Each passing day I become more and more aware of how difficult it is to rear children. And each passing day I become more and more thankful for those people who have not left me to my own devices in rearing my children (my children and their future therapists thank you as well.) Two days ago as SK and I were driving to get her pictures taken it really hit me that connections are important, they sustain us and some last a lifetime. SK was texting and laughing. "What's so funny? " I asked. "Nothing, Ford and I are just snap chatting." SK and Ford haven't lived in the same place since 1999 but he, his three siblings and Mommy and Daddy Adams have remained as much a part of our lives as they were when we lived in Athens all attended Emmanuel, tailgated together, trick-or-treated together, and hung out in the cul-de-sac for hours as the children ran and played.
Of course for me, first and foremost is my husband who helps to keep my neurosis in check (he is also thankful for all those who have journeyed with us as they too have helped to keep my neurosis in check.) Seriously though a vivid memory from 1999 stands out--Christopher had just been diagnosed with severe asthma and allergies; we had already been in and out of the hospital several times, and I went into controlling mode. I researched everything I needed to do to "protect" him. I was panicked; I had three children under three and was pregnant with my fourth. How was I going to do it all, and so I made a list, color coded it--how often to vacuum, how often to crawl under the house to turn up the hot water heater to was his sheets, how often to give which medicines and how much, how to measure his breathing, what sports I thought would be acceptable etc. That evening I laid the spread sheet out before Chris and began to "educate" him on when and how we could take Christopher out, what to look for, who he could be around etc. He closed my notebook, took my hands in his and said, "I appreciate the work you have done; I love you for it, and it will help us. But hear me, you are not going to turn him into a freak. We will deal with this in a normal way." For some of you that may not sound loving or kind, but it was exactly what I needed to hear, and now 14 years later Christopher is a three season athlete who only uses a rescue inhaler occasionally and whose room is maybe vacuumed twice a month.
But there are others many others--
Six weeks after we moved to Pittsburgh when Caroline was fighting to save her left pinky and eventually her life, Aunt Julie dropped everything; left her three boys under 2 and drove straight through to get there. I was a mess--I hadn't left the hospital, hadn't showered, barely slept and only ate what people literally put in my hand. As only a very close friend can do she firmly said to me, "You haven't left this hospital for five days; you have three children at home who are scared and need their mommy and you have a husband who is willing to stay at the hospital. And he is perfectly capable!" She then sat up with me and listened to my fears until the wee hours of the morning. Caroline did lose her pinky and Julie stayed until she was safely out of surgery and we had other people come to help.
A few months later, one day in the early fall I received a call from Sarah Katherine's elementary school. She was in the first grade. They said she was in the office crying hysterically and they couldn't figure out what was wrong. I bundled the other three up and rushed to the school. I calmed her down and began listening to her story, "I'm scared," she said, "what if I come home from school one day and you're not there? Who will take care of me?" I took her in my arms trying not to let what I thought were the accusing glances of the office staff distract me--I wanted to shout at them, "That has never happened!! Never I tell you--not once!!!Please don't call child protective services!!!" Instead I said, "I will always be home when you get there or have someone there for you." As Sarah Katherine tried to calm herself she hiccuped out, "But it won't be Miss Leslie or Miss Gillian. I miss them; we NEEEEED them." (If she only knew how much...) What occurred to me was that my close friends in Athens mattered to her; their love gave her and still gives her an added layer of comfort. They are part of the community holding her and holding me up as a parent.
Two and a half years later we gathered the children in the living room (they have learned to be very afraid of conversations that happen in the formal living room--they're either being told I'm pregnant again or we're moving), and told them we were moving to Virginia. Caroline stamped her little saddle oxford foot and said, "No way!" I asked her what the problem was (she was only 4) and as her big blue eyes filled up with tears she said, "Who will I sit with in church?" "You'll sit with us," I responded. The tears were flowing now as she said, "But you're not Miss Janie, and I love Miss Janie." It's true every Sunday as Caroline came into church during the peace she would search out Miss Janie, the Rector's (whom Caroline called "Father God) wife, and sit with her. As the fourth of four, she needed someone to give her special attention and Miss Janie did that. (She also has given me much parental advice over the years either answering my questions or as I asked and continue to ask myself, "what would Janie do?")
Not long after we moved to Virginia, our dear friends the Harris' were to move back to Germany where Uncle John would be stationed. Our children were devastated because we "always celebrate New Year's with them." "Start saving so we can fly over there." It mattered being with the Harris family even if only once a year. In a world that was constantly changing with numerous moves, there was a constant.
Four years ago the babies were in Augusta visiting Daddy and Marguerite. I cannot remember the details of why I was suddenly in a bind, but I called Mommy Adams and said, "Can you go to Augusta and get the children and keep them for a few days?" "When?" she asked. "Would now work?" I stammered. "On my way" and I knew they were safe. A few days later she was to bring them back to Augusta and Marguerite got called into work, so I called Miss Susan--can the babies stay with you this afternoon? "Of course, " she replied, "And I might not tell them everything you did in high school."
All of these people and many others have helped Chris and I rear our children. Uncle Mike shows up whenever and wherever we live--loving all the children but making sure his Godson Christopher feels extra special. I only had to send out a message to Ingrid and Anne that their God daughter needed prayers and immediately both of them sent long heart felt letters. Miss Jamie takes off work to support "her William" as he earns awards; she provides him a safe place when he needs to get away, and I trust that he will be well loved and cared for. There are so many people who have touched and continue to touch our lives and the lives of our children. They sustain us with love and laughter, support and prayer. They walk with us through the highs and lows. What they may not know is that they matter as much to our children as they do to us. They help to make the world, for our children, a less scary, safer place because they know there are many people who love them and to whom they can turn. That matters--love matters. Community matters.
We are called to be live in community both with those to whom we are related and to all those in the world. Carolyn Sharp of Odyssey Networks writes, "A truly faithful life can only be lived in community." May we all strive to live truly faithful lives each day with all those we encounter. May our communities continue to grow until there are no boundaries only love.
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