Thankful Thursday!

As we entered Day Four of the "Deep Freeze", the "Bold North", the "Icecapdes" - whatever you want to call it! - it was also Day Four without school and every child and their mother who were members at the Y showed up to swim today!  Trust me, that was NOTHING to be thankful for.  But what there was to be thankful for was this:

• That I could still tell the first-grade twins who came swimming with their little sister who did have lessons with me today apart!  Woo hoo!
• That the big brother who said, "Do you remember me?  You had me in swimming lessons.  I'm here with my little sister.  You had her, too" never caught that I by-passed his first question and instead, was so happy that I replied, "I've already said 'Hi' to your sister!  It's so good to have you here!"
• That I asked Mathew his big brother's name before I talked to him.  He was so excited I remembered him - and he showed me his loose tooth!  
• That I ran into Michelle, one of my favorite mom's, in the lockeroom and she did NOT take her twins swimming today!   

And most of all, let's be thankful that tomorrow's heat wave brings us above negative numbers!

Gamai and Confort

Read the amazing story of Gamai and her mother, Confort, as reblogged from "Ainsworths in Africa".  

 

Confort never imagined that the morning she put on a pot of boiling water to make some rice for her hungry daughters would be the start of a mother’s nightmare.

One-year-old Gamai, who had only just begun to walk, toddled past the pot knocking it over as she fell. As the piping water spilled over onto her torso, her piercing screams transcended through the house to her mother’s ears. Before she knew the extent of the accident, tears began to stream down Confort’s face, her heart stopping. The world around her fell silent as she tried comfort her child: “My imagination took me to places a mother dares not go” recalls Confort, “I fell to the floor clutching my baby.”

Confort and her husband rushed Gamai to the local hospital where they could afford nothing but ointment for the pain. Not knowing what else to do, they reluctantly watched their little girl grow over the next few years with contracted hands and arms, severely limiting her ability.  Attempts to live their normal lives began taking its toll on the family as Gamai was not treated like the other children: “If we went out and she was mocked, she would become shy and cry. My husband would be cross that I would put her through that. I was stuck.”

The decision was made to keep Gamai from the outside world and for 3 years she was kept isolated in the courtyard of the family compound to avoid mockery: “I became very sad and angry that this was the way my daughter was going to grow up – hidden from the world”.

 Then one day, in the midst of Confort’s anxiety, she learned of an opportunity for people to receive restored mobility in the form of an operation – a specialty of Mercy Ships. As the ship arrived in Guinea, Confort made the brave journey with Gamai – now 4 years old – out of the family compound to the patient selection site. There she was met by fellow mothers who had gone through similar accidents with their children and she began to feel at ease. That same ease developed to hope, which eventually grew to excitement as Gamai was selected for surgery onboard the Africa Mercy: “Now I am a different woman! I am filled with happiness that being hidden will not be her future.”

But even after surgery, the journey wasn’t complete. Weeks of painful rehabilitation began and Confort had to listen the same cries that she’d tried so hard to settle over the past three years: “It pains me to hear her hurting, but I know it needs to happen”.

When the day finally came for Gamai to leave the ship, you’d never have guessed she’d spent the majority of her life behind closed doors. Engaging and full of life, she leapt for joy as she played with her new found friends that neither mocked her nor stared at her for being different.

Unable to lift her hands above her head before surgery, Gamai can now reach higher in life than she ever could before.

 

National Chocolate Cake Day . . .

. . .  is being celebrated at our house!

Don't Widen the Plate!

After CPR-PR class on Friday, Paul said he had an article he wanted me to read.  I read it and thought it would be good to share here.  It's long, but I think it's worth the read.  Enjoy!

Twenty years ago, in Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opryland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA's convention.

While I waited in line to register with the hotel staff, I heard other more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend. One name kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment — “John Scolinos is here? Oh, man, worth every penny of my airfare.”

Who is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter; I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948. He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing dark polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung — a full-sized, stark-white home plate.

