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Posts Tagged ‘wisdom in unexpected places’

One Smile, a Beginning

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 3, 2015| 2 Comments »

The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking. (Albert Einstein)

The world as we have created it is also a process of our caring, social awareness, and empathy. It cannot be changed without changing our approach to one another, without cutting out all biases and prejudices, seeing with fresh vision.

Wayne, the son of my long-time friend, Gladys, now deceased, shared this story. It fits into the attitudes I share weekly in this space:

“The coolest thing happened tonight. A friend was treating me to dinner at Frisch’s for helping with some mulch. I noticed a table with some special needs adults and case workers right in front of our table. I made eye contact and smiled at the people facing my way and went back to eating dinner. Suddenly, there was an arm around my shoulder and it was one of the adults with Down syndrome from that table. He was dressed in a Cincinnati Reds outfit.

“‘I love you,’ he said giving me a big hug. And I told him that I loved him, too. He then did the same to the young man sitting across from me. This gesture was an example of unconditional LOVE. I felt as if I were in the presence of an angel. I am profoundly touched and grateful.”

Several of Wayne’s friends mentioned a fact those who know special-needs folk realize; their good works aren’t hindered by overworked egos. In my April 8 blog, Scot: It Doesn’t Take Much To Make Me Happy, I introduced a loving adult with Down syndrome. Scot doesn’t let formality get in the way of giving either. He hugs and he is good at it.

Not many people are able to express affection without some reservation. Actually without a lot of reservation. All living creatures deserve respect. And yet I can’t imagine petting a pit bull without a proper introduction. True, I’m allergic to the dander in dog fur. But, this strong breed has an undeserved reputation. And yes, both ego and fear form a larger barrier around me than I would like to admit. I can be shy around people I’ve never met as well.

Wayne is a talented musician. But he was not taught to act as if he were better than everyone else because of his gifts. His mother Gladys also showed me what unconditional love means. At one time I wasn’t sure that I was capable of much of anything. Gladys accepted me as I was—and then helped me to view my life differently. She overcame enormous struggles in her life. Dire Poverty. The death of her mother when Gladys was only six. Gladys lived in the present and saw the good in each day and in each person.

I suspect the gentleman who approached Wayne sensed the honesty in his smile. Wayne wasn’t patronizing the group at the next table. His gesture came from a sunshine-heart.

And perhaps the difference between the special-needs-huggers and the reserved normal folk is spiritual. Just maybe the word needs should be deleted and special highlighted. These people erase the non-essentials: What could happen if?… I don’t know you… This is socially unacceptable… All the artificial contingencies disappear and pure gift remains.

Perhaps, if the special folk decided to take the time to consider the sit-straight, don’t-look-anyone-in-the-eye rest of the world, they might feel sorry for the so-called normal sector.

But I doubt that they would look down on anyone.

if disabled people were head

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311 Internet Viruses, a Migraine, and a Savvy, Loyal Friend

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2015| 2 Comments »

Technology… is a queer thing. It brings you great gifts with one hand, and it stabs you in the back with the other. (Carrie Snow )

My husband Jay, our good friend Tom, and I are leaving our house to check out a second computer. Since writing is my work I spend a great deal of time at the keyboard.  This does not mean I want to behave like a little kid yelling mine, mine, mine! Besides, at the moment, our laptop is as cooperative as an overburdened mule—we are debating buying two new computers.

Several friends who work in the electronics field have checked-out our baby. They have never found the source of her inconsistency. Sometimes she operates reasonably well. At other times maneuvering through the Internet is like driving through a construction zone when traffic is stopped on both sides of the road: Bridge out. Workers at lunch. Ordinary operation to resume sometime in the future. Maybe.

As I lean down to get into the car a strange sensation hits me, a dizziness that isn’t exactly vertigo, but doesn’t feel in-upright-control either. I mention it, but use a tone of voice that suggests mild irritation—not the level of discomfort I’m actually feeling.

“Maybe it’s the change in temperatures,” Tom suggests. After all it is cool in the house, hot outside, and then cool again in the car. He could be right. And I don’t want to stay home. Jay scheduled this time with Tom last week. We need the help of someone who can navigate us through complicated possibilities.

