Emily made an elephant coffee cup
when she went with a friend to a local pottery painting place late this summer.
She had a blast and could make anything for herself, but she chose to make a
coffee cup. For me. At almost ten she already knows the joy of giving is better
than receiving, even though it’s difficult for her to practice she did it. I
valued the surprise and all it encompassed. I cherished it. I was afraid to use
it. I wanted to protect it. I would use it on occasion and cringe as I poured
coffee into it. I would fill it with milk and let Emily enjoy drinking from it.
This morning with what I am
fighting inside of me, I reached into the cabinet and thought it would be the
best cup to use. While Emily readied for school I prepared my coffee. When we
were at the front door and Daisy’s leash had been placed, I unlocked the
door and heard the bus pulling up. I sent Emily out the door in a rush. I
followed carrying an elephant and holding Daisy’s leash. I tried not to run as I have been instructed
not to. But I wanted to make sure she looked both ways and that I got to wave
goodbye per our morning departure routine. “Look both ways,” I yell as she
sprinted off. “Be kind!”
Sunday night after work I parked
my cruiser at the end of the driveway where I rarely park it. As I passed it I
thought to set the elephant down on the trunk of the cruiser. It was dark. It
was wet. It slid off the truck and shattered into pieces. I knew beyond a
shadow of doubt to never be repaired. But I didn’t have time. She was already
across the road. I went into a brisk walk to the opening at the end of the
driveway. She was on. The bus driver had illuminated the inside of the bus. She had grabbed her seat on the side of the
bus that faces me. She smiles and waves, eager to get to talking with her
friends, but per usual takes the time to wave goodbye to Mimi. I wave and smile
and in my heart, I want to cry. But I wave and smile to see her off to school
and pray she is kind to those around her. As she rides off turning to the other
children I can see they are chatting already.
Walking back up the driveway, the
shattered elephant cup screams at me. “Look what you did, Donna! Look what you
allowed to happen!”
Suddenly the elephant in the room
is not the elephant that is shattered at my cruiser trunk.
There are times in my life that I
have held myself responsible for the ill that took place. I have struggled with
the idea that bad things just happen. I have struggled with the concept that no
matter how well I’ve tried to handle a situation I cannot control the outcome.
No matter how strong I present.
I have had one of those chapters
in my life resurface lately as it does periodically. I’ve tried to encourage
myself to remember bad things happen. To encourage myself that it is not a sign
of weakness. Showing up and doing what needs to be done to get to the other
side is a sign of strength. You cannot stop bad things from happening.
And then Sunday came. And with
all it brought I tried to hide again. As much as I could to hide the fact that
I was weak again. That I allowed a bad thing to happen, again. That I should
have done better. It’s been four days since Sunday and with the elephant cup this
morning the “glass was shattered.”
My eyes were open, despite not
having my first cup of morning coffee.
Sunday, just before I was
supposed to get off early I was dispatched to a disorder call. I won’t go into
the details but will tell you in the process of working that call before backup
had arrived my head was bounced off the concrete twice. I honestly thought for
a split second I was going to die at the hands of a meth user. Split second.
Things worked out. Back up arrived and I carried on as if bouncing my head off
the concrete was my fault and I had to just fight through it, so I wouldn’t be
perceived as weak. I didn’t go to the hospital because in my mine my injuries
were not as bad as other officers had experienced. I could hear myself talking,
it was like I was outside of myself listening. I knew I was loopy but would not
allow myself to succumb to what my mind said was being weak. I worked another
4.5 hours on the case and went home parking my cruiser at the end of the
driveway where I rarely park it.
I planned the next day to go
straight back to work. I struggled with walking. My head pounded. My right eye
was seeing blurry. My wrist hurt. My knee hurt. BUT I was going back to work.
Until… I talked to an officer who knows me well. He texted with me about being
hard headed and advised I was to go be seen… I even argued with the doctor…and
then fought through what another officer who had experienced a concussion was
telling me. I was so tired.
Tuesday night, I began to connect
with healthier thoughts: “not being able to control the bad things that
happened to me as not being a sign of weakness--- that taking care of myself is not a
sign of weakness.” I started looking for positive signs from the overwhelming past
to give me courage to stand up for myself. I was reminded of a hawk that swooped
in and went after a squirrel during a huge battle I was experiencing. What it
represented at the time. I received strength from that memory. Just as I now
have received strength from the shattered elephant experience this morning as I
ponder it.
We are human.
We are not in control of
everything.
We do feel pain.
We do have needs.
We can only suit up, show up and
do what we can in this out of control world.
We can fight the best we can and know
deep in our being that God is our strength.
God is our peace and yes, He can
take shattered elephants and use them.
