Chicken Soup for the Soul: Think Positive
BY: Debbi Stumpf
I was privileged to be at an event with both Mark Victor Hansen and Jack Canfield. Jack was speaking when suddenly a cry came from the crowd indicating that one of the attendees needed medical attention. A handful of medically trained attendees emerged from the crowd and went right to work attending to the lady who needed their help. Jack quieted the audience and asked that we direct our thoughts to healing the person. A quiet calm came over the audience. There was a feeling in the room of such compassion and stillness that it made an indelible mark upon my memory that I would carry with me always.
I remember thinking how the serenity of the room was in stark contrast to the busy hospital where I worked the night shift and where calls for help were often so stressful. In that moment, at the conference, I made a mental note that "life is not an emergency." I decided that when an emergent situation in my life arose, I would meet it with the same peacefulness that I felt in the conference. Little did I know that a few weeks later I would put that lesson to the test.
It was a Saturday that started out like any other Saturday, filled with the activities of a busy family. Ken filled his morning in typical fashion, working at our rental properties to ensure that our tenants were well taken care of. His to-do list could have been completed within a few hours except that he loved to spend time with each family, catching up on their activities and listening to the adventures of their children.
We met up in the afternoon at a family birthday party. Then we returned home where Ken worked on our own projects, including painting our bathroom. When we realized that it had been quiet overhead for a while, I went upstairs to find Ken slumped over on the floor and barely breathing.
My own first aid training kicked in and as I called for help, I remembered the moment at the conference when a similar call for help was made and the incredible feeling of calm that accompanied it. Those feelings of peaceful calm washed over me.
At the hospital, after many tests, we learned that my forty-four-year-old sweetheart had suffered a severe stroke. We began to form a plan for this unexpected new chapter in our lives. I realized that our lives would never be the same.
I'm not sure most people would view their most difficult and tragic times as miraculous, but that is how we chose to view our circumstance. We determined that we were being given a great test, one that as a family we would need to endure together, and as we lived through the test we knew that we were experiencing a true miracle.
Five long months and many sleepless nights later, after rejecting the suggestion that Ken should live out his life in a nursing home, he finally returned home. This once strong, independent man had to rely on us for his every need. My kids were stellar in attending to their dad as he struggled to do even the most basic things for himself.
He received therapy for a short while until it was determined that he had come as far as he would ever come and would not get any better.
The last day of therapy was the day I bought Ken watercolor paints and brought him home to our own brand of therapy. Though we aren't trained in physical therapy, we worked Ken's muscles and his mind. Each family member shared in the responsibility of providing Ken with the attention and stimulation he needed to improve. The greatest ingredients in home-style therapy have been patience, creativity, and lots of love.
Over the course of the past few years, Ken has made monumental progress. He can walk using a cane when he was once wheelchair-bound. Where he was virtually blind in one eye, he now can see. He can say about thirty whole words, with "I love you, forever" and "thank you" at the top of his list. He can sing the songs that have been the soundtrack in our lives together. He gives us hope that we can do anything we set our minds to doing. His determination teaches us never to quit. Ken's courage inspires us to better our lives and to reach for impossible goals. We don't take even a single breath for granted. He is our own living miracle.
Our lives have been so richly blessed in the midst of this most difficult time. Our family has received such strength as friends and family have supported us and cheered us on. Though we wouldn't wish this on anyone, we can see that in the moments of deepest despair we have been given the comfort of peace. In the dark nights of doubt we have been given the light of optimism. We have come through the storm with a calm that I learned to draw upon in a moment when I learned a most valuable lesson, that "life is not an emergency."
I remember thinking how the serenity of the room was in stark contrast to the busy hospital where I worked the night shift and where calls for help were often so stressful. In that moment, at the conference, I made a mental note that "life is not an emergency." I decided that when an emergent situation in my life arose, I would meet it with the same peacefulness that I felt in the conference. Little did I know that a few weeks later I would put that lesson to the test.
It was a Saturday that started out like any other Saturday, filled with the activities of a busy family. Ken filled his morning in typical fashion, working at our rental properties to ensure that our tenants were well taken care of. His to-do list could have been completed within a few hours except that he loved to spend time with each family, catching up on their activities and listening to the adventures of their children.
We met up in the afternoon at a family birthday party. Then we returned home where Ken worked on our own projects, including painting our bathroom. When we realized that it had been quiet overhead for a while, I went upstairs to find Ken slumped over on the floor and barely breathing.
My own first aid training kicked in and as I called for help, I remembered the moment at the conference when a similar call for help was made and the incredible feeling of calm that accompanied it. Those feelings of peaceful calm washed over me.
At the hospital, after many tests, we learned that my forty-four-year-old sweetheart had suffered a severe stroke. We began to form a plan for this unexpected new chapter in our lives. I realized that our lives would never be the same.
I'm not sure most people would view their most difficult and tragic times as miraculous, but that is how we chose to view our circumstance. We determined that we were being given a great test, one that as a family we would need to endure together, and as we lived through the test we knew that we were experiencing a true miracle.
Five long months and many sleepless nights later, after rejecting the suggestion that Ken should live out his life in a nursing home, he finally returned home. This once strong, independent man had to rely on us for his every need. My kids were stellar in attending to their dad as he struggled to do even the most basic things for himself.
He received therapy for a short while until it was determined that he had come as far as he would ever come and would not get any better.
The last day of therapy was the day I bought Ken watercolor paints and brought him home to our own brand of therapy. Though we aren't trained in physical therapy, we worked Ken's muscles and his mind. Each family member shared in the responsibility of providing Ken with the attention and stimulation he needed to improve. The greatest ingredients in home-style therapy have been patience, creativity, and lots of love.
Over the course of the past few years, Ken has made monumental progress. He can walk using a cane when he was once wheelchair-bound. Where he was virtually blind in one eye, he now can see. He can say about thirty whole words, with "I love you, forever" and "thank you" at the top of his list. He can sing the songs that have been the soundtrack in our lives together. He gives us hope that we can do anything we set our minds to doing. His determination teaches us never to quit. Ken's courage inspires us to better our lives and to reach for impossible goals. We don't take even a single breath for granted. He is our own living miracle.
Our lives have been so richly blessed in the midst of this most difficult time. Our family has received such strength as friends and family have supported us and cheered us on. Though we wouldn't wish this on anyone, we can see that in the moments of deepest despair we have been given the comfort of peace. In the dark nights of doubt we have been given the light of optimism. We have come through the storm with a calm that I learned to draw upon in a moment when I learned a most valuable lesson, that "life is not an emergency."
http://www.beliefnet.com/Inspiration/Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul/2011/04/Life-Is-Not-an-Emergency.aspx?source=NEWSLETTER&nlsource=49&ppc=&utm_campaign=DIBSoup&utm_source=NL&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_term=mail.ru
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