“Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now.
Don't be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
'cause I've seen the dark side too.”
–The Pretenders
When we moved to a new state almost two years ago, I knew there would be challenging moments for my daughters, then eleven and eight years old. We’d gone from a school where they knew everyone to a school where they knew no one. Even swim team, which my older daughter excelled in for many years, was drastically different. She went from a family-friendly year-round program at the YMCA to a large, competitive program with the area’s most elite swimmers. I can vividly recall two moments during the first year in our new state when I saw my older daughter’s pain and wanted to spare her from it.
The first moment was when her beloved teacher abruptly left the classroom one day and never came back. For personal reasons, the teacher was not able to say goodbye to the students. I can still hear my daughter’s guttural cries wondering why her teacher left them.
The second moment was in the final championship of a divisional swim meet. Earlier that day, my daughter missed the cut off for finals by one spot in the 50-meter breaststroke event. We were informed that she could come back that evening as an alternate. This meant she’d warm up as if she was going to swim and report to the starting blocks when her event was called. When the first whistle sounded, she would quickly scan the blocks. If a block was empty, she was to quickly jump up on the block and swim the race.
Just the thought of this agonizing process made my palms sweat! As a cautious planner with the tendency to worry, I was surprised my daughter wanted to put herself in such an unpredictable situation. But she did. I’ll never forget standing next to her as her eyes frantically scanned the blocks, her hands clasped nervously in hopes of there being an empty spot.
When there wasn’t, I saw her shoulders fall. Her eyelids blinked in rapid succession as she fought back tears of disappointment.
My child’s inner turmoil was palpable. Just like the day her teacher abruptly left her classroom, my daughter’s pain was my pain, and it felt unbearable to watch her go through it.
When we got in the car, I immediately told her how proud I was of her courage. I grappled with what to say next. This is what came out: “Although the result was not what you hoped for, you gained valuable experience that will help you get through the next challenge you face. When something feels familiar, even something painful or disappointing, it helps you overcome the next obstacle.”
I gave her a few examples that personified uncomfortable feelings and how experience helps us deal with them. It sounded like this:
“Hey disappointment, I know you. And I know you eventually pass.”
“Hey frustration, I’ve dealt with you before. You didn’t stop me then, and you won’t stop me now.”
“Hey obstacle, you tried to stop me, but I made it to the other side. That’s what I am going to do today.”
I reminded my child that pain and disappointment can be like walking into a familiar place. They don’t feel as scary if you’ve been there before.
As my daughter sat silent in the backseat, I drove home wondering if I was cut out for parenting an adolescent. I knew full well that as she grew, her pains, disappointments, and struggles would cut deeper and she’d fall harder. It would be so difficult to stand by during these moments. What is my role in her pain? I wondered.
As I struggled with this question, I was connected with a man named John O’Leary. When John was nine years old, he watched his older brother and friends lighting matches to drops of gasoline on the sidewalk. One cold morning in 1987, he went out to his garage, grabbed the can of gasoline and a match, and gave it a try. The explosion burned 100% of his body. Although he was given no chance of living, he lived. In fact, he thrived. Through his remarkable triumph and the people who came into his life throughout his healing process, his story has become an inspiration to people worldwide.
When John began interviewing me about my work, it didn’t take long to recognize what a blessing it was to hear this man’s perspective, wisdom, and heart. When he graciously asked me to consider endorsing his forthcoming book, On Fire, there was no question. I could not wait for the book to arrive.
Over the past seven months, I've read John’s book three times. Aside from my children’s favorite books, I've read never any book three times. The first time I read it was to provide an endorsement. The second time I read it was when I was in the midst of unresolved health issues. As I packed my hospital bag for my third surgery in six months, I grabbed John’s book knowing it would comfort and strengthen me before surgery.
I read John’s book a third time just weeks ago as I recovered from an intense writing period. I knew John’s wisdom would enlighten me as I grappled with tough questions about my life’s purpose and direction. And it just so happened that I brought John’s book to pass time at my daughter’s all-day swim meet—the same meet that brought her pain and disappointment exactly one year ago.
Maybe it was the number of eager young people milling around, but this time, I was struck by something in John’s book I hadn’t noticed before: John’s perspective as a child. My favorite parts of the book were John’s flashbacks. To hear what went on in the mind of a child facing a monumental trial and the way his parents responded to his trial felt like an answer to prayer. Each time John’s parents, nurses, and mentors did not rescue John from impending struggle, frustration, and challenge, it became an opportunity for growth, wisdom, strengthened faith, and greater independence for John. These challenging opportunities shaped him into who he is today—a man who plays piano without fingers … a man who inspires prison inmates to look around and see blessings inside concrete walls … a man who could have let fear suffocate his life, but he chose to live.
