Terms That Are Bandied About.

 Terms That Are Bandied About.

 

A sweet friend came today with hugs, memories, concerns, and some happier thoughts about whatever the future may hold for her family. It did not dawn on me until just a few minutes ago that a residual effect of some of the memories stirred up had left me tied up in little knots. Some things simply do not go away. Like accidentally walking off in a slush pit filled with an oil topping of nasty, it is never going to really feel clean or new again even after plenty or hot water and washings of spirit. However, we don’t grow when we don’t deal with whatever comes our way. We may get just a wee mite warped, but even a tree growing in heavy winds has its own strengths. Being able to see what has changed us or formed us can be a strength—especially if we can either verbalize the reasons or share them with others who might also understand.

 

One day while shopping at the local store, my leg was grabbed by a little girl who loudly told her mom, “This was my teacher today!” Assured that her little girl was a sweetheart, the mother and child walked away. Meanwhile it made my day to think that not only did these children often call me “mom” when they asked for something, but that it really did not matter if their names came to my mind or not. They just saw their teacher. It is funny that even the name of whatever school had called me in that day might not be easy for me to remember. Each day was different when the district just needed a spare body with a degree or two. Nevermind the day they called me in to teach a class of “special” discipline students who decided to have a “rumble” right in the beginning of class. The administrator had quickly brought in an experienced aide, so the day passed without blood being shed—or any other untoward disasters considering the fact that the lesson plan called for sex education that day. HA! Those kids could have taught me things! That was NOT what they got for a lesson or two that day.

 

Special education or otherwise, classes have become more dangerous when children become emotionally explosive and or abusive. Whatever the reason might be for a child to attack an adult without provocation—or with provocation—what term does one use for the unmatched violence in or outside of the classroom? Someone recently told me that all the psychiatric hospitals were now full of dangerous prisoners that were no longer kept in prisons. It made me wonder: where did all this violence come from? Children traumatized from the crib; teenagers dropping out of life; grown men and women refusing any type of responsibility for their own actions. And then we begin to hear of terms that are meant—seemingly—to cover an immense collection of diseases and disorders of both mind, body, and spirit. Being diagnosed with a problem or more than one problem does not exempt one from being aware of its consequences and one’s responsibility to attempt to adjust one’s actions and thoughts to the processes involved with living in a different mindset. When my problems seemed totally overwhelming, something called cognitive behavioral therapy sounded as if it might help. However, talking to anyone about the problems never seemed very productive since it was almost like a spiral of renewed pain and rejection of emotions. So, reading the information available and trying to see how it might fit the situations made sense to me. Someone can call it PTSD all day long, but each person has a unique situation and abilities to bend and brace themselves against the onslaught of problems. A young man falsely accused of murders and driven insane will not have the strength of spirit and mind to find any answers for himself. And insanity does not lead to trust either from the one who has lost his mind or from those who might feel justified by their treatment of the “other” in another human being. God forgive us for being so judgmental! But just as important, we need to have the vision to see what is broken, what can be fixed, what can be helped, and what cannot be amended.

 

Today a friend sent me some words of wisdom from Carl Sagan about all the rivers of blood spilled by mankind, the hatred, the inhumanity, and more of the things we never have considered: we have ONE home. This is it. It needs to be healed, yet what we see is anything but healing. We see love for others being given freely; and this is the greatest of gifts: love. Let us renew within ourselves the perspective that allows us to be buffeted but not felled by the forces around us. Let us give more love than we get.

 

Rest well, my friends, and know that the gift of healing will come to all of us eventually. You are loved.