What I Learned from a Sour-Apple Worm

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. -- Albert Einstein


Of all the things my children were blessed with, curiosity is certainly the trait that brings home the prize. They never tire of asking questions, and charge everything with a genuine interest to learn something new at every turn.

Even if their unbridled desire to always find out different things delivers them occasionally at the doorstep of trouble, it also helps them fully experience every moment. Everything is ‘cool’ to them – from the colors of the sky, to the graphics of a new video game or the tart flavor of a piece of candy they have never tried before – everything is a way to see, hear, feel something new and record the sensation triggered by the experience.

A few days ago, my daughter and I went to a video store, and she picked up a package of sour-apple-flavored worms from the display at the check-out counter. Yellowish green in color, and coated with a thick sugary slime, they were about as appealing as a bucket of swamp water, yet Morgan walked out of the store proudly holding the loot in her little hand with a huge smile of accomplishment.

When we arrived home, her brothers had just returned from school. Morgan ran out of the car and barged inside to show them her purchase which I thought would not excite them at all. I was wrong. They hung around her like starving men waiting for a morsel to save them from sure death. She opened the package, pulled out two flimsy strings of green candy, and handed one to each boy. Their eyes lit up, and as they opened their mouths to invite the disgusting little critters in, a flash of pure bliss spread over their faces. At that point I had to try myself, and asked Morgan for a nibble; never in my life have I tasted anything more disgusting – tart enough to paralyze my mouth in a twisted sneer, and overly coated with sugar to avoid being compared to poison, I quickly thought that the bucket of swamp water would have surely been tastier. The first thing out of my mouth – when I was able to move my jaw again to talk – was: ‘How do you eat this stuff?’

All three looked at me as if I had asked the unthinkable. “Are you kidding, Mom?” asked one of them, “this is the best candy ever; it is so tart it makes you shiver.”

So that was the key! The candy wasn’t good, or bad; it was only intense, and a new flavor to add to their young collection of tasty knowledge.

I suppose I never thought of new experiences that way, and quickly opened to the concept that something not previously encountered is cool for that reason. I immediately thought of the movie Meet Joe Black, and particularly of the scene when Brad Pitt makes such a huge deal of trying a spoonful of peanut butter – something so ordinary to us yet so fascinating to a spirit simply because of its texture.

Every day we witness many miracles – the beauty of a sunrise, the striking, powerful sight of a stormy sky, the perfect color pattern of a flower growing alongside the highway, the smile of a child or the birth of a puppy – and at the end of the day, all we likely remember is the jerk who cut in front of us at the intersection, or the coworker who didn’t pull her weight and got extra recognition. We probably don’t think of the man who humbly held a door, the heavenly taste of a new piece of pie we tried at lunch, or the homeless man who taught us lessons of giving and acceptance just by standing at the corner when we drove by.

Thomas Holdcroft once said that life is a grindstone, and whether it grinds us down or polishes us up depends on us. Our lives are bejeweled with many small miracles if we can look past the patina of illusion and allow ourselves to find the sacred in the ordinary.

Face to Face with Fear

“The hens they all cackle, the roosters all beg, But I will not hatch, I will not hatch. For I hear all the talk of pollution and war, as the people all shout and the airplane roar, so I'm staying in here where it's safe and it's warm, and I will not hatch!” ~ Shel Silverstein

After coming in from playing in the creek behind our house, yesterday afternoon, my son needed dry clothes. Since I was busy preparing dinner, I asked him to go up to get them. A short while later I found him, still in wet clothes, sitting on one of the steps of the staircase. He smiled at me, half embarrassed and half frozen, and simply said that he was scared to go up alone. I later found out from my older son that the night before they had watched a scary movie before going to sleep.

The fear of imaginary monsters lurking around the upstairs overpowered the discomfort of wearing wet clothes. When we approached that discussion - after changing into dry pajamas - he said that although he knows nothing is really up there, he could not shake the feeling of dread.