Tom’s temperature-change suggestion sounds reasonable and I breathe slowly as if all were completely well. However, as we arrive before the huge array of laptop models, the real reason for my bizarre sensation arises. A migraine warning. Strange that I didn’t consider the possibility at the time. Great! I am going to be as useful as a wet handkerchief during a sneeze-attack.

“So what do you think?” Jay and Tom ask as they get close to a decision.

“Not much.” I have to admit the migraine is winning. “We’ll get something for Jay now. For me, later.” At this point my mate could have said, “I’ll take everything in aisle three and I would have responded, “Okay.” I wouldn’t have caught a word.

I’m sure we make the trek home, but all I recall is falling into bed and hoping for a short-term coma. Several hours later my head isn’t any better, and the new computer has taken a turn for the worse as well. Apparently our virus protection has been fighting our Internet server and putting up some serious interference. No wonder our laptop took so long to open anything. Our server had 311 foreign viruses on it, Trojan variety. Tom suggests a service he uses for fix-it-over-the-phone through Microsoft. The task took hours, but the cleaning process helped my computer as well. It now works reasonably well.

I now wonder about Internet servers. The news is filled with stories about compromised information. I am grateful that we had sufficient virus protection to keep baby laptop at least alive. However, the opportunity to sell services also becomes murky territory. Knowledge, in understandable language, is always welcome.

My migraine has now ended. I can see the short-term blessings clearer. While I was focusing on getting from the store to the bed and then back into my own consciousness I didn’t have the energy to enter the battles our buddy Tom was fighting for Jay and me. Now I can simply be grateful that he is savvy and generous. He arrived at our house at noon for lunch and left long after dark.

Yes, there is a lot of evil in the world. But there is a lot of good as well. Tom doesn’t want pay. He is grateful for homemade soup at noon and takeout Chinese for dinner. Thanks, Tom! You are worth your weight in megabytes.

two computers

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A Locker-Room Change—Toward Better Understanding

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 21, 2015| Leave a Comment »

Change is the end result of all true learning. (Leo Buscaglia) 

I am in the locker room at the Y after a water aerobics class. I hear disconcerting voices around me. They seem loud—too loud.

“You wouldn’t believe…” comes one voice. “It was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” states another.

I sigh while the spinner absorbs chlorinated water from my swimsuit. Getting the machine started takes some muscle since I need to stand on tiptoe to press the top down, but once the whir begins the excess water disappears within seconds. I can surmise a situation in the same amount of time, with or without all the facts.

Was it really the worst thing that ever happened to you? Or is this statement meant to be exaggerated..? I’m glad my thoughts don’t appear out loud because I haven’t heard anything about this person’s story, not really. And it isn’t my business anyway.

One woman is talking to another as the two prepare for the next water class, a slower moving one. She complains too, or at least that is my first impression. She injured her back and I expect her to give all the details. She catches my eye.

“I did, too,” I say. “Spinal stenosis. Nothing serious. I have exercises that help. I’ll get through it.”

She gives me her name and I give her mine. But the surprise comes as I pick up my bag to leave and she walks toward the pool. “I’ll pray for you if you will pray for me.”

I can’t turn down that offer, so I ask her to add our Ella to her list.

“Wow!” she says. “That sure puts a perspective on things. Such a little girl having open heart surgery like that.” She takes my hand. I’ve never met this woman before and yet she treats me as if she has known me for years. I feel blessed. The pain in my back weakens, at least for a while.

The next time I return to the Y  my companion is present again.  We greet one another by name.

“I remembered to pray for your granddaughter,” she says.

I wince. I offered a ten-second prayer for her. But, I know I can and will do better. Then, as I reach into the locker I wince again, from a stretch that felt a little peculiar.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yes. Really. I am.”

“You have an incredible smile,” she tells me.

I thank her. She has given me another gift, one I hope to remember. Today I have an agenda, a to-do list that becomes easier as I think about other people’s needs, not only my own, and hum the song I wrote and recorded for my granddaughter when she had her first open-heart surgery. She was only a few months old and confined to a giraffe bed in a neonatal intensive care unit then. Her underdeveloped system needed all of its energy for survival. It could not handle extra sounds. I don’t have the facility to transfer the song to this website, but a click on Ella’s Song leads to an older page I no longer maintain.

Finding the good in life, sometimes hidden under a lot of misunderstanding, challenge, and plain old-fashioned self-imposed garbage remains one of my goals. Our little girl has come a long way. I hope to follow her spiritual lead even further as she grows into year six, a few months from now.

