Bad To Good

Have you ever had something happen when you sit back with a smile, wondering how something that was frustrating and seemed so wrong opened the way for something good to happen? This happened to me in back-to-back weekends now.

Last weekend, my husband and I had changed our original plans for his birthday to provide me recovery time for my surgery. Then my surgery was canceled at the last minute. But on the very day scheduled for surgery, one of my brother's went to the hospital. My husband and I were free to drive to his State and be with him and help him through the weekend.

This weekend, with the recent stresses and strains, I sought some time -- Alone. I went back to a place I always consider a home - Northeastern PA. I got out early and with delight, I wanted to surprise a friend, but I never had the chance to see him in the end. Instead, I happened upon four wayfarers far from their home, with a broken down car feeling quite alone. If I had my husband on this trip with me, I would not have been able to help them you see.

There are times when it seems life hands me lemons and asks me to make lemonade. There are also times when I sit back and realize, some of the events helped build the lemonade stand....

There is always a bigger picture
Even when we cannot see it.

- ESA

Brown-nosing in School

While at my little brother's place this morning, I saw one of his child's 4th-grade essays. It shows that kids learn early that it pays to brown-nose. Teacher's comments are in red below; typed exactly as the child typed it:

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NO ROBOT TEACHERS - by Danny _____

We cant [can't] have Robot teachers. What if there's a mountfunktion [malfunction] and the robot gos [goes] crazy! Haveing [Having] real people teach you that [crossed out "that"] provids more jobs for people. [Add that elaborating sentence --> Which we all know is important!] If you are in the hospital a real teacher would call you a robot wouldnt [wouldn't] know your gon [gone]. Also you need $ to pay for parts for the robot you dont have to buld a teacher. This is why we cant have robot teachers. Imagin beaing traped in a class with a robot talking like this, ETFBUGFYAFNGDXFFYGDYUGFWAFRGTFSF, to you. Robot teachers wouln't give you party's. I SAY ROBOT TEACHERS ARE A PUNESHMENT! I would have a liveing thing for a teacher rather than a cold hunk of metal! [great language] Electronical teachers cost mony for the electric bill. This is why we cant have robot teachers. [You have great craft (3) Danny! Organization is also important though. Keep related arguments together and make new paragraphs for each different one.]

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I confess I cringed as I typed that because all the spelling mistakes were glaringly obvious and shockingly uncorrected. Then I realized when the teacher stopped correcting the errors: where it became clear the essay promoted human vs. electronic teachers.

Let's face it; the child was stroking the teacher's ego, and the teacher was lapping it up. Only one error was corrected beyond that point, otherwise the teacher was all praises. What does this tell the child? Brown-nosing is REWARDED! You can get away with shoddy work if you are good at brown-nosing your superior!

While I am a strong supporter of keeping jobs for people, and use real cashiers at supermarkets instead of the electronic ones, I find it ironic that an electronic teacher would NOT have an ego to stroke and wouldn't award that paper such a high grade but correct all errors instead.

I also believe we should have human teachers, but I wish they would show some moral backbone and teach the child the correct spelling/grammar instead of rewarding brown-nosing. I'm one of those "hard-ass" HR people that would like to see good spelling in cover letters, resumes and business correspondence instead of seeing employees and candidates try to smooth-talk their way into a job or out of poor work ethic.

-ESA

Saying Farewell

A few weeks ago, my husband and I held a very private ceremony to say farewell ~ farewell to the child we lost in miscarriage and farewell to the opportunity to have biological children of our own.

The ceremony took place in Caumsett State Park on Long Island (NY). Just off the main road there is a 70-foot tree dominating a field, which I've heard called "God's tree."


At the base of the 4-trunk tree, a visitor is essentially enclosed by the tree's branches in a natural cathedral. It is there we made our peace.




With only my husband, myself and one witness, we opened the simple ceremony with a prayer to God and Jesus.

Next, my husband and I uttered, "Little one we name thee ____________" thrice. While we said this, my husband poured some water from a glass vial into the wooden bowl in my hands.

Then we both held the bowl of water together and said three times, "Little one, know that you are loved and you will be missed."

Following, we jointly poured the water from the bowl to the base of the tree, passing on some hope of life and growth back into the world as we said thrice, "Little one, you are free to return to our Creator."


We closed with another prayer and some personal words of our own in the dappled sunlight under that tree.



While we didn't realize this until a few days later, the Saturday where we could all arrange to be there happened to be May 1st - otherwise known as May Day or Beltane.


That is the traditional day of letting go and moving on, starting new plantings and celebrating life to come. What was mere coincidence was an unexpected blessing as it seemed to fit in so well with our simple farewell.


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Both before and after the ceremony we walked with friends of ours, including a four-year-old who is full of the joy of life.


On our way to the site, we crossed a field with a small rise. To the boy, he had just climbed a mountain!

I also chased him around with "tickle bees."

On the way back, I demonstrated the joy of blowing dandelion seeds so they dance like white poofs in the gentle breeze that was blowing.

