Sacrifice

As we go through life, there are many things we take for granted.  As little kids, the world is ours. Our parents are there to give us everything in it.  From the moment we are born, every whim is taken care of.  And with each passing year, it is gimme, gimme, gimme.

As teenagers, we were especially selfish.  We thought we were all that and then some.  Strutting down the school halls with are hair fixed and shellacked to perfection.  Doused in so much cologne I am sure the teachers were gagging.  I know my drama coach had a permanent face rash from his allergies to the scents we brought into the small room.

But as we mature, we come to know the sacrifices our parents and others made for us.  Like Mr. Spencer, my drama coach made having his face in a constant rash while boys and girls had cologne, perfume, hairspray, and who knows what other ghastly smells wafting around the tech area of the drama wing of school.  And parents, the sleepless hours waiting for their teens to come home from the "hang outs" or dates.

When sacrifice is done for love it isn't too bad.  Giving up that last brownie for your husband and watching him enjoy it,  brings you great pleasure.  Staying up late at night so you can be there when your son gets home from prom and then listen to him share his excitement is almost as much fun as being there yourself.

But, when spend all day sewing your daughter's Halloween costume to have her throw it on the floor and say it is the ugliest thing she has ever seen and won't wear it. That rips your heart out.  Or when you have slaved all day over a meal, your kids get up to the table, make gagging noises and starve rather than eat.  What can you say to that?

And yet there is another type of sacrifice, yet.  One I keep finding out a little bit everyday with this disease of mine.  It takes a bit here and a bit there.  It is hard for me to swallow and at times, I do throw huge hissy fits over it now and then, but I have to remember, there is nothing I can do about it.  Nothing!

I remember the first thing I lost was feeling in my finger tips.  It was after my first big relapse. Imagine you have Band-Aids© on all your fingers.  That is how it started off for me.  I had to re-teach myself to write, type, anything using your fingers.  I can't tell you how many times I burned my fingers.  It was the smell of burning flesh that tipped me off first.  :)  It is much better now 12 years later.  I just have tingling fingers that get worse if I use them too much.  I must say, violin playing is quite limited.  1st-sacrifice.

Other things have been added to the list and I won't go on.  But I have also added things to the list to replace all the things I have lost.  There is no need to regret the things I have had to sacrifice. Even though I have lost my ability to play the violin at a symphonic level, I do get it out and play it at a beginner's level.  I play alright if I memorize the music. I have to watch where I place my fingers since there is no feeling in them any more.  My daughter is extremely good at the violin and I have helped her with her private students in their recitals.  It has made me feel good to get out there and play again.

Yes, sacrifice is asked of all of us--time, money, effort, and even health,  But it is how we handle it and what we do with ourselves and others that makes us who we are.