Peace upon all.

first impressions words to inspire the soul

 

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Bye Bye, Old Stove; Hello Possibilities

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 27, 2015| 4 Comments »

The most effective way to do it, is to do it. (Amelia Earhart)

My gas stove has forgotten how to be a stove. The burners refuse to light without being prodded with a lit kitchen match. The broiler gave up years ago. The oven remains at room temperature at any setting below two hundred degrees. Any other heat setting varies according to the whim of the oven.

Somehow, I have managed.

However, the appliance finally proves its inadequacy as I try to make a double batch of chocolate cake—from scratch, of course—and fill the entire, unevenly heated space with both round layers and cupcakes. This is not a good plan. The oven rebels and burns ten out of twenty-four cupcakes. Seven are singed and need to have their white papers removed and surgery performed on their bottoms. Seven more survive. The layers bake. In less than perfect form. They resemble a small hill after a mudslide, complete with bumps.

Unfortunately, the cupcakes are for a party tomorrow afternoon and the layers are for my best friend’s birthday the day after. There is little time to start this process over. I decide to fill in the angled layer with ice cream—after Jay tests one of the cakes. The recipe passes, even if its final appearance won’t make the cover of any cooking magazine, except perhaps the satirical version.

Nevertheless, I have won the war. The old stove is now in the queue for junk parts. Jay promises me a new one. The old stove responds by letting me turn on a burner without a match. Too late, old stove, too late.

By today’s standard my stove is beyond its prime, thirteen, elderly in dog years. It lived a good life. I wipe off the counter-top for the last time.

I get a new stove, a Samsung. With a convection oven. The fan helps food to cook evenly. I watch my turkey bake. Sure, I could start with something small, like cookies. But neither Jay nor I need them, and there isn’t a special occasion for sharing a dessert today.

New stove and I don’t know one another yet. But we will. Okay, the anthropomorphic language is metaphorical. I really did not talk to either stove as if it were a member of my family. And don’t worry. I got no reply.

However, I am grateful that new stove arrived today, and I look forward to a long, happy relationship with my appliance. My cooking is a form of gift for my family and friends. After all they are the reason why I enjoy creating in the kitchen.

May the people I love remain nourished. And blessed.

new oven

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Happiness Taught Ella-Style: With and Without a Fever

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 21, 2015| 5 Comments »

Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you. (Nathaniel Hawthorne)

Ella pulls toys from the shelf. She hands me a soft baby doll and then takes picture flash cards out of the box. She holds up the cards for the doll to learn the words. I provide the voice for the toy.

An hour ago our granddaughter had a fever. She kept my iPad close to her but she didn’t seem to be able to focus. No video or game could take away her discomfort. One dose of children’s acetaminophen brings her back to play, to smiles, to an interest in her favorite foods.

I want my precious girl to be well now. I can’t yank infection from her system with wishes. Antipyretics are temporary. She sees the doctor today. My husband and I wait for those moments of shared happiness, that grin that says: I’m a fighter. Down syndrome hasn’t thrown me. An illness won’t either.

Not that she could say that with grownup words. Ella has her difficult moments, but her version of a crabby day isn’t easily noticed because it doesn’t resemble another child’s I-want-it-my-way tantrum. She doesn’t demand. Her first words when she arrived at the house this morning were, “I’m sick.” Yet, poor-me isn’t in her, and her statement did not appear with a pout or whine. She mentioned it as fact.

Now as her temperature eases down toward normal, her natural happiness reappears and her ability to capture joy alights upon me. It settles into my being, at least for a while.

On most days I have a difficult time sitting still to watch more than one television show, even if the program happens to be riveting. My agenda calls me to write, clean, do laundry—even scrub a toilet. Yet, I can sit next to my granddaughter for hours while my neurotic need for action remains on hold.

Her small frame lies curled in my lap and I massage her back with as light a touch as I can manage. The fever has returned. She turns toward me and smiles. The butterfly has landed, and I don’t want it to fly away. Ever.

***

Ella’s mommy calls after Ella’s appointment. She has a virus and a sinus infection. Nothing dire. I am grateful…I am grateful…I am grateful…

Photo by photographer, Sue Wilke

butterfly on green background, Sue Wilke

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Almost there, then… Crash!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2015| 1 Comment »

Life is a foreign language; all men mispronounce it. (Christopher Morley)

Adult places have not been designed for under-five-feet-tall individuals. I cling to my one-half inch under five-feet-tall status, as if every fraction counted. But my height remains lacking as I reach into my cupboard—it’s like almost making it across a river.

