The yellow school bus bounced along the tree lined street. The year was 1966. Still sleepy and not always looking forward to the long day at school, we were usually quiet during the morning rides. Every morning our school bus driver would pick up students along the familiar routes and bounce us to Martin City Elementary School. The rowdy boys usually sat in the back rows along with a few more socially mature girls. The quieter and more serious students most often sat towards the front of the bus where it was typically a little safer. This year we had Mr. Lane as our bus driver. He was nice but never in control. When the boys in the back tossed spitwads his way, Mr. Lane just kept driving. Occasionally he'd glance in his rearview mirror to scowl at the merry pranksters.
Towards the end of our bus route there were some children who lived in a dilapidated white farm house. It was probably built in the early 1900's. There was a genuine storm shelter and a small barn structure which housed real farm animals. Further back on their property was a small fishing pond. What was most distinctive about these kids, however, wasn't that they lived in such an old farmhouse, but that they appeared to be authentic Indians. An older girl, probably 5th or 6th grade, a young sister and younger brother would literally run from the farmhouse side door to catch the school bus every morning. Wearing their hair in long braids, the girls wore bright colored clothes. The boy wore corduro pants, a plaid shirt with snap buttons and a short leather vest with fringe. They would scramble up the steps of the bus, jump over the large band instrument cases, then turn to face the rest of us already seated.
The three Indian children never smiled and only talked to one another. Their faces showed little emotion -- grave & serious at the same time. The children moved down the aisle looking for somewhere to sit. Others would scoot in their seats from the windows to the aisles in an effort to prevent the Indian children from sitting down beside them. After the younger two found seats, the eldest would most often simply stand close-by staring stoically straight ahead. Sometimes all three had to stand while the busy bumped its way to school! I wondered why Mr. Lane didn't stop the school bus so someone would have to move aside to let this girl sit down!
I felt awfully sorry for these children. But I wasn't strongest enough to take a stand for them. I tried to make eye contact in an effort to convey, "I'm really sorry," but more often than naught I wasn't very successful. Once we did make eye contact enough to look into each other's eyes for a brief moment --and I could see anger. It scared me.
The family must have moved that summer because they didn't ride the school bus the next year. The following year that white farmhouse was demolished. Mr. Lane continued to drive for us, and eventually retired. The boys in the back continued to make trouble and those of us in front tried to ignore the spitballs being thrown from behind.
I've often thought of those three Indian children. Where did they go? How did their lives turn out? Did the rest of their school years turn out as ugly as those times on the bus?
I wish I could've had the courage to sit alone and let one of the Indian children sit beside me. Or perhaps I could have shouted to the rest of my friends, "Hey, move over! Let these kids have a place to sit, too!" To my shame, I neither shouted my concerns nor sat alone to leave space for one of the Indian children to sit. My root fear was facing the same persecution from my bus-mates that the Indian children had endured.
My hope is that growing older has given me the skills and wisdom to know when it's time to take a stand for someone else. In our world, we still have gross injustices happening all around us. My prayer is that I will be strong and courageous when such times arise.
I am reminded of what's known as the Golden Rule which says, "Do unto others as you want others to do unto you." This is actually a bible verse from the book of Matthew, chapter 7, verse 12. As I grow older it becomes more important to me that I respond to others with great kindness and courtesy. Hopefully those ostracized children forgave the whole busload of us and were able to extend kindness to others despite their frank persecution.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
One Glance - A Forever Memory
Glancing at one another from across our high school cafeteria, we connected for one brief moment. There He stood by the entrance to our school gymnasium wearing a gold and royal blue letter jacket, laughing with some friends. "What a nice smile," I thought to myself, "And sparkly eyes, too". Fleeting though this look was, I remember this moment like it was yesterday. And the funny thing is that Rick remembers this glance, too.
Our brief encounter was just that. It was a cold and wintry February Friday Basketball Night. Because I was talking with a handsome Someone Else, I turned away and forgot about Rick. We wouldn't see one another for another ten years and probably didn't think about one another either. We were both busy trying to position ourselves as successful young adults in the post-education era. Both of us lived chaotic lives. We were living life with reckless abandon -- and I do mean reckless!
During these years I dated several young men. For one reason or another, none of these relationships lasted. When I was 28 years old I finished college and began working as a nurse. My plan was to stay in Kansas City for one year, then join the Navy. Yes, I had always wanted to see the world and was willing to see the world on a Naval Destroyer if necessary!
Then one night I ran into Rick while out with friends. We met in a dance bar in the Westport area of Kansas City and had our first date about a week later. We just seemed to 'click' and dated steadily from then on. One year from that fateful dance at "Guitars & Cadillacs" we were married ~~ June 6, 1987, (D-Day!) We will have been married 25 years in June.
