
Sadie said grumpily, "Yuck Mom. Don't you ever wash this window? There are dead bug guts, and streaks all over it."
Sadie's Mother took a long, deep breath. Then she answered, "Honey, look THROUGH the glass. What do you see beyond that glass?"
Sadie giggled, "Oh, there is my dolly that I couldn't find this morning. I must have forgotten to bring her inside last night! I don't remember the grass being that green. Oh look at those fluffy clouds. One of them looks like a bunny hopping!"
Her Mother now said, "Sadie, which one would you rather focus on, the bug guts, or the green grass? Life is about focusing on what is the most positive."
Lest anyone say, "That's denial. That's not reality!" I remind you, Sadie SAW those bug guts, and the streaky window. She didn't ignore them or pretend they didn't exist. Instead a conscious choice was made to look beyond those negatives and see the positives.
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