Simple Living in Coke Bottle Culture

Our son James was watching this video over and over and over the other morning. We were struck by it for very different reasons. It eventually came out that he liked it because he got to see people "walking around with bare bums." Ha ha. I liked The Gods Must Be Crazy for that reason too when I was a boy (like what boy didn't)?

But I was drawn to video for an entirely different reason (and likely the one the screenwriter was trying to highlight), and that was how beautiful and 'un-polluted' their way of life is. Sure, it's fiction, but the metaphor of the coke bottle causing the small community so much trouble really rings true for me right now. And it seems just as applicable today as it was in the 1980's when the movie came out.

"A thing they had never needed before became a necessity."  

I must admit: I have been reluctant to write this and other posts because I don't want to relate everything we see and read to our daughter Gabrielle. But the people in this movie clip and the juxtaposition of the coke bottle really did remind me of what she's teaching us.  

While we can't escape coke bottle culture (that's just unrealistic), I think it's important to remember where we came from and who we really are as a species. Often all the coke bottles we have and want in our lives muddy our perception as to what really matters. 

But I'm convinced that we're most happy when we know there are people in our lives who would want to sleep beside us around the fire at the end of the day.

A Normal Life...

I think for the past year and a half I have been grieving the loss of any normalcy.  What is a normal life? I think living a normal, or regular life is one that is predictable and kind of gels with the rest of the community and or culture that you live in.

Since the birth of our beautiful daughter Gabrielle, I have lost and have been grieving a normal life for me, my kids, my husband and most importantly, for my dear, sweet daughter Gabrielle.  And here I am, a year and a half later, and I am still crying tears over what could have been, and over what my daughter, my family will never experience.

Some of me has accepted our new normal.  But, I don't know if I will ever be 100% ok with our new normal.  I think a part of me will always, always grieve for the loss of life, the loss of many things amidst all the gains and lessons learned.  What I really would wish for would be for Gabrielle to experience life with a healthy body like mine, like yours, like the rest of my children.

However, that is not the reality.  And if you are going to cope and function on a day to day basis you need to focus on what you have, not what you don't have.  I have a beautiful daughter.  I love her with every ounce of me.  I look at her and I think to myself how much I love her and how is it possible to love someone so much.  Whenever I am in physical pain and I need some strength, the first person I think of is Gabrielle.  I think of all the challenges she has faced – and will continue to face – and how she overcomes each and every one with a smile on her face.  She gives me strength every day.  She is my little hero and has taught me that there is no normal.

Respite: Gabrielle at Canuck Place (August 2012)

I love Canuck Place! Total life-saver for us after the month that July was. Please consider sponsoring Brenda Ball, Benjamin Ross, or Julie Ross for the Canuck Place Fundraising Adventure Challenge. The kids and families here (including us) are so, so grateful for everyone's generosity, and I (personally) am grateful for living in a society where people  make efforts to take care of those who are less fortunate.


Here's a little video of Gabrielle playing tetherball at Canuck Place:

After 10 Long Nights and 11 Days ...

Gabrielle is home ... at last. Not the scare we were fearing, but our little girl was put through the ringer. God, we healthy people take our strength and resiliency for granted.

Here are some pictures of her in the neighbourhood around BC Children's Hospital. Almost the only thing that she tolerated by the end of her stay was being pushed around and seeing the sites. After hearing how I pushed her around and around and around all day, and seeing her gripping the chair with her little afghan on lap, Grandpa Wayne nailed it when he said, "It's kinda like Driving Miss Daisy." Indeed! 

There is No Santa Clause (Gabby on Mend)

Thanks to everyone for the well wishes. It's been a pretty crazy week.

Gabrielle is steadily improving since being admitted on Friday. She went to bed last night sounding almost normal, but woke up this morning choking on her coughs ... which is better than the night before when she went to bed choking on her coughs and woke up struggling to breath. So we are seeing a positive trend.

So funny being in the hospital this time around and after last year's marathon experience (which was followed by an incredibly challenging year). A year ago we were just realizing that we were "That Family." Now there's a quiet acceptance.

I suppose that's how it is for anyone who lives with – or is supporting someone through – a life-altering tragedy, sickness or disease... You just come to look at the world differently.

You come to realize that there is no Santa Clause. You're like the kid in Gr.1 who knows what's really going on behind the scenes come Christmas time. You just don't get as excited about all the hubbub as everyone. You enjoy the activities and excitement and go along with the myth because you want to fit in, be a part of things, and have fun. You learn to enjoy the season for what it really is. You are wiser beyond your years.

You know there is no Santa Clause. Weirdly, however, and in a way you can't quite make sense of, you know not to talk about it too much (or at all) with your peers because you don't want to ruin their fun. Their fun is premised on something entirely different. They don't want to know about Santa Clause. They don't want to "go there." Not ready. Later.

That's what it's like this time around. We are not trying to cling on to "normal" like we did last year. Just like when we lived in South Korea for two years, where it wasn't until the second year that we really started "getting" the country, I think we're starting to get it now, and at a whole new level...

Gabrielle has shown us what is really magical. Really real. Really wonderful.

Life is short. Life is fragile. Like can hurt. Life can be wonderful.

So while there is no Santa Clause, we're learning that there are lots of opportunities to quietly celebrate what we have – and who we have – without making it a big deal or super special. The frills and ribbons we see people getting all tangled up in actually take away from what's really going on in the first place. Untangling yourself can be a long and painful process, and sometimes you lose yourself along the way, but what you see at the end is worth it ... because it's real.