Shortchanged?

Someone asked recently if my kids are being shortchanged because of my disability/chronic health issues.

My kids have a different childhood or experience in life than other children do, but that would be the case if I weren't chronically ill.  No two children ever have the same childhood, even within the same family.

In some ways, my kids get away with more, have less responsibility (I actually worry that they don't have *enough* responsibility at times since I have cleaning and household help doing things they could be because I don't want to overburden them) and more privileges.  They may be more independent, but in what I think is a healthy way.

We have a car since I can't manage buses, which we certainly wouldn't have if I were well.

Things are different for them growing up than for other kids, but their childhoods are how they are supposed to be. He put them (us!) in this situation. He tailormaid it for all of us. Each of them are in the family He put them in, at the time He put them and given the childhood He planned for them.  God doesn't shortchange any of us.

My father was sick and died when I was a teenager.

I certainly wouldn't wish that on my children, but it was the childhood that made me and my siblings who we are B"H.

My kids are B"H ke'h happy, well adjusted children/teenagers who understand chessed, doing their part, invisible illnesses, the need to plan ahead and not leave things for a last minute rush, but also that we aren't in charge. Plans sometimes have to change and we have to be flexible.

My kids are definitely more responsible than if I were running the ship without needing their help at all.  One of my teenager is at the store now getting them to replace her little sisters shoes, which we bought three weeks ago. The sole came off so she volunteered to go and get it taken care of.    My other teenager is in the kitchen shaping challahs.  They know they need to help at times, and they chose these jobs today.  I am happy, they are happy and the house is B"H running smoothly.

Are they shortchanged?  I certainly don't think so, and neither do they.  Yes, they are spending half an hour out of their afternoons helping out the family, but in exchange they are getting life skills, pride in the abilities to get things done, yummy challah, a happy sister and a proud mother.   The littles sitting and playing Monopoly together don't look too upset about their lives either.

But most importantly, more than any of the other things I wrote about, my children know they are loved.  How can anyone be shortchanged when they love and are loved so much?

Thinking about death

God willing you and I have many many good years ahead of us, but recently I have lost too many close to me and I have other friends facing serious, potentially life limiting diagnoses.  I have found that most people don't even want to talk about or think about death, especially not their own chv"sh.

Leaving behind loved ones, children, spouses, and all of our dreams for the future seems impossible, yet it happens.  Even the thought seems too painful to contemplate.

When my father died I was a teenager. It was one of the hardest things I have been through.  The pain is still raw almost 23 years later.  But the pride and love is also strong.  I know my father did everything he could to take care of us and make the transition to being without him as smooth as possible.  He made sure my mother understood the finances, that they were in order and that financially we were in a decent position.  He wrote his own obituary so she didn't have to do it.  He bought his cemetery plot, made arrangements with the chevra kadisha and he even bought the wood for his casket, bought beer and invited his friends to come over and build it with him.

They refused.  He knew his time on earth was limited, but none of us were ready.  I can't say I am even now.

One of his friends did take the plans and the wood and built his coffin the day he died, before the burial.  I took the obituary and the fax phone numbers left and sent the faxes off.

The technical details were all taken care of and most importantly, we all knew we were loved and cared about.  We all knew that my father had done what he could to make things as easy as possible because he knew we would be in pain and he loved us and wished it weren't so.

He wasn't afraid of death, but he was sorry about the pain that goes along with being left behind because he loves us so.

Not all of us will be given that opportunity to prepare.  It is a gift, a heart wrenching and painful gift, to know that our days are numbered.  The opportunity to spend time with family, make preparations and make the time count, knowing it is limited.

But all of our days are numbered.  No one lives forever.

I believe that talking about our mortality can make us more human, leaves us more prepared and helps us live a better life.  What do we want to take with us when we leave?  What do we want to leave behind?  Who are we?  What is our potential?  How are we affecting those around us?  Are we making sure that those we love know how much we love them?  Are we living a life that pleases God?

Gratitude - the goal.

Sometimes it is so easy to be grateful.  Things go the way I want them to, people help in a way that is easy to appreciate, intentions and good and so are the results.

Sometimes it is just hard, especially with close family members and jobs I would rather be doing myself.

I have to work hard to keep from snapping, grumping, and being ungrateful for a job being done, but not the way I would like it.  But it is done and I couldn't do it, and their way is okay.  Maybe not as pretty, but totally functional.  

So I am working on it.  I am working on smiling when I want to cringe, saying thankyou with a full heart and appreciating even the things I wish I could have done myself.