Walk a Mile

I am blessed with a rather grounded upbringing. My mother, anyway, provided very thoughtful musings that were honestly rather unusual for the time. I suppose it was odd behavior compared to her peers but she not only preached the Golden Rule, she lived by it. I used to say that she was the most non-judgmental person I'd ever met and I used to say that when I was 8 years old. Now, think about most 8 year olds and how much their mother's character gets considered at ALL, much less for an aspect of it as vague as that to stand out... But that is how non-judgmental she was. I never heard her say a negative thing about another human until - honestly - recently and then it was so completely warranted.

One of the bits of advice she shared with me was to try to walk a mile in someone else's moccasins before jumping to conclusions on who they are and what their motivation is. She, being the great heart she was, could do this pretty easily. It was much, much harder for me though I did try. Well, I tried a lot more when I was 8 than I did by the time I was 16 and even less then by the time that I was 25. I think by the time I was 30 I was pretty much on the Supreme Court of judging others. I didn't trouble myself with considering anyone's perspective but my own.

Is it Dr. Phil that says "how's that working out for ya'?" Regardless, it didn't work out for me. Being judgmental allowed me an opportunity to be extra angry, a bit snooty and filled with all sorts of righteous indignation. I suppose, to a certain degree, I meant well. Or maybe I didn't. I think I was just trying to boost my self-esteem a bit by reminding myself of how and why I was better than (fill in the blank).

These days, though, whether it's my little love and her generous spirit or the fact that I'm finally getting wise enough to actually listen to my mom, I do care to try to walk a mile. Or 8. Or 26.2 ... and give people credit for doing the best they can with what they've got right now.

And that, Dr. Phil, IS working out for me. I find relationships that were difficult in the past are getting easier. The other party hasn't changed in any way, but my perspective on them has. Now, I'm less frequently angry and less frequently bound to spout out some opinionated bullpucky. I'm definitely a work in progress where this is concerned, but I am definitely making progress.

Today, I was at a busy intersection with the green light. 50 mile an hour speed limit. Loads of cars. Suddenly, this young man, slight of build with a shaved head and a cell phone to his ear runs full speed across the lanes to my left. I saw the speed with which he just dashed across and, being somewhat of a runner, thought "He's not gonna' stop. He didn't pull up." And sure enough, he just.kept.going. God, or angels, or luck prevented him from getting hit by any of the cars in the three other lanes. I had stopped. God, or angels, or luck prevented me from being hit by the cars behind me.

I could hear the driver of the SUV beside me yelling at him. Expletives blasting, insults flying, horn blaring. I suppose it was deserved. Yet, I just found myself worrying about him and wondering: Was he late for work and had to catch that bus that just rounded the corner? how could any job be worth his life? .... Was someone hurt? And he had to get to them right away? .... What could have panicked him to the point where he would have run straight out in front of all that traffic?

Clearly it's still bothering me, but it's out of concern and curiosity. I drove back past the intersection again just because I was going that way, but I looked for him. Why on earth he would have been there I don't know, yet while looking and thinking how silly I was to look, all at once I realized that just a few short years ago I'd have thought something cynical about the young man. I'd have been angry that he was so irresponsible. I had Dia in the car. What if....? But today, I'm not mad. And honestly? It feels a ton better.

Happiness

Today I asked Dia if she was happy.

"Yes" she said simply.

"Do you have a happy life, love?"

"Yes" she replied with a big grin.

"What makes your life so happy?" I inquired.

She reached up with those still-so-small hands, held my face in them, looked me directly in the eyes and said

"You do."

Gifts

I have been given a gift. Well, honestly, I have been given three individual gifts. They are, in order: My soul's companion, my heart's joy and my mind's challenge. They are, also, respectively my son, my oldest daughter and my wee daughter.

Tim was the most amazing child. He was calm, compassionate at an unusually young age, and so smart it was quite simple to tend to him. He spoke in full sentences at 16 months so we communicated with ease much earlier than what is typical. As he grew, it became increasingly obvious he was an old soul to this earth. He was much less rattled by the issues that unsettle the majority of us, but much more confused by why we humans make life so incredibly difficult when it could be so simple.

In Tim, I found my soulmate. I found someone who thought along the lines I did - not because I nurtured him to do so, but just because he was he. I found comfort in having someone else ponder the things I did in the same manner I did. Yet he was brave enough to speak them aloud. I'd kept it all to myself, much too afraid to appear odd or unpopular in my thinking. Over the years, he has been a quiet presence in easing my soul and soothing my nerves and making me feel not quite so alone.

Complimentary to Tim's calming almost Zen affect, Cheyanne was a bright light from the moment she came flying into this world. Her strength of self was apparent minutes after her birth when she lifted her head and looked around a bit. She amazed me at that moment and has been amazing me since.

She has a way of filling the room with sunshine even when she isn't feeling sunny herself. Heedless of the warnings of classic parenting theories, we became best friends and on my darkest days she is who I call. She has a thousand watt smile and such a joie de vivre it's impossible not to want her around for every moment of celebration. Yet her ability to listen and the wisdom she imparts that is so tremendously beyond her years makes it equally impossible not to rely on her through every moment of strife. She is the keeper of my heart.

Tim and Cheyanne were also model children. They were polite, well-behaved, obedient, easy to take along and not at all demanding. I knew - believe me I knew what I had in them and I was truly convinced I would rest on my laurels the remainder of my days with the two beautiful children I'd had.

But along came Dia.

And, you know, she's everything I worried I'd get if I pushed fate one more time. She's ornery, impatient, short-tempered, demanding and high-strung. She can be anxious and needs a ton of reassurance. She has caused me to rethink just about everything I held as truth where parenting was concerned. I've been "one of those parents" dealing with a tantrum in a department store; I've had the phone hijacked and my time drained. I've been bit, scratched, thrown at and even spit upon and ...

And I wouldn't trade her in for a different kid in a million years. She has a way of being with people - an acceptance so great and encompassing - that SHE has taught ME compassion. She draws people to her. She loves every living thing. She teaches me patience greater than I've ever known, she challenges my thinking with the most logical silliness, she stretches my capacity to think outside the box.

Further, and foremost, and kind of the point of this post, she has brought to me the most amazing human beings I have yet to know in this world. She has made my relationships to old friends, to family and even to my silly pets richer and filled with more understanding. She has introduced me to new friends - whether they be her nannies or through the childbirth class that got her here. These are friends that I would have never met otherwise, and who I couldn't imagine living without now that I do know them.

One such person is my dear friend, Sabra, who I wrote about earlier. If you want proof into the kind of gifts I've been given through my children, visit her blog. You'll see it in my blog roll (or just go to it). I consider witnessing Emma's miracle to be one of the gifts the universe has lovingly bestowed upon me through Dia.

So once more, I go to sleep and lay my head down with a humble and most sincere "Thank you." This is truly a blessed life.

No Pity Parties Here

I haven't written in a long time. I've been uninspired and have almost succumbed to writing some of the negativity I've been feeling lately. I felt discouraged, not only as a writer but as someone trying to brighten this world. And besides, I thought, why go to the trouble of creating a post on a blog no one reads anyway?

Well, today I have a reason.

I was reminded, by a friend who happens to have very advanced MS, of the incredible spirit in a young man named Nick Vujicic. Please take a moment and watch this video and you'll see what I mean:

No Arms, No Legs, No Worries

Or visit his website.

So the next time I'm suffering from one of my favorite pity party-starters (like "why bother" and "nothing matters anyway" or (my favorite) "people aren't very nice, are they?") remind me to take a second and re-listen to Nick's message.