It's sort of the season for the rush and hub bub. I definitely am rushing more lately. In fact the other day I was running 10 minutes behind leaving the house. I was sighing I'm sure and huffing.
Once I got under way I came right on a fresh wreck right where I would have been if I had left on time. Five cars impacted and when I came back through the same intersection almost two hours later, they were still not done cleaning it up. Some holiday seasons just took a different than intended turn and I became instantly thankful for the whole new outlook the scenario gave me. Perspective is a unique little gift.
I usually feel I have a firm grip on perspective because my life is sort of slapped in the face with it daily. However, I started noticing how often people would be in a hurry, or say they were so busy. Random strangers waiting in line with you talking about their "stuff". We all have it. We all have stuff going on. We all feel ours is more important than other peoples--because it's OUR STUFF. Which makes total sense. There's nothing wrong with it and I'm not judging or coming down on any of us.
But I have some friends I wanted to tell you about. They've helped remind me during this crazy, busy month, that everyone has "stuff", but sometimes it's good to remember the path someone else is on that we hopefully never have to walk.
This Monday, I heard about a child under 10 yrs old, needing emergency surgery for their appendix and now it may impact whether or not this little girl ever has children. And she'll most likely be spending the holidays in the hospital.
I lost a close friend awhile back and it hit me recently--his wife and daughter are facing their first Christmas without him and all his jokes & laughter this year.
Another friend of mine works with the homeless and we've had freezing temps lately. I've seen her friends on Facebook donate or give her gift cards for mittens and hats and all she needs to serve. I'm sure she has tons to do, but there she is, putting her family stuff on hold and buying extra stuff for the homeless.
A family member I love dearly will not get to adopt the baby they thought they would. This is their only Christmas with her.
I thanked a mother of a child in my son's class at school, for the draedel her daughter gave my son last year. She told me I must have the only one left because after her daughter handed them out, another parent complained to the principal and she had to take them back. The parent who complained she was pretty sure was the man who had a swastika on his forearm.
One of my good friends is rejoicing that her son is home from the hospital for the holidays and my other friend is out in another part of the country doing some testing in the hospital with her son right now.
And last night, the night before my birthday, I spent watching the sunset, looking over the city, at a small funeral. It was for one of my son's friends he knows from where he lives. He's been there since the day we moved in, and I would always say hi. Everyone would be at school but my son and this boy. Always in his same spot. I would always ask him how he was, even though like my son, he was non-verbal and wasn't going to answer me. I'd see him get fed through his feeding tube. His legs were bent but he could walk, but you had to watch for his random donkey kicks. His smile was like my son's--mischievous. A lot going on behind the eyes. Loved to pull one over on his staff.
He just aged out and was moved to a new place once he turned 18 yrs old early last week.
A few days later he needed another brain surgery to place a shunt. (He had surgery for the same thing just as recently as October.)
His surgery was Friday, but there were no brain waves after the surgery. They checked again Saturday and they had to go with his guardian's DNR.
When I learned about this Tuesday I had just rushed into a meeting for my son over at the high school. I was stunned to learned this boy had died. The mother in me could not imagine not having had his mother there for the surgery. Or how his guardian was the home bound teacher he shares with my son. I was asking a million questions of what would happen to him. I let the social worker know I wanted details of the funeral if there was one. I got the message there would be a small service for anyone wanting to go at the hospital at 5pm last night. My mommy heart kept thinking what if no one goes??
What if no one shows up to acknowledge this child's life? A ward of the state. This child that is so like my child. This child who's parents couldn't cope. This child who's parents will be mailed his ashes.
I had to go. What if I wasn't around? This could be my son. Nothing would have kept me away.
I need to tell you my fears were unfounded. My heart was so full. I kept trying to keep the tears away. This baby had people who cared. People who stood up for him. His staff from where they live came, The nurses, his DHS case workers, Child Advocacy people, other state agency people, past staff that had worked with him who had moved on--all in all--20 people. I began to feel like an outsider. Was I intruding on this celebration of his life with all these people who knew him so much longer, so much better than I did?
The clergy started to hand out programs, I refused so there would be enough for all his people.
We moved outside to watch the sunset, and to raise a flag.
I had no idea, but this child of 18 long, hard years--had his liver donated almost immediately and his kidneys and heart are waiting for transplants.
They recited a prayer that is for donation patients. They told us this prayers is not only said tonight during this flag raising but the surgeon says it before they harvest the organs. It is a blessing and thanks for someone who is giving life to others with theirs. They said the flag that says LIFE, also lets all staff know, a donation of life has been made. All my mommy tears came out, I couldn't stop them. This child was loved. I was so relieved. I prayed the entire way home thanking God for the gift of seeing amazing souls working with amazing kids in this crazy, world my son & I exist in. Knowing this child was brave, fought hard and wasn't alone. Kids like he and my son, teaching us all, giving us unconditional love. Even in the end, still giving.
And ya know what? All the way home in horrific,slow, traffic that took double the time--I didn't care. Any car who was looking to get over, I made a spot. I took my time and I didn't rush.



