What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger

 

          It’s that time of year again. While we are enjoying the sunshine that spotlights  the beautiful azaleas and dogwoods, we are keeping an eye to the sky and remembering how quickly a springtime storm can devastate so many lives.

          Towns like Mena and Arkadelphia here in the Ouachita region remember all too well what it’s like to have to start from scratch, rebuilding after a few minutes of hell on earth.

          In the past month, two other towns in our nation have dealt with major tragedies. In Boston, the cause was an unthinkable attack during an event that is meant to signify victory, the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. In the small town of West, Texas, disaster came when a major source of prosperity for the townspeople suddenly became the catalyst for utter devastation.

          Events like these always leave us shaking our heads. How is it possible for so many to be hurting so badly?  It leaves us feeling helpless, confused, even angry. But, here in America, that feeling doesn’t last for long. It seems that the worse the disaster, the more we come together. First responders rush into the jaws of death, instinctively risking their own lives to save others. Trucks full of supplies are quickly sent on their way, overwhelming those in need with more help than they can handle.

          When the disaster is not natural, but planned by a terrorist, it is even harder for us to stomach. What gratification could these people possibly hope to get out of maiming and killing? Evidently, it is the feeling of power, a massive grab for attention to their twisted cause. Such a fleeting thing for them, compared to the strong response it elicits from the survivors, which only builds as the days go by.

          So how do we do it? What enables us to come together so quickly, so confidently when all seems hopeless? In part, it’s history. We remember other bad times, in all parts of the country, and how we’ve rallied before. When there’s a storm in New England, the power workers from the Southeast hit the road, repaying the help they received during their own time of trial. Firefighters from the mountains of Arkansas head West when flames threaten to engulf and overwhelm the locals. Teams of volunteer homebuilders travel to stricken areas to restore homes.         

          At times like these, we forget about “offending” someone by expressing our faith. Everyone from the guy on the street to the President of the United States calls for prayers for the victims. Patriotism reigns supreme, and the National Anthem is sung with new fervor and meaning.

Two young singers have similar songs about coming back after a devastating experience. Kelly Clarkson says “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller, just me, myself and I.” There’s a powerful, empowering message here that has resonated with folks going through all sorts of difficulties. Another young lady named Mandisa strikes a similar chord when she reminds us that God is always with us: “When the waves are taking you under, hold on just a little bit longer, He knows that this is gonna make you stronger.”

When it comes down to it, these massive situations are just a large number of individual struggles that happen at the same time. The personal stories are something we can all identify with. We’ve all felt loss, experienced illnesses and injuries that seemed insurmountable at the time. We remember what it felt like to be prayed for, how the love and support of others helped us through our darkest hours.

With that kind of encouragement, recent amputees are already setting their sights on next year’s marathon, and we’ve not doubt they will make it.

Dark days can and will come, even in the most beautiful places. But, with our faith as our armor, we can be ready. When we’re fortunate not to be at the epicenter, we’ll respond in the best way we can. We’ll fill rented trucks with supplies, donate money to the organizations who know what to do with it, link arms and belt out songs about how our flag survived the rockets’ red glare. That’s what makes America the best country in the world. Let’s just try harder to keep this spirit going between disasters.

Good Neighbors: Visit Early, Visit Often

A common complaint heard these days is that neighbors just aren’t neighborly anymore. It’s nothing like when we were kids, the curmudgeons will say. My response: When was the last time you made the first contact? That’s what I thought.

A few weeks ago, some good neighbors: the kind who will feed your dog when you’re on vacation, moved out. I saw the hubby loading up a trailer with boxes, and yelled across the cul-de-sac ( the favored form of communication around here). I said “I’d come help you with that, but . . . I don’t want you to move!” We’re going to miss him and his wife and their sweet little daughter. We’ve loved watching her grow up, from the first toddling steps on the driveway, to waiting in her little lawn chair when she hears the ice cream truck, to wearing her raincoat and galoshes while performing as the “best water sprinkler jumper in the world”. (Her Daddy’s designation).

In a matter of only a day or two, we walked over as another trailer was being unloaded into the same garage. We introduced ourselves to the young couple who is bringing a new little girl- and Bonus- her baby brother to our neighborhood. Ah- potential Halloween monsters for trick or treating. They’ll fit right in. We may not have been a proper welcome wagon- no time to bake a cake- but a handshake and a howdy-do most likely went a long way in making them feel welcome. They said the lady who lives between us in the cul-de-sac had already been over. She’s quick, that one.

Developing next-door relationships takes work, but the rewards are remarkable. When I was growing up on a similar very close “circle”, our next-door neighbor’s basement was the preferred destination when the tornado sirens blew. She had a key to our house, and would make use of it to bring us homemade treats and candy. It seemed she didn’t miss a holiday, from the biggies like Christmas and Easter all the way down to Valentines and St. Patrick’s. There’s nothing to ease the pain of homework like settling it on the dining room table next to a fresh batch of cupcakes.

Other neighbors with children became life-long friends. Some of the same kids that were on our middle of the street baseball teams now share their nuggets of wisdom, along with pics of kids and grandkids on Facebook.

My husband grew up where the houses were not quite as close. His neighbors were actually cousins, and they spent a lot of time together. Their daddies spent the whole day driving trucks  together, their moms and grandma quilting and canning. You can still get James and his sister and those girls laughing by mentioning a certain pony ride, or the egg shampoos that were practiced by the future hair-dresser in the bunch.

The street where we raised our kids was marked by chain-link fences. Once again, no need for telephones here. We’d stand in our yards and holler.  The man across the street was particularly famous for this. He claimed to be able to predict when my parents were coming for a visit by our lawn-mowing schedule. Not entirely true, but it made for a good story.

The same man and I once shared the care and upkeep of a stray dog. He started it, by placing a pan of water outside his fence on a hot day. I continued with spare dog food. I was already taking meals to our own dogs in the back, so a walk to the front fence was not that difficult. Soon, the friendly English setter  mix was named Rascal, as he managed to get inside the front gate and dig some really good “wallering” holes. Over the fence one day, I asked Carl what would happen when the weather got colder. After all, we were responsible for keeping the dog close by. We couldn’t just let him freeze. No answers that day, but within a week, a very sturdy dog house appeared at the end of Carl’s driveway.

Once labeled as being nosy - watching out for each other is now encouraged by the local police. Neighborhood watch groups are invaluable to those who protect and serve. It’s now politically correct to know which vehicles are commonly parked in front of each house. We learn each other’s work schedules, and notify each other of vacations. The better to be neighborly, my dear.

It takes a little effort, but it’s still very possible to have the kind of neighborhood Mr. Rogers would be proud to sing about. Smiles, waves, retrieving mis-thrown newspapers and improperly delivered mail are all free of charge, and make a huge difference. To have a good neighbor: Be One.