Thanksgiving

In this post I am going to be ordinary and write what I am thankful for.

I am thankful to be born in a country where as a person born with a disability, I am able to get all the medical care I need, an equal education, and opportunity to work and contribute to society.

I am thankful to be born in this great country where I can worship God in accordance with my conscience, and I am free to express my beliefs and opinions.

I am thankful for my family, who saved me, raised me, and always is there for me.

I am thankful for friends over the years who have loved me and accepted me as I am, just as I am.

I am thankful for fellow writers and bloggers, who inspire me and remind me that I am not alone in this crazy career I am trying to pursue.

I am thankful for my grandparents who always loved me and saw the best in me.

I am thankful to my sister, who is the closest friend I have.  We fought a lot as kids but we grew up and learned to appreciate each other, and share in our common passions.

I am thankful for my brother-in-law for being the husband my sister needed, and for being the father my niece needs.

I am thankful for my niece, whose uniqueness has inspired me in my own uniqueness.  She is the closest one to a child of my own, and I am so proud of her.

I am thankful for my pets over the years.  They were my best friends, and always there for me.  They didn't care what I looked like or how successful I was, only that I loved them.

I am most thankful to God, for none of these things exists without Him.  He never lets go, never gives up.  He loves me just as I am.

Death

My dad's business partner died this week from a long and protracted battle with cancer.  I didn't know him very well, I just wasn't that interested in business things.  But it did make me think of some other people in my life: my parents.

I never thought I would get old enough to see my parents as grandparents.  I don't know why, it just never occurred to me that they would get older like my grandparents were at one time.

Now that my people my parents' age are dying, I think about my parents. 

I don't like thinking about this.

I'd rather live in blissful ignorance.

I wonder if my parents felt as I do when their parents were their age.  Did they wonder what would become of them?  Did they wonder how they would die?  Did they ever see themselves being the adult and not the child in these relationships?

That's how I see myself.  I am perpetually the youngest sibling, the youngest child.  They are the adults.  That's it.  But will it change?  Will they get senile like my grandparents?  Will they become a shell of their former self like my grandparents did?

I try not to think about this.  It makes me ill. 

I know my parents will read this, and I hope they know, that I am so thankful for them, that I love them, that I am so proud of them.  It was too late for my grandparents.  At that time I was impatient and young, having little energy or time to cope with their senility.  I regret that.  I wish I had appreciated them when I had the chance.

That's why I try to help my parents now.  That's why I go home, tell them I love them.  I don't want it to be too late.  I don't want to live with more regrets. 

I love you Mom and Dad.

Be Brave

Steve Wiens on his blog http://www.stevewiens.com/ posted a cool video Children's Hospital made about their patients, singing and dancing with the kids a song about being brave.  It reminded me of the one time I was a patient there.

My case was not so dire.  I can't breathe through my nose, so the doctors there decided to stick a tube up in there for a month and then take it out in the hopes of creating an airway.  Needless to say it didn't work.   But what did happen was more eventful than this surgery.

For some unexplainable reason I was placed in the heart ward.  My roommates were three other girls with heart disorders that required surgery.  One teenager had blue lips because she wasn't getting enough oxygen.  During the night, I heard her crying, so I went to her and talked with her.  I remember how scared she was, afraid she might die on the table. She wanted to have a regular life, to go to her high school prom.  I listened and tried to encourage her with my naïve words.

The next day after I recovered from my surgery, I noticed her and her things were not there.  I asked but no one seemed to know, or they didn't want to tell me.  Even now I think of her and tears come to my eyes.

I can only hope I was some sort of help for her.  I know I prayed a lot for her.  It saddened me, still does, that there are so many children in hospitals suffering,  just wanting to have a regular life, be a regular kid. 

I wish I could take away all their pain.  I wish that children didn't have to suffer in this way.  I don't know why and I suppose I won't know this side of eternity.  We can say all kinds of pithy things in the hopes of silencing the pain, but in the end, life is hard.  Sometimes it sucks.  A lot. 

God never promised to ease the pain.  In fact, He said that in this world you will have suffering.  But He also said He has overcome this world.  He is bigger that all of us, all the universe.  He is bigger than the terrorists.  He is bigger than disease.  He is bigger than me.

Bullies

I just want to send a shout out to my family, relatives, and friends.  You have supported and encouraged me in my writing, taking the time to read my blog posts and tell me how much you like it.  That means so much I can't even express it in words.

I have been thinking of bullies lately.  I have always been an easy target, being small and an easy crier.  Usually I have no response when someone bullies me, as I still am shocked, even in my 40s, that someone would stoop so low as to do this.  But I think I know why they do this.  At least, its just a theory but something that popped into my head the other day as I was trying to figure out why some people are just plain mean.

I think a person who bullies is someone who feels powerless.  So they have to abuse someone that they see as smaller or weaker than them.  We see this all the time as we find out that kids who bully come from violent homes.  An adult who feels powerless finds power in abusing a child or an animal.  Men who feel powerless abuse their wives.  They may vehemently deny they feel this way, but in the end, isn't it what we all want?  To feel powerful?

I know I did.  I wanted to be like Wonder Woman or the Bionic Woman.  They were powerful and could beat the crap out of anybody who dared cross them.  I wanted to fly like Wonder Woman or leap tall buildings like the Bionic Woman.  I wanted to stop those bullies but had no idea how.

Of course, not all people from violent homes become violent themselves.  And not all bullies are from violent homes.  Then why?  Why do they feel powerless?  I think we all just feel powerless.  And then we all deal with it in different ways.  Some lash out, some hold it in, seeking comfort in food, drugs, or alcohol. 

Life is just plain scary.  I learned this from day one.  I was born with something I didn't want.  Then I had surgeries I didn't want.  Then I was bullied in school with teachers who did nothing to stop it. And on and on and on.  We all have our stories to tell about feeling powerless.

I guess that's why I firmly believe in God and the Bible.  He is the One who has power over all of this and more.  And sometimes I need to know that so much, to know that there is a reason bad things happen, even if I don't have an answer; at least I know that God is in control.