It is midnight, and on your way to bed you decide to check in on your two-year old sleeping girl. You open the door, and immediately something is off. Something strikes you and you know in an instant that it's going to be a long night. All indicators point to one thing... your senses are heightened, your adrenaline starts pumping, and you get ready. The moment is here. It's go time. It could be nothing else.
Diarrhea.
The smell wafts over and offends your nose like your nose did something offensive first. The nurse at the pediatrician's office predicted it. "We've been seeing a lot of this. 3 days of fever and vomiting, then the diarrhea starts. It could last for up to 5 days..." You chuckle at that last part. 5 DAYS?!?! No one can have diarrhea for 5 days, you think. Especially not after the 24 hour constant bout of fun with it you've just encountered yourself. That would be crazy. She must be mistaken or joking. Both of which would be highly unprofessional. (Yes, she must be super unprofessional.)
You've already been through the 3 days of fever and cleaning up vomit, most of which ended up on you. So you and your husband enter the room stealthily like ninjas in the night, to get to work with cleaning, sanitizing, and laundering again (clothing, sheets, stuffed animals - poor, poor Minnie Mouse - there is just no coming back from that). You do all this before you wake the child and get to work cleaning, sanitizing, and laundering her. But this time it's a new and equally horrible villain. You start to picture vomit and diarrhea going head to head in a battle of vileness, wondering how that would go down. FOCUS. Lots of work still left to do.
After all is cleaned and scrubbed and your husband has Lysol-ed the @$)% out of everything you own, AGAIN, you hold your sweet sick girl, and wish you could make it all go away. You try and get her to drink some fluids to prevent possible dehydration, and she eats a few cheerios. The poor little love's tummy. So empty, and so unhappy. Your heart breaks to see her so weak and so miserable. So you squeeze her a little tighter, rock her so gently, and pray that she feels better soon.
Then you set your alarm for 4am so you can get up and check her room for the possible return attack of the terrible diarrhea monster. (5 DAYS?!?) So you can repeat the whole process over again.
And you would, in a heartbeat... because that is true love. A parent's love. (And also, you really like those sheets).
It is a glamorous life. All things considered, you wouldn't trade it for anything.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
The Christmas Gift
It was Friday, December 21st, and I had a long day ahead of me at work. I had 6 home visits and a 10 hour work day scheduled, and all I wanted to do was be on vacation. To begin the holiday celebrations with my family and to get my Christmas shopping done. I was also giving myself pep talks, as I had been so darn tired lately from the pregnancy, that I wasn't sure how I would get through the busy day. I had clients to see, presents to deliver, so many things to get done, before I was away from work for a week.
As I was leaving the office for one of my afternoon home visits, I was loading my car with gifts for one of my families and noticed a man walking towards me. As he got close, he said, "Excuse me, ma'am?" Of course, I'm thinking, what is this guy selling/pushing? And how quickly and gently can I get away? I looked up from my things and said, "Yes?" With warmth in his voice, he said "This is for you. Merry Christmas." He handed me an unmarked unsealed white envelope, and then walked away. Inside was a $50 dollar bill. I stood there, shocked, touched, and feeling ashamed that I had made such an initial assumption about his character and purpose. I finally looked up, and saw him smiling at me and waving, before he ducked into his car and drove away. I waved back, and mouthed a still stunned "Thank you." Ironically, he really did resemble Santa Claus. White beard and everything. And overalls. I was surprised his car didn't turn into a sleigh and vanish into the air, leaving a trail of magical dust behind him.
My initial feeling, once I got over the surprise/stunned feeling, was one of guilt. My thoughts raced, thinking, "But I don't really NEED this money. I don't deserve this. There are so so many people who need this... I don't need this. I have to pay it forward immediately. When should I do it? Should I stand on the corner, or outside of the CVS and give it to someone who looks needy?" I then felt another shudder of guilt thinking, that maybe he picked my social services office to wait outside of, because he knew that clients in need came there for food and other emergency help. "Maybe he meant to give it to someone who comes to the office for services! Oh no- he's given it to the wrong person. How do I remedy this situation?"
I went in and out of thinking about the gift, as I traveled through the rest of my day. It struck me, that I did not really receive the gift well. I was initially so stunned and felt so unworthy, that I did a poor job of showing my appreciation for this man's kind and beautiful gift. It felt so strange to be on the receiving end of such a gift, especially as I was so wrapped up in getting to see my clients and delivering gifts to them. This was a role reversal that I was not prepared for in that moment. "But I am the helper! I'm the one who gives... I give to those who are in need... I......"
The more these thoughts circled, I began to break down and cry. And it became blatantly obvious to me, that something was really wrong with this picture. That this man gave of his heart, a courageous anonymous gift, that was not qualified by socioeconomic status, merit, need, or worth, and I did not know how to receive it.
I often don't know how to receive. This has become more and more apparent to me the older I get, and the busier I get pouring myself into the many aspects of my life and trying to balance it all.
This man's gift, for me, was not about the $50. His gift was so much more valuable than this. It was a lesson that I'll never forget.
