Turbo Cancer: Day 117 - October 6, 2022
As Usual, God Stepped In
On this day, last year, my mom wrote:
Yesterday - looks like Kristi is getting unemployment! Check was deposited for $800 for 2 weeks. No official letter, but it looks good! Thank you!
Got a gnome picture to paint. Library free-bee. Looks hard! On canvas!
Also got risers for sofas so it won’t be so hard to get up.
Prayers for Steven. Are you taking good care of him? Of course you are! Thanks for all!
“I want to live and return to robust health, but perhaps you have a deeper wisdom.” J Cormody
For fifteen years, prior to the pandemic, I worked happily, as an Early Childhood Educator, for Illinois Action for Children. I was passionate about young children, and had spent many years observing and studying human development.
I was particularly interested in the brain.
The human brain develops more in the first five years of life than it will for the next ninety-five years. Babies are born with instinct but no concrete thought. For five years, every part of a human is developing at lightning speed. It all happens so fast that it can be easy to miss.
The most important areas of development during the early years are the ability to socialize, and the ability to recognize, and deal with, strong emotion. These are the skills that a person needs in order to become a positive force in human society.
The first five years of life are critical. They are the foundation of an entire human being. Trauma cracks that foundation. Children who experience extreme trauma during the early years do not develop strong social and emotional skills - ever.
Ever.
During the pandemic, I disagreed strongly with the Covid-19 policies regarding young children. I feared that such extreme measures would have a profound and detrimental long-term effect.
And I was right.
At that time, I had a platform. I had a voice. I used my voice. Others were afraid. Fear shuts down the brain’s ability to reason.
Prior to the pandemic, I passionately expressed my knowledge of child development and concern for the state of childhood. I was praised for my commitment.
Covid changed all that.
My brain thinks what it thinks. When my brain thinks about something, I believe it. Sometimes it’s right, sometimes it’s wrong. However, right or wrong, my thoughts are the foundation of my belief. I assume that is how it works for everyone.
My brain thought what my brain thought. There was nothing I could do to change that. The words that came out of my mouth were the words that my brain was thinking.
I suddenly found myself in a situation where my beliefs no longer aligned with the beliefs of those with whom I worked. The words that were coming out of my mouth were different from the words written on the official, bullet-pointed, Illinois Action for Children Covid-19 talking point guideline sheet.
We each have our own history. We each have our own experience. We each have knowledge based on our history and experience. We each have our own thoughts, based on our knowledge. We each have our own set of beliefs, based on our thoughts. That is the beauty of human existence.
O, to be more precise, that was once considered to be the beauty of human existence. I remember a time when diversity of ideas was appreciated and celebrated. I remember a time when humans could disagree without hate. I remember a time when bread was broken between people from opposite ends of the political spectrum.
At least, I think I remember that time. That is the way I once thought it was.
The pandemic exposed the fact that times had changed. During the pandemic, I learned that having ideas that do not align with the establishment is unacceptable to most Americans. I was fired from my job for my belief. I was fired for my thoughts. During the Covid-19 pandemic, an “us-against-them” mindset was cultivated. I was fired for my inability to align my thinking with the state-mandated-hive-mind.
Years later, I still find it all to be so, so strange.
Days after losing my job, I chose to take a lovely position, working directly with young children who were living through the trauma of Covid-19. I thought that, maybe, I could be a positive force in their life.
I was the teacher of a group of two-year-old children. I loved those babies. We had so much fun together. We walked to the park, sang songs, painted, and looked for pictures in the clouds.
But then my mom got sick. I suddenly quit. I couldn’t take care of them any longer. I had to take care of her.
My mom got sick as my husband was retiring. Financially speaking, my family was beginning to struggle. I hadn’t said it to my mom, but I was worrying about paying bills and feeding my kids.
I was worried when I should have had faith.
As usual, God stepped in.
I had applied for unemployment. I had been fired from Action for Children six months prior, and had worked another job, which I then quit, without notice.
My initial application was denied.
I appealed.
I didn’t think I would get it.
For the appeal hearing, I sat in my mom’s backyard. I had a phone conversation with a judge in California. Without taking a breath, I told him my whole story.
I told him about how I got fired from my big job and about the new job that I had taken. I told him how my mom had been suddenly diagnosed with three types of cancer. I told him about how she had been debilitated, overnight. I told him about Lumpy and about The Blowhole. I told him about her pain. I told him how much she needed me.
I told him about Steven, dying alone in San Francisco. I told him that I couldn’t leave my mom alone. I told him that it was impossible for me to go back to work, because then my mom would have to die alone, too.
I didn’t think I would get unemployment. When I let my story spill from my mouth and into the ear of the judge, it was an act of desperation. I did not expect that a stranger in a position of power would care about my plight.
God cared.
When my mom got sick, I made a promise. I said that I would take care of her - no matter what. During the turbo cancer, every barrier that appeared in my path was swept away by God.
I received unemployment for exactly six months. My mom’s illness lasted exactly six months. I received the exact amount that my family needed to pay our bills, and to support ourselves, for exactly six months. I was given exactly what I needed to get us through - no more, no less.
How is that not a miracle?
Over the past three years, my life has been a series of leaps of faith.
I keep leaping but, somehow, I never fall.
God is good🙏
Loved this so much. Thank you for sharing this!