I remember when I became pregnant with Caleb, my second son, I felt his strong, sweet spirit right away. I had waited until his brother Joshua was nearly 5 years old and was so excited to have another baby. I knew he was a boy when I wondered in the clothing department and felt his voice tell me in my mind. During this time, I wrote countless songs and poems and had an increased outpouring of the Holy Spirit. I felt heaven's love so close to me, which was a wonderful comfort because his dad had been out of work for awhile and our only income was what I made doing daycare in my home. Soon after Caleb was born, my marriage fell apart as I slowly learned that many things I had trusted had been a lie. But it was those precious 9 months that kept my faith as I navigated investigations, lawyers, moving out, and going back to school. I am grateful that the Lord prepared me for a rough road ahead by giving me a rainbow of his grace to remember during the storm.
Fast forward to 11 years and 11 moves later, I would finally find the man meant for me, and I would find myself pregnant before either of us felt ready. Both of us had wanted to wait a year after getting married, but Joseph had other ideas. I was right in the middle of 2 programs of study and was very nervous, not to mention sick all the time. I was lucky to have a good doctor who ran a lot of tests and was able to diagnose problems before they happened. Nevertheless, at 36 weeks, my waters broke and he was born the next day, weighing a little more than 5 pounds.
I cannot imagine my life without this sweet boy who has brought our family together in so many ways. He has been loved by his brothers from day one and his brothers have enjoyed the extra responsibilities of caring for him. He was smart and tough and tender and had captured our hearts early on. I wanted one more baby to complete our family, because I did not want Joey to grow up almost like an only child, since his brothers are 12 and 17 years older than him. But after that I had 2 miscarriages, one quite early and one at 11 weeks, which was very difficult. Finally 2 years later, I would make it to 17 weeks, but unfortunately, my cervix would open up and Jacob was born too soon. The miracle of his birth was that he was able to live almost 7 hours, just barely into the next day. I was grateful for the time that we had with him and I feel that his short life brought our family together in many beautiful ways.
I wasn't sure about trying again, but after some time, we both felt inspired to do so. After a few months of trying, we finally conceived what we hoped would be our final rainbow baby. Both my husband and I were so nervous and we didn't tell very many people for a very long time. We were told by my high risk doc that our odds were good because I could just get a cervical stitch to keep the baby in before he got too big to slip out. The surgery was a success, but unfortunately, several weeks later I started funneling, had an infection, and later, at 19 weeks, my water would break. We tried everything possible, but at nearly 23 weeks, our sweet Malachi would be born and fought for over 23 hours to stay alive. During the c-section, I also had my tubes tied. My doc warned me that I might regret it, and I knew the odds were not good for Malachi, but I felt that given my age and health challenges, it was time to make that decision. There have been times that I have mourned over this decision, however.
The narrative that is most common after a loss is the arrival of a new rainbow baby down the road. We hear and read about many of these stories and we had wanted our own rainbow baby in our family. Before my husband and I were first married, he asked if I was willing to have one more child, and I said that I wanted 2 more, because I did not want a loner at the end of our family. I never expected having too much trouble, since I did not have any major issues with my previous pregnancies, other than needing c-sections because of my anatomy. When Joey joined our family right away, I expected that our next baby would be born without too much trouble. Looking back, I see that I never fully appreciated my third son until we lost his little brother.
Looking back, I see that this was another case where heaven gave me dessert first, so to speak. Each time I lost one of my sons, I clutched tighter to my littlest, that much more grateful for his life and presence in our family. I know that in the end, I will be reunited with my angel sons and I know there are yet many things which I do not understand, concerning the mind and will of God, but I am glad for the rainbows that come before the storms of life, even though I did not fully appreciate everything until after the storms had passed. I imagine an alternative universe where we would lose our Jacob and Malachi before Joseph and I think the grief might have killed me. I believe the Lord knew when to send my children to me and I will trust that I can learn from each challenge.
I think of my favorite line from the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Everything will be alright in the end and if it not right, then it is not the end. The end of our mortal lives is just the beginning. It will be happy experience for those who have spent their lives trying to make the best of all of life's challenges. No fairytale or movie can even compare to the happiness we will feel when we have overcome life's challenges and our own personal weaknesses and when the losses we felt in this life will not feel like losses after we have received rewards beyond our wildest imaginings. I truly believe that in the end we will find it a privelige to suffer the storms we have suffered. Sometimes the rainbows come before the storms to remind us of the greater rainbows ahead if we continue in faith.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Sunday, August 21, 2016
My Letter to Malachi
Malachi’s Gift
I wrote these words to Malachi on the day that he had passed away. I read it for his memorial service last Thursday, the 18th of August. I am thankful for those near and far who have supported us during this difficult time.
Dear Malachi,
I was hoping for more time with you, but grateful that we had enough time to hold you and allow your daddy and brother and other family members to give you priesthood blessings. The life support was miraculously able to keep you breathing long enough for all of us to hold you and say goodbye. I hope one day you realize how many people across the globe prayed for your safe birth and continued life and I suspect that in your spiritual state you are more aware than even I am.
I am writing the words that have come to my heart after having to say goodbye to you too soon. Your NICU crib is empty, friends and relatives have left. Your brothers have left. Your daddy had to be sent home because I could see he was so exhausted after having about 8 hours of sleep across the span of 4 days. The 4 days we tried so hard to save you.
