Tag: #helponeanother

A Loose Tooth

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Photo by Rahul Pandit on Pexels.com

A scream….footsteps…I spring to my feet looking in all directions as my heartbeat increases to meet the urgency of the distress. I quickly walk to the back door of my Montessori preschool classroom. Before I get there, in rushes an assistant ushering in a frightened little one. With blood on his lower lip and tears streaming down his face, I understand at once that the previous fun of his loose tooth has turned its own corner. From fun to frightened after another boy’s elbow found his mouth while playing.

The handoff from assistant to teacher is complete and I grab a cup of cold water and ice pack . I hope to help alleviate the blood flow and even a bit of the pain. Still crying hysterically, I guide the wounded soldier into a chair all the while hearing through the sobs, “I don’t like this.” We chat briefly about how growing up is exciting and sometimes a challenge. When I hear him say once again through loud sobs and short, rapid breaths, “But I don’t like this,” my mindfulness toolbelt magically appears before my eyes.

This young man has practiced deep breathing and meditation with his classmates throughout this school year, so when I ask him to take a deep breath in, I watch him close his eyes. This alone makes me smile. Before closing mine, I ask him if he’d like us to hold hands while we breathe together. He nods, eyes still shut and I follow suit. We breathe in unison; his tears stop flowing and his breath lengthens.

Opening our eyes, I ask him if he’d like to try a new strategy to help him stay with this peaceful feeling inside. Having our breath work be such a success, he readily agrees. I teach him how to do the Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT), otherwise known as tapping. We go through the process together, saying things like, “Even though my tooth is falling out and I don’t like it, I am okay” and “Even though I don’t like the feeling in my mouth right now, I am safe.”

Somewhere in there… I had phoned his mother to pick him up (about 15 minutes early) and she is now at the door. In my experience, when an upset person appears calm and then sees a loved one, the floodgates start or reoccur. That’s what I’ve done in the past myself! To my surprise, this was not the case. He ran to his mom and hugged her, just holding on to his pure first love, feeling the safety of her embrace.

I’d like to think the breathing and tapping put him into such a peaceful space that he not only felt safe and okay, but truly felt it. I’m still smiling….

Bookends in Life

I have names for the two bookends in my life. Some may call them husband and daughter. I call them Rex and Miranda. They are the bookends that hold me up, keep me in their minds and hearts, hold me up on the shelf of life. I am a treasured book of a person. I am important. I am special. They make me feel like my words have meaning, are of value, others will want to ingest my words for thought and consideration.

These bookends hold me up in so many ways. It’s been more than a year since I began my business and I am reflecting back on the beginning days. My bookends were hard at work supporting me, not only in heart, but in action. I recall hearing a knock at the back door of the building I started in. It’s my  younger book, Miranda. She found a couple of wall hangings and a table that she thought I could use and was hauling them up the stairs and through the hallway for me. I then looked out the window and saw my older bookend, Rex. He was hauling a heavy container filled with sand with a mounted, brand new mailbox. Not only had he cut a wooden post and mounted the mailbox, he designed a container sturdy enough for our town’s requirements. When I went out to see him and look at all the wonderful work he did, I saw that he even placed number stickers on the mailbox for the address. That specific detail, although important, could easily have been overlooked. These bookends support this book, me. They are like a hug, wrapping their supportive arms around me.

My book is open, has been read by many people and has continued to be supported by my bookends. If my words reach others and make a difference that is wonderful. My book, me, will have done its small part to help serve the world. My book is on life’s shelf, ready to be taken off by those who are supposed to read it!

I’m one book or the many millions of books in the world. Each book is unique, has value and is worthy of being supported by loving bookends. Who are the two bookends in your life?

I am shocked!!

Have you ever heard a story – a real life occurrence – that left you so dumbstruck that you had to take your hand to force your jaw, closing your mouth before the proverbial flies made use of the space? I’m sure you have….but I have to say at this point in my life, it doesn’t happen to me too often, but…

This week, a colleague shared an appalling act that is occuring on a frequent basis! I still can hardly believe it! My heart cried out, “No, people would never let that happen.” My eyes filled with tears as she told me her tale. My ears burned with heat from disgust. Muscles all over my body tightened as I froze in disbelief. Stunned into silence, my body like a steel post, I stood like a statue next to the copy machine and listened, flabbergasted.

She told of an organization that provides transportation for adults with disabilities. I’m sure they mean well and most likely run on very little staff, but the events she mentioned left me dumbfounded. Her words were few, but my mind ran wild with visions.

I saw a joyful adult with cognitive challenges waiting for his ride, excited for a fun day out on his own. He walks out to the sidewalk at the end of his yard and stands there happily anticipating the sight of his driver pulling up. The pickup time passes and many minutes tick by….no driver…no understanding of why. Standing alone, I see a confused and frustrated man whose day turns from a happy sunny-side-up egg to burnt toast, as his body slumps forward in disappointment.

I envision a woman with blindness who walks to her pickup stop, biding her time – for three hours – in the pouring rain for her driver. She knows she must wait for these hours, so she endures the unending shower. Why? The business has explained the only driver that is able to pick her up has other passengers and cannot give an exact time, only a three hour minute window. Would you wait one hundred eighty minutes for a ride as the rain pelts your umbrella, sending echos of its drops vibrating through your body?

These adults, and many, many others like them, have no other choice. They are grateful, as my coworker shared, that groups exist to provide this transportation. Really? Is this how our communities value their inhabitants? For whom do we provide the highest level of service in our society – to those who need it or to those who can afford it? Do we realize the vast discrepancy between peoples with and without dis-abilities? This is just one aspect of the discordance in our culture. Who are the dis-abled? Those of us who are not able to help others, perhaps?

I am shocked.