Playground in my mind

I remember when I broke my ankle several years ago. The swelling was so great they did not cast it at the ER. Instead it took a couple of visits to the doctor before it was finally in a position to where it could be plastered up. In the meantime the ankle was wrapped tightly to keep it as immobile as possible. The permanent fix had to wait and a temporary one had to be applied. That can sometimes be the case when it comes to matters of the heart. 

Where do you find your healing? What is it that is the salve you need for the wounds you have endured? For some of you the fix may be temporary. And, for a season that might just be okay. Sometimes you may need a bridge to cover the gap between pain and real healing. Sometimes that bridge is poorly built and will collapse if we aren't cautious. It would be so easy to erect a bridge of straw and sticks that falls in a heap at the slightest huff and puff. Support beams made of beer bottles. Paved with shallow relationships. Trestles made of poor choices. And after each breath from the wolves of pain we try to rebuild it thinking maybe we need a few more bottles, a few more poor choices. 

But eventually the real healing must take place. For me that healing comes from the Lord. But that healing doesn't come from an instantaneous touch. A cast has to be applied while the healing takes place from within. 

Each of us experiences grief in a different way. Some of us travel our road of grief slowly but deeply. Others travel it more quickly. Just as we experience grief differently we also differ when it comes to what heals us. The Lord will not necessarily heal you the way he heals me. Work may help heal you. Spending time with family might be the balm. For me it has been obvious over the years as I've had this path of grief grow from a dirt road to an interstate. I need time with the children. 

Children treat you the way you treat them when it comes to helping after a hurt. They help pick me up, dust me off, and try to take my mind off the pain. When I hurt the most I find the healing in the laughter of a child. The smiles are contagious. 

I recently spent an evening with a friend who has two children. She explained to them that she was going to a dinner with Uncle Kevin and they would get to stay with a sitter for a little while. One of her children looked at her and said, "That's that man we like, isn't it?" And then followed that with, "When he gets here, he will come inside and give me a hug won't he?" You bet he will!

The next evening I decided to go out to the ballpark and watch my team play. I had an extra ticket but took no one with me as I'm working through trying to learn to be okay with being alone. But God knew I didn't need to be alone. I knew I would see some of my regulars at the park. And I look forward to seeing them and the ritual of hugs and handshakes that must occur before I climb the steps to my seat. But I didn't realize how much I needed a little bit more. Within about thirty minutes I saw some friends and their children and went to say hi. I got hugs from everyone and bright smiles from the kids that had to mirror mine. I said goodbye as I moved on to yet another group of friends and their children (working the room as my wife used to call it). As I sat down for a minute I looked up and the first group of friends came over also. My plan for a temporary visit ended in several innings of laughter with the children, as the adults took advantage of the very willing baby sitter! At one point one of the mothers reminded her child that Uncle Kevin might want to watch the game he paid to see. But she was mistaken. I was where I wanted to be. Playing with the littles and listening to the sounds of the game in the background. Playtime was the event I was there for. The ballpark was merely the setting. 

As I return home I recognize that I have come home to an empty house. Soon I will shower and climb alone between the sheets and pray for a dream about my wife and daughter. I will probably shed a tear or two but, thanks to a group of children my pain became less than it would have been. Healing has begun and I'm overdosing in the merry hearts of those little ones. 

He ain't heavy

As I reflect on the last six weeks or so I began to think about the things I've done that have brought me the most joy and that have kept the hounds of grief at bay the most. And, without a doubt, it has been time spent with the children. Oddly enough, kids are the ones who most often say those inappropriate things that make the adults cringe. But when they do I consider it a teachable moment and I never take offense. I've had little ones ask about my wife, about my daughter, and about death. They ask why I wear the extra rings on my fingers (Wanda's wedding bands) or why, as a boy, I'm wearing a necklace (Beth's). I recognize that some people who are grieving may be offended, but I chalk it up to the curiosity of children. 

After Beth passed, a sweet girl met Wanda and I for dinner with her family. She came up to me, gave me a hug, told me she missed Beth, and asked, "Why her die?" Another time,while having dinner with friends, one of their wee ones looked at me and with a smile simply said, "Your wife died." She said it with an innocence that I couldn't help but love. My feelings were not hurt and I told her father that it was fine. I mean, it's not like I had forgotten. It sits on the front of my brain and presses continually on the back of my eyeballs forcing moisture to escape. 

My favorite children to spend time with are, without question, my own nephews and nieces. They miss their cousin and, especially now, miss their Aunt Wanda. They hug and kiss. They hug and cry. And sometimes they just hug. They somehow sense the pain I carry and try to lift a little on their own frail and tiny shoulders. And the amount of grief they can lift is Herculean. 

My next group of children that help assuage some of the pain are the many children that call me Uncle Kevin in my church nursery. I get hugs from most and occasionally one of them needs me to hold him or her for most of the Sunday morning I have them. Or, perhaps, it's me that needs to hold them and they just know it. As a matter of fact, I'm sure that's exactly what it is. 

The last group of children to bless me have no idea of my story. I don't know most of their parents and the parents don't know me as anyone other than Coach Kevin. That group is the boys on the tee ball team I help coach. Most of the time it is like herding cats, but the smiles on their faces when I tell them, as well as the boys on the opposing team, how good a job they've done, get me through an entire evening. Just recently I was asked by one of the mothers if I was going to help coach during the Spring because she really liked the way we (me and the other coaches) handled the kids. I mentioned this to the head coach and he said the bidding starts at $100.

I will gladly pay more than that for the privilege.