And so it is, that just you and I remain in the hospital. I look at your battle scarred face and remember that this is all that is left of you in this world. The bruises remain on your leg that broke through my stitches and on your feet that had to be pushed away by the doctor so that the stitches could be removed to save us both. Those feet now have tiny blue booties around them now. The beginnings of what would have become your thick black head of hair is covered with a matching hat.
Wrapped in a coordinating knit blanket is your tiny shell of mortality that was cast off after your spirit had to leave to go to more heavenly domains. Also inside are a tangle of tubes that doctors put inside your body to try to save your life. After your death, I asked the nurse if we could just cut the long, thin, protrusions off, but they remain as a testament to your strength and will as well as the love of everyone who cared for you. I learned a lot as the nurses and doctors explained everything about the many fluids being pumped into your umbilical chord to preserve your life and help you grow. I am grateful that we live in an age where it is possible to give such tiny babies a chance. I am glad that I had the chance to give your body a warm bath before placing you in your beautiful handmade clothing made by angels who have traveled this way before.
Malachi, even though you have moved to a a better place, you are still my miracle. For 23 weeks and 6 days, you and I were inseparable. You were very much wanted by your father and I after losing your brother Jacob last year. Although it did take some time to decide to try again, as we were both so devastated last year. We wanted to give Joseph the gift of a younger sibling to grow up with. We believed that with the right medical advice, we could try again and avoid the same complications that caused Jacob to arrive too soon to be compatible for life.
When I went to the doctor, I believed that keeping you safely inside me would be a much easier task. I submitted to surgery to keep you and planned your arrival around key dates in my job so that I would be free of stress and worries when it was time for the surgery to begin. When my waters broke weeks after the successful procedure, I refused to let my heart break with it. I researched and followed a routine of bed rest, supplements, and hope. I read stories of so many others whose sacrifices bore fruit in the form of smiling happy children after bed rest and often lengthy NICU stays.
I thought long and hard about the sacrifices I had to to make to keep you safe inside the womb so that you would be given a strong and healthy body. Would I be willing to give up my income for an undetermined amount of time? Would I be truly able to stay off my feet and let others serve me? Would other family members be supportive of this plan to keep you safe inside for as long as possible?
We thought long and hard about all those things, but the answer was yes. And many changes were very good for everyone, not just you. Your daddy was able to find a position to work days. I think I was the one most excited about sharing dinners together every night. Joshua and Caleb both had to stretch themselves to do more to keep the house clean and organized and take care of me when I could not. Even Joey got to become a pro at taking care of his mommy and talking to you and playing cars with you by rolling them across my belly as he snuggled in bed with me. I was able to make arrangements for another teacher to replace me for as many weeks as I needed to be away to keep you safely growing.
And yet, my body could not keep you inside. The hospital staff got to know me well from all the visits I made because my body seemed to be threatening to make you leave. Eventually, it became more difficult for the doctors to make the contractions stop and some were convinced it was best not to make them stop. Between the painful contractions, you would kick at my stitch, as if you really wanted to break free. The force would take my breath away and one day you would kick through it after a final round of contractions where the doctor on call didn’t want to intervene. I wasn't ready to let you leave, knowing that your body was not fully prepared to live with us without tremendous assistance. But eventually, upon looking at professional advice, we knew we had to let you be born, rather than risk losing you inside to other risk factors.
The neonatologist said that a baby who was 22 weeks and 6 days had a 20 to 40 percent chance of making it until discharge and we clung to that hope, but your body was a little less developed than that. Still, we were amazed at how hard the doctors worked and how much of a fighter that you were as you passed through your 24 hour period, beating many obstacles until the 18th hour, when it became clear that your fierce will was not enough to let you stay on earth.
Of course we prayed for miracles and we believe in miracles, but we also know that sometimes the miracle occurs when we don’t get what was wanted. Sometimes there are better miracles to be seen in the reflection of defeat. Or rather, sometimes, if we truly understood the mind and will of God, would we see the greatness of disappointment, loss, and struggle.
As I showered away many of the remnants of the second major surgery that I endured to save your life, I know that your short life was not in vain. I do not regret the IVs, blood draws, medicine, painful recoveries, contractions that sent me to my knees, and the sadness of having to say goodbye after doing all we could to preserve your life. I still have the bruises from the many medical procedures I chose to take and you have many that show upon your body from your struggle. I am in awe of all you suffered from the first moment of birth until your death. I know that my bruises and cuts will heal in this life and I also know that one day we will both have better bodies to house our spirits than the tabernacles we have been given.
I know someday we will be reunited and that we will have a different view of our struggles together. I remember that after Jacob passed, I worried that I had cheated him of his life by not taking better care of myself. I worried that he was somehow mad at me that his mortal experience amounted to 6 hours and 55 minutes. And in time I became comforted knowing that God had greater things for him to do. After watching you fight in a similar way to live, I know that you were also determined to make the most of your time with us and I also know that there is much more that I will not understand until I have passed on to the other side and see you and your angel brother again.
But from your short life I have learned the value of sacrifice and I have become more appreciative of your brothers who I am privileged to be part of their daily lives. I have started to let go of things of the world and work harder to hold onto the more precious, elusive, and satisfying gifts of the spiritual realm. Your brothers have grown closer together and look forward to the day when we will truly understand that families are forever. Your father is more tender and loving and your oldest brother is more prepared to share his testimony of God’s love with others.
Malachi, I do not want to forget your short life by undoing some of those changes that we made. I do not want to forget this miracle by undoing the good that came from your brief existence on this earth. When everyone left the hospital room, I gently rocked what was left of your fight on this earth in my arms, and I sang to you the songs we sang to your brother.