As I waited for my daughter to swim, I found myself starring and highlighting one particular passage with vigor. Nine-year-old John had just come home from the hospital. He’d spent five months in the hospital, endured a couple dozen surgeries, and lost his fingers to amputation. That night, his mom made his favorite meal: au gratin potatoes. After taking in the moment of family, home, and the delicious smell of dinner, John realized he could not hold a fork. He writes:
“My sister Amy saw me struggling. So she thoughtfully grabbed my fork, speared a few potatoes, and elevated them toward my mouth.
Then I heard it.
‘Put down that fork, Amy. If John is hungry, he’ll feed himself.’
I turned my head toward my mom.
What did she say?
Put that fork down?
He’ll feed himself?
What the heck, Mom? Haven’t I already been through enough? Are you kidding me? I am hungry and I can’t eat!
That night I cried at the table. I got mad at my mom. I told her I could not do it, that it wasn’t fair, and I’d been through enough. The night quickly shifted from celebration and laughter to upheaval and contention.
The party was over.
Mom ruined it all.
Yet that night also created another inflection point for a nine-year-old boy. As my siblings cleared their plates and my hunger mounted, I wedged the fork between what remained of my two hands. My fingers had been amputated just above the bottom knuckles. Because the skin had not entirely healed, my hands were wrapped in thick gauze. I looked like a boxer fighting to get a fork between two boxing gloves.
It was painstakingly slow.
The fork repeatedly fell out of my grasp.
But eventually, I awkwardly stabbed at the potatoes, brought them to my mouth, and chewed them.
And I stared angrily at my mom.
I was mad.
My hands throbbed.
She’d ruined my night.
I hated her.
But I was eating.
Looking back on it, I see what a courageous stand my mom took. It must have been extremely painful for her to sit with the entire family watching her little guy. How much easier and seemingly more loving it would have been to just feed me those potatoes and bring out the ice-cream cake.
How much easier it is in life to not do—or to make others do—the hard stuff.
Easier to take a picture of the family with everybody smiling at the dinner table, a little kid in a wheelchair at the end, post on Facebook, and write, ‘Back to normal!! We’re all home and doing great!’
Mom wasn’t worried about what others thought.
She wasn’t concerned about Photoshopping the moment.
Mom utilized this moment as a reminder that others would be there to encourage, to serve, to love me. But this was still my fight, this was still my life. It might be ripe with challenges, but it was also my opportunity to realize that none of those obstacles would be surmountable.
This moment was just the beginning of many times when I would have to find my way. She forced me to pick up my fork. And I am completely convinced I would not be living the life I am living today if she hadn’t.”
John’s powerful passage reminded of what my friend Glennon Doyle Melton said the other night when I heard her speak. A question was raised regarding parents who are going through difficult life experiences like job loss, divorce, trauma, relocation, and health woes. The audience member described being overwhelmed with guilt when her children experience hardship, struggle, and pain because of her life circumstances.
Glennon made the enlightening point that the characteristics we most want to develop in our children—like resiliency, strength, tenacity, determination, independence, and compassion—come from enduring adverse and challenging situations. Her profound words and John’s life story confirmed my role in my daughter’s pain and struggle; it is not to rescue, minimize, or abandon my child during her time of need, but instead to listen, support, encourage, and believe in her ability to overcome.
This time, things turned out differently at the divisional swim meet. This time, my daughter earned a spot in the finals. When came time for her event, she asked me to walk to the starting block area with her. I immediately noticed the absence of nerves. Unlike most minutes pre-event, my child was smiling—glowing actually. She turned to me and said, “This is what I have been working for all year, Mama. I am so happy I am here.”
Wow. I thought. That moment of pain and disappointment one year ago had ignited a goal within this child’s heart. Over the course of the year, determination, focus, and strength were cultivated within her.
As she climbed up on the blocks, I was struck by her small stature compared to the other swimmers. It took a lot of hard work and belief in herself to earn that spot. Had either of us shielded her from that stressful experience as an alternate, I am not sure that inner fire would have been lit.
As my daughter propelled herself from one end of the pool to the other, I realized and celebrated these hope-filled truths:
On the other side of disappointment is desire—desire to create a different outcome next time.
On the other side of letdown is belief—belief that your story is far from over.
On the other side of pain is strength—strength you didn’t know you had until you had to dig deep to find it.
On the other side of hurt is gratitude—gratitude for those who love you and stand by you in your pain.
On the other side of despair is connection—connection that comes from recognizing a familiar look of pain in someone else’s eyes and reaching out your hand.
And this, the empathetic response, was perhaps the greatest gift that awaited my daughter on the other side of her struggle.
When my daughter climbed out of the pool, she didn’t walk straight over to her coach as she normally did. She walked over to the young lady standing poolside with tearful eyes. My daughter leaned in to whisper something to her as she gently touched her arm.
