Date: Mon, 25 Aug 2003 14:00:00 -0700 From: HeroicStories <heroicstories-admin@lyris.net> To: doc@freebsd.org Subject: HeroicStories #438: The Color Blind Hug Message-ID: <LYRIS-1174960-1198856-2003.08.25-14.40.02--doc#freebsd.org@lyris.net>
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Reaching more than 31,000 subscribers in 103 countries, this is...
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HeroicStories #438: 25 August 2003 www.HeroicStories.com
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The Color Blind Hug Story Editor:
by Susan Golian Joyce Schowalter
California, USA
When I was 24 I suffered my fourth miscarriage. My Air Force husband
was assigned to another base for six weeks, so I was all alone in a
small town in the western USA. I had learned two days earlier by
ultrasound that this was an unsuccessful pregnancy, and my doctor
wanted me to "let nature take its course." I was to walk a great deal
and that would lead to a natural end of things.
After a long, depressing walk I climbed into bed and pulled the covers
up over my head to sleep and grieve. Many hours later the doorbell
awakened me and I discovered I had hemorrhaged while sleeping. I opened
the door to find one of my girlfriends, thank goodness, who immediately
drove me to the hospital.
I was admitted to the maternity floor (no shortage of irony there) and
a nurse came in to start an I.V. for me. I had a tremendous fear of
needles and, having lost a huge amount of blood, my veins collapsed. I
finally lost my composure and sobbed uncontrollably during the I.V.
ordeal and the brief wait for someone to cart me down to surgery.
The orderly arrived, an enormous, sweet-faced black man. For the
record, I am so white I practically glow in the dark. I continued to
weep as he pushed me down the hall and into the elevator car.
We started down to the surgery floor and suddenly he pushed the stop
button and the elevator car jerked to a halt. He came around the side
of the gurney and bent down over me. He gently scooped the top half of
me up into his arms and cradled me against his chest, rocked me like a
baby and murmured encouragement and blessings. After a couple minutes I
settled into those post-hysterical cry hiccups. Then he kissed the top
of my head saying, "God bless and keep you," and tenderly laid me back
down, smoothed my hair and punched the "Go" button. The elevator
lurched back into action and he wheeled me into the surgery prep area.
Amazingly, my husband appeared at my side just before they wheeled me
into the operating room. My girlfriend had called someone with enough
juice to make an Air Force pilot throw him into a fast jet and whisk
him back to my side.
I was, of course, glad to see my husband. But I will never forget the
tender comfort given me in the elevator. That man risked so much to
soothe me. What if I had complained to the hospital that he had touched
me while we were alone? He risked his job and possibly his career. His
behavior was in stark contrast to the way almost everyone else had
treated me during each of my miscarriages; as "just a body" instead of
as a feeling person.
I don't know this man's name, but I have no doubt that others are being
comforted by him to this day.
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Thanks to all those who wrote about our first "HeroicStories" recipes,
which resulted from the story "The Greatest Gift" (#435), which
mentioned two recipes. Well, our first recipes for the *kitchen* that
is, every week we deliver recipes for being a better person in our
stories. Several readers wrote to ask if we meant "1/4 cup" or "1/3
cup" sugar in one of the recipes. The quantities are corrected now, at:
http://heroicstories.com/435.html .
We received quite a response to "Send It All!" (HS#437). Chris in
Colorado wrote: "Thanks for sending out this story. I've never
commented on a HeroicStories issue before, but this one really
reverberated with me. It was so refreshing to read about Declan's first
glimpse of the joy that charity (and for that matter, activism in
general) can provide. The idea that you can reach out and make a change
for the better often doesn't dawn on people today. Here's hoping that
Declan continues to feel that he can really make a difference in our
world." Pat from Pennsylvania:"What a truly wonderful story! Declan
shows us all that giving is from the heart."
Janelle in Kansas: "I believe Tamara is another hero in this story. A
child who can reason out 'But that's OK, because lots of people look at
the trains, and I'm the only one that would play with this car' at only
4 years old must have a wonderful example of generosity to learn from.
But I noticed something else that I think makes Tamara a hero. When
they were discussing what to do with the money, she reminded Declan
that he wouldn't be able to buy any toys for a while. And when they
were at the grocery store, he put a toy back because HE didn't have any
money. I applaud Tamara for teaching her son at such an early age that
money has value and choices have consequences. When he does accumulate
enough money to buy another toy, I'm sure he will appreciate it, value
it, and take care of it -- much more than if he got any toy he wanted
at the grocery store simply by begging Mom to buy it for him."
Patti in Virginia writes the author, "Tamara, please write down your
parenting tips and PUBLISH them! Your little boy sounds like he's
growing up in a household that encourages this kind of selfless
behaviour. I realize that some of that has to do with the child's
*nature*, but the *nurture* part of it is huge. Declan is wise and
compassionate in ways that I don't see in many adults, let alone in
many children."
Speaking of kids, Happy Birthday, August!
Joyce Schowalter, Editor in Chief
Co-Conspirator to Make the World a Better Place
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