He tells the rabbi that he lives in this one room shack with his wife and their kids and how miserable it is, what should he do? The wise rabbi asks if he might have a chicken or two. When he responds that he does, he is told to bring them into the house. A few days pass and the man and his family are kept awake by the clucking. There are feathers everywhere, especially in the soup. Miserable, he returns to the rabbi and asks what he should do. Each visit to the rabbi has him bringing more animals into the one room shack...cows, a donkey, a dog, and a cat. Finally, the last time he visits the rabbi, he is told to let all the animals out. Once more it is just the man and his family and suddenly...life is so peaceful! The message, of course, is that life could always be worse.
Often I remind myself of that story. Life could always be worse.
When Kenna was in the hospital for 183 days, people asked me how I coped. It was easy. I would rather suffer through those days visiting her in the hospital than be visiting a headstone in a cemetery, or looking at an urn on my mantle. Anything life threw at us from there we could survive. The loss of her would have been far more devastating.
I remember that time now, the challenges, and consider all that I face on a daily basis. Being the single mom to a baby with special needs is challenging, but I don't mind. Being her only parent is in so many ways...easier. When her father was around, there were constant fights when I tried to get him to contribute to her care, help me out. Now, I know it's all me, and I just plug along and do it. It seems simpler somehow. And I believe that simple comes from the peace. There's no fighting. There's no confusion about who is responsible for what. There's no one to count on or, more often than not, let me down. That is peace.
Eventually, I will find that same peace in the rest of my life. Eventually, he will stop trying to find ways to make my life more challenging. He will run out of ideas for making me miserable. He will move on and so will I. At some point, life will calm down. My days will seem easier, emptier, when I no longer have to call in weekly to file police reports, when I don't have to run to the magistrate for warrants, when I don't spend hours a week with a lawyer. Life will seem easier when it's back to just therapists, doctors, and working from home.
It could always be worse. It will always get better.