That girl was an alternate, just like my daughter had been last year.
“I remember how it felt,” she told me on the way home. “And I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.”
My friends, shielding our loved ones from struggle, challenge, pain, and disappointment is tempting; I know. But let us remember the characteristics we most want our beloveds to develop are often born from a place of adversity. So that one day, when our beloveds come face to face with sadness, trauma, loss, or hopelessness, they will not be paralyzed with fear or give up because it's too hard. Instead they will say, “I know you. I’ve seen you before. You cannot take me down. In fact, I’ll face you and come out stronger than I was before.”
**********************************
My friends, if it was not clear in my post how much I value John’s book, perhaps this will confirm it: As a bestselling author, I am privileged to receive many Advance Reader Copies of forthcoming books to consider endorsing. When I feel like the book fits with my work and would be of value to this community, I read it—every single page. I know you trust my opinion and so I always make sure the books I endorse are ones I’ve read completely and believe in whole-heartedly. When I was reading John’s book for the first time, a dear friend kept coming to mind. My friend was going through a prolonged period of challenge, and I felt certain he needed this book right that minute—not when the book was published six months later. I was not surprised when John allowed me to do what is typically unheard of—send my Advanced Reader Copy of ON FIRE to my friend. I was certain John’s words would enable my friend to keep believing and carrying on. That piece of John's message is only one aspect of the book that makes it so beneficial. John also emphasizes how to live with a perspective of gratitude and that component of the book is life changing. And, as I mentioned earlier, John enables us to see how supporting our loved ones through life’s challenges, rather than sparing them, can alter the course of their lives for the better. I celebrate the recent release of John’s incredible book and encourage you to read it over and over as a guidebook for a courageously lived life. Click here to purchase ON FIRE and the read glowing endorsements from Brené Brown, Dave Ramsey, Sean Covey, and myself.
Recommended resource: “Safe, Not Scared,” is an incredibly enlightening article related to today’s blog post. The author, Sandy Blackard, works behind the scenes here on my blog to help me answer the many messages I receive each day from readers facing challenging life events. Sandy's article provides actual dialogue examples for toddlers on up that develop a strong sense of self-trust and parental-trust to help your loved one stay safe, not scared, despite the world’s dangers. It also contains a letter I wrote to my older daughter several years ago that anyone is free to use to say critical words to a child or teen. Thank you for being part of The Hands Free Revolution community. I cherish you.
Oh, wow! I can’t tell you how much I needed to read this today. My daughter just turned a corner in her latest anxiety spike. I am not always sure I did the right thing, always toeing the line of supporting and enabling. This all mixed with my own struggle of balancing motherhood and the guilt of pursuing a creative project.
I am bookmarking this to read on the tough days. Also, can’t wait to check out On Fire, too.
Thanks so much for sharing this post.
Thank you for sharing, Erin. So much love to you and your daughter.
Thank you Rachel for this beautiful post. Our family of four (we have two girls 11, 8) moved to a new state last year and we are absolutely struggling and setting our sights back home. The struggle has become paralyzingly for both my husband and I.
I am working, but my husband is still looking for a job and we are living with family which has become unbearable.
Your post has given me hope that this journey could perhaps give our daughters strength to face adverse situations and say “hey, I know you!” And respond with “been here, and I will get through this.” Thank you.
I am so grateful to know this story resonated with you and your current situation. We have moved several times since my girls were young. You might find comfort in this post: http://www.handsfreemama.com/2014/12/31/a-question-to-live-by/ So much love to you, friend.
The older my daughter gets the more strange struggles we’re faced with. As my oldest child I do find myself learning so much through her. I try to remember all these things… how I felt at her age, how I feel having learned my own lessons, what helped me, is she milking it, should I push her, should I give in. I know that feeling of being unsure if you can parent a child who is on the cusp of NOT being a child anymore. This was a wonderful read. I needed it and I’m going to save it for review. Thank you. xx
Can’t wait to read John’s book!
As a mother of 2 boys with special needs, I struggle with this daily; how much to help, when to push them. I know I make mistakes, but I’ve learned to relax about it and give myself a break. I’m learning too! And there’s no operating manual for this!
We have many struggles, and many triumphs. Recently, my 13 son reluctantly participated in a Karate Tournament. New situations are extremely difficult for him, and yes, we MADE him go so that he could move on to his next belt. He had to perform his kata in front of a crowd, and he knew he didn’t know all the moves. But he got up, performed what he knew, stopped and bowed to the judges when he forgot and then started over. When he did what he remembered, he just stopped and bowed again and sat down. My husband filmed it for me to watch. His face said it all: he was angry that he had to perform, and embarrassed that he didn’t know the entire kata.
How I cried watching that video; I was so proud of how he held himself together, didn’t melt down, did what he could and admitted what he didn’t know. He didn’t run away. I told him later that I, as a 13 year old, would not have been able to do what he did.
