Protection

Protection

    I remember the day the Challenger blew up.  I was watching it on TV while in middle school.  It was the first time anything like that had happened in schools.  I don’t recall initially realizing that it blew up but it was very clear from the teacher’s face that something was wrong.  Soon the Principal came over the loud speaker & instructed the teachers to turn off the TVs.  

    I often wonder why adults feel the need to protect children from tragic or sad events in life.  When does the child have the right to know the truth?  Why do parents get to make that decision?  I realize that some events, like 9/11, are hard to explain and could even scare small children, however in today’s information crazy society, children are going to find out regardless of whether you try to protect them - isn’t it better to tell them yourself so that you can answer their questions?    

    It is not always a tragic event that we try to protect children from though.  The simple act of sickness and death is often underplayed to children - even adult children - by parents.  I think back to my own experiences.  When my beloved Grandmother Alice was dying, I received a call from my Mom asking if I was coming home from Clemson for the weekend for my Dad’s birthday.  She never mentioned my Grandmother was dying.  I could have left on Thursday afternoon instead I left late Friday and got home late Friday night.  By the time I arrived home, she was unresponsive.  I never got to say Good-bye.  I was robbed of that moment because my parents felt I should be protected from the truth.  They thought I would be too upset to drive home.  Instead, I live daily with heartache knowing I never got to say good-bye.  

    My husband had the same experience.  When his Grandfather died, we didn’t receive a call till after 11AM - even though he had been rushed to the hospital at 7:30AM.  By the time we realized how grave it was, my husband didn’t have time to get to the hospital.  He didn’t get to say good-bye.  He’s a man.  He will never admit that it bothered him.  But I saw it in his eyes.  

    Is it a generational thing?  Do baby boomers feel they have to protect their children from bad news?  Were they protected as well?  Does the cycle continue through generations?  When do we decide that the cycle has to stop?  When do children get the right to make their own decision of whether they want to leave college or work to say good-bye to their grandparents?  

    Maybe for some they like being sheltered.  Maybe they don’t want to be around death and just prefer to say their good-byes silently in their hearts.  If only death were that easy.  One day we will all be faced with the decisions involved with death.  When that time comes, will we try to protect also?  

    I know that I have stopped the cycle in my family.  My Mom calls me now when the bird is missing and hasn’t returned to its nest.  Ok ... I am exaggerating ... but I made my point with my Mom.  She understands that I want the right to make that decision.  And, she has respected that and upheld her end of the bargain.

    I would say that protection causes more confusion for children than actual protection.  Children are quite intelligent and they can sense that something isn’t right.  They realize that adults are whispering and their eyes are red.  They can pick up that someone is missing from the room.  Can you imagine their confusion when they are told “Everything is ok.  Everything is ok.  Everything is ok.”?  It’s not ok.  Suddenly because they are told everything is fine, death becomes scary.  Death is inevitable.  There is no need to hide it from children.  They have the most unique and wonderful view of death.  Heaven is a glorious place for a child.  Their simplistic view can make all of us realize that death is really a beginning.

    Recently, a friend’s Grandmother passed away.  When she was explaining to her three year old what happened, the toddler said, “Mommy, don’t cry.  Granny can play with Bailey now in heaven!”  Bailey was their black lab that passed last year.  What a wonderful perspective!  

    We think we are protecting our children from death’s sad truth but the reality is we are robbing ourselves.  We are robbing ourselves from really seeing the true beauty in death - at that moment when it occurs.  We rob ourselves of remembering - at that moment - that there’s a sweet lab wagging his tail & jumping up & down because Granny just walked through the gates to play with him.  

    Remember this next time you feel you should protect a child from death.  Whether it is a loved one or a national tragedy, don’t rob yourself of the simplistic view of a child.  

Perspective

I actually wrote something else but after the week I had, I decided to post this instead.  I'll add the other blog next week.

Perspective

Isn’t it true that a situation can be so different when looking at it from a different perspective?  How often do you find yourself completely absorbed in your own situation only to turn the corner and see one that is by far much more compelling?  I had that experience this week.

Ashton had her seven-year well visit on Wednesday.  Right as her appointment was ending, the Doctor mentioned checking her cholesterol.  I thought that quite odd and he wavered on whether it was really necessary.  Then the dreaded words that I hate to hear, “I only really check it at this age if the parents have high cholesterol and there is a family history of heart disease”.  So, here we go down this long road of trying to outsmart our cursed family genes.  

I am still in amazement at how much I can worry about Ashton.  I realize that may seem strange but for someone that never thought she would have children, it still surprises me the angst that I feel for her health and future.  I realize, all too well, that life is not a guarantee and her good health now may not last forever.  I don’t want to sound all gloomy, I do look at the glass half full, but when you yourself have almost died, it’s hard not to think about tragedy.  

While Franklin is a relatively healthy guy, I on the other hand have had my fair share of medical experiments on my body.  So far, Ashton had defied the odds and made it to age seven completely healthy and by-passing the three surgeries I had by age seven.  I was starting to believe that she would be the lucky one that took after her Dad and not endure numerous medical problems.  Well ... at least she made it seven years.

So here I sit and think about what the test results will mean for Ashton.  It is not life-threatening but it could be, and likely will be, a life-long problem that she will have to manage.  From where I sit, this was a really stressful day.  I worry about what it means down the road for her.  I worry about how I will handle it without giving her a complex and thinking that something is wrong with her.  I worry about the research and how there is not very much in regards to healthy children with this problem.  What does that mean for her?  Is there reliable evidence of what our next steps should be?  From my perspective, this is a shocking blow for my healthy girl.

Waking up from a stressful night of little sleep, I turn on The Today Show.  I hear about a little girl that was diagnosed with a rare form of breast cancer at age three.  She had to have a mastectomy.  Talk about a change of perspective.  Thank you God for reminding me that even small problems in our health are not a reason to stop trusting you.  

Now I sit and think that while this could be a life-long problem for Ashton, it is manageable.  And managing it can prevent heart disease.  We can outsmart those family genes!  And, imagine the advancements in medicine that could occur in her lifetime!  All I really need to do is stay on top of it and evaluate it regularly so that we can make sure we are giving her the best chances of entering adulthood without problems.  

And I need to remember that I am fortunate and blessed with Ashton.  I need to remember to put my stress in perspective and channel it into prayers for others.    I need to remember to be thankful that even though there is a problem, it is manageable and not life-threatening.  It really could be so much worse.

While I realize that putting things into perspective should come naturally, often times it doesn’t.  I pray daily that God will help me keep His perspective in all that I do.  Most importantly, I pray that it is He that keeps my perspective in check and not waking up to hear of something much worse than my own problems.  I’m happy to report the little girl is doing well and has a very good chance of life-long health.  

I’ll end on that note.  

Robbed of Excitement

Robbed of Excitement

 Somehow, it seems almost overnight, my beautiful niece is on the verge of getting her drivers license.  I can see the excitement in her eyes, hear it in her voice.  I had that same excitement leading up to my 15th birthday.  

 Life has a funny way of robbing us of excitement sometimes.  Like now.  I want to be happy for her.  I want to be excited for her.  But I see pass the excitement.  I see a room with a curtain and a machine that has a bubble that moves up and down pumping oxygen into my body.  I see my Mother’s face.  

 When you are a teenager you don’t believe that anything can happen to you.  You most certainly have to be invincible.  The bad stuff only happens in the movies.  It’s not going to visit your doorstep.  

 But what if it does?  And how does it really affect your life?  I often visit two of my favorite places in SC: Charleston and Clemson.  Each being around two hours from my home.  Often times as I am driving I recognize that I am gripping the wheel so tight that my knuckles are almost white.  I have to take a deep breath and relax my hands.  It’s been 20 years and I still feel completely vulnerable in a car.

 Car accidents happen every day.  Some are minor and some bring complete devastation to a family.  Mine was devastation.  I’ve been a Mom for seven years now.  Often times I think back to that time.  Those first 72 hours.  How did my Mom survive?  I look at my little girl and can’t imagine the pain my Mother must have felt during each hour watching a machine breathing for me.  Waiting.  Waiting.  

 I survived.  I have a vivd scar to remind me daily of my survival.  But with that survival comes the robbery of excitement.  I mean, should I really whine about it?  After all, isn’t that a small price to pay for survival?  Could I sound any more greedy?

 Maybe.  Maybe not.  Maybe the feeling of being robbed is really a disguise.  Maybe, just maybe, it is because I know that my niece is not invincible.  Maybe it’s because I know that I can tell her that but I don’t know if she will hear it.  And, maybe, that is really what is stolen from me.  The fear.  The fear that she will not hear me.  

 When my daughter was born, I kissed her every time after I buckled her up.  It was my semi-conscious way of hoping that if something were to happen in the car, my last act to her would have been a kiss.  But my niece is almost two hours away from me.  I can’t kiss her every time she gets behind the wheel.  And, as I truly know, I don’t get to make the decision on her fate.  There is a much higher power that will call her home when He is ready.  

 So I wonder ... will I always have this fear?  Will it ever subside?  Will I ever truly feel like a survivor?  What lesson am I teaching my niece by letting fear control me?  Maybe the real lesson isn’t being robbed of sharing her excitement but rather not letting survival triumph.  Maybe the fear will subside if I can just know that it’s ok to be a survivor.

