Tuesday, July 26, 2011


The title of this essay is something I wanted to write about during the long period of quiet between my last two posts.  I'm sure I started the essay a couple of times and ended up deleting it because I could never finish it properly. 

There is a path that runs from Puyallup to White Plains called the Foothills Trail.  It is 28 miles long.  The stretch from Puyallup to Orting is about 10 miles.  I have driven it, ridden on it and I have run on it.  The drive takes 10 minutes; riding on my bike takes 30 minutes; running takes about 60.

When you drive by the path, your first thought is, "I can't run that!" When you ride it, you think, "That's a nice little jaunt."  When you run it, you think, "Holy Cow, is this ever going to end?  AND, I have to run home!"  However, as you transition from the car to the bike to running, your persective changes.  Things slow down progressively, and with it, your thoughts.  You have more time to notice things, and you get to appreciate sights and sounds those in the cars will never see.  It's the same path, seen three different ways.

Today, the birth mother called to inform us that all of the consent forms have been signed by her.  This situation is one where the mother has very few choices.  If she does not find a home for her child, it will go to the State, and nobody, including the State wants that.  So, in a matter of exactly two weeks, all the work is done, and we are waiting for the child to be born.

The perspective from here is surreal.  The 20+ months of waiting and over 50 mothers don't quite have the same emotional bearing on my life as they once did.  Sure, I remember alot of them, and I remember the challenges and lessons learned form each of them.  But the pain of saying "yes" and not being chosen or saying "no" and wondering "what if?", are already fading into the recesses of my memory.

Which brings me to my first point:  Your current perspective is temporary.  It can only be based on what current information you readily have at your disposal, so don't put too much stock in it.  The chances are very good it is going to change.  While riding on the STP, the last 20 miles were pure agony.  I didn't think I had enough in me to complete it.  Two weeks removed from the event, the pain is forgotten and I would probably do it again.

The second point is the one thing your perspective changes on the most: your resiliency.  Once you have been through the challenge, your perspective on what you think you can endure changes.  Most often you come out a much stronger person, able to accomplish more than you ever thought your were capable of.

So, don't lose your perspective.  Keep it, and maintain it.

No comments:

Post a Comment