While snuggling you to my chest, the thought occurred to me that God is capable of raising your cold body from the dead, even right in that very moment. I entertained the idea of such a powerful miracle, of bringing you back to the NICU, full of life and fixed, a testament to God’s almighty power. I think of how many people could be brought closer to Christ with such a miracle.
Do I have enough faith that the Lord could do this for me? A strong voice said yes! But then a softer thought, lovingly reminded me that I sin when I wish for such a thing.
Yes, of course I know that God is all powerful and capable of power over death, but it takes greater faith to wait for the day appointed for you to be resurrected.
If I had received such a miracle without the sacrifice, would I have gained as much? Would I have learned and applied what I needed to learn in this life to be prepared for a greater life to come?
No, I would have eventually fallen back into bad habits and perhaps not appreciated the smaller miracles that I pass by while ever seeking bigger ones.
I must never cease to look for good that is hidden in gloom and strive to keep the light of faith bright even in darkness.
Dearest Malachi, the miracle I want to remember the most is how your life brought me closer to heaven and how my hardened heart began to soften. Each breath you took was a miracle to help us. In the mean time, I walk by faith and hope that I can live my life in such away that we will be reunited again on the morning of the first resurrection, where every joy that was lost, will be restored in greater fulness.
Love always and forever,
Your mommy, daddy, and brothers here on earth
I wrote these words to Malachi on the day that he had passed away. I read it for his memorial service last Thursday, the 18th of August. I am thankful for those near and far who have supported us during this difficult time.
Dear Malachi,
I was hoping for more time with you, but grateful that we had enough time to hold you and allow your daddy and brother and other family members to give you priesthood blessings. The life support was miraculously able to keep you breathing long enough for all of us to hold you and say goodbye. I hope one day you realize how many people across the globe prayed for your safe birth and continued life and I suspect that in your spiritual state you are more aware than even I am.
I am writing the words that have come to my heart after having to say goodbye to you too soon. Your NICU crib is empty, friends and relatives have left. Your brothers have left. Your daddy had to be sent home because I could see he was so exhausted after having about 8 hours of sleep across the span of 4 days. The 4 days we tried so hard to save you.
And so it is, that just you and I remain in the hospital. I look at your battle scarred face and remember that this is all that is left of you in this world. The bruises remain on your leg that broke through my stitches and on your feet that had to be pushed away by the doctor so that the stitches could be removed to save us both. Those feet now have tiny blue booties around them now. The beginnings of what would have become your thick black head of hair is covered with a matching hat.
Wrapped in a coordinating knit blanket is your tiny shell of mortality that was cast off after your spirit had to leave to go to more heavenly domains. Also inside are a tangle of tubes that doctors put inside your body to try to save your life. After your death, I asked the nurse if we could just cut the long, thin, protrusions off, but they remain as a testament to your strength and will as well as the love of everyone who cared for you. I learned a lot as the nurses and doctors explained everything about the many fluids being pumped into your umbilical chord to preserve your life and help you grow. I am grateful that we live in an age where it is possible to give such tiny babies a chance. I am glad that I had the chance to give your body a warm bath before placing you in your beautiful handmade clothing made by angels who have traveled this way before.
Malachi, even though you have moved to a a better place, you are still my miracle. For 23 weeks and 6 days, you and I were inseparable. You were very much wanted by your father and I after losing your brother Jacob last year. Although it did take some time to decide to try again, as we were both so devastated last year. We wanted to give Joseph the gift of a younger sibling to grow up with. We believed that with the right medical advice, we could try again and avoid the same complications that caused Jacob to arrive too soon to be compatible for life.
When I went to the doctor, I believed that keeping you safely inside me would be a much easier task. I submitted to surgery to keep you and planned your arrival around key dates in my job so that I would be free of stress and worries when it was time for the surgery to begin. When my waters broke weeks after the successful procedure, I refused to let my heart break with it. I researched and followed a routine of bed rest, supplements, and hope. I read stories of so many others whose sacrifices bore fruit in the form of smiling happy children after bed rest and often lengthy NICU stays.
I thought long and hard about the sacrifices I had to to make to keep you safe inside the womb so that you would be given a strong and healthy body. Would I be willing to give up my income for an undetermined amount of time? Would I be truly able to stay off my feet and let others serve me? Would other family members be supportive of this plan to keep you safe inside for as long as possible?
We thought long and hard about all those things, but the answer was yes. And many changes were very good for everyone, not just you. Your daddy was able to find a position to work days. I think I was the one most excited about sharing dinners together every night. Joshua and Caleb both had to stretch themselves to do more to keep the house clean and organized and take care of me when I could not. Even Joey got to become a pro at taking care of his mommy and talking to you and playing cars with you by rolling them across my belly as he snuggled in bed with me. I was able to make arrangements for another teacher to replace me for as many weeks as I needed to be away to keep you safely growing.
And yet, my body could not keep you inside. The hospital staff got to know me well from all the visits I made because my body seemed to be threatening to make you leave. Eventually, it became more difficult for the doctors to make the contractions stop and some were convinced it was best not to make them stop. Between the painful contractions, you would kick at my stitch, as if you really wanted to break free. The force would take my breath away and one day you would kick through it after a final round of contractions where the doctor on call didn’t want to intervene. I wasn't ready to let you leave, knowing that your body was not fully prepared to live with us without tremendous assistance. But eventually, upon looking at professional advice, we knew we had to let you be born, rather than risk losing you inside to other risk factors.
