Disclaimer: This probably should be a blog post just about the Nielsons. But I don't know them. If she was my best friend or someone I know from church I'd think it really self-absorbed and just hideous to speak about myself in the same breath at all. But the point of my post is really to say how the tragedy of a stranger has impacted my thinking, my growth, my admiration, and overall, inspired me to be better. It may come out all wonky but that's how people's thoughts often come out: not as perfect essays. If it seems self-absorbed, forgive me. People are like that sometimes. And this IS my journal. I'm just letting you read it. And? I'm tired. It's sinfully late.
I read this tragic story recently on Finslippy and Design Mom that has been haunting me since. Stephanie and Christian Nielson, parents of four young children, suffered a plane crash on Saturday, August 16, along with Christian's flight instructor, Doug Kinneard, who died. Stephanie has suffered burns on 80% of her body and Christian on 30% of his body. It could be worse. At least they are alive. That is a significant blessing.
As a parent of four kids, this broke my heart. These children have had their parents suddenly and violently taken away for many months, very likely. Stephanie and Christian will never look the same (though I must say, I have no idea how far reconstructive surgury has come-- I'm praying for a miracle!). This traumatic event is sure to affect these children all their lives. Every time mom and dad leave together they might fear their parents will die in a car accident. Perhaps I just have such trouble imagining the children doing well because I don't have a wonderful close family that would swoop in and do what they could to make everything better for my children, unlike the Nielson children. (Thankfully, I have an awesome church family.)
I hear horrible, horrible stories regularly that don't affect me like this story has. I don't know these people. Why has this affected me so much?
Because I see myself in this woman, somewhat. She's about 5 lbs lighter than me, I'd estimate. Same dark hair-- okay, so not right now, but here's what I normally look like:
We're both LDS. Again with the four kids each. Both artsy. Other more private similarities.
Somehow, this all makes me feel like this could happen to me. I don't know why this possibility came as such a surprise. Being reminded of my mortality is always so jarring, even though I do know I will die one day. But crashing in a plane and being burnt badly, or any similar accident, is not something I've ever considered possible. Logically I know that anything could happen and there are all sorts of reasons why things happen. It's stupid to think that just because I pay a full tithing and go to church every Sunday and take the sacrament and carry a recommend card that gets me into a temple that such a horrible accident wouldn't befall me. I know that things happen and that this life is a tiny bit of nothing compared to the span of eternity, so this is not such a tragedy to God, who has that eternal perspective. Still, I'm jarred.
Stephanie seems like she really loves being a mom to four young kids close in age. I don't always love it, so I admire this about her. After reading archives of her blog, I've concluded that she's far more sunny than I am, or just doesn't blog about the bad days.
I've known for a while that I need to be more patient with my children and I've been working on it. The past couple of days though have been really easy. My blessings have been impressed upon me. My eyes have been opened to the beauty of my children. Suddenly, when they are whiny and obnoxious, the thoughts that have been coming to my mind have been, "This is normal for children." "They're just children." "Don't fight it, just understand them and sympathize."
I didn't really realize this before, to tell you the truth. I spend my life, as a perfectionist, fighting the imperfect. Fixing what I don't like, can't handle. I couldn't fix anything when I was a child; I was powerless to the abuse I endured. I told myself that when I grew up, I'd change what I didn't like. The results of this self-talk were mostly good; the bad is evident. I'm working on eliminating the bad.
Somehow, her example shone through her blog. I felt a spirit about her. And it's stuck with me.
Since reading about Stephanie's accident, another two thoughts have been bouncing around in my brain.
The first: I was envious of her seeming goodness and delight in her life. I was sad that I haven't created much of anything in a long time. Why am I not anxious to paint something or make something besides a quickie cake I resent? Why am I buying everyone else's Etsy goods instead of making my own? This is probably just where things need to be right now but I WANT to want to. (No, that's not a typo.)
And I was envious of all her blessings pre-accident. Terrible, I know, since she's needing more than those blessings right now. But, at least I'm honest. Lately, I've been wondering what my life would be like if I were born into similar circumstances: Nice LDS family, a bunch of siblings, a chance to go to university and grow up at a normal rate. Not in that order, obviously. I used to tell myself that I wouldn't be nearly as strong and wise as I am now. I wouldn't know all the unfortunate things I've come to know that make me someone to lean on. I used to think that I wouldn't be as cool.
But maybe I would have turned out like Stephanie. Maybe I'd be happier. Maybe I'd have more peace knowing that if I die, the world wouldn't fall apart for my family-- that they'd have SOMEONE to be there for them. Maybe life would be more fun and less hard.
When you don't have a father who's worth knowing and most of your family is crazy and absolutely miserable, the thought of not having family around is a relief. I've always focused on how glad I am that they are THERE and I'm HERE.
But the truth is that it can be really lonely and heartbreaking. I wanted to have a lot of children both because I loved children and so that I'd have a family for the rest of my life, but I'm forced to stop at four children because the dysfunctions of my childhood have left me as this battered woman who's not as capable of being the maternal, domestic ball of lightness and joy that she thought she was. This is all I can do and do well and some days even "well" is a lie. No, don't tell me how great I am. You're not here when I'm impatient and yelling and neglectful and openly annoyed. It's not just sometimes. Lately, it's a lot.