Seriously, I wondered, who is this guy?

After speaking for twenty-five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice the snickering among some of the coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder exactly where he was going with this, or if he had simply forgotten about home plate since he’d gotten on stage. Then, finally …

“You’re probably all wondering why I’m wearing home plate around my neck,” he said, his voice growing irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility. “I may be old, but I’m not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I’ve learned in my life, what I’ve learned about home plate in my 78 years.” 

Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. “Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?”

After a pause, someone offered, “Seventeen inches?”, more of a question than answer.

“That’s right,” he said. “How about in Babe Ruth’s day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?” Another long pause.

“Seventeen inches?” a guess from another reluctant coach.

“That’s right,” said Scolinos. “Now, how many high school coaches do we have in the room?” Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear. “How wide is home plate in high school baseball?”

“Seventeen inches,” they said, sounding more confident.

“You’re right!” Scolinos barked. “And you college coaches, how wide is home plate in college?”

“Seventeen inches!” we said, in unison.

“Any Minor League coaches here? How wide is home plate in pro ball?”............“Seventeen inches!”

“RIGHT! And in the Major Leagues, how wide home plate is in the Major Leagues?

“Seventeen inches!”

“SEV-EN-TEEN INCHES!” he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. “And what do they do with a Big League pitcher who can’t throw the ball over seventeen inches?” Pause. “They send him to Pocatello !” he hollered, drawing raucous laughter. “What they don’t do is this: they don’t say, ‘Ah, that’s okay, Jimmy. If you can’t hit a seventeen-inch target? We’ll make it eighteen inches or nineteen inches. We’ll make it twenty inches so you have a better chance of hitting it. If you can’t hit that, let us know so we can make it wider still, say twenty-five inches.'” 

Pause. “Coaches… what do we do when your best player shows up late to practice? or when our team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven? What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him? Do we widen home plate? "

The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach’s message began to unfold. He turned the plate toward himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. “This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline.  We don’t teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We just widen the plate!”

Pause. Then, to the point at the top of the house he added a small American flag. “This is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?”

Silence. He replaced the flag with a Cross. “And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it.”

“And the same is true with our government. Our so-called representatives make rules for us that don’t apply to themselves. They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. And we allow them to widen home plate! We see our country falling into a dark abyss while we just watch.”

I was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curve balls and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable. 

From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses and about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.

“If I am lucky,” Coach Scolinos concluded, “you will remember one thing from this old coach today. It is this: "If we fail to hold ourselves to a higher standard, a standard of what we know to be right; if we fail to hold our spouses and our children to the same standards, if we are unwilling or unable to provide a consequence when they do not meet the standard; and if our schools & churches & our government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve, there is but one thing to look forward to …”

With that, he held home plate in front of his chest, turned it around, and revealed its dark black backside, “…We have dark days ahead!.”

Note: Coach Scolinos died in 2009 at the age of 91, but not before touching the lives of hundreds of players and coaches, including mine. Meeting him at my first ABCA convention kept me returning year after year, looking for similar wisdom and inspiration from other coaches. He is the best clinic speaker the ABCA has ever known because he was so much more than a baseball coach. His message was clear: “Coaches, keep your players—no matter how good they are—your own children, your churches, your government, and most of all, keep yourself at seventeen inches."

And this my friends is what our country has become and what is wrong with it today, and now go out there and fix it!

"Don't widen the plate."

Bernard

Today's post is reblogged from "Ainsworths in Africa".  Amazing!

Despite his passion for education, admirable work ethic and obvious intelligence, 19 year old Bernard faced a future in which he would be judged by his appearance. He would not be merited on his hard-earned qualifications nor his determination to succeed, but would be placed in a box of limitation due to the neurofibroma that had overwhelmed his face for over a decade.