The neonatologist said that a baby who was 22 weeks and 6 days had a 20 to 40 percent chance of making it until discharge and we clung to that hope, but your body was a little less developed than that. Still, we were amazed at how hard the doctors worked and how much of a fighter that you were as you passed through your 24 hour period, beating many obstacles until the 18th hour, when it became clear that your fierce will was not enough to let you stay on earth.
Of course we prayed for miracles and we believe in miracles, but we also know that sometimes the miracle occurs when we don’t get what was wanted. Sometimes there are better miracles to be seen in the reflection of defeat. Or rather, sometimes, if we truly understood the mind and will of God, would we see the greatness of disappointment, loss, and struggle.
As I showered away many of the remnants of the second major surgery that I endured to save your life, I know that your short life was not in vain. I do not regret the IVs, blood draws, medicine, painful recoveries, contractions that sent me to my knees, and the sadness of having to say goodbye after doing all we could to preserve your life. I still have the bruises from the many medical procedures I chose to take and you have many that show upon your body from your struggle. I am in awe of all you suffered from the first moment of birth until your death. I know that my bruises and cuts will heal in this life and I also know that one day we will both have better bodies to house our spirits than the tabernacles we have been given.
I know someday we will be reunited and that we will have a different view of our struggles together. I remember that after Jacob passed, I worried that I had cheated him of his life by not taking better care of myself. I worried that he was somehow mad at me that his mortal experience amounted to 6 hours and 55 minutes. And in time I became comforted knowing that God had greater things for him to do. After watching you fight in a similar way to live, I know that you were also determined to make the most of your time with us and I also know that there is much more that I will not understand until I have passed on to the other side and see you and your angel brother again.
But from your short life I have learned the value of sacrifice and I have become more appreciative of your brothers who I am privileged to be part of their daily lives. I have started to let go of things of the world and work harder to hold onto the more precious, elusive, and satisfying gifts of the spiritual realm. Your brothers have grown closer together and look forward to the day when we will truly understand that families are forever. Your father is more tender and loving and your oldest brother is more prepared to share his testimony of God’s love with others.
Malachi, I do not want to forget your short life by undoing some of those changes that we made. I do not want to forget this miracle by undoing the good that came from your brief existence on this earth. When everyone left the hospital room, I gently rocked what was left of your fight on this earth in my arms, and I sang to you the songs we sang to your brother.
While snuggling you to my chest, the thought occurred to me that God is capable of raising your cold body from the dead, even right in that very moment. I entertained the idea of such a powerful miracle, of bringing you back to the NICU, full of life and fixed, a testament to God’s almighty power. I think of how many people could be brought closer to Christ with such a miracle.
Do I have enough faith that the Lord could do this for me? A strong voice said yes! But then a softer thought, lovingly reminded me that I sin when I wish for such a thing.
Yes, of course I know that God is all powerful and capable of power over death, but it takes greater faith to wait for the day appointed for you to be resurrected.
If I had received such a miracle without the sacrifice, would I have gained as much? Would I have learned and applied what I needed to learn in this life to be prepared for a greater life to come?
No, I would have eventually fallen back into bad habits and perhaps not appreciated the smaller miracles that I pass by while ever seeking bigger ones.
I must never cease to look for good that is hidden in gloom and strive to keep the light of faith bright even in darkness.
Dearest Malachi, the miracle I want to remember the most is how your life brought me closer to heaven and how my hardened heart began to soften. Each breath you took was a miracle to help us. In the mean time, I walk by faith and hope that I can live my life in such away that we will be reunited again on the morning of the first resurrection, where every joy that was lost, will be restored in greater fulness.
Love always and forever,
Your mommy, daddy, and brothers here on earth
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Desiderata by Max Ehrmann
Found this poem framed at a thrift store yesterday and it is very inspiring to me. It said it was written in1692 butreally was written in 1920
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Max Ehrmann c.1920
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Max Ehrmann c.1920
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Of Falling Hearts and Snow
Sparse little snowflakes,
Descend gently on parched golden blades
Preparing the earth for the weight of wintry white
Though a blizzard of thoughts of you races through my mind
I’ll control this hasty dive
Toward your heart’s securest place
I know I don’t know you,
But my soul’s inner voice says I do
And like the steady rhythm of the softly dropping snow
I’ll patiently gather your smallest thoughts to truly know
I’ll float and fall with slowness
To let those feelings grow on you
And shed the cold with gold and violet tones
Descend gently on parched golden blades
Preparing the earth for the weight of wintry white
Though a blizzard of thoughts of you races through my mind
I’ll control this hasty dive
Toward your heart’s securest place
I know I don’t know you,
But my soul’s inner voice says I do
And like the steady rhythm of the softly dropping snow
I’ll patiently gather your smallest thoughts to truly know
I’ll float and fall with slowness
To let those feelings grow on you
And shed the cold with gold and violet tones
The lesson a “bully” taught me
When I was in 5th grade, I was much better at making enemies than friends. I had my share of run-ins with neighborhood bullies, both male and female. Looking back, I realize that most of these “bullies” were themselves the object of ridicule. Michael Black, who was responsible for the scar on my left knee had a facial mole the size of his well used fist. Clifford who met me at the flagpole for a fight was quite small for his age. Michelle plume was held back one grade level in school, which meant she was the same grade as her younger, smarter and prettier sister. Because she did not comb her naturally curly hair nicely or wear brand name clothes, she was accused of starting the lice outbreak that year. I realize now how cruel children can be in talking about others who are different in an attempt to make themselves feel better. Unfortunately I was one of those children on both sides of the teasing.