So bracketing our sad ceremony was another celebration - one of life, learning and sharing. While the child was not ours, he is a part of our life.

And it is a joy to share things with all those we have in our life - young, our age or those with wisdom beyond our years.


Life does not start and end when other parts are gone.
That which is gone is a stepping stone.
We learn and move on.

- ESA

Punched in the Gut

My blog is going to take a bit of detour. I still have stuff in my head and heart I want to share, but right now life keeps throwing me for a few loops. I hope my readers don't mind. What I share may be far more personal than people are comfortable about reading. But I'm inspired by others, like Hetty (@AliveInMe), who have gone through far worse situations and shared their stories. If people pay counselors hundreds of dollars to listen, maybe there is something about having an opportunity to just say what's going on in life and how we feel about it.

For those that follow me on Twitter, I know I appear happy, upbeat and positive most of the time. But I get knocked down too. Today I think I reached a point where I needed to step back - including leaving the office - just to deal with what got handed me.

As my readers don't know much of this story, I will give you some background. My husband and I have tried unsuccessfully for years to have children. In 2006, I had a seriously bad miscarriage. I bled heavily from the start, hemorrhaged badly three times - blood literally pouring out of me, several trips to the hospital and mandatory bed rest. We lost that child - for all I know children... there were "fetal tissues" lost during the first major hemorrhage, but they still had a heartbeat. I lost 30 pounds over that pregnancy, when one usually gains weight. During the D&C I hemorrhaged again so badly the doctor had to call in another doctor and performed the procedure blindly via ultrasound.

A few months later, my father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at the young age of 64. His mother is still alive today and our family is known for longevity, so none of us were prepared for this. My mother has relied on our help since then, especially as my siblings have kids to care for and we didn't.

My husband and I were looking at adoption even before that pregnancy, and were working with DCF. We reached the point when we could go no further with them until we showed them the bedrooms we would have for the child. That required a larger home than our small apartment. We were shopping for a house and put several offers on a home we loved two months after my father died - less than a year after the miscarriage. None were accepted and soon thereafter our Realtor quit the profession.

Our house hunt faltered as helping my mother and brother, who was both ill and going through a divorce, took priorities.

All through this, every month I had my "visitor", I would flash back to those horrific moments I had blood pouring out of me and feared I was pregnant and miscarrying again. Several of these were late - and as we were trying, they may have been early term misscarriages. There were also months where I missed altogether and had my doctor confirm I was starting early menopause - younger than 40 years of age.

It didn't help matters that over the last few years I've been getting 6-month mammographies and "paps" for abnormalities and potential breast and cervical cancers. But at least I was monitoring those ready to spring into action to resolve it if something should arise.

Last summer the sole income for the company that employs me filed for bankruptcy. While I wasn't let go with all the other employees, my job barely hung on by a thread. As my husband has been out of work since 2001, I am the only income and we faced loosing it.

Months stretched on and tensions mounted. We never had time to come to emotional terms with our losses as we were busy.

Then a few months ago, I snapped! Our home was in complete disorder and disrepair, cluttered to the point we couldn't move freely. My husband and I shared less and less; we were moving apart. While we started to clear out the clutter, I uncovered the books and paperwork associated with my pregnancy and I just suddenly burst out in sobs of loss.

As grief counseling was the rational approach, I contacted my OB-Gyn for references. On one of my 6-month visits we discussed pregnancy and the doctor revealed that "it is medically determined that is dangerous for you to become pregnant." This in no way helped alleviate my fears each month.

So after careful consideration and reviewing all the options, my husband and I decided that I should go for a tubal ligation ("getting my tubes tied") as a means of ensuring I couldn't get pregnant. The surgery was scheduled for tomorrow.

I was prepared mentally, emotionally, and physically. A few weeks ago, my husband and I even had a ceremony saying farewell both to the one pregnancy we did know, and those we will never know. I may share this ceremony with my readers on a different post later.

Then I went for my pre-op appointment yesterday. Everything I could do I did, ready to face infertility, surgery and move forward ready to restart the adoption process without the "you're the alternative" mentality that could result from an unresolved miscarriage. That challenge was ready to be faced and the book ready to close.

Then we spoke with the doctor....

There are a few issues that came up. When my cervix is dilated - I hemorrhage. There is some "unknown structure" inside my uterus; any contact with which can lead to devastating results. There's no way to try to know what this "fibrous" thing except a biopsy. If they cannot open my cervix for the biopsy, that means surgery. This, as the doctor told me this morning, may mean a full hysterectomy decided by the doctor when I'm in that surgery.

So now, tomorrow's surgery is canceled and we face a few more hurdles and decisions to make. In the interim, abstinence has become a frustrating friend of mine as I fear getting pregnant. I joked with my husband about joining a convent - lol.

It's a mental struggle and an emotional and financial roller-coaster, but a process of life all the same.

I know so many others who have it far worse that we do. But I do ask that if I fail to write in my blog or go silent on Twitter for a spell, not getting back to people as I should, please understand. Some days I need to go and hide to help me deal with what is on my own plate.

Some days life just punches you in the stomach.