When Bernard was four years old his parents first noticed a growth on his face, but were unable to get him the treatment that he needed. Hope was ignited when he was 11 and local surgeons agreed to operate. But that same flicker of hope was soon extinguished after doctors declared the condition too complex and cancelled the surgery. Bernard and his family were told they would need to pay $60,000 for a specialist and the reality of the tumor never being removed began to sink in: “That day I felt hopeless” said Bernard, his head hung. “I had told all of my friends that I was getting surgery and I had to go back defeated”.

Bernard used his disappointment to drive his efforts into school, promising to not let it affect his life. But deep down, he still waited for a phone call to say that something would and could be done. Over the years Bernard gained excellent merits at school and was striving towards a better future for himself. His father encouraged him to dream and always made sure to ask him what he wanted to become, motivating him to work hard to reach his goals.

The young dreamer soon became a top student in his class and a star achiever: “You cannot let what people say about you stop you from doing what you want to do. All my life I wanted to be something big and no matter what people said about me, I would not let it stop me.”

But all the qualifications and positivity in the world could not stop other people limiting Bernard’s ability because of his appearance: “I did not feel limited inside but I knew that my condition would restrict me externally as people would judge me.” As Bernard looked towards a college education and potential work, he knew that his tumor would play a factor in his future. “It’s great that it didn’t affect his personality or self-esteem but eventually these types of conditions can lead to further problems and it would be hard for him to get a job where he wasn’t judged” said Ward Team Leader Deb Louden (AUS), who cared for Bernard while onboard the Africa Mercy.

His school teachers knew this was a possibility and were concerned for their student. After pointing him in the direction of Mercy Ships, Bernard was given the opportunity to have surgery: “When they told me it was possible, I had a feeling of euphoria I can’t even explain!” exclaimed Bernard. But in the back of his mind was the knowledge that the removal of his genetically caused neurofibroma was no standard procedure.

Ten hours of surgery, and over 4.5 liters of blood loss later, Bernard awoke free from the weight that threatened to hold him back. Despite still feeling dizzy, disorientated and filled with drainage tubes, Bernard immediately began asking when he could return to school. At the first available opportunity he took out his study books and spoke to fellow classmates on the phone to catch up on lesson notes while down in the wards. Nothing was stopping this determined young man from taking the exams the following month that would determine his future.

Following previous disappointments and surgery cancellations, Bernard had only told a small handful of people at his school where he had been.

So when he walked into his exam hall filled with hundreds of his friends and schoolmates, there was an eruption of joy: “We cannot believe it!” cried one friend, “what a difference this will make to his life!”

Teachers and pupils began to dance and cheer as Bernard made his way to the front of the room to triumphantly greet his peers: “Before the surgery…” he began, “people would keep their distance. But now people approach me. It’s given me more confidence and self-esteem and I now have more opportunities than I had before! Thank you Mercy Ships!”

Thankful Thursday!

While walking into the Y today, pondering which looked worse - my bed head or my hat head? - I ran into my friend, Jan.  Jan's battling breast cancer for the second time, and hopefully, the tests this week will say she's winning.  She laughed at my ponder and said she was just thankful to have hair once again!   I, too, am thankful for Jan's hair!

When I got into the pool, I was the only one in the lap lane.  It was wonderful.  I was able to swim non-stop.  I swam 2.25 miles, my longest swim on my bionic knee.  I was so thankful for a nice, long uninterrupted swim.

I thought of that old English nursery rhyme when I finished teaching my three classes today, "Thursday's child has far to go."  Not sure exactly what it means, but I can tell you without a doubt that my Thursday classes are definitely my sweetest children and there are even a couple of good swimmers in the group, to boot!  I am thankful for Thursday's children.

It is "Super Clean Thursday" at our house today and I gave Micah the option -  "Would you rather walk the dog or mop the kitchen/dining room floor?"  She chose the floor!  My knee and I were ever so thankful for that - even if it was an invigorating -28º F wind chill outside!  

May your Thursday be as filled with thankfulness as mine!   

Valerie

Today's post is the miraculous story of a most courageous woman, reblogged from "Ainsworths in Africa".  Enjoy!