Wow! I am crying tears of joy and hope because of this story — because of your son — because of you. Celebrating this momentous achievement and the love you have for your children. I am grateful for your beautiful contribution to this post!
I’m so, so glad I randomly found your blog. I’m hoping to get pregnant by the end of the year and you are the type of Mom I dream of being. Thank you for sharing your life with us.
Tears — happy tears. Thank you, Samantha. What an incredible compliment. I am deeply moved by it.
Thank you for your insights on the struggles that we all face as parents. I wish I would have had the wisdom to allow my children to endure life struggles. I tried to rescue. Maybe I can help with my grandchildren. Your words are spot on!
Thank you, Joan. Your grandchildren are so blessed to have you loving them & supporting them.
Thanks for this great post. As my kids are getting older, I feel the same dilemma of shielding them vs. letting them strengthen their wings to fly themselves. I struggle to find a balance between being pushy or disappointed when my son tends to give up against obstacles. How can I express my understanding and encouragement, without sounding ignorant or sometimes pushy? I’ll have to check out John’s book.
Love your posts and blog. It is strength for each new day. Thank you so much.
As a family living abroad, we have faced similar struggles. Thank you for this amazing message, which many of us hear time and again. But wanting to protect our children comes so second nature, that it comes as a valuable reminder.
I struggle with this. The idea of a 9 year old child going through all that he went through and coming home for his first meal and not getting any help? I think that is too harsh. I am glad the author can see it as critical in his development but wouldn’t it be kinder to say, ‘we will help you tonight as a welcome home gift but you have to learn to do this on your own starting this week’ or ‘let’s brainstorm on ways you can do this on your own’ or ‘give it a really good effort and see how you do, we are here to support you as you figure out how to re-learn all of this’. I am just not sure I agree with the tactics used in that situation. It is a fine balance of supporting and keeping safe while also letting your child experience the trials of life. I agree that we do have to learn disappointment, frustration, patience in order to get better at dealing with life’s obstacles. But I would rather my child look back at that time at the dinner table and not say that I was ruining his day or life or that my child hated me. Isn’t there a way to help out in a kinder way without enabling?
I totally agree with you. I usually agree with the things Rachel posts. Not today. As the parent of six children, some of whom have undergone their fair share of struggles, I cannot imagine doing that to a nine-year-old his first night home after having his fingers amputated. Yes, there are kids who need to be pushed a little. To learn on their own. I’m all for that. I had one child who simply would not learn to swim if I taught him; he needed to be pushed by someone else. But after a major medical ordeal? No way. At least not the first night.
I appreciate your response. Sometimes a way for me, in my own mind, to figure out if what I am doing with a child is appropriate (and this may sound odd) is to say, would I treat an adult this way? I would never treat an adult this way. I would say something like, I am here for you, I will help you and in time you will be able to do these things again without me. We will do this together, one step at a time. Before long, you won’t need any help, but for now, let us lean a bit on each other. You will be self-sufficient before long but for now, it’s okay to need help.
Well, hello my friends…and Rachel, wow….what a post…you moved me to tears on several occasions…and I KNOW the story!
Just wanted to quickly weigh in on some of the friends responding suggesting that my mom was too tough: Let me say this loud and clear: I agree!
She was cold-hearted…mean…a total jerk…horrible lady….and is absolutely the reason that I type this between flights today while traveling by myself…is the reason why when I shake hands with someone, I use both my hands, shake hard, and stare confidently into their eyes…Is the reason I had the confidence to ask the most beautiful lady in the world on a date, pursue her, marry her and enjoy raising four little ones with my wife, Beth….Is the reason I went to excruciating physical therapy, twice a day, for two years (even though I begged her not to take me)….why I went for repeated surgeries after being released (even though i told her they weren’t needed)…is the reason why I can walk, talk, type, change diapers, lead, serve, laugh and love today…I credit my mom, that mean lady, with the greatest gifts of my life today! No, not easy, but worth it. What a gift her love was.
We often want love to look soft and cuddly…we want love to bend over backwards for us…we want love to make things easier…but real love, a mother’s love, a leader’s love is hard. It’s painful. It can cause tears, sadness, hurt feelings….but, when delivered as all true love is, from a place of great truth, it also sets us free. I hope I can learn to be a better example of that for my children.
My friends, the day I was burned terribly as a child, my mom’s love encouraged me not to die. The day I came home months later, physically changed, absolutely challenged, she taught me how to truly live.
Not easy. Not without tears. Not popular.
But I look back and realize today that I had (and have) the best mom on the earth. Thankful every day for her (even if she ruined my homecoming dinner!!!…she was right…because by the end of it, I was eating by myself!)
