Some days I feel like the horse with the worst odds, hooves pounding the turf, ears laid back against my neck, as I tackle the steeple-chase of life. Yesterday was one of those days.
It started with a throbbing headache and an eight year old reciting a long list of ailments. After cancelling my plans for the morning, I gave in and took him to the doctors, only to discover I had been conned.
I dropped my repentant son back to school and tried to turn the day into something positive by going to the gym for the first time in two months. My absence had been missed and I tearfully confessed my lack of focus and discipline to my toned and tanned instructor, and held my breath until my cheeks puffed as I was weighed and measured. The result was grim, and I committed to some gruelling months ahead trying to live out the saying ‘less is more’.
After this confronting appointment I took my other son along to an Occupational Therapy and Physiotherapy appointment. The other children sat quietly tracing letters onto a plastic boards and threading beads onto string, but my son was caught in a Michael Jackson moment and sang ‘I’m Bad’ whenever he could get a word in, his arms flung in the air as he wiggled in his chair. When reprimanded he reverted to another of his favourite sayings: ‘I’m bored’ as I cringed in the background.
Later in the afternoon I cooked a meal for a friend whose son has cancer. It was such a hot afternoon, my skirt clung to my sweaty legs and I felt empty and dull as I drove the few blocks to deliver the meal to their house. My mind circled around my many frustrations with my children and the relentless responsibilities of juggling parenting and work.
When I reached the front door I held out my offerings of lasagna, salad and chocolate cakes. Then my heart stood still. The little boy stood behind his mother, gazing at me with big blue eyes awash with curiosity and a sadness beyond his years. How could it be that one so young was facing the horrors of cancer? Yet here he was, dealing with it, living through each day with the courage and hope only children and very special adults possess.
I walked back to my car, the racing thoughts now quiet, and my heart aching at the fragility of life, and how often we forget to be thankful for what we have.
He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.
— Epictetus
And how easily we all get sucked into looking within and at our own circumstances and thinking … if only… This reminds me how much we need to look up and look out. Often there are so many around us that suffer such enormous grief and pain and never complain. How blessed we are in this country to have access to so much. Often we loose our perspective dont we?
Thank you for your reminder to us all that we ALL fall short and need to look up… And that there is so much to learn from those little people all around us if we only but stand still long enough to look and listen, or by reaching out to another in need.
It never ceases to amaze me how by reaching out to another in need, somehow fills a void and brings peace within our own spirit.
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WOW! Kerry
You truly have been blessed with the gift of writing from your heart. I was mesmerised as I read this blog. You truly are inspirational. Keep it up girl! You are ministering to so many in telling your life story by making it available to the world. You make me proud!!
Love and many more blessings.
Beverly
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