I can’t remember what exactly started the fight between Michelle and I, but I remember running away from her on a frosty afternoon after school. I can still see the chilly blurr of white in my peripheral vision as I focused on my on the speed and accuracy of my feet navigating the icy walkway. I had managed to stay ahead of her for three blocks and was almost home-free.
As I raced down the final steep hill and crossed the busy street to my house, I heard a blood curdling scream. Michelle had slipped on some ice at the bottom of the hill and had cut her lip in the fall. At first I continued running toward the safety of a locked door at home, but then something stopped me. I turned around toward her and found myself offering my help. I breathlessly approached a scene of blood mixed with ice on the slushy sidewalk and since my mom wasn’t home, I took her to my neighbor who lived a couple doors down.
I can’t remember what happened, but I know she was bandaged up and impressed that someone would help her—especially someone who went to church with me. We didn’t fight anymore after that. I had more understanding toward her situation, although I can’t say we became close friends either.
But what is left for me to ponder is how who we come to consider others our enemies. The ideas of loving your enemy and turning the other cheek are very difficult for me to use in my daily life. I suppose it was easy to turn around and help Michelle because I could see she was hurting. When I saw what she needed in that moment, I no longer saw her as an antagonist but a sister. She was just as vulnerable to pain and hurt feelings as I.
Today I have different bullies in my life. These do not hurt with physical violence, but cause mental anguish by wielding the weapons of gossip, fault-finding, and apathy. I have found that it is much harder to forgive those who hurt in more subtle ways than the open childhood taunts and teasings of yesterday. But if I juxtapose these difficult relationships with what I learned with Michelle, I must conclude that those who hurt others are truly in pain themselves.
Perhaps, I can strive to be more aware of these people’s inner minds. Perhaps I can be the first to help, when someone finds himself immobilized by the results of his choices. Perhaps that little bit of help will be enough for me to see another as they really are, rather than regarding someone as a bad person for hurting my feelings. And maybe if I am truly honest with myself, I will see the hurt I may have caused others by my own impulsive and emotional and sometimes irrational thinking.
In each instance, I have found that those individuals who have hurt me are not much different than this 5th grader I knew long ago. They too feel pain and will respond differently when I bind up their wounds with understanding, rather than exacerbating their injuries with self-righteousness. The lesson I learned from a bully, is helping me to strive for mutual understanding through peaceful, rather than forceful means. May I remember that before any further hurt occurs.
I can’t remember what exactly started the fight between Michelle and I, but I remember running away from her on a frosty afternoon after school. I can still see the chilly blurr of white in my peripheral vision as I focused on my on the speed and accuracy of my feet navigating the icy walkway. I had managed to stay ahead of her for three blocks and was almost home-free.
As I raced down the final steep hill and crossed the busy street to my house, I heard a blood curdling scream. Michelle had slipped on some ice at the bottom of the hill and had cut her lip in the fall. At first I continued running toward the safety of a locked door at home, but then something stopped me. I turned around toward her and found myself offering my help. I breathlessly approached a scene of blood mixed with ice on the slushy sidewalk and since my mom wasn’t home, I took her to my neighbor who lived a couple doors down.
I can’t remember what happened, but I know she was bandaged up and impressed that someone would help her—especially someone who went to church with me. We didn’t fight anymore after that. I had more understanding toward her situation, although I can’t say we became close friends either.
But what is left for me to ponder is how who we come to consider others our enemies. The ideas of loving your enemy and turning the other cheek are very difficult for me to use in my daily life. I suppose it was easy to turn around and help Michelle because I could see she was hurting. When I saw what she needed in that moment, I no longer saw her as an antagonist but a sister. She was just as vulnerable to pain and hurt feelings as I.
Today I have different bullies in my life. These do not hurt with physical violence, but cause mental anguish by wielding the weapons of gossip, fault-finding, and apathy. I have found that it is much harder to forgive those who hurt in more subtle ways than the open childhood taunts and teasings of yesterday. But if I juxtapose these difficult relationships with what I learned with Michelle, I must conclude that those who hurt others are truly in pain themselves.
Perhaps, I can strive to be more aware of these people’s inner minds. Perhaps I can be the first to help, when someone finds himself immobilized by the results of his choices. Perhaps that little bit of help will be enough for me to see another as they really are, rather than regarding someone as a bad person for hurting my feelings. And maybe if I am truly honest with myself, I will see the hurt I may have caused others by my own impulsive and emotional and sometimes irrational thinking.
In each instance, I have found that those individuals who have hurt me are not much different than this 5th grader I knew long ago. They too feel pain and will respond differently when I bind up their wounds with understanding, rather than exacerbating their injuries with self-righteousness. The lesson I learned from a bully, is helping me to strive for mutual understanding through peaceful, rather than forceful means. May I remember that before any further hurt occurs.
Parable of the ungrateful date
I used to date a wonderful man whom I will call "Geoffrey". I was so in love with him that I overlooked some major differences and difficulties in the relationship, but eventually he broke things off. Geoffrey did not have much money because he was in the midst of some career changes. One day I decided to take him out for dinner to smooth things over after the breakup. I happened to have a gift card and bonus coupons that covered everything but the tip. When I was fumbling for the cards to pay for the bill and the tip, someone called his cell phone. He talked for five minutes and then told her he would call her back in 20 minutes. Geoffrey did not offer to help with the tip with his card and did not even say thank you for the meal. On top of that he rushed me out the door because he said he promised to call this woman back soon. the drive home was quietly as he worried about returning this phone call more than my feelings.