The point I am trying to make is this: One never knows when a chance encounter will turn into something more meaningful in the future. At the time of our 'glance' in high school, Rick and I would never have guessed that we would marry ten years later. And, neither of us were looking to be married at the time of our second encounter. God knew better, though. He gave us just one glance -- just one glance to remember for a lifetime. 1986 was the perfect time for the two of us to meet and, the next year, marry. Our rebellious youth would be replaced with a quieter, more settled life. We would tackle the next 25 years together -- as God intended us to do.
I love you, Rick. Happy Valentine's Day!
Our brief encounter was just that. It was a cold and wintry February Friday Basketball Night. Because I was talking with a handsome Someone Else, I turned away and forgot about Rick. We wouldn't see one another for another ten years and probably didn't think about one another either. We were both busy trying to position ourselves as successful young adults in the post-education era. Both of us lived chaotic lives. We were living life with reckless abandon -- and I do mean reckless!
During these years I dated several young men. For one reason or another, none of these relationships lasted. When I was 28 years old I finished college and began working as a nurse. My plan was to stay in Kansas City for one year, then join the Navy. Yes, I had always wanted to see the world and was willing to see the world on a Naval Destroyer if necessary!
Then one night I ran into Rick while out with friends. We met in a dance bar in the Westport area of Kansas City and had our first date about a week later. We just seemed to 'click' and dated steadily from then on. One year from that fateful dance at "Guitars & Cadillacs" we were married ~~ June 6, 1987, (D-Day!) We will have been married 25 years in June.
The point I am trying to make is this: One never knows when a chance encounter will turn into something more meaningful in the future. At the time of our 'glance' in high school, Rick and I would never have guessed that we would marry ten years later. And, neither of us were looking to be married at the time of our second encounter. God knew better, though. He gave us just one glance -- just one glance to remember for a lifetime. 1986 was the perfect time for the two of us to meet and, the next year, marry. Our rebellious youth would be replaced with a quieter, more settled life. We would tackle the next 25 years together -- as God intended us to do.
I love you, Rick. Happy Valentine's Day!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Beautiful and Bald
"Do not let your adorning be external -- the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear -- but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle & quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious." ~~ 1 Peter 3: 3-4
I knew this day would come. One balmy January day, while playing in the park with Rick & our children, I noticed strands of my hair lightly floating away in the breeze as the wind whipped around my head. Four year old Megan was calling to me, "Mommy, Mommy, watch! Watch me cross the monkey bars all by myself!" But I was only half listening as I reached up to feel the hair on my head. "No, not, yet," I murmured to myself. Tentatively I reached for a handful of hair and tugged. In my grasp came a clump of hair. Yes, it was time.
I can still feel the raw, emotional pain that gripped my heart that one single day in the park. Our family played for awhile longer, but Rick could see that I was distracted. He gently asked, "Are you alright?" With panic in my voice I whispered back, "No. My hair is beginning to fall out! And, I'm not gonna look very pretty for you." Inside I felt like screaming about life's unfairness and how I didn't deserve to have cancer. "Why me!?" I moaned to myself. I most certainly did NOT want to lose my hair and look like Sigourney Weaver in the "Alien" movies!
The bottom line, though, was that I would lose most of my hair within the week. Both Rick and I had tried to prepare for this moment. My precious mother bought a human-hair wig. And we bought hats & scarves with the hope of hiding my impending baldness. The truth of the matter was that I would still feel bald & ugly no matter what measures I took. All those years of perms and hair cuts seemed worthless & unnecessary in light of this new reality. Later I stood in our bathroom with the door locked pulling handfuls and handfuls of hair from my head. "Where does all this hair come from?" I wondered.
The next day I called my hairdresser to see if he would shave my head. With sorrowful eyes Eddie took me to a private stall so that others couldn't see the shaving of my head. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched my hair slip silently to the floor. Soon enough I was without a single strand of hair on my head. "Don't worry, Kathy," Eddie said. "I have taken care of lots of women who have lost their hair from chemo. When your hair returns, it will be thick and luxurious! Just you wait ... " His kind words brought me some measure of encouragement & hope.
I allowed only a few pictures during this season of 'no hair'. The first is a picture of me soon after my head was shaved wearing a turban-scarf. I looked pale and had dark circles beneath both eyes. There is a faint smile on my lips. I'm sitting outside on our front door step trying to play with Megan & Jeremy. It's chilly and I'm really wanting to go inside and lie down.
I remember once telling Rick just how ugly I felt without having hair. I'll never, ever forget his words to me that night. "Kathy, you are just as beautiful to me without any hair as the day I married you." I realized just how fortunate I was to have a husband like Rick. He showed me the love of God that night. He offered me an unconditional love. Humbled and grateful, I lifted a short prayer of gratitude to God for this wonderful man in my life.
The last picture taken was one of me wearing my human-hair wig. In this picture I am smiling because I'm riding the Plaza Trolley with my children and a dear friend & her children. My chemo was finished and spring was in the air =) The winds were blowing wildly that fine May day, but my wig hairs were barely moving due to hair-spray. It felt good to feel almost normal after four long months. In this picture my eyebrows are much thinned, but there were emerging baby-soft hairs on my head which offered a measure of hope for returned normalcy.
