I’ve been away from my children for two days now. Yesterday, my two-year-old calls me. I hear him breathing, but he doesn’t say anything. Finally, he decides that it’s time to speak, and he yells to me in his little cute adorable voice, “Haaal-o.” My heart immediately jumps. I seriously feel my emotions rise within me at the sound of his voice. My toddler concludes the call with, “Daddee, say no to me.” And as is typical of his usual dramatic self, I hear his sniff sniff, and I can picture his little pouty lip sticking out. He hangs up.
So when I read this story from Mama Pea Pod for 21 Days of Gratitude Challenge, “Gratitude and the Magic of Children,” I knew exactly what she was talking about when she concluded with: “Because they really are the closest thing to magic.” I understood what she was saying, even though I can’t relate to the tragic illness that fell upon her while she was living in Hungary without knowing the language.
She describes the circumstances at a Hungarian hospital as she fought for her life: “Where you feel like you’ve been transported back in time to the 1930s – white tile walls (or, at least, they were presumably white once), silver metal bed frames, harsh, bright light bulbs glaring down from the ceiling above the beds, and bright yellow plastic shower curtain ‘dividers’ that only provide minimal privacy 1 meter at a time.”
I truly believe children awaken our dormant souls and cause them to come alive. With their gregarious, uncontrollable laughter and their playful, forgiving hearts, we are reminded to breathe, to live, to laugh, to cry. Jane goes on to describe how the magic of her children kept her alive:
“Every moment I was alone all I could think about was the possibility of not coming through this and the impact that would have on them. How it would be for them to grow up without a mother, how they would turn out without a mother’s influence, how the trauma would affect them and how they would cope.
“I pictured all the important events in their lives that they would not have their mother with them for – graduations, weddings, babies of their own… I knew that at such a young age, my oldest would eventually have only vague memories of me, while my youngest would have no memories at all.
“That thought was the worst pain by far. I had my husband bring me notepaper and pens so I could write them a letter. I wanted them to have something to show them how much I loved them, in case it turned out to be the last time I got to tell them.”
I am so thankful for the blessing my kids are in my life.
My kids remind me to breathe.
My kids remind me to play.
My kids remind me to cry.
Jane experienced a quick recovery, which she attributes partly to her age and partly to her support network. She concludes with: “But I believe that it was also partly due to a deep, intrinsic drive to get through it for my girls, to get home to my girls. The magic power of children. ”
Thank you, Jane, for reminding us to not take for granted those magical moments our children bring into our lives, and the power and strength that comes from being a mother and the desire to be there for our children.
How do your children bring magic into your life?
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