Because it exposed a character flaw within myself... one that I'm trying to learn more about and to work on. It's about vulnerability. Because as much as I'd like to believe that I'm strong and centered; that I'm the one who helps; that I don't need help from others; that others always need the help way more than me; these things are just not true. They are myths. Things that I've believed for a long time. And I'm not sure why I started believing them in the first place.
I'm working on it.
After years and years of pouring myself and my heart so passionately into the things I do and the people I care about, I'm finding myself in a different state of self-preservation. So different. Sometimes it hurts, because it's so different. I'm pulling back, as my life gets more complex with more responsibilities, more care-taking to do than ever, and less energy to do it with. And I'm trying to figure out who I am, in this new place. And what my priorities are. And what I really need, and how to balance what I need with the needs of others. And what is important for me to do to replenish and re-fill my cup when it is empty. And how to ask for help when I need it. Because I will most certainly need it. And I need to start with admitting that I need it.
I'm worthy of a receiving a beautiful, anonymous gift. We all are. Just as it is important to know how to give, it is important to know how to receive.
Perhaps he was Santa. Perhaps he was a manifestation of Jesus, reminding me that I need to learn how to accept a gift that I did nothing to earn. Perhaps he was just a generous soul who gave me the energy to keep on giving that day. To feel selected. And, to ultimately feel blessed.
All things considered, I'm still not sure what to do with the $50. It should be something great. Suggestions welcome.
As I was leaving the office for one of my afternoon home visits, I was loading my car with gifts for one of my families and noticed a man walking towards me. As he got close, he said, "Excuse me, ma'am?" Of course, I'm thinking, what is this guy selling/pushing? And how quickly and gently can I get away? I looked up from my things and said, "Yes?" With warmth in his voice, he said "This is for you. Merry Christmas." He handed me an unmarked unsealed white envelope, and then walked away. Inside was a $50 dollar bill. I stood there, shocked, touched, and feeling ashamed that I had made such an initial assumption about his character and purpose. I finally looked up, and saw him smiling at me and waving, before he ducked into his car and drove away. I waved back, and mouthed a still stunned "Thank you." Ironically, he really did resemble Santa Claus. White beard and everything. And overalls. I was surprised his car didn't turn into a sleigh and vanish into the air, leaving a trail of magical dust behind him.
My initial feeling, once I got over the surprise/stunned feeling, was one of guilt. My thoughts raced, thinking, "But I don't really NEED this money. I don't deserve this. There are so so many people who need this... I don't need this. I have to pay it forward immediately. When should I do it? Should I stand on the corner, or outside of the CVS and give it to someone who looks needy?" I then felt another shudder of guilt thinking, that maybe he picked my social services office to wait outside of, because he knew that clients in need came there for food and other emergency help. "Maybe he meant to give it to someone who comes to the office for services! Oh no- he's given it to the wrong person. How do I remedy this situation?"
I went in and out of thinking about the gift, as I traveled through the rest of my day. It struck me, that I did not really receive the gift well. I was initially so stunned and felt so unworthy, that I did a poor job of showing my appreciation for this man's kind and beautiful gift. It felt so strange to be on the receiving end of such a gift, especially as I was so wrapped up in getting to see my clients and delivering gifts to them. This was a role reversal that I was not prepared for in that moment. "But I am the helper! I'm the one who gives... I give to those who are in need... I......"
The more these thoughts circled, I began to break down and cry. And it became blatantly obvious to me, that something was really wrong with this picture. That this man gave of his heart, a courageous anonymous gift, that was not qualified by socioeconomic status, merit, need, or worth, and I did not know how to receive it.
I often don't know how to receive. This has become more and more apparent to me the older I get, and the busier I get pouring myself into the many aspects of my life and trying to balance it all.
This man's gift, for me, was not about the $50. His gift was so much more valuable than this. It was a lesson that I'll never forget.
Because it exposed a character flaw within myself... one that I'm trying to learn more about and to work on. It's about vulnerability. Because as much as I'd like to believe that I'm strong and centered; that I'm the one who helps; that I don't need help from others; that others always need the help way more than me; these things are just not true. They are myths. Things that I've believed for a long time. And I'm not sure why I started believing them in the first place.
I'm working on it.
After years and years of pouring myself and my heart so passionately into the things I do and the people I care about, I'm finding myself in a different state of self-preservation. So different. Sometimes it hurts, because it's so different. I'm pulling back, as my life gets more complex with more responsibilities, more care-taking to do than ever, and less energy to do it with. And I'm trying to figure out who I am, in this new place. And what my priorities are. And what I really need, and how to balance what I need with the needs of others. And what is important for me to do to replenish and re-fill my cup when it is empty. And how to ask for help when I need it. Because I will most certainly need it. And I need to start with admitting that I need it.
I'm worthy of a receiving a beautiful, anonymous gift. We all are. Just as it is important to know how to give, it is important to know how to receive.
Perhaps he was Santa. Perhaps he was a manifestation of Jesus, reminding me that I need to learn how to accept a gift that I did nothing to earn. Perhaps he was just a generous soul who gave me the energy to keep on giving that day. To feel selected. And, to ultimately feel blessed.
All things considered, I'm still not sure what to do with the $50. It should be something great. Suggestions welcome.
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