{just as a side note, she gave me baths for more than a year afterwards, brushed my hair for even longer because my arms weren’t able to reach, helped me in innumerable ways…but when she was convinced I actually could stretch and grow and do something new for myself, she pushed me out of the nest!}
Thank you all for reading such a powerful post as the one Rachel wrote today…and thank you all for being the types of leaders that long to ‘keep track of life’ and strive to become the best versions of yourselves!
Let’s all pick up our forks tonight!
This is your day. Live Inspired.
John O’Leary
John – Thank you for taking the time to expand on the role your mother played in shaping you, supporting you, and believing in the man you are today. The excerpt I shared in my post was difficult to read and I can understand why Kate & Anne felt compelled to share their discomfort with your mom’s approach. I am so glad they did because it enables us to receive more of the picture, as your book does, of just how much your parents loved you and empowered you. I still tear up with I think about the conversation you had with your dad on the patio. It inspired me to say those tough words to my own dad. You are an inspiration, John, and so is everyone who had a hand in your healing and your triumph. You have really opened a lot of eyes and hearts today.
Rachel — I totally get the concerns shared by your readers… Without the context who she was before I was burned (amazing) and who she was after (amazing) it seems like unnecessary cruelty. Far from it, though.
To all you hands free moms and dads: go with your gut. Sometimes it’s important to feed your kids. But other times, let them figure out how to feed themselves. They’ll hate you for it…until they discover the remarkable gift you gave them;-)
Thanks Rachel and friends. Stay On Fire —
John O’Leary
Thank you so much Rachel and John. I value so much these conversations about parenting and how we interact with our children and children in general. I appreciate having John’s wider picture of his mother. What I realize over and over again as a mother is how important it is to pay very close attention to our instincts. In my experience as a mother of 3, I am always trying to discern what each child needs. Sometimes it is a push and sometimes it is a snuggle (to be overly simple in my examples). What I think is most important here is that John understands that his mother’s instincts of what he needed during such an unbelievable experience were spot on and made him into the man he is today. I get chills just thinking about that. I can only imagine how trying a time this must have been for you but also for her! What heartache she must have felt as she followed her instincts on how to parent a child who was so severely injured (physically and emotionally). Thanks again for the conversation. All of us need more of this to understand various perspectives. Peace to you both.
Kate, you have a beautiful heart & it came through so clearly when you expressed your initial concern. It was again emphasized when you described the way you pay attention to the needs of your loved ones. I call that “loving them by the book” — and I believe, as you do, that there what one child needs to thrive and excel may not be what is needed in another child. That is why it is so important to see facial expressions & listen to their words. And like you mentioned, paying close attention to what our parental instinct is telling us is needed for our child. I love knowing that you are in the world paying attention to the MOST important details of life. Peace & blessings to you, too.
I NEVER have commented on a post like this before but this is so amazing. I for one, am thankful for my mom. She is incredibly broken and I don’t have the best relationship with her for various reasons but I do thank her for her strength in raising me. Many times she was incredibly hard but today I realize it was for a reason and made me into the woman I am today which I am very happy with. Also, my first daughter (now 5), was attacked by our boxer (out of nowhere) at age 3 and it was without a doubt the worst time of my life. I had a 2 year old and was 6 months pregnant with our third as well. I had to get the dog (my first child sort of) off of her and rush both of my girls out of the house for safety. Then endure hours of my little girl having surgery to repair her face, etc. that’s besides the point but I understand your mom, John, as I have had to encourage my girl to live with all of this. Parenting is not easy and I am 100% with her. Parenting is without a doubt unconditional love but it’s also shaping great people into this world. God bless!
Thank you for commenting and sharing your pain, gratitude, hope, and healing with us. Bless you, as well, dear one.
Thank you. I needed this. My struggle is pitiful really, but I’ve not been able to see past the ridiculousness of my frustration and hurt. Your blog was like a window opening and a clean, clear breeze blowing through my life. Your words and wisdom have helped me to let go and move forward. And, as a bonus, I have a great book to pick up and read. My sincere thanks!
Sending you lots of love today, Lisa. I appreciate your brave words & commitment to take positive steps forward.
I love your posts, poignant, real. Thank you so much for doing what you do, and thank God for giving you this talent, wisdom, and desire.
Deni – I am touched beyond measure by these beautiful, heartfelt words. Feeling a little unsteady these days — so this means more than I could ever express.
Rachel, Thank you for this little bit of enlightenment you shared with me and others. I am a married mother of only one, but highly treasured one, little boy. I struggled for years with undiagnosed symptoms that kept me from certain activities. Through the years it grew to a desperate need to beg my doctor for answers. Wi5h doung so, I finally had a source. The tumor was found but not without major complications. These complications have left me broken, depressed, and not the mom I was. I used to be filled with joy, laughter, motivation, creativitg, and more. I used to be filled with things my son doesnt remember anymore. The tumor was found when he was only 5. Now all he knows is a m9ther who cries, curls up in pain, feelings of failure to attend to our sons needs, and an ongoing fight with doctors.