While I notice a lack of patience in other people it could be because I need to be in constant motion to satisfy my own need for accomplishment. I have my med box for the week on the counter because it is within easy reach. This is not a great idea when I am almost crawling on the counter to get to a top shelf to return some glass containers.

The scattering of tablets and capsules on the floor is not really a pretty sight. I suppose I should be glad the glass containers didn’t fall and shatter as well. I am grateful that I just scrubbed the floor because I extend the five-second rule a tad. Medications are not necessarily cheap. I’m surprised expletive-deleted-plus doesn’t fall from my lips like balloons from an R-rated comic strip. Those boxes had just been filled! And yes, this is a comical scene. At my expense.

Jay reaches down to help me, but he has been washing dishes. His hands are wet. Not a good thing for red multivitamins. Wet hands are a good thing for dishes. And a husband who does them is fantastic.

Why did I have to play clumsy short person on a day when a turkey waits on the kitchen table for me to finish carving it? Besides, while preparing stir-fry I dropped little bits of cauliflower all over the floor, and they mimic baby aspirin. I already have enough to do!

At first I try to pick up meds and sort them into trays at the same time. Nope. This will not work. Sloooow down, Terry. Time to re-group. One thing at a time. This is also time to laugh at myself.

Perhaps I learned something at a presentation by Judy Towne Jennings, PT, MA at the Y yesterday. Judy cared for her husband who suffered with Lewy Body Dementia, a terminal illness that begins with Parkinson symptoms. Humor made his last days not only tolerable, but brought out the beauty in both of their lives.

Positive thinking is already a primary focus in my blogs. However, reminders are necessary. Just as it is necessary to eat nutritious meals, exercise, and watch both ways while crossing the street.

I don’t write these entries because I have all the answers. Actually, the folk who claim to be all-knowing make me want to escape via the closest exit. I write because the foreign aspects of existence are intriguing, and the mistakes and side trips lead to fascinating serendipity. When Judy admitted flaws I was more likely to recall what she had to say.

Here’s to this crazy mixed-up moment, and all the goodness that can come from it—no matter how it is pronounced or mispronounced.

humor in difficult situations pic of Kermit

 

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A Broken Light Switch and Blessed Serendipity

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on January 14, 2015| 4 Comments »

Celebrate the happiness that friends are always giving, make every day a holiday and celebrate just living! (Amanda Bradley)

Jay and I stand in Home Depot at the light switch display. Every possible way light can be electrically connected is available here. We know one—on and off. An IKEA-sized space has been condensed and moved to one wall, at least a story high, and the focus is switches. This is not the for-dummies section.

Our younger son, Steve, is stopping to replace the broken switch—after work and before he picks up his daughter from daycare. “It’s a simple job,” he said. Steve’s time is limited, probably more limited than our ability to wield a screwdriver. Jay and I look at one another like two kids lost in a New York City crowd. Then Jay sees a man in an orange shirt. I notice that the color is not Home-Depot bright, but Jay has already asked him for help. Apparently, a divine directive has been given to my hubby and not to me because this young man happens to be an electrician, off work today because of rain. Actually the morning started with the freezing variety. Patches linger.

I feel no weather warning inside my being from this man. He asks what color our switch is. I never would have expected the question. “Uh, white?” Is there any other color? As Chuck points out the items on the wall he explains the use for off-white switches. I am so overwhelmed the explanation floats from one ear directly through to the other and out, immediately forgotten. Then he fishes the one we need from the cheap bin; it costs sixty nine cents. He tells us what else we will need and helps us find a wire tester. We choose the least expensive, and he agrees that for our purposes that would be sufficient.

“What would it cost for an electrician to repair this?” Jay asks. As we have been walking the aisles he has been telling Chuck about how our loyal son is doing the job for us after work, squeezing in time that doesn’t exist.

Chuck shrugs. “It depends upon experience.” We discover the range is anywhere from twenty to fifty dollars. He pauses and shrugs. “I could do it for twenty, after I leave here.”