There are positive people in this world, and then there are people like Valerie who exude joy. Valerie has suffered with her large facial tumour for over 25 years. Except she probably wouldn’t use the term ‘suffered’, because she has not let it affect her life with her nine children.

Described by the elders in her village as ‘the pillar in the community’, Valerie has always been committed to helping and serving others despite her pain and discomfort: “She has always been someone we can lean on and trust” said one elder. At 40 years of age, Valerie has all but forgotten life before her tumour but still clearly remembers the day she decided to not let it take over her life: “When something happens to you in your life that lasts for a long time, you have a choice to make. I do not choose to be unhappy and let people’s comments affect me. I choose to rise above it and make the most of my life”.

What she and her family thought was a simple abscess behind her ear as a young girl had slowly but surely grown over the years- but her courage and confidence grew right alongside it. Left untreated, this neglected growth within one of her major salivary glands resulted in an abnormally large parotid tumour. For many people this would be deemed a life-hindering condition, but for Valerie it has just been a ‘small bump’ in the road of life that she refused to be ruled by.

After hearing about the Africa Mercy through her local hospital, Valerie began the long journey to the ship. Apprehensive and alone, she waved goodbye to her husband and children for what they thought would be the last time: “When she left, we were unsure if she’d come back alive” said John Baptiste, her husband of 21 years. “I was scared about the surgery, but more scared of her condition and if she would wake up with each morning she stayed at home”. Upon arrival, Valerie was greeted by fellow patients with conditions similar to hers. For the first time in her life she was no longer stared at, no longer pointed at, and no longer mocked for being different: “People used to accuse me of being the result of witchcraft” she recalled. But her warm smile and hearty laugh do not tell of a woman who’s lived a life of torment, but rather a life filled with authenticity and love. She soon made friends as she sat among the other patients exchanging life stories and shared experiences.

On the day of her admission, Valerie pondered a typical Monday morning back in her village. She would prepare her children for school and go to work on the farm where she has planted and harvested maize, plantain and sugarcane since she was 15 years old. But Valerie knew today wasn’t a typical Monday morning. She made her way up the gangway to be prepped for surgery, unsure of her future but hopeful nonetheless.

Surgeons aboard the Africa Mercy, who have been working on tumours of this size and nature for many years,  knew that in order to remove her growing mass they would need to cut through a crucial facial nerve. Cutting this nerve, that controls most of your facial movements, would hinder Valerie’s trademark: her smile. Her positivity accompanied her into the operating room as Dr. Gary Parker made a remarkable discovery regarding this cranial nerve. While the average human body only carries one set, Valerie had two:

“We’d already cut through the first nerve and weren’t even thinking about using the nerve simulator again. But, by complete chance, we happened to touch the main nerve and her whole face moved- we were shocked. She basically had two sets of nerves which is exceptionally rare. It was truly remarkable!” said Dr. Parker.

“The first day after surgery when I went to see her she was able to move her face fully. People with much smaller tumours can have far worse paralysis that can take years to get over. I have done a lot of these sorts of surgeries and I have never seen anything like this before”.

After Valerie’s surgery was over, her journey through rehabilitation began. Weeks of facial exercises saw her practicing her contagious smile and blowing kisses to fellow recovering patients. There was also the issue of balance to contend with, after almost eight pounds of tissue was removed from the right side of her face during the operation.

When the day of discharge finally came, Valerie skipped with excitement to the car ready to embark on the long journey home, waving frantically to all of the friends she had made on the ship. She had waited weeks for this day to arrive.

The car door closed, the engine fired up but Valerie’s smile began to fade. There was a strong sense of apprehension. Of nerves. Would her younger children recognise her? Her tumour was all they had ever known. Would her two year old son be scared of her, the way other children had feared her before her surgery?

Any fears she had soon dissipated as the car encroached closer and closer to her village. The crowds gathered as everyone tried to catch a glimpse of their beloved Valerie through the windows: “Is that really her?!” one villager asked, “it’s a miracle!”.

