Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

Our Land – Looking Forward to Giving Back

OurLandBannerFindingNinee

Yo! Guess what? Today’s Our Land features my amazing friend Emily from Oh Boy Mom. Trust me when I tell you that her voice is beyond excellent, and that I’m confident you’ll love her just as much as I do. Honestly, when I asked her to submit, I didn’t think she’d have time to do so. Emily has been on a hiatus since mid-July, when she found out that her life was about to change. I’m honored and excited that she has contributed today’s post. Read more about Emily at the end and then please go visit her site. You’ll be glad you did.

Looking Forward to Giving Back

When Kristi first asked me to guest post for her “Our Land” series, I knew I could easily contribute. I just didn’t know where to start, because my family has had so many encounters over the years in the land of empathy. What would I focus on?

My son is now a 16-year old teenager. Gone are the days when he’d have play dates with kids who didn’t care if he talked or not and simply accepted the fact that he wanted to play with toy cars the whole time. Or the time when he had a very special first grade teacher who gave homework to all the students to learn a certain game at recess just so my son would learn the rules and be able to participate with the others on the playground. Those little kindnesses by peers or tweaks to a classroom lesson by a teacher took so little effort, but made such a huge difference to my son’s progress and confidence. Today, my son is a thriving guy who flirts with girls, went to sleep-away camp for seven summers, plays and excels at basketball and golf, does not require any academic support, and blends right in with his classmates, except for the fact that he’s 6 foot 7.

Do I think the years of therapy and support are what propelled him to where he is today? Sure, that was a big part of it. But, the other parts that made such a difference in his development were all those small acts of empathy. If it weren’t for the “cool” guy at camp taking him under his wing and literally teaching him how to talk to girls, my son would not have the courage to ask a girl to dance at the camp social. One act, so simple, has gifted my son with the ability to believe that he is worthy of dancing, just like everyone else.

Little did I know, the empathetic gestures would continue, except the focus would change from one of my children to another, one who was recently diagnosed with a serious illness. At first we didn’t tell too many people. We found out right at the beginning of the summer and so it was easy to avoid friends and neighbors who were busy with their summer plans. But, slowly word got around our very small community.

When it’s your child – your 9-year-old baby – people naturally express shock and disbelief. The one line we kept hearing over and over again was, “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.” In other words, people were saying, “this is so horrible that it’s almost too hard to be empathetic.” And in some instances, that’s exactly what happened. Some of our closest friends seemed to vanish. The notion of someone else’s child being diagnosed with a cancerous tumor was news they simply could not handle. And so they didn’t. They haven’t called or emailed or checked in. Do I cross these people off my “good friends” list now? Believe me, it’s tempting. But, I’ve realized that I have to learn to accept my friends’ limitations. In all fairness, most of my friends say or do exactly the right thing – a phone message with the reassurance that she’s checking in and loves me — or just showing up at my house to just BE there for me. Those friends understand what true empathy is. It’s amazing to me that many of my online friends, most of whom I’ve never met in real life, are more empathetic to me than some friends I see all the time. I actually had one of my online friends offer to donate blood if my son ever needed a transfusion. She herself is a survivor of a childhood illness, so she totally gets this. But still, wow.

Some friends have used my son’s illness as a way to teach empathy to their own kids. I am fine with that, as long as my son knows it’s genuine. The other day three of my son’s school buddies showed up at our door with a handmade poster bearing get well messages, lollipops, and rainbow loom bracelets. While I’m sure a mom or dad was behind the effort, the three boys rang the doorbell themselves and had earnest, caring looks on their faces. My son was too nauseous to come to the door that day, but I know he’ll cherish that poster as much as I do.

This is going to be a long year of treatments, hospital visits, tests, and needle pokes. Our family – and most especially my son — needs empathy more than ever. When it’s all over, and my son is healthy and strong again, I plan to reverse the flow of caring. I want to give it all back, to each and every person who has let us know that they are there for us – whether it’s through a meal, a toy, a card, a phone call, a Facebook message, text, prayer or a hug. These simple acts of support have meant so much. I want to return the love. I can’t wait to get started.

Thank you, Emily. I really appreciate you taking the time to contribute to Our Land. I know that I’m not alone in being over-the-top happy that you’re back to blogging and in sending empathy and prayers for your son and your entire family.

More about Emily from Oh Boy Mom:

Emily CappoEmily is a mom to three boys (ages 9, 13, and 16) and one girl dog. She is an iced tea junkie and tennis-playing fanatic whose game never improves. When not writing or blogging or playing tennis, Emily does everything she can to avoid cooking and can usually be found eating a meal out with her husband or friends. She has recently completed a memoir, “Hope All Is Well.” If you’d like to publish it or make it into a major motion picture, please let her know.


  • Stephanie @ Mommy, for Real. - Emily, it is so wonderful to “hear your voice” again. I think about you and your family often. I felt shocked to read that some of your friends have sort of dropped back, and then I worried that that was hypocritical. Surely MY family would never do that to our friends? Thanks for making me think about how to best support and empathize with friends who may need us someday. And one last thing- I can’t wait to read your memoir. You are amazing.September 25, 2013 – 10:14 amReplyCancel

  • Jessica Smock - