Five horses gathered at the fence behind the barn waiting for Miss Carter to bring them treats. She patted their noses, told them they were each special, and she would return with more love in the afternoon. Apple, the young colt, tilted his head as Miss Carter whispered to him as only she could do.
Afterward, Miss Carter returned to the barn to prepare tea and cookies for friends joining her for a picnic.
Miss Carter is three years old; the horses are seven inches high; the fence is constructed of popsicle sticks, and the barn is made of plastic. This idyllic scene rests on a child’s table in my living room. However, for Carter and me, our imaginations allow us to travel far. We visit places where there is the freedom to ride, climb trees, and play in a hayloft.
I am called Grandma by this spirited, sweet child. We are not blood-related since she is my stepdaughter’s little girl but never mind all that. Family dynamics are way too complicated for a three-year-old. Love seems to cancel such trivial nonsense anyway.
Carter broke her femur in a freak accident at her preschool several weeks ago. She looks exquisite in her pink and purple Spica cast, which begins just under her breastbone and travels down her right leg to her ankle and the left leg to her knee. A steel bar is attached from the right ankle to the left thigh, which separates her legs by about two feet.
She cannot walk, nor can she sit without assistance. She sleeps only on her back because she cannot turn. And she sleeps like this without complaint. She requires constant supervision, and when she needs to move, we must lift her, including the heavy apparatus she is half-buried in.
I keep Carter three days a week since she cannot return to school until the cast is removed. I have learned to sit with her around her table in little chairs that rise one foot above the floor. As a result of the lifting and sitting, I take a substantial amount of ibuprofen for my back on a weekly basis.
When we are not at the barn, we go to Barbie’s house, visit the girls, or shop at the grocery store where the head cashier, Miss Carter, runs the Minnie Mouse cash register. We unload our groceries in the kids’ kitchen and prepare cookies containing pretend ingredients of vegetable soup with cherries. We solve puzzles, and without cheating, I cannot win a game of Candy Land to save my life.
In her infinite wisdom, Carter has taught me a lot about life during these last few weeks. I realize if I were in her situation, the claustrophobia would have set in, and my wailing would have spooked all the horses, causing them to flee to greener pastures. I would require more than ibuprofen to get through the days, and not even Godzilla could lift me since I would have drowned my sorrow with real cookies made with chocolate chips.
Children are amazing. They accept what befalls them and roll with the punches. They use their imaginations to escape to bliss and enjoy the love showered upon them as they go. They choose not to complain but instead hold their dolls or bears and, if need be, watch Alvin and the Chipmunks to ease their burdens. They do not worry too much about tomorrow because they assume it will eventually arrive, bringing a new horse to the barn or more folks to the tea party.
Adults could learn a tractorful of insight by observing God working through a child’s mind and soul. I understand these terrible things happen to even the smallest of humans since we live on this earth. However, when they do, because the children are innocent, God calms their souls, and I think he must whisper to them, just like Carter does to her little colt, Apple, to assure him all is well.
When tragedy visits us, perhaps we should remember that courage will help us stand again. Miss Carter understands that attitude makes a huge difference in how we heal. We can choose to laugh at Alvin and the Chipmunks or cry and complain over our misfortune. We can decide to pray to God or blame Him for our troubles.
Children trust us to make things okay. They believe our words of comfort, “It’s going to be alright.” Are we not God’s children? If we believe in His words, everything will be okay, even on the day when the horses come with chariots to take us home. Until then, enjoy the green pastures, let your imagination fly, and appreciate the love bestowed upon you as you go.
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Lynn Walker Gendusa is an author and columnist whose work appears regularly on NowHabersham.com and across the U.S. through the USA Today Network. Her work has been featured in Guidepost, senior magazines, and on MSN.com. Lynn’s latest book is “Southern Comfort: Stories of Family, Friendship, Fiery Trials, and Faith.” She can be reached at www.lynngendusa.com.
