Life is a proverbial whirlwind. Sometimes you're at the edge of it, floating in the circling breeze. Sometimes you're in the center of it, swirling so fast you don't know which direction is which, and some moments are simply somewhere in between. Dust and debris from the rapid winds can cloud your vision and your senses, so densely at certain points that it feels difficult to breathe. All you can do is keep trying to ride the cyclonic winds out until you reach that floating edge again.
A dear friend of mine has recently been experiencing the center winds of her own cyclonic storm, yet found a way to see past all the dust and debris. She's allowing me to share her experiences, and epiphanies, via her own words.
"Things I've learned being with my daughter (way too many times, and way too long) in the hospital :
1. The little prince was right. It is not with the eye one sees, but with the heart. Differences in nationality, mother tongue, religion, exterior looks, and age are completly insignificant. It is your smile, your kindness (or the lack of it), your approach towards others and essentially, your heart, which really matter. My daughter made friends of every single type. Muslims, Christians, handicapped - all these made no difference to her. I wish I could say the same for myself. As the song in Pocahontas goes- it's the colour of your heart that matters.
On a side note - I was sitting outside one day, when a young mother came and sat not far from me with her toddler in a wheelchair. He was completly maldeformed, reminding me of the hunchback of Notredam. Interestingly, contrary to my natural instinct to feel the need to flee, I looked him in the eyes. It was truly amazing. It took 2 seconds for me to fall for him. See, his eyes said it all - he was just a boy. A little boy, seeking love and joy, just as all little boys seek and are equally entitled to find and have. And I wished for him, tears clouding my eyes, that when he encounters people, it is his eyes that they see, not the shell he is trapped in...
2. We are all the same (on the same note as #1, only from a grown up's perspective). We may be lawyers, business people, doctors, dancers or unemployment collectors. Educated, uneducated, classy or skanky - we all become equally helpless when our children's health is poor. We all love our kids more than anything else, and we'd all give everything we had to spare our children the suffering they're under going. We are all parents.
3. I have learned from my daughter about courage and strength. About happiness. And about true love.
Courage and strength - Undergoing poking, pricking, tubing, bleeding, probing and drugging, she has gone through all these things with so much patience, grace, strength and courage. Many a time, I have found myself cringing, crying, or feeling pain for things she had to undergo, when she did none of the above. It was almost as though it all just passed by her, not through her. It was almost as though she understood these things had to happen for her own good, and that was it. No self pity. Just take it all head on.
Happiness - It is sometimes the small things that matter. She could be poked a million times, but the sight of soap bubbles blown at her was all it took to get the biggest, most beautiful and radiant smile on her face. She could have a needle in her hand and be connected to wires, but that wasn't going to dampen the joy of going down a slide. I wish I remembered to appreciate things the way she does.
True love - I almost felt unworthy, when after every dreadful, tearful treatment she had to go through, all she needed was the comfort and safety of my arms to calm her down. Not candy, or a bottle, or anything else. The feeling of closeness to her favourite person was all it took. I hope to one day live up to, and maybe become, the person she sees when she looks at me.
5. Blessings - We all have problems. All of us. All sorts of different problems. There's an old Chinese saying, that if all the people of the world were to gather round and throw their problems in a pile, free to then pick from the pile whichever problem they like, they'd end up picking their own. My life is not simple. Not even a bit. However, seeing certain things in the hospital has totally gotten me thanking God for my problems. See, somehow, I think I can handle mine. No chance I'd be able to deal with some of the things I was faced with, and exposed to in this hospital.
6. Home - no matter how intense, insane, or stressful home may be, there really is no place like home. And my bed, which I so badly miss...
I truly feel blessed, having children. I feel I have so much to learn from them. I just hope, once this is all over and we're back to our regular crazy, insane routine, I will still be able to see things as clearly as I do on this long endless night in the hospital."
As adults, we tend to let the whirling, swirling, dust filled winds of life clog our eyes, senses, and outlooks. Yet, as children, the sight of bubbles or balloons, or the simple joy of sliding on a playground or finding a new friend of any kind could immediately erase the blinding dust storms of life. Maybe as adults, all we really need is a different kind of goggles.
Lessons to ponder.
~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress
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