In time my hair did grow back just like Eddie said it would. It was baby soft and curly =) Oh, how lovely to have my hair once again =) I can't say that I ever truly felt beautiful without my hair, but I can tell you that I learned and began to realize that beauty is really only skin deep. During this time of loss, I realized that who I am is more than just the outward shell that others see. My true friends saw beneath the pallor. They showed me unconditional love & acceptance for just being me. And by their genuine love I grew to appreciate myself even without hair on my head. Rick's love was unconditional and I began to heal internally with his free no-strings-attached gift.
Now when I see someone who appears to be in the throes of chemo, I utter a short, silent prayer and (sometimes) introduce myself as "someone who's lost their hair, too". It's amazing to see their smile and to feel an instant connection. Then I offer them the same comfort that Eddie offered me years ago, ... "When your hair returns, it will probably return baby soft and curly ... and you are gorgeous even today without your hair."
I knew this day would come. One balmy January day, while playing in the park with Rick & our children, I noticed strands of my hair lightly floating away in the breeze as the wind whipped around my head. Four year old Megan was calling to me, "Mommy, Mommy, watch! Watch me cross the monkey bars all by myself!" But I was only half listening as I reached up to feel the hair on my head. "No, not, yet," I murmured to myself. Tentatively I reached for a handful of hair and tugged. In my grasp came a clump of hair. Yes, it was time.
I can still feel the raw, emotional pain that gripped my heart that one single day in the park. Our family played for awhile longer, but Rick could see that I was distracted. He gently asked, "Are you alright?" With panic in my voice I whispered back, "No. My hair is beginning to fall out! And, I'm not gonna look very pretty for you." Inside I felt like screaming about life's unfairness and how I didn't deserve to have cancer. "Why me!?" I moaned to myself. I most certainly did NOT want to lose my hair and look like Sigourney Weaver in the "Alien" movies!
The bottom line, though, was that I would lose most of my hair within the week. Both Rick and I had tried to prepare for this moment. My precious mother bought a human-hair wig. And we bought hats & scarves with the hope of hiding my impending baldness. The truth of the matter was that I would still feel bald & ugly no matter what measures I took. All those years of perms and hair cuts seemed worthless & unnecessary in light of this new reality. Later I stood in our bathroom with the door locked pulling handfuls and handfuls of hair from my head. "Where does all this hair come from?" I wondered.
The next day I called my hairdresser to see if he would shave my head. With sorrowful eyes Eddie took me to a private stall so that others couldn't see the shaving of my head. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched my hair slip silently to the floor. Soon enough I was without a single strand of hair on my head. "Don't worry, Kathy," Eddie said. "I have taken care of lots of women who have lost their hair from chemo. When your hair returns, it will be thick and luxurious! Just you wait ... " His kind words brought me some measure of encouragement & hope.
I allowed only a few pictures during this season of 'no hair'. The first is a picture of me soon after my head was shaved wearing a turban-scarf. I looked pale and had dark circles beneath both eyes. There is a faint smile on my lips. I'm sitting outside on our front door step trying to play with Megan & Jeremy. It's chilly and I'm really wanting to go inside and lie down.
I remember once telling Rick just how ugly I felt without having hair. I'll never, ever forget his words to me that night. "Kathy, you are just as beautiful to me without any hair as the day I married you." I realized just how fortunate I was to have a husband like Rick. He showed me the love of God that night. He offered me an unconditional love. Humbled and grateful, I lifted a short prayer of gratitude to God for this wonderful man in my life.
The last picture taken was one of me wearing my human-hair wig. In this picture I am smiling because I'm riding the Plaza Trolley with my children and a dear friend & her children. My chemo was finished and spring was in the air =) The winds were blowing wildly that fine May day, but my wig hairs were barely moving due to hair-spray. It felt good to feel almost normal after four long months. In this picture my eyebrows are much thinned, but there were emerging baby-soft hairs on my head which offered a measure of hope for returned normalcy.
In time my hair did grow back just like Eddie said it would. It was baby soft and curly =) Oh, how lovely to have my hair once again =) I can't say that I ever truly felt beautiful without my hair, but I can tell you that I learned and began to realize that beauty is really only skin deep. During this time of loss, I realized that who I am is more than just the outward shell that others see. My true friends saw beneath the pallor. They showed me unconditional love & acceptance for just being me. And by their genuine love I grew to appreciate myself even without hair on my head. Rick's love was unconditional and I began to heal internally with his free no-strings-attached gift.
Now when I see someone who appears to be in the throes of chemo, I utter a short, silent prayer and (sometimes) introduce myself as "someone who's lost their hair, too". It's amazing to see their smile and to feel an instant connection. Then I offer them the same comfort that Eddie offered me years ago, ... "When your hair returns, it will probably return baby soft and curly ... and you are gorgeous even today without your hair."
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