“Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars.”
Sometimes it's hard to see the stars when there's so much mud.
I read somewhere that sometimes, what we really need is a friend who will sit with us in our mud puddles, who will be there for us in our messes, quietly, supportively.
That's why I didn't leave Tarana sitting on the curb alone this afternoon. Her tantrum was over, her grandparents had gone home, her dad hadn't yet returned from his weekend out of town and she was sitting there with her head in her hands, quietly crying, unable to communicate her feelings.
We sat there and stared out into the neighborhood. I told her about the birds singing, the dogs barking, the trees dancing, the sun shining, and the bugs crawling, until finally she heard me, and noticed an ant. It was a nice ant, she said, and it wouldn't bite her. It was crawling on her hand. And then we noticed a slug. And then a bug. And she was back.
I know there have been times when I've been too absorbed in disappointments to notice the beauty around me. I want to say I understand her inner turmoil, but I don't. How can I? I don't even know where she's been. I don't know what has happened to her in her life. I don't know how many people have left her and never returned. I've never been an orphan, never had a new family, never been forced into a new culture. In many ways, she doesn't fully understand us either. She doesn't understand how much we love her.
One of my favorite songs says, "I can't stop the rain from fallin' down on you again. I can't stop the rain, but I will hold you til it goes away."
I can't change Tarana's past or explain the confusion of her present circumstances, but I can sit with her on the curb while she cries and thinks, and I can distract her with stories about slugs and bugs.
Often, when she and Kyle drop me off at work, she covers her face so I can't kiss her goodbye. That's her way of showing me that she doesn't want me to leave. But I want her to know that I will never leave her, that I will always come back home. So I always kiss her anyway, and say "I love you and there's nothing you can do about it." And that's the truth.
Sometimes it's hard to see the stars when there's so much mud.
I read somewhere that sometimes, what we really need is a friend who will sit with us in our mud puddles, who will be there for us in our messes, quietly, supportively.
That's why I didn't leave Tarana sitting on the curb alone this afternoon. Her tantrum was over, her grandparents had gone home, her dad hadn't yet returned from his weekend out of town and she was sitting there with her head in her hands, quietly crying, unable to communicate her feelings.
We sat there and stared out into the neighborhood. I told her about the birds singing, the dogs barking, the trees dancing, the sun shining, and the bugs crawling, until finally she heard me, and noticed an ant. It was a nice ant, she said, and it wouldn't bite her. It was crawling on her hand. And then we noticed a slug. And then a bug. And she was back.
I know there have been times when I've been too absorbed in disappointments to notice the beauty around me. I want to say I understand her inner turmoil, but I don't. How can I? I don't even know where she's been. I don't know what has happened to her in her life. I don't know how many people have left her and never returned. I've never been an orphan, never had a new family, never been forced into a new culture. In many ways, she doesn't fully understand us either. She doesn't understand how much we love her.
One of my favorite songs says, "I can't stop the rain from fallin' down on you again. I can't stop the rain, but I will hold you til it goes away."
I can't change Tarana's past or explain the confusion of her present circumstances, but I can sit with her on the curb while she cries and thinks, and I can distract her with stories about slugs and bugs.
Often, when she and Kyle drop me off at work, she covers her face so I can't kiss her goodbye. That's her way of showing me that she doesn't want me to leave. But I want her to know that I will never leave her, that I will always come back home. So I always kiss her anyway, and say "I love you and there's nothing you can do about it." And that's the truth.
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