Thursday, April 10, 2008
Celebrate the small stuff
Linda Whitlock
Recent columns
You've heard the saying. Don't sweat the small stuff. You know -- little things like endlessly cloudy days that don't even compensate for their dreariness with much-needed rain. Or dogs that never quite get housebroken. Or books that don't arrive when expected. Or even pounds that don't drop off as fast as desired.
That's some of the small stuff I've been sweating lately. Petty, huh? Most of you probably have much bigger small stuff that infringes on your happiness. Whether big or small, those trivial, nagging things can wring the joy right out of our days.
That is, until we run across someone for whom there is no small stuff.
This past Sunday, I had the privilege of hearing two people whose lives are composed entirely of big stuff -- Patrick Henry Hughes and his father, Patrick John Hughes. You may be familiar with them. From Louisville, Ky., Patrick and his family were featured on ABC's "Extreme Makeover Home Edition" in February.
At 20 years old, Patrick Henry is an accomplished musician and member of the University of Louisville's marching band. He's majoring in Spanish, which he speaks fluently, and hopes to become an interpreter and possibly even an ambassador someday. Or maybe a game show host, he says. Yet Patrick Henry has no eyes and is confined to a wheelchair because he can't fully extend his arms and legs.
His father, Patrick John, has become his eyes and feet. Patrick John has devoted his life to seeing that his son reaches his full potential. He works the night shift at UPS so he can go to class with his son every day. He wheels Patrick Henry in formation with the marching band and travels with him around the country and beyond telling his inspiring story.
Before Patrick Henry's birth, the Hugheses had no inkling anything was wrong with their little boy. The ultrasound hadn't revealed the baby's abnormalities, so when Patrick Henry was born, they were devastated. All the dreams Patrick John had for his son died when they heard the diagnosis. Like most parents in their situation, they couldn't understand why God had let such a thing happen to them.
They still feel that way. But for different reasons. When Patrick Henry was born, Patrick John and his wife, Patricia, wondered why God had burdened them with a child like Patrick Henry. Now they wonder why God has blessed them with such a child.
When Patrick John talks about his son, the light in his eyes leaves no doubt he feels truly blessed to be entrusted with Patrick Henry's care. He calls Patrick Henry his hero. It's clear he thinks his own sacrifices amount to nothing compared to the obstacles his son has had to overcome.
The dreams he thought had died the day Patrick Henry was born, he's seen fulfilled, instead, in ways he never could have imagined. Faced with the prospect of giving birth to a severely handicapped child, many people these days would choose abortion. Even if they could foresee the child would have talents like Patrick Henry's, some would still balk at the demands such a child would place on their lives. Would the Hugheses have made that choice if they'd known about Patrick Henry's disabilities before his birth? I don't know. I hope not.
It's sobering to contemplate how many Patrick Henrys abortion may have cost us. For those of us blessed with sight and mobility, it's also sobering to contemplate how much sweating the small stuff costs us. Despite the challenges they face, Patrick Henry and his dad count every day an adventure. I, conversely, can let a few rainy days wreck my week.
Instead of sweating the small stuff, maybe we should start celebrating the small stuff. You know the stuff I mean. A baby's giggle. Walking on our own two feet. A car with a few gallons of gas. More food than we need. A "word aptly spoken," as it says in Proverbs.
"God made me blind and unable to walk," Patrick Henry says on an ESPN video. "Big deal! He gave me the musical gifts I have and the great opportunity to meet new people." We may not have either Patrick Henry's disabilities or his gifts, but we can cultivate his attitude. At the very least, let's celebrate the small stuff.
Whitlock, a Roanoke Times columnist, is an adjunct English professor who lives in Salem.