It really bothered me to receive this treatment. Then the next morning, he sent a text that read: sorry I 4got 2 thnk u for dinner last night. I wanted to text him back with the message that I wanted to take back all the gifts that I had given him….but then my friend told me to wait to send something back until I could respond with pleasantness
The next day at church it was on my mind. And then as I sat, seething in what I thought to be righteous indignation, I thought of the ten lepers and how 10 asked to be healed, but only one said thank you. I thought about all the things that the Lord has done for me. How many times have I truly thanked him? How many times I have I made the journey back to acknowledge his work. How many times have I acknowledged him to other people? How many more times have I treated Heaven's providence like my friend, hurrying out the door right after the gift is bestowed.
On top of that, I think of how many people in my life have helped me. How many times have people gone out of their way for me, and I haven't sent a thank you letter, or done much for them in return? How many times am I like Geoffrey, tossing in rushed words of appreciation after the fact, but moving forward with my plans, rather than pausing for a word of appreciation?
I am amazed that the Savior did not seem particularly angry about the other 9 who did not return with thankful words. He merely asked where they were. I would hope that those 9 were able to show their thanks in other ways. I am grateful that the Lord doesn’t reject me when I am late in expressing my gratitude. And I am amazed to find that when I acknowledge His hand in my life, I seem to find myself blessed even more!
As I think of my many blessings, those from heaven and those from other fellow mortals on earth, I thank the Lord for His grace and patience through the many times I have treated Him too casually and taken His goodness for granted. I really hope in the future I can be more like the one leper who returned, than the 9 who didn’t.
It really bothered me to receive this treatment. Then the next morning, he sent a text that read: sorry I 4got 2 thnk u for dinner last night. I wanted to text him back with the message that I wanted to take back all the gifts that I had given him….but then my friend told me to wait to send something back until I could respond with pleasantness
The next day at church it was on my mind. And then as I sat, seething in what I thought to be righteous indignation, I thought of the ten lepers and how 10 asked to be healed, but only one said thank you. I thought about all the things that the Lord has done for me. How many times have I truly thanked him? How many times I have I made the journey back to acknowledge his work. How many times have I acknowledged him to other people? How many more times have I treated Heaven's providence like my friend, hurrying out the door right after the gift is bestowed.
On top of that, I think of how many people in my life have helped me. How many times have people gone out of their way for me, and I haven't sent a thank you letter, or done much for them in return? How many times am I like Geoffrey, tossing in rushed words of appreciation after the fact, but moving forward with my plans, rather than pausing for a word of appreciation?
I am amazed that the Savior did not seem particularly angry about the other 9 who did not return with thankful words. He merely asked where they were. I would hope that those 9 were able to show their thanks in other ways. I am grateful that the Lord doesn’t reject me when I am late in expressing my gratitude. And I am amazed to find that when I acknowledge His hand in my life, I seem to find myself blessed even more!
As I think of my many blessings, those from heaven and those from other fellow mortals on earth, I thank the Lord for His grace and patience through the many times I have treated Him too casually and taken His goodness for granted. I really hope in the future I can be more like the one leper who returned, than the 9 who didn’t.
Grace and Charity in der Schweiz
I have always been in love with other languages and cultures and after learning German and spending 10 days in Vienna, I vowed to return to Europe. I hatched my plan by gaining my Montessori credentials and a Masters degree in one year (losing my tonsils and what felt like 5 years of my life in the process) and before graduation I interviewed at a school in Switzerland and relocated there 2 days after handing in my final papers. The salary was more than double what I could make in the states and the hours less—so of course I signed the contract….And so was the beginning of my new idyllic life….well…sort of!
Did I mention that I am the single mom to two children, one of whom was soon to be diagnosed with a form of autism? Did I mention that my boys proudly learned high German at home only to find that the Swiss children spoke a completely different language? Did I mention that when they said I would work 32 hours a week, that meant 32 hours of lesson time with the children, (teaching art, music, all the subjects in English and more) and did not include the massive amount of preparation time that sometimes doubled my working hours. Or that I would find out first-hand that the school I taught at ascribed to a military style of Montessori education? Or that the 15 minute train ride from the station to work was more like an hour when I combined the time it took to walk to the station, ride the train, tram and arrive on time for work? And that of the 30 children in the class, the vast majority had learning delays or disabilities that were never disclosed to us? And also that the school had gone through a high turnover of staff and children and would continue to lose students, resulting in salary cuts?
So yes, my family and I had some struggles, particularly in the beginning when the classroom needed so much extra time to get things started. I had many days I and my children were away from home for 12 or more hours. I survived by having breakfasts and dinners on the train, grabbing fast food, or my eventual routine of serving dinner to the children in the bathtub followed by a bedtime story for dessert. I was told by different people at church that I should just go home. I am sure many of them did not know what to do with a single mom who was often over her head on Sunday as a result of each weekly ensuing minidrama at my workplace or with my children. (and of course my German in the beginning was inadequate for a proper explanation) The Latina members understood my Spanish explanations, but the Swiss thing to do is to give people space, which sometimes made going to church difficult.
My neighbors on the other hand were quite different. I live in a very small village. There are many farms and open fields with sheep and cows and yet people live here from all over the world. Everyone greets each other on the street with a slight kind bow and they look after each other. This can be good or bad. One time I was scolded for not keeping Josh, my 10 year old free spirited son, with me as he took his bike onto the train in a different door, while other times friendly grandmotherly types tell me I am always running and I need to slow down with my boys. Another time 2 neighbors helped me carry Caleb, my 5 year old, home when he injured his leg from my bike wheel. When that happened I realized that everyone knew who I was because I and my boys in their matching yellow jackets would take the trains every morning between 6:30 and 7 and return between 5 and 7 most evenings, and sometimes as late as 9.