We agree to meet at the checkout. While we wait an employee expresses concern for our safety in this uncertain world. Jay and I don’t know any more than this man’s first name. And I asked for that. While the employee has a point, I have been watching Chuck’s body language. He had no idea we would be asking him to do anything. He never avoided eye contact. And with my height, that is a considerable glance downward for anyone who doesn’t shop in the super-short shop. Moreover, our fellow shopper had no obligation to help us in the first place.

Chuck finishes the job in no time. Jay gives him an additional five. Chuck notices that the extra light bulb package we bought contains one cracked bulb, apparently dropped and then put back on the shelf. Divine protection is aware someone else needs assurance.

Jay and I decide to return to the Y to work out, our original second destination, after a trip to exchange the light bulbs. We see the same cashier. Apparently she has been worrying that she could be seeing our faces on the six-o’clock news, although she doesn’t say that directly. Instead she appears grateful, and the story she has told to fellow workers about two trusting senior citizens can have a happy ending.

Yes, yes, the world holds murderers, thieves, and folk who have souls boiling with hate and fear. Then again there are people living ordinary lives, caring, making mistakes now and then, yet moving from moment to moment, making each day a bit better because they are in it. Chuck just happens to belong in the second category. I have no way to thank him again directly, so I need to pass on some kindness in another way. Chances are I won’t need to look far.

Peace to all, today and always.

believing something amazing is about to happen

 

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The Art of Seeing: A Work in Progress

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 10, 2014| 4 Comments »

Vision is the art of seeing things invisible. (Jonathan Swift)

As I’m sorting the mountain of items on top of my dresser I find an old earring in a box of don’t-throw-out-yet-stuff—the mate was cracked and discarded in another decade. The relationship with the gentleman who gave it to me shattered long before the jewelry did. In another century. Admittedly I did not appreciate the gift at the time. It probably cost my fiancé more than I realized. But I needed to experience a profound personal loss to realize that the only reason I continued the relationship with this young man was because I didn’t think anyone else would ever take an interest in me. The two of us had nothing in common.

Now, as I discard that earring in the trash I forgive us for our ignorance. He had no idea how lost I felt at the time, and I had no way to explain the inside of a vacuum. My vision has changed; I suspect his has, too. He married someone else and so did I.

Now, many dark, bright, and muted-colored years later, my husband of 43 years plays Christmas music on our CD player while I clean. I recall Simon and Garfunkel’s Silent Night/7O’clock News from their “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” album of 1966. It appeared during my own difficult time. Crime reports and promises of continued war played in the background of gentle sound, a bizarre kind of counterpoint. In some ways not much has changed. The challenge of peace remains immense, even on a personal level.

Sure I like days where the sun shines with amiable warmth and I have enough time to do whatever I want, whenever I want to do it. I doubt that these are the moments where I grow most, however. Chances are if my life had been cushioned in silk and affluence in a the-world-centers-around-me existence I wouldn’t appreciate innate beauty.

I wouldn’t smile all the way from my lips through my heart and into my gut every time Katie J. posts a new entry in her blog for Elysium. Kyle, like my Ella, has Down syndrome. Katie tells about the joys of her young son’s life, but she does not minimize the challenges. I appreciate her honesty, as well as the information she shares about Trisomy 21, what it affects and what it doesn’t. Both Kyle and Ella have a deep capacity for love without strings attached.

These are kids, scoffers may say. You can’t predict a life based on early cuteness. Yet, I have met adults with Down syndrome who have not lost the gift of innocent goodness. And it is a gift.

I think about that silly box on my dresser with mismatched, lost or broken pieces. This is probably the time to get rid of those useless attachments and become more like Ella and Kyle. Things will never make me happy. People-who-care can; they have. Knowing people who don’t have an agenda make discarding the past even easier.

happiness without a reason

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Expecting Serendipity As a Gift

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 20, 2014| 2 Comments »

We are a landscape of all we have seen. (Isamu Naguchi, sculptor and architect, 1904-1988) 

 As I enter the lab for routine blood tests I see the phlebotomist, a physician from Pakistan working her way into the U.S. system, talking to someone getting ready to leave the building. The two women laugh and embrace like old friends. Apparently they have been sharing similar life experiences. Their meeting has been a blessed serendipity.

I think about unexpected moments I have had: encouragement from unlikely sources, the answer to a pesky problem when I hadn’t brought up the subject, a story about overcoming tragedy when I need a dose of courage.

