Be Your Own Hero: HEROIC

After 10 years working to help children and families, I can barely function in my own life. I need help to get through even a simplified version of my day. I am blessed in that I have incredible support from loved ones. Neighbors, family and friends all put forth just a little effort to make sure I can make rehab appointments, keep a clean home, and see to the emotional needs of my children.

In this world, and living a half-life, it is so easy to be sidelined, forgotten, and skipped over. Living a life filled with rehabilitation, recovery, and limited activity, you can easily be missed. It is vital that you remember that you are the hero/heroine of your own story. You take back seat to no one. Being unable to do much does not mean that you are stuck doing nothing.

After two very stress filled weeks of testing and evaluation, I did something about it. I reached outside of myself and was able to participate with HEROIC, in making some kids very happy. HEROIC is a group comprised of individuals who pass both a screening and interview process. They design and maintain their own costumes and must pass a review board prior to using their costumes in reaching out to children and family events. No compensation, no money is ever exchanged. They work to represent their character in-line with branding and marketing. They have a code of not doing anything to demean either the character, or the organization.

HEROIC asks for no financial compensation as each person creates a look, passes a review board, and uses that look to make kids smile. This is all done on their own time. They attend conventions and willingly pose with kids and families. They support local library reading events or other local events to promote community, safety, and family. They respond to community requests for children having surgery, staying in the hospital, and annually help with Toys for Tots drives. You can learn more and enjoy some of what they have done by reaching out. HEROIC Inc.

As part of my review process I attended, for a few short hours, a local kids fair. Seeing the excitement, enjoyment, and hearing the laughs of the kids was a balm to my (shut away) soul. I miss helping kids. I miss so much their pleasure when you notice them. Their spontaneity and smiles while with their families. Even the reactions of some adults on seeing much loved characters brought to life brought a smile to my face. It was a joyful experience,  made better by associating with others who feel the way that I do. It was all about the kids.

I found that even with the stress and anxiety of the unknown that I am dealing with, I can bring joy to others. I can serve. I cannot do much, but I can do something. Have I Done Any Good?

I am the heroine of my own life, just as you are the hero of yours. Don't let anyone tell you differently. If it is hard to imagine yourself as the hero, be a child's hero, as much as you can be.

Nothing feels better than helping someone else smile, just because you can.

God bless and keep you.

Mothers and Brain Research

I found this article today that completely blew my mind. Who knew that my boys may have helped save my life? This shows that women are an amazing resource for science. Until recently all medical trials have been done on male patients as the female brain was considered too erratic. Well, it just goes to show that current trends support research on all types of person. I fully encourage you to read this.

Children's Cells Live in Mothers

Love at Christmas

Christmas is for Love
Author Unknown

Christmas is for love, it is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly colored packages. But mostly Christmas is for love. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks game me a wondrous gift one Christmas.

Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle aged woman who was greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister's son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn't been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the classroom. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman who always spent much time with him.

As Christmas grew nearer, however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming and when, as the days passed, he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class. I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, "Did you really miss me?" I explained how he had been my best helper.

"I was making you a surprise", he whispered confidentially. "It's for Christmas." With that he became embarrassed and dashed form the room. He didn't stay after school anymore after that.

Finally came the last day of school before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back.

"I have your present," he said timidly when I looked up. "I hope you like it." He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wood box.

"It's beautiful, Mark, is there something in it?" I asked opening the top to look.

"Oh, you can't see what's in it," he replied, "and you can't touch it, or taste it, or feel it, but Mother always said it makes you feel good all the time...warm on cold nights, and safe when you are all alone."

I gazed into the empty box. "What is it Mark," I asked gently, "that will make me feel so good?"

"It's love," he whispered softly, "and Mother always said it's best when you give it away." He turned quietly and left he room.

So now I keep a small box, crudely made from scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain that there is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety and mirth and song, for food and wondrous gifts. But mostly... Christmas is for love.

Be open, be loving, be accepting and see what is being offered this year. God bless you.