Memories

Memory

Often times I reminisce about different times in my life.  The friends I’ve made, the birthdays I’ve celebrated, the weddings ... you know those times.  Most often a song takes me back to that particular time.  As Kenny Chesney sings, “When I hear that song, I go back”.  

But are there other moments that take you back?  Are there memories etched in your mind that when you see something from them you go back?  I think about my childhood often.  I was very blessed and had a happy and safe childhood.  There are many memories that I fondly recall.  Some more than others.  Some show up when least expected.

Like when I first went to visit my husband’s Grandparents (Nanny & Papa) at their Lexington home.  They have beautiful pecan trees in their front and back yards.  I believe it was winter when I first visited so I didn’t think too much about the trees.  I know what a tree is, but aside from the obvious variations, I can’t tell you a pecan tree from an elm tree, especially in the dead of winter.  However, as the seasons changed and I visited more often, the first signs of Spring were the big pecan trees blooming with large green leaves.  

Suddenly, I was standing in the middle of two rows of towering pecan trees and I was around seven years old.  There were picnic tables with red plaid tablecloths.  Signs of Summer were all around.  It was hot and HUMID!  Balloons were tied to chairs.  There was a big box wrapped with a bow on top and a large cake that read, “Happy Birthday Grandaddy & Karen”.  I didn’t share the same birthday as my Grandfather but we were real close.  He was born on July 3 and I was born on July 4.  I always loved our shared birthday cakes.  

This particular birthday celebration was held at their property which adjoined my Great-Grandmother’s property.  The pecan orchid, if you will, was the buffer between the two properties.  Technically, I believe the property belonged to my Great-Grandmother, Granny Veno, as I called her.  However, as you know, with family property there is often no lines so to me as a child, the row of strong pecan trees was my imaginary line to cross over to Granny Veno’s place.  

For a small child, the trees were massive and fun to climb.  I can remember sitting on a branch and thinking what a great life I had.  I remember thinking that one day, I would bring my kids there ... wait ... who are we kidding ... I didn’t want kids till I literally had Ashton!  Anyways ... the pecans were the best.  We would gather them up and spend  hours cracking and shelling them for Granny Dorothy to put away.  Some days, I think we ate as many as we put away.  Nothing is better than a fresh pecan ... especially when you work so hard to get to it.

Isn’t that how we often think of birthdays?  As a child, we anxiously await each new year so that we can be one year older and one year closer to an adult.  One year closer to confirming that we really do know everything.  We mark each day off the calendar impatiently waiting till the big day!  Then, as an adult, we try really hard to ignore the fact that 25 is coming or that we’ve turned 30 and moved to a new check box on surveys.  Or for me last year, I turned 36 and moved into a different age category for races that I run.  Does that mean I might have a better chance of placing??  And, now 40 is looming closer than ever. 

So as I sit here in the dead of winter, 40 seems scary and unwelcome.  But I know that when Spring arrives and the pecan trees at Papa’s start to bloom, I will be reminded of the many wonderful times in my life.  Those moments that flash back during the middle of the day or that I tell my daughter about when she asks for a bed time story.  And, the one particular birthday when there was a big box with a bow on it when I was seven in the middle of two looming rows of pecan trees.  My sheer excitement and joy when I opened the box to find I was now the proud Mom of Faye Diana, my first Cabbage Patch doll.  

Oh she was a beauty.  Brown, curly hair with freckles.  She had a beautiful pink dress with pink bloomers.  My Grandmother Alice made the dress.  She was down with my Papa from Georgia for my birthday.  The doll was so special.  You see, my Grandmother Alice lived in Cleveland, GA which is home to Cabbage Patch General Hospital (where all the Cabbage Patch dolls are born).  She worked with Xavier Roberts  (creator of Cabbage Patch dolls) to make doll clothes for the showroom.  My Cabbage Patch doll is not stamped but has Xavier Roberts actual signature on it.  It was a dream come true for me at seven!  

I remember dancing through the pecan trees with Faye Diana so excited to show her my world.  We climbed trees and talked to the Moon.  We played games and she protected me at night while I slept.  I still have Faye Diana.  Ashton found her a few years ago.  She’s not allowed to play with her now but one day, she will have her.  And, with Faye Diana, comes the memory, the moment, of that glorious summer day in the middle of the pecan orchid where my dreams came true.

I love songs, love the memories they invoke.  But I think we often get so busy that we forget to take a few minutes to look around.  I urge you to do so next time you are out and about.  You never know what great moment will pop into your head and brighten your day.   

My Blog

I'm always late to jump on the latest trends in electronic communications.  Over the last two years I have been fine tuning my writing skills and finally feel like I can write something that may have interest to my friends and family.  So here goes ... hope you enjoy!