[tri-med] Re: An example of an ahhh moment

Just fantastic - I love it.
----- Original Message -----
From: Karen <karens@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
To: Tri-Med <tri-med@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>; Tri-Mosaic <tri-mosaic@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>;
Tri-Wings <tri-wings@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Saturday, April 26, 2003 9:36 AM
Subject: [tri-med] An example of an ahhh moment


>
> The footprints are still there.  Of course, I expect they always will be
> because the cement was wet when I made them.  I see them everyday as I
walk
> to the car and they remind of her.
>
> The fresh concrete sidewalk was poured that afternoon and we couldn't park
> in the driveway.  I had parked the car on a side street.  Jessica was
tired
> and with her difficulty in walking distances I decided I would bring the
car
> to her.  Frankly I also was worried that she might walk across the wet
> concrete.  I told her I was going to get the car and admonished her to
"stay
> put, don't move, I'll be right back."  My eyes always on her, I kept
urging
> her to wait as I began my walk - right across the wet cement - to the car.
> I still remember the feeling I had when that first step squished and I
> suddenly realized I could only go forward, not backward.  Four footprints
> later I reached the grass, and I am sure the reddest part of my blood hit
my
> face.  I looked back at Jessica. The path I had taken clearly stunned her,
> but her expression easily and immediately turned into laughter.  Within
> moments I was laughing too.
>
> I made those footprints four years ago and they persevere to this day,
> despite the embarrassment I felt at having made them, and my wish that
they
> would fade away.
>
>  In a moment of inspiration my husband and I decided to paint the
footprints
> to commemorate Jessica's path and the paths we made while following her
> through her life.  Where the footprints began as a source of embarrassment
> for me, and genuine hilarity for Jessica, they now remind us of the many
> important lessons she taught us.
>
> As any parent knows, life does little, and does everything to prepare us
to
> be parents.  Jessica, our first child, had significant disabilities.  Now
> understand, I like to think of myself as a reasonable, rational,
deliberate
> person.  I like to know what choices are available when I make a decision,
> and I take comfort in being able to chart my course using existing streets
> and avenues to reach my objective.  Jessica, and her needs, taught me to
> throw all that out the window.
>
> There is something about the luxury of being able to plan, but responding
to
> the needs of a child with severe medical challenges often makes planning
> impossible.  When Jessica had a problem or a need my first and strongest
> instinct was to meet that need.  I didn't deliberate, I didn't plan, I
didn'
> t look for existing paths.  I looked at what she needed and made a beeline
> for the goal without regard to existing paths.
>
> For me, the now red footprints remind me of the force of Jessica's
> personality, and of my willingness to follow her through uncharted
territory
> to help her achieve her goals.  Jessica knew nothing of paths or planning.
> She did, however, know what she wanted for herself and for her life, and
> knew no reason why she could not achieve it.  When I focused on her and
her
> needs, I, too, saw no paths.  She, and her pioneering spirit, led me to go
> places I never had been and to ask for - no, demand - things that had not
> previously been requested.  Together, Jessica and I blazed new paths,
> sometimes through wet cement, to arrive at a place where she could find
her
> success.
>
> I used to think that it was parents who led children through the
> uncertainties of life and prepared them to be responsible adults.  The red
> footprints remind me that our children often lead the way for us, too.  I
> could not have been the mother I became for Jessica if she hadn't taught
me
> how to focus on needs and goals rather than on paths.  Those red
footprints
> remind me everyday that the journey through life is unpredictable at best
> and laden with patches of wet cement along the way.  Sometimes, while
being
> singularly focused on your child, your going to walk across that wet
cement.
> It will squish under your feet and you will discover, as I did, that the
> only way to get out of it is to go forward.  When you are finally through
> it, and you turn around and look in the face of the person you were
> "following," expect to see an expression of stunned disbelief, followed by
> uproarious laughter.  Laugh with her, for once again, she has made you
blaze
> a new trail, and be glad that you can still see the footprints.
>
>                   Building ___ooOOoo__ Rainbows
>                        www.trisomyonline.org
>                   Families Helping Families On-line
>

                  Building ___ooOOoo__ Rainbows
                       www.trisomyonline.org
                  Families Helping Families On-line

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