Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Life is hard and the lessons learned are almost never easy. Someone dies and we learn how to live in a world where they do not exist. We turn left instead of right and we have to learn how to find a new path. A heart breaks and we learn that to love is to risk. Lessons learned this way have the power to change who we are negatively. The person who loses a loved one learns never to say hello because they cannot imagine having to say goodbye again, the one who turns left may never find the right path, and the broken heart may never heal. However there are some lessons that are learned through the beauty of love and not through the experience of pain. The smallest gesture of kindness or a single act of love can be enough to change a person’s life in a way they never thought possible, it can change who they are. In my own life, the lessons that are imprinted on my heart have come to rest there through the love of my family. They have come through my father’s strong embrace that has held me together when I felt as though I would fall to pieces, my mother’s knowledge of what is best for me, my brother’s tough love, and the example he has set for me unknowingly, by the way he lives his own life. So I am thankful.
Life Lesson #1 – You are never too old for a piggy back ride …
I am a control freak. There is a simple reality that we as human beings must come to terms with at some point in our lives: there will always be things that are out of our hands. For many, including me, admitting that you need help is the most difficult thing to do. Realizing that something is beyond my control is a terrifying feeling. My skin prickles and goose bumps spread over my entire body causing every hair to stand on end. It becomes painfully obvious how small I am in comparison to the rest of the world, and the sense of loneliness that follows is unbearable. My dad still jokes with me about the “Amy-do” attitude that I have had since I was a little girl. I did not need help from anyone, nor did I want it. I wanted to tie my own shoes, fix my own hair, get myself a drink, and walk across the street without holding onto a hand. I remember becoming infuriated when my parents would try to explain to me that I was just a little girl and that I needed their help. What I remember the most is that no matter how old I got my father would never hesitate to throw me up on his shoulders the moment I asked to be carried. That was my favorite place in the world. His hands holding onto my feet, assuring me that he would never let me fall and I trusted him. I could rest my chin on his head and gain a whole new perspective, seeing the world from my father’s point of view. My mom would just look at us, shake her head and in an exasperated voice remind us that my father had a bad back, and he would role his eyes right back at her. Dad would chuckle and say, “Mary Jean, she’s only got little feet, they are tired!” If his back hurt, he never let on.
Even today my father has this uncanny ability to detect when something is on my mind within five seconds of me walking into the house. On more than one occasion I find myself lying in my bed late at night with thoughts racing through my mind making it impossible for me to drift off to sleep. Then I hear a soft knock on the door. My dad walks in wearing his ratty old blue pajamas that my mom keeps throwing out and he keeps magically finding. He has a sleepy look in his eyes because he passed out on the couch watching Jay Leno again, though he will never admit it and a flashlight in his hand because it’s two in the morning and everyone else is fast asleep. But somehow he always knows that I am awake. So he will come in, sit on the end of my bed, look at me with his sad grey eyes, and say, “Sweetheart what are you thinking about?” So there we sit, the only two people awake in the house, feeling as though we are the only two people awake in the world. It never matters that it is late or that he has to go to work in the morning, he would stay up with me all night if I asked him to. We sit there for as long as it takes and I tell him how frustrated I feel because I cannot fix things on my own. He listens, the corners of his mouth turned down, hating every moment that his little girl is upset. When I am finished he begins what has become the most comforting lesson I know. He tells me what he thinks, and then he assures me that he will be there for me no matter what. When all else fails he tells me to put my faith in God to help me through anything I am struggling with, and trust that everything happens for a reason even if I do not understand them. Then he wraps me in his arms as if trying to shield me from the world, gives me a scratchy kiss on the cheek, and whispers in my ear that he wishes he had a magic wand to make it all better right then and there. But he doesn’t and so we just have to trust that everything will work out for the best, and it always does. Sometimes I wish that I was small enough for my dad to pick me up and hold me again. Even now whenever I need him I can call, and it does not matter what he is doing, or where he is, he will take the time to give me a piggy back ride, even if only figuratively. I am learning that feeling helpless does not necessarily mean that I am helpless, and that being able to rely on the people who love me when I feel weak, is what makes me strong.
Life Lesson #2 –Everyone needs a time out sometimes …
I hated being exiled to my room. The infamous time out punishment was dreaded in my house. A time out meant no toys, no talking, no television, and no fun. It was just me and my thoughts, which were supposed to be concerned with what I had done wrong. Oh how I hated this punishment. My room was the last room at the end of the house. The walk down the hallway seemed to last forever; first I would pass the linen closet which posed a significant threat of a blanket avalanche if opened, then the bathroom and directly across the hall from the bathroom was my brother’s room. As I walked by he would look out at me with his impish smile because he knew I was in trouble. I would stomp in and glare at my surroundings. The pink strawberry doll bed spread my Nanny had made for me, the child size vanity that matched. Grimacing, I looked around at my wooden name plate on the door with the bear and a pink ribbon, Beanie Babies hanging from every crevice of the room and mixed in among the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Babysitter’s Club books on the bookshelf that reached the ceiling. It was a wonderland; any little girl would have loved spending time in there but not me. I hated playing by myself.
Being sent to my room was unbearable. I was missing out on all the excitement going on in the rest of the house. I could hear my mom shuffling around the kitchen, cooking with the pressure cooker. The smell of whatever delicious dinner she was making wafted down the hall and into my nostrils. As soon as I reached the room I would immediately stand right on the threshold that separated hardwood floor from the soft carpet of the hallway, running my toes over the cold metal. I never dared to put even my little toe over that line. I would stand there for about two minutes, my fingers gripping the wooden door frame, my invisible prison, and then call for my mom down the hallway and plead with her to let me come out. I would tell her that I was so sorry, I had learned my lesson, and I promised I would behave. She would tell me to wait a little longer and just cool down, and that it was good for me. I could not see it then but this was the best thing she could have done for me.
My mom taught me that it is ok to be alone sometimes, even healthy. As much as I would like to, I cannot do everything, and when those times come that I am getting caught up in this whirlwind world she reminds me to slow down and reflect instead of just acting. I now know the importance of taking time to myself, being alone with my own thoughts and figuring out who I am without the influence of the rest of the world. I am learning that time outs are not always a punishment.
Life Lesson #3 – What goes around comes around …
I craved attention. Rhode Island: the smallest state in the country. You can get almost anywhere by car in about sixty minutes. But time is a tricky concept when you’re young. Summers feel like years, weeks feel like months, and minutes feel like hours. I could only watch the lines on the highway zoom by for so long before I would begin to get antsy and start looking for a distraction. My dad was a very serious driver who kept his focus on the road at all times, no matter what, a trait which looking back I should feel quite thankful for. My mother usually fell asleep from the steady motion of the car, a habit which I developed much later in life, and my brother was perfectly content listening to a CD, or looking out the window, but I needed something to distract me. My fingers would start twitching, and I would play with the button that operated the window. Up down, up down, until I got someone to tell me to knock it off. I would then shift my attention to my brother Adam. First I would ask him to play a game, of course he would refuse because we were still at the age when playing with your little sister was severely frowned upon. So I would pull the move that undoubtedly would get me into trouble but was completely worth it, I punched him. Usually I picked the outside of his thigh, the spot with perfect potential for a dead leg. Adam would look at me, shake his head and simply say, “Amy don’t do it.” I would just smile; proud that I had achieved human interaction to keep me entertained until we reached our destination. Motivated by his reaction I would strike again, in the same exact spot, and he would say, “Amy I am telling you right now, every time you hit me I am going to hit you back twice as hard.” That was ok I could take it, I would out punch him. What began as an easy exchange of blows inevitably would escalate to the point that I would have a nice red spot on my leg, tears in my eyes, and regret on my mind. We would blatantly ignore my mother’s ranting from the front seat to knock it off or she was going to have Daddy turn the car around and we would go right home and be sent to our rooms, a threat that never held much weight with us seeing as she never followed through with it and we knew she wouldn’t. However our game did get us grounded more often than not and usually ended with some privilege being taken away.
The Golden Rule: treat others the way you want to be treated, although it is slightly overused and quite cliché, it holds significant weight in my life. Adam taught that to me in the simplest way possible, he told me ahead of time he would hit back harder. Today he continues to teach me how to treat others, but without the bruises. My brother has turned into the best person I know, and my best friend. While he still lives by the philosophy of treating others the way you want to be treated, he never hits back anymore. Adam is the most selfless person I know. Whether he is volunteering at an afterschool program in one of the poorest elementary schools in Providence, or spending his summer in Africa helping the people there in any way they need him, he treats everyone as if they were family and loves them wholeheartedly. His grace amazes me. I am learning to love others unconditionally regardless of how they treat me.
Life is hard and the lessons learned are almost never easy. Someone dies and we learn how to live in a world where they do not exist. We turn left instead of right and we have to learn how to find a new path. A heart breaks and we learn that to love is to risk. Lessons learned this way have the power to change who we are negatively. The person who loses a loved one learns never to say hello because they cannot imagine having to say goodbye again, the one who turns left may never find the right path, and the broken heart may never heal. However there are some lessons that are learned through the beauty of love and not through the experience of pain. The smallest gesture of kindness or a single act of love can be enough to change a person’s life in a way they never thought possible, it can change who they are. In my own life, the lessons that are imprinted on my heart have come to rest there through the love of my family. They have come through my father’s strong embrace that has held me together when I felt as though I would fall to pieces, my mother’s knowledge of what is best for me, my brother’s tough love, and the example he has set for me unknowingly, by the way he lives his own life. You might have noticed that the way I opened this paper is identical to the way in which I am closing it. The reason is simple. While I may live in an ever changing world, my family, all that they have done for me, and all that they continue to do for me, are my one constant. No amount of time will change that. So I am thankful
02/04/09
Life Lesson #1 – You are never too old for a piggy back ride …
I am a control freak. There is a simple reality that we as human beings must come to terms with at some point in our lives: there will always be things that are out of our hands. For many, including me, admitting that you need help is the most difficult thing to do. Realizing that something is beyond my control is a terrifying feeling. My skin prickles and goose bumps spread over my entire body causing every hair to stand on end. It becomes painfully obvious how small I am in comparison to the rest of the world, and the sense of loneliness that follows is unbearable. My dad still jokes with me about the “Amy-do” attitude that I have had since I was a little girl. I did not need help from anyone, nor did I want it. I wanted to tie my own shoes, fix my own hair, get myself a drink, and walk across the street without holding onto a hand. I remember becoming infuriated when my parents would try to explain to me that I was just a little girl and that I needed their help. What I remember the most is that no matter how old I got my father would never hesitate to throw me up on his shoulders the moment I asked to be carried. That was my favorite place in the world. His hands holding onto my feet, assuring me that he would never let me fall and I trusted him. I could rest my chin on his head and gain a whole new perspective, seeing the world from my father’s point of view. My mom would just look at us, shake her head and in an exasperated voice remind us that my father had a bad back, and he would role his eyes right back at her. Dad would chuckle and say, “Mary Jean, she’s only got little feet, they are tired!” If his back hurt, he never let on.
Even today my father has this uncanny ability to detect when something is on my mind within five seconds of me walking into the house. On more than one occasion I find myself lying in my bed late at night with thoughts racing through my mind making it impossible for me to drift off to sleep. Then I hear a soft knock on the door. My dad walks in wearing his ratty old blue pajamas that my mom keeps throwing out and he keeps magically finding. He has a sleepy look in his eyes because he passed out on the couch watching Jay Leno again, though he will never admit it and a flashlight in his hand because it’s two in the morning and everyone else is fast asleep. But somehow he always knows that I am awake. So he will come in, sit on the end of my bed, look at me with his sad grey eyes, and say, “Sweetheart what are you thinking about?” So there we sit, the only two people awake in the house, feeling as though we are the only two people awake in the world. It never matters that it is late or that he has to go to work in the morning, he would stay up with me all night if I asked him to. We sit there for as long as it takes and I tell him how frustrated I feel because I cannot fix things on my own. He listens, the corners of his mouth turned down, hating every moment that his little girl is upset. When I am finished he begins what has become the most comforting lesson I know. He tells me what he thinks, and then he assures me that he will be there for me no matter what. When all else fails he tells me to put my faith in God to help me through anything I am struggling with, and trust that everything happens for a reason even if I do not understand them. Then he wraps me in his arms as if trying to shield me from the world, gives me a scratchy kiss on the cheek, and whispers in my ear that he wishes he had a magic wand to make it all better right then and there. But he doesn’t and so we just have to trust that everything will work out for the best, and it always does. Sometimes I wish that I was small enough for my dad to pick me up and hold me again. Even now whenever I need him I can call, and it does not matter what he is doing, or where he is, he will take the time to give me a piggy back ride, even if only figuratively. I am learning that feeling helpless does not necessarily mean that I am helpless, and that being able to rely on the people who love me when I feel weak, is what makes me strong.
Life Lesson #2 –Everyone needs a time out sometimes …
I hated being exiled to my room. The infamous time out punishment was dreaded in my house. A time out meant no toys, no talking, no television, and no fun. It was just me and my thoughts, which were supposed to be concerned with what I had done wrong. Oh how I hated this punishment. My room was the last room at the end of the house. The walk down the hallway seemed to last forever; first I would pass the linen closet which posed a significant threat of a blanket avalanche if opened, then the bathroom and directly across the hall from the bathroom was my brother’s room. As I walked by he would look out at me with his impish smile because he knew I was in trouble. I would stomp in and glare at my surroundings. The pink strawberry doll bed spread my Nanny had made for me, the child size vanity that matched. Grimacing, I looked around at my wooden name plate on the door with the bear and a pink ribbon, Beanie Babies hanging from every crevice of the room and mixed in among the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Babysitter’s Club books on the bookshelf that reached the ceiling. It was a wonderland; any little girl would have loved spending time in there but not me. I hated playing by myself.