The singing and the dancing began as her children raced to see her and piled on top of her: “Everyone was coming to see me, I fell over with everyone greeting me and piling on me – even the dogs!”

Valerie didn’t believe she would ever have her tumour removed, nor did she have the money cover the cost. She had accepted her condition with a smile on her face. Now, having received free surgery with Mercy Ships, her life of positivity has been lengthened so she can continue to spread her love and cheerful spirit to others and live a long and happy life with her children:

“When I heard about Mercy Ships I was given something I didn’t have before- hope. It gave me great joy and I had a consciousness that everything was going to be okay. Mercy Ships has given me a new life. It’s a miracle for me and my whole family and I’m grateful for what they are doing for others and for me.”

Thanks to the surgery and extraordinary discovery of an additional set of nerves, Valerie now has a second chance at life with her spare smile. Finally the biggest feature on her face is the one that best reflects her personality.

Valerie with her husband John Baptiste who was thrilled to have her home safe and well

Thankful Thursday!

Today, I am most thankful that I swam sixty-three laps, just three laps short of two miles! I ran out of time and needed to get to work, but I think I could have done it.  Two weeks back in the pool and I'm almost back where I was before surgery.  And for that I am thankful . . . muscle memory! 

M'Mah

I found this lovely post in "Kiwi Crew Stories" written by a friend of ours, Sharon Wells.

 

When M’Mah was born, her mother had a simple wish for her daughter’s life. ‘I want her to be like a diamond — to shine bright,’ she said.

Unfortunately for most of M’Mah’s life, the light inside her was overshadowed by the neurofibroma growing on her face.

When she was just a baby, her parents noticed a small lump and dark hairs growing above her left eye. By the time she was five years old, M’Mah’s neurofibroma was drooping over her forehead like a sac and beginning to dislocate her eye.

Over time, more lumps started to develop on her skull and upper lip, causing severe swelling. Even at her young age, other kids noticed M’Mah’s differences, which led to bullying and name-calling. They would call her ‘sick’ and avoid playing with her because they were afraid of her.

As a result, she was spending her childhood on the sidelines. She refused to go to school, even though her parents desperately wanted her to have an education. ‘She was so scared… she said everybody would laugh at her,’ said M’Mah’s mother.

With a heavy shroud of insecurity and fear surrounding M’Mah, it was hard to see the sweet, playful girl inside, waiting to be let out.

The family was poor and struggled to provide enough food for their two children, so an expensive, complicated surgery was out of the question. Her parents prayed every day for healing for their daughter.

When they heard about Mercy Ships, M’Mah’s mother was overjoyed. It was the first time that she’d dared to believe her daughter might receive surgery. The family travelled for hours to get to the Africa Mercy, but the end goal was worth every arduous mile.

Soon, a volunteer plastic surgeon specialising in neurofibromas removed the tumour M’Mah had carried for years.

Kiwi Receptionist Esther Harrington with M-Mah

In the weeks following her operation, M’Mah spent time on board being showered in love and friendship by the nurses, crew and other patients. Esther from Taupo spent many hours playing with the little girl to help her pass away the hours as she recovered from her massive surgery. Freed from worry, the sweet five-year-old slowly emerged from her shell, and her inner diamond began ‘to shine through.

Esther says that on days when I couldn’t make it down to the hospital to play with her, M’Mah asked the translators where her special friend was.

‘One day I went to the hospital just to cuddle her because she was having a bad day. Things were sore, and she was tired. My heart broke as I held her, listening to her deep sobs, and feeling her tears on my arm. But she knew she was safe there. We sat in our own little bubble, and that was enough. I’ve learnt so much about courage and bravery from these little warriors.’

Thanks to her growing confidence, M’Mah is no longer afraid to start school and will begin her education next year.

‘When we came to the ship for the first time, I was just thanking God over and over,’ said M’Mah’s mother. ‘There is no gift greater than good health.’