The Giant's Ladder

Jenny Davis is an chronic overachiever. As a health care professional, she frequently makes miracles through her hard work with very young children and their families. She is the mother of six girls, the youngest of whom is a 3rd grader, the oldest of whom started college last fall. She takes a leadership role for several school projects a year. And Jenny and her husband make learning a way of life. Weekend adventures, family vacations, and even the fun activities they share with their children at home are all learning experiences.

At the age of 40, Jenny was diagnosed with young onset parkinson's disease (like Michael J Fox). And then last fall,  at the age of 43, she was diagnosed with late stage colon cancer. Through it all, Jenny continues to give, and touch lives, and make miracles. Through her blog, Jenny has been sharing with family and friends her humor, optimism, determination, and the lessons she is learning as she goes through surgery and chemotherapy.  Her entry today, about teamwork and appreciating our team,  is inspiring. And it is also a wonderful example of engagement, and how both students and families benefit from engagement. Jenny has graciously agreed to have her blog entry re-posted here to inspire us all to see and appreciate the team around us - and to encourage everyone to make a million dollar difference by giving time each day to learn with, and from, a child.

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Yes, I know it's long.....go get a cup of coffee or something.

In 7th grade my daughters, along with their classmates, have had the privilege of going on a multi-day trip to a camp in the San Juan Islands. The kids spend 4 days together, working in teams, learning about the environment, each other, and themselves.

One of the activities the kids take part in is the "Giant's Ladder." This "ladder" consists of logs suspended by cables horizontally at increasing distances. The first log is about 5 feet off the ground with about 4 feet between it and the 2nd log. The final two logs are roughly 6 feet apart, ending I would estimate, approximately 50 feet off the ground (I may be way off....I'm terrible at estimating distance). Wearing helmets and harnasses, the students work in teams of three to climb the ladder as the rest of the students in the group manage the ropes, or "belay" them, as they climb. The camp counselor, along with a teacher and the chaperones supervise and assist as needed, with safety always being the priority.

Invariably, as the students first approach the ladder, they each focus on how high they think they can climb......or can't climb. Anticipation, anxiety, excitement, apprehension....."We're gonna climb THAT?" As the activity begins, the students soon realize that the success of each individual is dependant on the person next to them. And the success of each 'team' is dependant on the support and encouragement of the others on the ground who can only watch, encourage, and always...always...hold the rope. It's a team thing. It's nearly impossible to even get off the ground alone, and climbing without others holding your rope would be madness (not to mention against regulations and NOT allowed).

Some teams barely make it to the first log (in reality, this is the most difficult step). Rarely a team will make it all the way to the top. Most will only reach the third or fourth log. In the end, it matters less how "high" they climbed," than, "how they got there."  "Success" has a new meaning.

Last Spring I had the privilege of being a chaperone for this trip. I also had the opportunity to climb the ladder with two seventh-grade girls because they were one person short. The three of us made it off the ground. We did not make it to the top. I don't really remember if we made it to the 3rd, or 4th log. It doesn't really matter how "high" we climbed. What mattered, is "how we got there." Having a 43 year-old mother of 6 who just happens to have Parkinson's Disease, is not what most 7th graders would consider to be a "benefit" to the team. But then again, as a 43 year-old mother of 6 with Parkinson's Disease, having 2 team members half my size and a bunch of 7th graders holding my rope wouldn't exactly be considered "sane," either. Of course, I wouldn't be telling this story if either of those things were actually true. The girls were willing to see me as a benefit to the team. And I was willing to trust a group of "kids" to be there and support me.....to hold my rope. As far as I'm concerned, we were wildly successful.

Strength comes in all sizes. Success happens in many ways. Support comes from without...and from within. We need each other to "climb the ladder." And make no mistake.....everybody is climbing some sort of ladder. I am so thankful to not be climbing this one alone. I have a great team. They come in a variety of sizes, but together they have strength beyond measure. They give me hugs and kisses. They color in charts and hang ornaments to celebrate each step of this journey...each rung of the ladder. They remind me that I CAN do this...and stand with me "in sickness and in health."

And I know this, and I see it in the eyes of my 'team'..... our strength comes from within, from our Heavenly Father, and it comes from without, from those with whom He surrounds us and who support us in so, SO many ways......who watch...who encourage...and who I know, continue to "hold our ropes."

Belay on!

Ripples of Hope

Seven powerful words from Myrtha Manigat are inspiring rescuers and families of the millions impacted by the earthquake in Haiti on January 12, 2010.

Myrtha Manigat, 27, was visiting a friend in Port-au-Prince when the earthquake hit. As the building collapsed around her, Manigut plummeted into a hole. For three days, Manigat, 27, remained trapped in that hole.

Friends who saw the home where she had been visiting told her relatives that Manigat was dead. But on Friday, Manigut was pulled from the rubble of the house. Doctors had to amputate one of her legs to save her.

On Sunday, she spoke with relatives in New York, telling them about the ordeal.  When they learned she had lost her leg, they began to cry. Manigut responded "crying is not going to do anything."

Seven simple words that are now inspiring workers who are facing a daunting challenge - and overwhelming obstacles.  Crying is not going to do anything.  And so they continue to dig, and listen for sounds of those trapped in the rubble, and to carry on the painstaking search.

Seven words that inspire survivors to move past the shock and anguish of all that is lost. Crying is not going to do anything. And so they begin picking up the pieces of their shattered lives.

Crying is not going to do anything. In the face of enormous tragedy, economic challenge, family turmoil, a health crisis, and even as we work to build better schools, we could all use a dose of Myrtha Manigut's wisdom.

Indeed.  Crying is not going to do anything. Let's roll up our sleeves, and embrace the hope and strength in those words, as we build a brighter future.