Being sent to my room was unbearable. I was missing out on all the excitement going on in the rest of the house. I could hear my mom shuffling around the kitchen, cooking with the pressure cooker. The smell of whatever delicious dinner she was making wafted down the hall and into my nostrils. As soon as I reached the room I would immediately stand right on the threshold that separated hardwood floor from the soft carpet of the hallway, running my toes over the cold metal. I never dared to put even my little toe over that line. I would stand there for about two minutes, my fingers gripping the wooden door frame, my invisible prison, and then call for my mom down the hallway and plead with her to let me come out. I would tell her that I was so sorry, I had learned my lesson, and I promised I would behave. She would tell me to wait a little longer and just cool down, and that it was good for me. I could not see it then but this was the best thing she could have done for me.
My mom taught me that it is ok to be alone sometimes, even healthy. As much as I would like to, I cannot do everything, and when those times come that I am getting caught up in this whirlwind world she reminds me to slow down and reflect instead of just acting. I now know the importance of taking time to myself, being alone with my own thoughts and figuring out who I am without the influence of the rest of the world. I am learning that time outs are not always a punishment.
Life Lesson #3 – What goes around comes around …
I craved attention. Rhode Island: the smallest state in the country. You can get almost anywhere by car in about sixty minutes. But time is a tricky concept when you’re young. Summers feel like years, weeks feel like months, and minutes feel like hours. I could only watch the lines on the highway zoom by for so long before I would begin to get antsy and start looking for a distraction. My dad was a very serious driver who kept his focus on the road at all times, no matter what, a trait which looking back I should feel quite thankful for. My mother usually fell asleep from the steady motion of the car, a habit which I developed much later in life, and my brother was perfectly content listening to a CD, or looking out the window, but I needed something to distract me. My fingers would start twitching, and I would play with the button that operated the window. Up down, up down, until I got someone to tell me to knock it off. I would then shift my attention to my brother Adam. First I would ask him to play a game, of course he would refuse because we were still at the age when playing with your little sister was severely frowned upon. So I would pull the move that undoubtedly would get me into trouble but was completely worth it, I punched him. Usually I picked the outside of his thigh, the spot with perfect potential for a dead leg. Adam would look at me, shake his head and simply say, “Amy don’t do it.” I would just smile; proud that I had achieved human interaction to keep me entertained until we reached our destination. Motivated by his reaction I would strike again, in the same exact spot, and he would say, “Amy I am telling you right now, every time you hit me I am going to hit you back twice as hard.” That was ok I could take it, I would out punch him. What began as an easy exchange of blows inevitably would escalate to the point that I would have a nice red spot on my leg, tears in my eyes, and regret on my mind. We would blatantly ignore my mother’s ranting from the front seat to knock it off or she was going to have Daddy turn the car around and we would go right home and be sent to our rooms, a threat that never held much weight with us seeing as she never followed through with it and we knew she wouldn’t. However our game did get us grounded more often than not and usually ended with some privilege being taken away.
The Golden Rule: treat others the way you want to be treated, although it is slightly overused and quite cliché, it holds significant weight in my life. Adam taught that to me in the simplest way possible, he told me ahead of time he would hit back harder. Today he continues to teach me how to treat others, but without the bruises. My brother has turned into the best person I know, and my best friend. While he still lives by the philosophy of treating others the way you want to be treated, he never hits back anymore. Adam is the most selfless person I know. Whether he is volunteering at an afterschool program in one of the poorest elementary schools in Providence, or spending his summer in Africa helping the people there in any way they need him, he treats everyone as if they were family and loves them wholeheartedly. His grace amazes me. I am learning to love others unconditionally regardless of how they treat me.
Life is hard and the lessons learned are almost never easy. Someone dies and we learn how to live in a world where they do not exist. We turn left instead of right and we have to learn how to find a new path. A heart breaks and we learn that to love is to risk. Lessons learned this way have the power to change who we are negatively. The person who loses a loved one learns never to say hello because they cannot imagine having to say goodbye again, the one who turns left may never find the right path, and the broken heart may never heal. However there are some lessons that are learned through the beauty of love and not through the experience of pain. The smallest gesture of kindness or a single act of love can be enough to change a person’s life in a way they never thought possible, it can change who they are. In my own life, the lessons that are imprinted on my heart have come to rest there through the love of my family. They have come through my father’s strong embrace that has held me together when I felt as though I would fall to pieces, my mother’s knowledge of what is best for me, my brother’s tough love, and the example he has set for me unknowingly, by the way he lives his own life. You might have noticed that the way I opened this paper is identical to the way in which I am closing it. The reason is simple. While I may live in an ever changing world, my family, all that they have done for me, and all that they continue to do for me, are my one constant. No amount of time will change that. So I am thankful
02/04/09
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