Zen

“The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less” – Anna Quindlen (via Nie Nie Dialogues)

Stephanie Nielson (who I posted about here) is having a very important surgery today. By the incredible power of modern medicine, they are fitting her with new skin to replace part of what was lost in the plane crash. When you have a moment today, say a little prayer for her family.

Reading Stephanie’s story and following her family’s journey through this ordeal has made me think twice about the importance of family in my life. I would hope that in similar circumstances I would be able to be as strong and full of faith as her family has been, although I question that often. What is the role of faith in my life? What have I sacrificed lately?

I know most of you don’t click though when I post links, so I thought I’d post an excerpt from Stephanie’s sister, Courtney (C Jane) who has taken over parenting duties for three of Stephanie’s children along with her own newborn. This woman inspires me so.

Claire was at my side now begging for a whisper in my ear.

“Tell them about my parents.”

This has happened before. Though Claire has long-since loved the game of “Abandoned Orphan” she certainly doesn’t want anyone believing that she is one right now. It makes her feel better having people know. So she asks me to explain the situation using my rusty adult-translating communication skills. We’ve rehearsed this conversation many times.

“Claire’s mom and dad were in an airplane crash.” I started, watching the faces of the young man and woman turn from smile to shock, like bread to toast in a toaster. So I continued,

“She wanted me to tell you that they are in the hospital getting better.”

“Are . . . they . . . going to be ok?” Stuttered out the young woman.

“We hope so!” I sounded resolute.

“I am her aunt and she is staying me and my husband for awhile.”

The young man looked like he was going to faint.

At this point Ollie himself was passed out, his chin perched on the round of my shoulder, feeling very heavy for a three-year-old. The Chief was wailing from the enclosed stroller. Matthew was doing his best to soothe him, although it was to the point where my anatomy was needed. And Jane was skipping down the street singing to herself. Like always.

“Do . . . do . . .you need help?” Asked the young woman with a desperation in her tone.

“It looks like I do, but I am just fine. We’ll take your prayers.” I offered.

They both nodded at me slowly like shell-shocked soldiers.

Claire waved them good bye, having felt like all was honest. I was sorry for having dropped an emotional bomb and walked away so suddenly. But my herd was needing a shepherd.

We carried on.

Please visit Courtney’s blog to find out more about this incredible story and what you can do to help.