It's been a hard year and maybe that's why. Maybe I'm really climbing out of this long tunnel that is my life and I really am becoming what I'm meant to become. Maybe it will get wonderfully better. Maybe this is the most painful part before the caterpillar turns into a butterfly, you know? The caterpillar probably builds that cocoon not really knowing what she's doing, she's just driven to do it. But maybe at a certain point near the end, when her achievement is so close, she becomes aware of what's happening and it hurts but at this point there's nothing she can do; she can't go backwards. Maybe she's aware of the pain of metamorphosis BECAUSE she's so evolved and if she'd have been aware in the beginning she would have broken out of the cocoon and said, "Nuh uh. I am fine with being a caterpillar. Leaves are tasty." Who knows? You talk to a butterfly lately? But I think you get my analogy. If you do, explain it to me because I have no idea what I just said.
One thing that will never change? I will never have middle-class parents who worked in politics to whom I can turn to for support, advice and wisdom, like Stephanie. I will never even have parents who KNOW me. I will never have eight siblings who love me, who look like me, whom I love, with whom I share funny stories from childhood. I will never have the sheltered innocence that comes from being raised in a good LDS home.
Then again, C.S. Lewis wrote this piece of awesomeness:
"If you are a nice person-- if virtue comes easily to you-- beware! Much is expected from those to whom much is given. If you mistake for you own merits what are really God's gifts to you through nature, and if you are contented with simply being nice, you are still a rebel... But if you are a poor creature-- poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house full of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels-- saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion-- nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap at your best friends-- do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrapheap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all-- not least yourself: for you have learned your driving in a hard school. (Some of the last will be first and some of the first will be last.)"
You can see why I love this. It could have been written just for me.
It is hard to do what I do and to try to do more when given so little to work with. People always say this for me and I rarely do because it's hard to really think about-- to really feel the weight of-- but I'm saying it now because it's true, damn it. I always expect so much from myself and that's good-- you can't achieve anything if you don't expect it. But I don't allow a lot of room for forgiveness, either.
If you were born into a nice family who loved and nurtured you and taught you how to interact nicely with people and how to dream and achieve and set goals and all the great life skills that families are supposed to teach children, then you should be doing a lot with that. LDS people are told to be "actively engaged in a good cause, doing many good things of your own free will" or something very close to that. And I think what C.S. Lewis's quote means is that if you've been given a lot both by a happy, educated upbringing and natural traits of patience, kindness, etc. and you're not doing stuff to change the world, you're not doing more than what you're asked, then don't be surprised if someone you judge as not as Christian as you or not as good or wholesome or intelligent ends up shining a whole lot brighter than you in the world to come. To whom much is given, much is expected.
And so, is it possible that for me, to whom little was given, that even with my occasional crassness, even with my inability to do anything everyday that is supposed to be done everyday (read scriptures, pray, shower, take vitamins, water a plant, change a litter box-- ANYTHING DAILY that isn't absolutely necessary. More on this in a later post.), even with my temper tantrums and my misplaced priorities, that I'm doing much better than Jill or Jane who seems to be perfect at everything?
And for all you people who loathe religion and think it's for silly, indoctrinated weaklings, I don't just mean all this in a religious sense. Religion isn't the only reason to strive for self-improvement.
The second thought that I had while reading Stephanie's blog: If this can happen to her, it can happen to me. I'm always waiting for the ceiling to crash down. This kind of thinking is usually guilt-inspired because my life is pretty great now. I feel guilty because I know people who aren't so well-off in various ways. I know they envy me things. I know what it's like to be poor and alone and depressed and hurt and to have really low self-esteem. So, I feel bad for the situations of others and I know how bad things can get from here.
BUT.
I'd like to think that I've had enough major tribulations! I'd like to believe that this is it-- at least for a while. I'm not just sitting around eating lobster dipped in caviar, watching soap operas and Big Brother and doing nothing with my life. I'm working at it. I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to raise great kids. I'm trying to be a more caring wife. I'm trying to care about and serve other people. I'd like to think that God's not going to knock me out NOW! That when he looks at his children's Charts of Hardships that my tally is high enough, thank you very much.
I deserve my blessings. Because what I continue to battle thanks to my past is HARD, People. It's like it's never over. I thought it was over, but I was just clueless to how dysfunctional and how much of a jerk I was. I realize in new ways all the time just how affected I was and continue to be. It's easy to think your childhood has not affected you for the worse when you think you're just fine the way you are. But this past year has shown me over and over that I'm really battered and scarred and lonely for people and relationships I never had.
If I say I'm fine, if I say that this whole LIVING thing is not hard, it's only because I don't want to think about it.
I'm sorry. It's self-indulgent to talk like this. It's late and I'm emotional.
As for Stephanie Nielson, I am relieved to know that she has so much wonderful family and so many friends rallying around her and her husband so that they can heal. And though Life is going to be so much harder now, for a while, if not a lifetime, I pray that their blessings will be all the more sweeter, that their relationship with each other will be deeper and that they'll be able to share with more people what they know and how we can know it, too.
They are a beautiful family who have touched me and my prayers are with them. May I suggest that yours be, too. Also, Design Mom is keeping a list of over 300! different blog auctions with cool, cool stuff and you can bid through the comments of the blog post and the money will go to the Nielson's recovery. As a Canadian with basically free health care (Move here and we can be neighbors! It will be fun!) I can't imagine how expensive their medical bills will be.