After awhile, if someone new would find out I was a single mom, they asked how I did it. I usually said something like adrenaline, or I don’t, but I wish I could have found the German words to say that that my survival has been purely from the tender mercies of the Lord and the good people who have come my way.
Taking the trains.
Caleb fell in love with Switzerland purely for the trains. Every time we get off the train he has this ritual of running to the front of the train and waving the driver goodbye as it leaves. The drivers always smile or wave in return, once he was given a ticket and another time he was rewarded with a whistle blast. But later on, I would find that my son’s friendliness would come back to help me.
So with a 15 walk to the main train station in the dark early morning with 2 boys and lots of papers and learning materials in tow, we were inevitably running late for one unforeseen reason or another. When the doors of the train close and the yellow lights flash, it is too late to get on and in my case that meant waiting another 30 minutes for the next train. The Swiss like the trains to run on time and hate delay, but still there were many kindly people who held the train’s door open for us if we were spotted running.
But later on, I found help in other ways. Twice a man on a bicycle, seeing my heavy bags of books, offered to take them on his bike so that I could run faster with Caleb to the station. On other times, when I found myself approaching the train’s closed doors with the yellow light flashing, I found the door opening to me. This only happens when the train driver manually stops it. One day the train passed me and I was a block away. The train was running late, but still waiting for me for an additional minute when everyone else was on the train. The second we got on, the yellow lights flashed and we were off. To me these times are what grace means to me. And for these moments of Grace, I have my friendly son to thank who stole the hearts of the train drivers.
Putting it all together
I can think of many other times when the neighbors stepped in to help me. Josh was being severely mobbed at school in the beginning when he started at the public school. Mostly the children of foreigners would beat him up before or after school and he started behaving very aggressive at home at the slightest hint of stress. One time josh got in a severe fight with Caleb while they were playing outside and the neighbors separated them and stayed long enough to bring Josh water and talk with him and calm him down. I was mortified, but they didn’t judge me and were very understanding. Other times friends would call Josh saying they were sorry that so and so beat him up. Also I have had neighbors who have given me legal advice, German lessons, fixed my bike’s multiple flat tires, help me get organized, and just give me the friendliness I need to keep going for another day.
Luckily I can sew very well and my neighbors can’t, so we have a little “trade” going on. I spent the summer sewing things for the angels who have been there for me, and for those who I don't know so well, I retain a prayer in my heart that the Lord will bless them for their kindness.
My good Samaritans came to my rescue because they saw me everyday and knew me. I am amazed that this people have opened up their hearts to me, a stranger, in such a good way. I hope to be able to repay them somehow…and better yet, I hope that I can do the same for the strangers I may encounter who find themselves in need of a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, or a friendly embrace.
finale:
I wrote this in the middle of my first school year. Since this time, I started a job at a new school with the promise that the working conditions and hours would be much better, when in fact my treatment has become much worse. While this was a darker time, it has also been a time of learning and I am grateful for all the experiences I have had this year. Fortunately I have even more friends, both near and far, who have come to my rescue: taking me to the hospital, inviting me for lunch or dinner, offering to buy my books or furniture or other things I must leave behind in my move. I have a variety of people who will help me clean my house (which has to be Swiss clean when it is vacated), not to mention an amazing friend at church who helps me stay organized and also gives great massages as well as other true friends at church who keep me grounded.
Josh and Caleb just started school back in the states and I look forward to joining them as soon as I have fulfilled my teaching contract. Later in the first year, when I cut down my working hours, the difficulties of both boys subsided and the psychologist in Switzerland said that while Caleb has some autistic tendencies, he is not autistic. I had to let Caleb stay longer with his dad (beyond the summer), which turned into a good opportunity to finally bond and he ended up speaking Spanish. Josh now speaks fluent German and is enjoying his time at school speaking English and doing more stuff in science. The difficulties he endured made him closer to the Lord and a more caring and responsible person.
Since the time I wrote this piece, we moved to Arizona for a complete lifestyle change yet again. We plan to stay here a long time and put down deep roots in the desert. We will all miss Switzerland. My heart will be there for a long time and I know someday, when my kids are grown, I will return to this beautiful, unspoiled land for more than just a visit. It took being in another culture, with other traditions, to appreciate those things which are universal. I hope someday I will pass on those lessons and gifts of kindness to other strangers who struggle along their way.
Did I mention that I am the single mom to two children, one of whom was soon to be diagnosed with a form of autism? Did I mention that my boys proudly learned high German at home only to find that the Swiss children spoke a completely different language? Did I mention that when they said I would work 32 hours a week, that meant 32 hours of lesson time with the children, (teaching art, music, all the subjects in English and more) and did not include the massive amount of preparation time that sometimes doubled my working hours. Or that I would find out first-hand that the school I taught at ascribed to a military style of Montessori education? Or that the 15 minute train ride from the station to work was more like an hour when I combined the time it took to walk to the station, ride the train, tram and arrive on time for work? And that of the 30 children in the class, the vast majority had learning delays or disabilities that were never disclosed to us? And also that the school had gone through a high turnover of staff and children and would continue to lose students, resulting in salary cuts?