Ive been told that these things will also be of benefit to our son. He is eight and has the biggest heart in the world. He got recognized at school for “empathy”. All the school staff and many parents have complemented his politeness and love of helping others. I often refer to him as my “angel on earth”. Sadly, I feel that the ongoi g struggles I have are too much for our son; not to mention my husband. I dont quit obviously. Im still here. Every day I stuggle with wonderi g if being here is worse than being gone. Maybe our son can be done with my pains and stuggles. Maybe he can have a chance to move on and enjoy life.
There is the other side of me however. The side that says I will get through this. Even if it takes several more years. Even though it is most of my sons childhood, this struggle will be the best life lesson in more than one way for all of us. Maybe he will be and is already “putting his hand on the other person” and letting them know that it will be ok and he knows their struggle. I hope my mothering, the little bit that I have, is truly a positive. For now, I am still fighting. Thank you for sharing. It helped me today.
Love Alicia (One mom who loves like so many moms do. With lessons both for the kiddos and ourselves)
I think I wrote this for you back on May 10, dear Alicia. Please read it over and over until it sinks in. The world needs you. Your people need you. You are loved. You are significant.
Recognizing My Significance: A Personal Tribute
By Rachel Macy Stafford
I am first, and I am last.
Suddenly all that messy stuff in between doesn’t matter so much.
I am the beginning, and I am the end.
I am the dawn, and I am the dusk.
I am the first responder, and I am the last survivor.
So today I shall stop focusing so much on the failings in between.
Because there is a human being who doesn’t have to wonder if he’ll wake up alone.
Because there is a human being who doesn’t have to shout to be heard.
Because there is a human being who doesn’t have to walk unaccompanied.
Because there is a human being who doesn’t have to comfort herself.
Because there is human being who doesn’t have to ask for love—it is just given. It is just given.
Because of me.
Because of me.
I am first, and I am last.
And today I realized how truly significant that is—how significant I am—in the life of another human being.
Today marks the end of my insignificance.
I am first, and I am last.
And that is cause for celebration.
http://www.handsfreemama.com/2015/05/10/the-end-of-your-insignificance/
Excellent reading today. Thank you so much for the inspiration to go forward and help others. You are truly a gifted writer as well.
Rob
Thank you, Rob. I truly appreciate this lovely feedback.
I needed to read this today. I am the mother of a 14 year old daughter who is also a competitive swimmer! I know how you feel when they want something so bad and you cannot give it to them. When she was 12 she finished 8th in the state in the 50 fly. This past summer at 13, she missed qualifying for state by 1 spot. I honestly thought that might be the end of her swimming career, but thankfully she has pressed on and will once again try to qualify for state this summer!! This time a year ago she was in the mental hospital for self-harm and suicidal thoughts. She made a promise to herself that despite what she has been through in the past she can always persevere with hard work and a supportive family. Now a year later she finds herself going through a bad breakup with a boyfriend and is learning that you cannot always trust your friends. It is a hard thing to watch as a mom.
Holding your hand from afar, dear one. Praying for your strength as you see your precious girl becoming who she is meant to be through the struggles, challenges, and disappointments of life.
First, I am not a Mom. But I love this story and wanted to speak from the heart. I struggled mightily as a teen-ager with my self-esteem and with fitting in. At my current age of 61, and having lost my precious Mom 7 years ago, my heart is often overcome by her sacrifices for me, her devotion to her family, her abiding strength, her positive spirit and example, her tender love for a child who struggled so much and so often. And the greatest gift of all–unconditional love. I miss her so…
This is absolutely beautiful, Sally. Thank you for allowing us to see your mother through your loving eyes. Maybe we can all see ourselves with a little more love and tenderness because of what you have described so eloquently here about the one who loved you through life’s storms. I am so sorry for your tremendous loss. Her light lives on in you, and it touched me today.
I find strength in this post. I have slurred speech and they do not know why. I have been to several doctors
I am so sorry, Lynn. I cannot imagine the struggle and pain this causes you. My heart goes out to you & I hope that a medical professional is able to help you, dear one.
Thank you Rachel and John for sharing your stories. I am just overwhelmed by all the love you both show in this post- as children and parents. It has been a blessing.
Oh, Rachel, this is so good – just what I needed to read right now. Sometimes I feel guilty for not providing a “perfect” childhood for my kids for a variety of reasons. This post reminds me that that’s not only okay, it might be better. xoxo
Thank you, sweet Lindsey. I cherish your honest, heartfelt words & your perspective of life.
Your blog post today spoke to me in an unbelievably powerful way.