In fact, before a water aerobics class I talk to a fellow Y member who tells me his sister died from a brain tumor when she was three. He admits that the experience was not easy for him, but he does not speak as if that event exists now—only that it happened. His childhood journey had its metaphorical rocks and broken glass.

The chlorinated water soothes me as the class kicks and jumps and makes waves. Actually this hour wouldn’t be much fun without the action. And life would be pretty gosh-darned boring without its difficulties. Although in the everyday-doing I would like to spare my youngest granddaughter open-heart surgery. My right hand, gnarled with arthritis, would uncurl and flex with ease, not work toward tightening into a claw. I’m fighting that; I have an appointment with a hand specialist soon.

In the meantime I plan to write as much as I always do and let the warm pool water embrace my body and spirit whenever possible. I let the relaxing movement remind me of the gifts I have been given: My youngest granddaughter will not teach nuclear physics to a select elite—she will teach anyone who meets her about love and acceptance. My middle granddaughter exudes imagination, humor, and honesty. My oldest granddaughter spreads enthusiasm and determination. Last week my oldest granddaughter and I talked about how difficult it is for celebrities to maintain perspective when they are viewed as center-of-the-universe figures. I am impressed. She sees with depth, not a me-me-me attitude.

Two women on the other side of the pool laugh; they wave at me. I met the beauty of who they are last week. The landscape of all I have seen expands. I pray to use those gifts well.

knowing darkness before knowing light Optimism Revolution

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Wisdom 101, No Classroom Necessary

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 6, 2014| Leave a Comment »

You cannot create experience. You must undergo it. (Albert Camus)

As I get into the car to pick up my number-one granddaughter from school I wonder how much energy I have left in this sixty-eight-year-old body. Hopefully, I’ll last through the hour and a half before Kate’s music lesson. However, Kate’s enthusiasm is contagious. She continues in high gear to tell me about school events, and she doesn’t soften the blow about the difficult moments. I am grateful for my new hearing aids and for a restaurant that isn’t exceptionally noisy as she tells me about unfair situations that affect other kids and how she discerns her part in helping. Her wisdom shows restraint as well as concern, the ability to know when to jump in and when to wait for a safer, more effective moment.

Every freckle on her face glows and I revel in her fresh beauty.

I am now awake, aware; chances to learn surround me. Sometimes those moments are pure gift, the opportunity to simply say thank you. My most recent short story at Piker Press, Return of the Goldfinch, was published one day before a long-time friend’s brother died. Judy had taken care of her brother in her home during his final days. The story comforted her. While I can be grateful for that, the greater gift is my awareness of a friend who gave her home to a brother who could give nothing of material value back. Judy gives because she is Judy. I am blessed because I know her. My spirit awakens as I think about her. She gave her brother the opportunity to fly from a weakened body. In peace.

My youngest granddaughter, Ella, has led me toward the narrower, higher path since the day she was born. I had the notion that I would spend my day writing to my heart’s content. Page upon page would pour from my spirit because I had just retired. Time could now be mine! A divine higher power had other plans. Ella was born seven weeks early, with Down syndrome; she would need two surgeries before leaving the hospital. A giraffe bed in an intensive care unit was her first home. Since her parents needed to return to work I was among the chosen caregivers. Not only did my spirit deepen so that I could write on a more effective level, I made a new friend—an infant who would become my teacher.

In fact, when Ella was barely crawling, my husband was watching a movie too violent for me. One scene came painfully close to my own experience. That long-ago incident does not need to be relayed  here, but as the drama unfolded I gasped as if I were the young woman on the screen, as if time had removed almost fifty years of my life in the flash of a movie frame. Ella climbed into my lap. She looked directly into my eyes as if to say, Look at me, not into the past. And I saw such beauty and compassion in my granddaughter’s eyes that I knew wisdom lived inside this child. I felt blessed to be in her world.

Yes, the narrow road ahead that involved her care would be difficult. Not everyone would understand that a child with special needs gives more than the cost entails.

Easy isn’t always better.

I suspect that if I had taken a nap instead of spent time with my oldest granddaughter on this ordinary Wednesday afternoon, I would have awakened groggier than ever. And this train of thought would have never begun.

I wonder what opportunities tomorrow will bring. But that is on tomorrow’s agenda.

conquer fear beginning of wisdom narrow bridge

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