Feeling Inadequate? Watch Children

by Dr. Marian Fritzemeier, Ed.

Parker's First Attempt at Caber Toss

D. ©2014

Author, Speaker, Educator

            Do you ever feel inadequate? Some days everything seems difficult. Simple things like opening a sealed bag or putting on my necklace are challenging because my coordination is poor.  Other times I can't find the right word or can't even express a sentence when my brain is off.  Yes, me, Chatty Cathy. I read a book that has many thought provoking statements. Hatch! Brainstorming Secrets of a Theme Park Designer by C. Mc Nair Wilson. He did in fact work for Disney as an Imagineer.  

            "If you feel in adequate, watch children. They are highly unskilled at pretty much everything they try. But they try everything. They don't listen to maturity's hot air about being responsible, careful, or correct. Instead they fill their lives with hot dreams and imagination and fly to the stars...They roll down grassy slopes, basking in the moon-glow and starlight of endless possibilities." (p. 68)

            What a great description of childhood. It is one reason I love being around them. After I was unable to work at Merced College, I missed watching children every day as they came and went from the Child Development Center. So I began volunteering in my grandson Parker's preschool class a year and a half ago. What a delight to be with him and his friends. They are constantly trying something new.

            On Saturday my husband participated as an athlete in the Modesto Highland Games. One event is the caber. My daughter calls it, "Man in skirt with telephone pole." Six to twelve year olds could sign up to learn. Parker is not quite six, so they let him "practice" two times after the older kids were done.

            He'd never turned a caber before. He may have seen it on a video. His Papa hadn't yet done that event. But he wanted to try. And try he did. He was able to turn it on the first toss. He was so proud of himself. I was proud of him too. Not so much that he turned it, but because he was willing to try even in front of a large group.

            If they offered adults to try and turn the caber, I'm guessing there would be few volunteers. Why? McNair summaries the answer best, "...we do not live our dreams because we're too busy living out our fears." (p. 66) Parker was not even remotely afraid. He didn't wonder what others would think. He didn't hold back in case he couldn't do it. He didn't doubt himself. He just went for it. What's the "caber" in your life you'd like to try? Maybe you can try it today.

(Village Books, 2012)

Are You There?

Dr. Marian C. Fritzemeier, Ed.D.

Author, Speaker, Educator

"This will be good news," I hope, answering the long-awaited call. It's the nurse from the neurologist's office. "The doctor has reviewed all your records. He's referring you to Stanford Neurology," she reports.

Stanford. Five years ago. My mind flashes back automatically to grand mal seizures that started at, of all places, McDonalds in East Palo Alto. Aren't they supposed to serve Happy Meals there? Next, the terrifying ambulance ride to Stanford Hospital's Emergency Room. Between seizures I weakly plead, "Can you make them stop?"

The nurse interrupts my thoughts. "Ma'am,... Ma'am, are you there?"

"Yes..., I'm here," I hesitantly reply while silently questioning, "God, are You there?"

I'm physically on the phone, but  my mind's recalling my body seizing over and over again for three more hours on a narrow hospital bed shoved somewhere along the ER's neglected hallway. I softly implore, "Why can't they make them stop?" My husband shakes his head while gently holding my hand. Then my body forcefully thrashes again.

The nurse rattles off more information jolting me to the present. "Do you have any questions?" she finally concludes.

"No, ...No questions," I whisper.

I hit end on my cell phone. Did I really just say, "No questions?" Yeah, I've got questions, but not for the nurse. "God, are you serious? Stanford? I can't go back there. Do You remember how traumatic it was? "

Recently I prayed, "Should I continue pursuing medical options or accept the reality of my brain impairment?

You answer, "Stanford Epilepsy AND their Sleep Center?"

Returning to Stanford is the last place I'd choose for medical treatment. Maybe I should've made more specific requests, like, "Should I continue homeopathy treatments? What about acupuncture? Continue supplements? But Stanford?" Last time I was dismissed like a crazy woman voluntarily producing seizures.

I can't force that horrendous day from my thoughts. Then the radiology tech inquires, "Can you make the seizures stop long enough for a CT scan?"

Can I make them stop? For hours my voice begs anyone who vaguely looks associated with a hospital, "Please, please stop my seizures."  Shaking my head No, "I can't make them stop," I mutter.

Finally, a kind soul pushes medicine through my I.V. The seizures stop within seconds. My body is quiet and still, almost lifeless. As my body begins relaxing, calmness returns. Someone directs, "Your C.T. scan is normal. Sign these papers and you can go home."

A second nurse's voice draws me back during another phone call. "We've scheduled you to arrive at the Stanford Neurology & Epilepsy Center on October 15. You'll be staying with us for up to a week," she explains. "We'll be monitoring your brain 24/7 and videotaping you. Do you have any questions?"

Questions? How many can I list? The questions I asked God over five years ago are still unanswered. Sometimes I wonder, "Are you there, God?" But the question I asked Him a few months ago is now answered. Not in a way I expected nor desired. Today He answers in a clear, calm, reassuring voice. "I'm here. I'm sending you to Stanford."

P.S. Stay tuned to discover what happens at Stanford

Image from: Stock.XCHNG www.sxc.hu/ clouds-and-blue-sky 1387467-s. Accessed 4/18/2014.