I have been following your work for many years and truly appreciate all of your insight however this post was extremely timely…
I KNOW I need to end my marriage because it is destroying my love of life however I have allowed myself to stay in this hell because I was afraid and uncertain if my choice to divorce would be too difficult for my children to bear and that it would ” break ” them.
Reading rhis post from you provided me with a different perspective and a sense if relief from the excruciating pain and turmoil within me.
My children’s health and well being on all levels has been my utmost priority. And I was so afraid that my choice to divorce for my wellbeing would be considered selfish and determental to my children which created much resistance and confusion within me.
I have been struggling greatly to the point I think I will break apart in a million pieces never to recover.
Reading this post however spoke to me powerfully.
I felt instant relief knowing that your message came to me through the path of least resistance at the perfect to time to provide me with the relief I needed to be able to carry I with what I need to do.
Thank u thank u thank u for being a channel for love and guidance for those searching!!
Dearest Charlene – You deserve to be happy, my friend. You deserve to be loved, appreciated, valued, and heard. You deserve to regain your “love of life” and allow it to grow and thrive beyond what you ever thought was possible. And as you become free from the weight and negativity that has suppressed your smile, your joy, and your purpose for so long, your children will reap the benefits too. I am holding your hand from afar as you find the strength to carry out what is needed to regain your love of life once again.
Rachel,
I have read your blog and books for several years now, and have been deeply moved and impacted through your writing. I’ve often thought of commenting or emailing you to try to explain how meaningful your writing has been to me, but I’ve always assumed I wouldn’t really be able to articulate it in a way that would fully encompass my feelings, so I just never have.
I am a mother of three beautiful babies who are 8, 6, and 3. I overcame my own share of adversity in my childhood, and it’s incredibly difficult for me to allow and imagine my children experiencing their own trials and hardships. Even though I know the truth of what Jesus does with our lives through our suffering, of all the things I’ve faced in life I can imagine very little that’s more difficult than allowing our children to face trials that we could potentially “rescue them from”.
Thank you for writing this. It’s painful, and heartbreaking, and beautiful. A glimpse of what love truly is, and how God loves us, and how we should strive to love those around us. I don’t expect that it’s something I’ll grasp today or tomorrow, but it’s opened my eyes and given me insight into how I grow as a mother and woman.
Thank you, so much.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful thoughts and perspective, Amanda. I found them enlightening and hopeful. So glad you had the courage to comment and let me know you are here.
Thank you. I feel not so alone now with a more happier productive feeling within me. I always enjoy your posts so real and honest and nurturing they are and so wise!
Thank you, Judy. When we know we are not alone in our struggles, hope is cultivated. I am so glad you are here.
Once again, you write what I need to calm my worried mind and soul! Thank you for sharing!!!
Thank you for letting me know, Melissa!
I was by myself in USA, working and raising my daughter by myself …. I went thru many problems…but with God help my dauther is a wonderful mother and professional…If you have faith and Love ….He will be with you as He has always been in goodness, kindness, faithfulness and in LOVE
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My jaw literally dropped while reading your excerpt from John’s book. What an unbelievable act of will on the part of his mother, and I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to face that challenge. I don’t know if I would be strong enough. It’s totally right, though, that we need to let our children struggle – and sometimes fail – if they will ever learn how to overcome challenges. I would love to read this book!
Rachel, thank you. This is one of the most inspiring articles i have ever read.
I am so touched. Thank you for that incredible compliment!
So helpful to read this. Adults get scared and discouraged too. I’m reading something tonight that fits in so well with the things you talk about. It is called Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. She talks about the difference between a growth mindset and a fixed mindset. Your writing talks so much about the growth mindset and it is so amazing for those of us who are afraid of failure of not being successful. Thank you so much for helping me to change (and to keep working at it!) to a growth mindset.
I love this! Thank you for this helpful and enlightening contribution to the post, Kim!
I loved this post and will be checking out that book.
Hi Rachel,
I received your email to me yesterday but also knew I wanted to comment here on this post, so thought I’d do it here, if you don’t mind.
First, let me thank you for reaching out to me- you are so kind! Second, thank you for this message. Out of all of your messages, this one really resonates with me– the idea of embracing challenges as ways to make us stronger, rather than cowering in the face of them. What strength in your daughter first to work hard for her goal but also to see the pain of someone else and help them out! In your recent posts, I’ve been so struck by the love your daughters have for those around them, how they have eyes that see beyond themselves and then they reach out to meet the needs of others. You are such a fantastic mother!!
Third– I am doing very well and things are continuing to get better. I have found the joy and love of taking it one day at a time, embracing the moment in front of me, even if it’s painful. I still have many doubts, but, just like you, I firmly believe that if I just Love Today, then I’m moving forward and making things better….even if I don’t know the outcomes, or have all the answers. Loving Today IS the answer!!