So yes, my family and I had some struggles, particularly in the beginning when the classroom needed so much extra time to get things started. I had many days I and my children were away from home for 12 or more hours. I survived by having breakfasts and dinners on the train, grabbing fast food, or my eventual routine of serving dinner to the children in the bathtub followed by a bedtime story for dessert. I was told by different people at church that I should just go home. I am sure many of them did not know what to do with a single mom who was often over her head on Sunday as a result of each weekly ensuing minidrama at my workplace or with my children. (and of course my German in the beginning was inadequate for a proper explanation) The Latina members understood my Spanish explanations, but the Swiss thing to do is to give people space, which sometimes made going to church difficult.
My neighbors on the other hand were quite different. I live in a very small village. There are many farms and open fields with sheep and cows and yet people live here from all over the world. Everyone greets each other on the street with a slight kind bow and they look after each other. This can be good or bad. One time I was scolded for not keeping Josh, my 10 year old free spirited son, with me as he took his bike onto the train in a different door, while other times friendly grandmotherly types tell me I am always running and I need to slow down with my boys. Another time 2 neighbors helped me carry Caleb, my 5 year old, home when he injured his leg from my bike wheel. When that happened I realized that everyone knew who I was because I and my boys in their matching yellow jackets would take the trains every morning between 6:30 and 7 and return between 5 and 7 most evenings, and sometimes as late as 9.
After awhile, if someone new would find out I was a single mom, they asked how I did it. I usually said something like adrenaline, or I don’t, but I wish I could have found the German words to say that that my survival has been purely from the tender mercies of the Lord and the good people who have come my way.
Taking the trains.
Caleb fell in love with Switzerland purely for the trains. Every time we get off the train he has this ritual of running to the front of the train and waving the driver goodbye as it leaves. The drivers always smile or wave in return, once he was given a ticket and another time he was rewarded with a whistle blast. But later on, I would find that my son’s friendliness would come back to help me.
So with a 15 walk to the main train station in the dark early morning with 2 boys and lots of papers and learning materials in tow, we were inevitably running late for one unforeseen reason or another. When the doors of the train close and the yellow lights flash, it is too late to get on and in my case that meant waiting another 30 minutes for the next train. The Swiss like the trains to run on time and hate delay, but still there were many kindly people who held the train’s door open for us if we were spotted running.
But later on, I found help in other ways. Twice a man on a bicycle, seeing my heavy bags of books, offered to take them on his bike so that I could run faster with Caleb to the station. On other times, when I found myself approaching the train’s closed doors with the yellow light flashing, I found the door opening to me. This only happens when the train driver manually stops it. One day the train passed me and I was a block away. The train was running late, but still waiting for me for an additional minute when everyone else was on the train. The second we got on, the yellow lights flashed and we were off. To me these times are what grace means to me. And for these moments of Grace, I have my friendly son to thank who stole the hearts of the train drivers.
Putting it all together
I can think of many other times when the neighbors stepped in to help me. Josh was being severely mobbed at school in the beginning when he started at the public school. Mostly the children of foreigners would beat him up before or after school and he started behaving very aggressive at home at the slightest hint of stress. One time josh got in a severe fight with Caleb while they were playing outside and the neighbors separated them and stayed long enough to bring Josh water and talk with him and calm him down. I was mortified, but they didn’t judge me and were very understanding. Other times friends would call Josh saying they were sorry that so and so beat him up. Also I have had neighbors who have given me legal advice, German lessons, fixed my bike’s multiple flat tires, help me get organized, and just give me the friendliness I need to keep going for another day.
Luckily I can sew very well and my neighbors can’t, so we have a little “trade” going on. I spent the summer sewing things for the angels who have been there for me, and for those who I don't know so well, I retain a prayer in my heart that the Lord will bless them for their kindness.
My good Samaritans came to my rescue because they saw me everyday and knew me. I am amazed that this people have opened up their hearts to me, a stranger, in such a good way. I hope to be able to repay them somehow…and better yet, I hope that I can do the same for the strangers I may encounter who find themselves in need of a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, or a friendly embrace.
finale:
I wrote this in the middle of my first school year. Since this time, I started a job at a new school with the promise that the working conditions and hours would be much better, when in fact my treatment has become much worse. While this was a darker time, it has also been a time of learning and I am grateful for all the experiences I have had this year. Fortunately I have even more friends, both near and far, who have come to my rescue: taking me to the hospital, inviting me for lunch or dinner, offering to buy my books or furniture or other things I must leave behind in my move. I have a variety of people who will help me clean my house (which has to be Swiss clean when it is vacated), not to mention an amazing friend at church who helps me stay organized and also gives great massages as well as other true friends at church who keep me grounded.
Josh and Caleb just started school back in the states and I look forward to joining them as soon as I have fulfilled my teaching contract. Later in the first year, when I cut down my working hours, the difficulties of both boys subsided and the psychologist in Switzerland said that while Caleb has some autistic tendencies, he is not autistic. I had to let Caleb stay longer with his dad (beyond the summer), which turned into a good opportunity to finally bond and he ended up speaking Spanish. Josh now speaks fluent German and is enjoying his time at school speaking English and doing more stuff in science. The difficulties he endured made him closer to the Lord and a more caring and responsible person.
Since the time I wrote this piece, we moved to Arizona for a complete lifestyle change yet again. We plan to stay here a long time and put down deep roots in the desert. We will all miss Switzerland. My heart will be there for a long time and I know someday, when my kids are grown, I will return to this beautiful, unspoiled land for more than just a visit. It took being in another culture, with other traditions, to appreciate those things which are universal. I hope someday I will pass on those lessons and gifts of kindness to other strangers who struggle along their way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)