Last Sunday, the sermon was all about inspiration. The question basically was (I think I remember correctly), "What/Who inspires you?" Now, I will admit I'm usually better at internalizing the sermons more quickly than I did this week. But hey! It's summer. My brain is on summer mode and doesn't move as fast as it does during the school year. That was a tough question for me, and it unsettled me that I could hear several people immediately whisper who/what it was for them. But I was at a loss.
What/Who inspires me? It was quite unsettling for a little bit, because after all SOMETHING should inspire everyone. For a few days I thought, "Maybe that's my problem? Maybe that's why I'm kind of in a funk and can't seem to pull myself out of it." Nothing inspires me. That was slightly on the scary side, so I made an effort to really contemplate it when I the opportunities arose. Finally, I realized that the reason I couldn't think of one thing that inspires me is because there really are several things. Here they are:
1) My kids. From this point of view, they inspire me because of their spirit. They have found a way to cope with the most awful event that can happen to a young person and move forward. My daughter's pictures of her family with her dad as an angel and finding a way to keep a part of our family is amazing. She expresses herself through art and I love that. She loves anything crafty. Sometimes her pictures are mixtures of colors vibrant or cool based on how she's feeling, but she always feels better after she draws/paints them. She has an outlet, and I did but wavered. Now, I'm trying to get back into it. My son's outlet was writing. He got to be pretty funny about it too. He would actually plot a story that would suck you in and then rip your heart out. For his TAKS writing story he wrote about the place we went to on our first family camp out with the Cub Scouts. I asked him why he chose that story (because everything went wrong that time and Jason was miserable but he stuck with it). Jack said he wrote about all of the things that went wrong, but at the end said it was his favorite place because it was the only camp out his dad went on with us. sniff, sniff.
2) My mom. That's a given. She was a very strong female influence on me, and still is. She taught me how to carry myself and about family. She showed me how to be a stern yet compassionate teacher, mother, and person.
3) My Granny (mom's mom). She was a cute woman (of course I knew her as a grandmother). She would often mix up phrases and honestly not know she did it (She once called a woman a "bar gnat"). She was strong though. Standing at 5 feet you didn't mess with her. She once came home from a Wednesday lunch with her sister and found a robber in her house. Scared as she was she told the man to "Scoot on out of her house." Which he did (out the back) and then she called the police. She had an injury from her youth that ended up robbing her knee of it's cartilage to the point where all she had left was bone on bone in one knee but she didn't complain. She finally got it fixed when she was in her 80's. That always tickled me. She took great care of my grandfather when he was bed ridden in the dining room. Once I'd gone up to Chickasha during Spring Break to help out with the both of them. I slept on the couch because my uncle was there (we were in the process of switching out). I awoke one morning and watched as she lovingly wiped his brow and was talking to him quietly and sweetly. They were married 62 years when he passed away. She also went out on her terms. She'd had a stroke at 90 and was moved from her house in Chickasha to her older son's house in Tulsa. I don't think she liked that, the loss of freedom not the move. She developed a bladder infection that she kept quiet about until it became obvious something was wrong. She was hospitalized and passed away on August 14th. The doctors had said she was not improving and it was likely she'd pass away on the 13th. But she stuck it out until the early hours of the 14th instead. Why? I'd like to think it was because the 13th was my mom's birthday and she didn't want to go then. That wouldn't be fair, would it? Once when Jason was first sick and I was helping him shower in the hospital something happened that he thought was my fault but it was truly an accident. In an already foul mood he snapped at me, and my first instinct was to snap back. But a calm overcame me and a quick vision of my grandmother helping my grandfather and saying, "Oh George. Really!" when he'd snap at her when he didn't feel well came to me. It gave me the strength to apologize and continue on. Later, Jason apologized for snapping at me.
4) Jason. Yes, my husband inspires me. His battle with leukemia was a valiant one. He battled more for his kids than anything. Quite honestly, watching some of the drugs they used to try and heal him and learning about them only made my admiration for him stronger. There were days I knew he didn't feel well or wanted to give up but he didn't. He fought until the very end. And I mean the very end. He kept his composure and convictions until his last breath. I know it probably sounds morbid, but whenever things got really bad he'd say, "Well, you know it could be worse." What he meant was that he was dead and his children didn't remember him. Caroline was 2 1/2 when he was diagnosed and in all probability wouldn't have remembered him if he'd given up the first time. At his funeral, we had a picture of Jason at the front of the church. As indignant as could be Caroline said, "Mommy! Someone put a picture at the front! We need to move it, it's not daddy. This is his day!" The picture had Jason with his brown hair and goatee. She didn't remember him that way. He'd always been gray and skinny, not dark headed and robust. So I admire his courage and used it this past school year with a situation at school that was less than pleasant.
So that's what inspires me. Our pastor only used one person as an example, so I hope that it's okay I had four. What inspires you?
No comments:
Post a Comment