I was back in the hospital with pneumonia, somewhere between seven and nine years old. This was a fairly regular occurrence during my childhood. Kids that have TEF (tracheoesophageal fistula, an abnormal connection between the trachea and esophagus) can have lasting pulmonary complications.
I’m sure I felt pretty crappy. I was probably out of breath, coughing, feverish and tired. But, honestly, I don’t remember that stuff. It’s not because it was so long ago that the memory has faded. It is because there is a memory that trumped being sick. The clearest memory I have from that week-plus in the hospital is of my dad.
He is a sweet and compassionate person who has a talent for the guitar. He would play all sorts of silly songs for me while I was growing up. One afternoon he walked into my hospital room with his guitar. He sat at my bedside and sang The Rose, written by Amanda McBroom and originally sung by Bette Midler. We both cried.
It still makes me cry. The lyrics are so flippin powerful. I learned that McBroom basically had the song downloaded into her mind one day while driving in the car.
I’ve been on a spiritual journey which picked up pace once my health began to decline. Re-reading the lyrics, I can clearly see the divine message. That song is such a gift.
There is so much to fear and be timid about. There are reasons to doubt and remember the pain, but there is a seed that when planted into the unpleasantness of life can absolutely grow into something beautiful.
When things turn crappy, plant something for your mind to hold onto. A small moment of kindness or love or comfort will dampen out the rest. I promise.
What did my dad and I dance to at my wedding? You guess it.
What strengthens your positive memories of negative experiences?
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