It is easy to come up with intellectual facts as to why one should not be afraid, but fear is ultimately a force with a hidden switch, one that is hard to isolate through rationality. We might know that something is possible to overcome, but when fear is triggered, all good propositions fly off like leaves in a hurricane.

One can be stuck in an unpleasant situation – and wishing to get out of it – but remains frozen in a state of paralyzing fear and accepts living in dire conditions rather than standing up to what he or she is afraid of. Fears are sometimes triggered by blocks buried in the subconscious. One lady I knew lived under constant fear that her husband would cheat on her, and was terrified of snakes. Her mother had dropped her off with her grandparents, at the age of two, after kissing her goodbye, and had never returned. As a young child, she had no control of the circumstances surrounding her abandonment, but as an adult she desperately tried to prevent being “left out” again. Snakes were a symbol of deceit and betrayal in her mind, and she could not stand being around them. Being aware of patterns is useful in understanding the inner blocks that trigger our fears.

Overcoming fear is possible, and it can be done in small steps. An initial rationalization of the facts surrounding the issue is usually the first milestone. Small animals project a big shadow, and that projection is what we are afraid of. This realization enables us to gather strength and prepare for the showdown - There is no monster bigger than the one we create in our own minds.

Once we are ready to come face to face with it, it is okay to hold our breath while we gather courage, but it is important to know that we are the only ones who can ever hope to defeat the monster. And we can do it, regardless of its size.

The Path of the Phoenix -- Rising from the Ashes of Teen Suicide

"In spite of everything I shall rise again; I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing." ~ Vincent Van Gogh


While I was catching up with e-mail last night, I overheard a story my husband was following on TV – a man served a long sentence for a crime he didn’t commit; when he was finally cleared of the charges, he could have chosen to be bitter toward the system that had forced him captive all those years, but he opted instead to be grateful for the truth which had finally set him free.

The story I overheard was certainly inspiring, but not more so than another story I heard at the writers’ conference I attended yesterday. Right beside me sat a woman who recently released a book written in honor of her son who took his life at the age of eighteen in 2005.

Like the man who was unjustly sentenced, this mother could have allowed herself to be swallowed by grief, but she chose instead to become an advocate of teens suffering from depression. Her son’s death was a terrible tragedy – anything the family tried, including therapy and medications, failed, and the teen continued to spiral further and further down until he could no longer cope.

I can hardly describe the type of inspiration one feels while merely talking to someone like Carolyn Zahnow; her research and understanding unfortunately came too late to save her son Cameron, but she is determined to employ what she learned throughout her ordeal to educate parents and teachers about telltale signs of depression in teens. When her son died she had two options – she could choose to gradually give up on her own life, and lash out at anyone who couldn’t share her pain, or she could stand back up and fight for the lives of other children; I’m happy to say she chose to do the latter. Her words to me were that helping other suffering children was the best way to honor the memory of her son. http://www.save-the-teens.com/

One life was lost; forfeiting her own would not bring her son back, but he could continue living through other children if they can be helped before it’s too late.

As a parent, I can’t even wrap my mind around the type of grief she goes through-- just flipping through her book made my heart ache; while the right-sided pages include much or the research she has done to understand what happened, the pages on the left are filled with writings and pictures from her son. I can only hope and pray that his anguished words will echo through time and space, and they will be the saving grace of other teens struggling with depression.

Kudos to you, Carolyn; I cheer your strength and your devotion, and I hope that the trial and sadness you so bravely endured will indeed serve a greater purpose. May your words reach those who need to hear them most, so that nobody else’s children must be buried before their times. Good luck to you, and may God bless you for all that you do.

Who to call: If you’ve noticed signs or symptoms in your teen or any teen, call one of the following:

-Community mental health agency
-School counselor or psychologist
-Private therapist
-Family physician
-Religious/spiritual leader
-1-800-273-TALK can provide useful information, names and numbers.