I will definitely keep in touch with you through your posts, so look out for me 🙂
Hope you are having a great week!!!
Love,
Melanie
I cannot find the words to tell you how much this post resonates. It has saved me. Thank you.
The original post.
This part of your post really resonated with me: “On the other side of despair is connection—connection that comes from recognizing a familiar look of pain in someone else’s eyes and reaching out your hand.”
I have had some deep moments of despair lately (my son’s autism diagnosis and daily life that comes along with that) but in the middle of that darkness, God has been with me and I refused to stay in that place.
I have shared a lot of our story on my blog and God has opened the doors to encourage others. I have so many moms who now share their stories with me and I am able to offer them encouragement or at least a “you’re not alone, mama.”
Loved your post. I am planning a post of my own based of this idea–will definitely link back to you! 🙂 Thanks for encouraging me!
I have never been one to comment on a blog, but this is worthy of time and recognition!!! Rachel, your posts are always inspirational, uplifting and thought-provoking. John, you know how I feel 🙂
I was going to write this in a card, but thought it might benefit others to hear another perspective on your story…
I was in fourth grade with John when he was burned in the fire. In fact, I remember the day so clearly as an ‘inflection point’ in my own life. I remember my mom getting the phone call (through the class phone chain back then!), and then the important conversation that followed. I now think about how difficult it must have been to have that conversation with a young child, to have to explain what happened to her classmate… and to have to prepare her for the FACT that he will probably not live. I remember asking her later that day, “Do you think he’s going to die?” and I remember her very brutally honest answer, “It really doesn’t look good. We need to pray and hope and do everything we can, but it would be a miracle if he lived” …. John, like your mom, my mom had to give difficult answers in the face of reality. But those of us who lived through that time, who walked the path of uncertainty and pain along with our friend, have come out stronger at the other end.
Before John could rejoin our class, the hospital sent a social worker to speak to us. She shared brutal truths so that we could know what to expect when he came back to the classroom. She explained the extent of his skin injuries, bandages, wheelchair and amputation of his fingers. We learned how to ask John if he needed help, and how to know when to step aside and let him handle things on his own. I remember going home and telling my mom, “When I grow up, I want to do that job. I want to work with students on learning how to handle hard situations and accept differences.” (And guess what I became? A school counselor)
John-I remember the day that you came home from the hospital, so clearly. It was a beautiful spring day. We were all outside in your front yard, and I remember them unloading your wheelchair from the car. We all sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” and you smiled at us as you went inside. It truly felt like a happy ending… so it was interesting to read about your difficult night.
When John rejoined our class in fifth grade, we learned how to adjust to our ‘new normal’. We learned when to open doors and lids and pens, and to help carry a tray or books when he was struggling. We also learned when to wait for John to ask for help. Overall, we learned to be observant of our neighbors and our surroundings… to offer help to anyone who is struggling… to wait patiently while someone is learning… anticipate needs and to protect our friends loyally. As we grew older, our class continued to stay strong and close. We were a group of 35-40 students who had to grow up quickly. We learned the reality of mortality early, and we learned to never take life for granted. We also learned that your friend is your friend, no matter how he changes physically.
John has remained a friend for my entire life. The O’Leary family is a blessing to everyone who encounters them. He is as funny, genuine and inspirational as you would imagine after reading his book. And his continued life is a blessing to all.
love, Katie W.
Dear Katie – just when I thought we’d come to the end of the beautiful results of this post, here you are. My cheeks are wet with tears as yet again, I have been given another powerful perspective from this incredible story. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts and explain how John’s life impacted yours so profoundly. I am a big believer in the depth and understanding of children and feel it is imperative to consider their thoughts, questions, interests, and opinions–no matter the age. You confirmed this by sharing all the things you took in as a young girl and how you used the experience to dedicate your life to supporting children. Wow! What a blessing you are. I feel so grateful for your contribution to this post and to the world.
You always seem to know just what I need to hear. I love seeing your posts, and feeling challenged and inspired by them. Thank you for sharing your writing with the world!
Your words always hit home for me. My daughter is 13 and it’s been so hard to see her struggle and learn life lessons the hard way. She was recently being bullied for almost 2 months and she never told me. She was punched in the face at school. The school never notified me. (That’s a long story). It was heartbreaking to see her suffering. It was a long road but we finally got everything resolved. After she realized she has support and to not be afraid her confidence has sky rocketed. She learned a hard life lesson but came out the other side and realized she doesn’t have to run from problems. She sees her self worth.
Your words are everything I wish I can say to my daughter. I show her your posts. She loves them. Thank you for being you.
I love everything about this, Desiree. I am thrilled to hear how this issue strengthened your daughter! I am also thrilled to know you share my posts with her. That makes me smile from ear to ear. I am so glad you are here, my friend.