- ESA

First Bike Ride (True Story)

When I was a small girl, my dad taught me how to ride my first "two-wheel" bike. Like many my age, I had "training wheels" at first to allow my limbs to grow used to the differences between a tricycle and bicycle.

Then there was the fateful day when my dad, observing me, determined it was time for the training wheels to come off. I was so very afraid that I would fall. To ease that fear, he offered to jog along beside the bicycle holding onto the back of the seat. If my balance wasn't too steady, his hand would be there to keep me from falling.

Encouraged, I let him take the training wheels off and -- still trepidatious -- got on the bike. I started pedaling on the concrete-block sidewalk in front of our house, heading down the block. The ground was level and it took some effort on my part to keep those wheels moving and the bike upright.

At the first tree, halfway across our small front yard, I looked behind. My dad was still there, hand still on the back of the seat. I got a little more courage and looked ahead again.

At the border with the neighbors yard, I peeked again. And again, he was still there, hand still on the bike. It was then I put all my trust in his guidance and focused entirely on pedaling the bike and keeping it upright.

When I reached the tree that marked the center of my neighbor's yard, I peeked again. My dad was still jogging along beside my bike, but his hand was NOT on the seat. So what happened? I became afraid. I became terrified that without his support - or my training wheels - I would fall. And what happened?

I fell of course.

With scraped knee and elbow, I cried tears of distress and betrayal. Oh, how upset I was that my dad let go when he promised he was going to hold on. He lovingly soothed my tears and explained that he only let go when he saw that I was able to ride on my own. He had faith in me.

He would not take the bike back to our house. He refused to put the training wheels back on. He would not let me walk home without the bike. The only choice I had was to get back on the bike and try again.

My dad promised he would run beside me and hold on to the seat until I had my balance back.

The scene repeated. At first, he held on, then he let go as I gained my balance was was able to ride on my own. It felt good knowing he was right there beside me. Confidence grew and I started to pedal harder, the bike started moving forward faster with renewed energy.

The third house and tree passed, then the fourth. By the time I reached the fifth tree, I started to laugh. I was RIDING A TWO-WHEEL BIKE WITHOUT TRAINING WHEELS LIKE THE BIG KIDS!!!

In the shade of the sixth tree, I glanced over my shoulder; my dad was still there. So I looked ahead and enjoyed the ride. When I reached the seventh tree, I heard a shout from my father. He had stopped at the sixth tree. I had ridden all that distance all by myself! Again, fear seized me for the moment. I was ALL ALONE!

And I fell to the sidewalk again.

And I cried - again.

Knowing I was not seriously hurt, my dad causally reached out with his arm and leaned against the sixth tree, unmoving. "Look at how far you went!" he called. "Look at what you did on your own! You can do it. You DID do it. Look at the distance."

"Now, get back on that bike and try again"

+ + +

The reason I share this memory with my readers this morning is that I came to realize something. To me, God is like my dad in this small way.

God watches over us and knows when we are ready to try something new and grow as we should. We will have help and guidance as we take those few first steps into the new experience. And there are times when we are allowed to try our wings, for that experience will help us to grow. There will be times when we are afraid, and in our fear - we fall. But God, like my dad, also encourages us to get back up and try again, because He has faith in us too.

- ESA

Goodness & Evil (Story)

Someone shared this story with me this morning. I've heard it before, but it's moral never dims with each retelling. Below is one of the versions of the story.

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A young angel was having a conversation with God one day and asked, "Will you please show me the difference between goodness and evil?"

God led the angel over to two doors and bid the angel to look behind both.

The angel opened the first door. Inside was a small room with a large round table in the middle. Atop the table sat a steaming large pot of stew, the contents of which made the angel's mouth water in anticipation.

Cramped and crowded around the table were many thin and sickly people whose hands were fastened to the far ends of long-handled spoons. They fought each other over the contents of the pot as they struggled to scoop up the stew with those spoons and eat it. But alas, the handles were too long and they could not eat a morsel of the stew. It fell to the floor wasted and was ground underfoot as the fights continued over what was left in the pot.

The angel was greatly saddened upon seeing this and acknowledged, "This must be evil." God nodded and gestured to the other door.

Upon opening this door, the angel saw once again a small room, a large round table and a pot of mouthwatering stew. Likewise there were many people within whose hands were fastened to the far ends of long-handled spoons.

But they were plump, happy, singing songs, telling stories and sharing in the laughter. Inside this small crowded room the air was filled with joy, companionship and love.

The angel stood puzzling for a few moments trying to understand what difference lead to such a change in the people and environment. It was still a small, crowded room. They still had long-handled spoons fastened to their hands and could not feed themselves.

The angel turned to God and asked, "What is the difference?" God smiled and pointed back into the room. Then the angel saw it. A little boy scooped some stew up with his spoon and fed it to an elderly woman sitting across the way from him. These people were feeding each other!

They each had a goal: not to feed themselves, but to help the others around them. In this way, they all received more than enough. Tears streamed down the angel's cheeks as the answer to the question was whispered, "This is Goodness."

- ESA