Act like a child

IN MY LIFE I GET TO WEAR many hats. I'm a small-business owner as well as an educational speaker and writer in my industry. However, those jobs are nothing compared to the job I get to do on Sunday mornings. One day a week I get to serve as one of the nursery coordinators at my church. That job pays more than all the others combined. Who, after all, can place a value on the hugs, slobbery kisses, and genuine laughter of a child? I don't know why I like interacting with the little ones as I do. There are just so many joys that present themselves each Sunday morning. Sure, some of those joys are a little more humbling than others - changing smelly diapers or cleaning up spills and other messes top the charts. However, I feel that the look of pure joy I see in some of these children's eyes is only a reflection of the joy I have in seeing them. Serving (if it can really be called that) these children allows me to hear some interesting stories. I do recognize the imagination of children can run wild and that the truth is often embellished when they tell me the wonders of home life. If what I hear is true, the little girls have their own castles, and the little boys are busy fighting crime as super heroes. It's amazing to me how some adults are frightened by these little crawlers. So I wanted to share with you a few tips that have made me successful with these miniature human beings. One of the reasons I seem to have a good rapport with children, I believe, is my lack of size. I honestly think that these 3-year-old packages of dynamite look at little old me (with the emphasis on little ... and old) and think, "Yeah, I can take him." Talking with a 2-year-old can be challenging, but you see, I speak kid. And you can, too. Here is my own little Rosetta Stone and you can have it for free: Just make out about two words from every sentence and repeat those words in the form of a question. "A castle, huh?" "His cape?" . Acting silly seems to put me on their level more times than not. Even the poorest of magicians can fool a 3-year-old. The drawback is that they don't understand the line, "Don't try this at home." Kevin Harrison is a local business owner. Reach him at fun4eyes@ comcast.net.

Change your stars

It was late spring in 2006 when I learned a very valuable life lesson. A lesson that can only be learned through reflection. My wife had plans for the evening leaving my daughter and me to fend for ourselves.

One of Beth's chores each week was to change out the cage for her pet hamster. While she got him tucked away in his hamster ball, I turned on the television to watch my Cubbies play. After a few minutes Beth came out of her room with the aquarium that served as GusGus' cage.

She asked me if I could help her dump the wood chips outside in the burn pile. So I begrudgingly pulled myself away from the ball game, took the tank from her, and followed her out the door.

As soon as she pulled the door shut behind her we knew we were in trouble. We were locked out of the house.

We tried all of the things you could think of to break in and I am happy to say that my house was secure.

Rather than bore you with details, let's just say that my daughter and I enjoyed some time laying on the trampoline in the backyard and talking. After almost three hours we began to take a moonlight stroll around the neighborhood to keep warm. Halfway through our walk my frantic wife finally drove into the subdivision. She was understandably upset at not being able to reach us. Especially when it looked to her like we were taking an evening stroll without a phone on us.

Before she had a moment to voice her displeasure I gently shook my head. She understood. She still fumed, but she understood.

Upon returning to the house my daughter took her mom in the back room and shared with her the events of the evening. Then she told her the one thing that stood out from our time together. She said, "Mom, he didn't get mad."

When we became parents we felt it was important to discipline for the right reasons. An accident was not a reason for discipline. It was an opportunity to teach. We taught our daughter that we need to take responsibility for our mistakes and clean up after ourselves, but, no matter how hard we try to avoid them, accidents will happen. Locking the door behind her was an accident. We all have accidents. The better of us learn from those mistakes and hope not to make them again.

I did not get angry at my precious daughter that night. Instead I realized one important thing. We all have a decision in life. We can choose to let circumstances change us or we can look to change the circumstances. That night I am glad I chose the latter.

National Kid's Day

WHAT DOES IT TAKE to establish one particular day as a holiday? Originally a holiday was a "holy day." It was a day established by a particular religion for the recognition of a particular event. There are Christian holidays, Jewish holidays, Muslim holidays, Hindu holidays and more.

Then there are holidays that are secular holidays that are not really holy but are recognized by a government or its people. Internationally we have Valentine's Day, Labor Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day. And we mustn't forget the special holidays like April Fools Day, Friendship Day, and Mole Day. (I'm not making that up!)

With the timing of this article I know you think I am going to focus on Valentine's Day. Actually, I wanted to talk about a holiday that is not on the books now, but it should be.

In May we celebrate Mother's Day. In June we celebrate Father's Day. Any parent who has enjoyed one of these special days has had a similar conversation with their children. That conversation goes like this:

"Mom, why do we have to go eat at Buffalo Wild Wings?"

"Because it is Father's Day sweetie."

"But he doesn't ever like to go to Chic-Fil-A on Father's Day. That Buffalo place doesn't have a play place."

"But sweetie, it is Father's Day and on Father's Day we go where Daddy wants to go for lunch. Besides, Chic-Fil-A is closed on Sundays."

And the response is always... "When do we get to have a kid's day?"

And the response is always... "Why sweetie, everyday is a kid's day."

If you are a parent you know you have said it - or at least thought it. But I propose we actually do something about it. I propose a national Kids Day. However, the Kids Day has a unique set of rules:
1. National Kids Day requires no gifts be given. None. You cannot celebrate the day with a present and then think your obligations are over.
2. National Kids Day is dedicated to spending time with your children doing the things they want to do.
3. National Kids Day requires programming on television be tuned to kid's shows. (And the kids get to yell at you if your head is blocking the screen!)

Quite simply that is it. Take the day and spend it coloring, making crafts, enjoying a nature walk, or going to the park. Your kids should look forward to this day every year as a day they can spend some quality time with you, the parent. Days with our children are precious and few. You both will remember those special days for the rest of your life.

National Kids Day will be a reoccurring holiday that will take place the third Sunday in February each year. This way it will not conflict with Valentine's Day and Super Sunday. (Or hunting season in Mississippi)

I had originally thought of celebrating Kids Day in October but I wouldn't dare think of interfering with Mole Day!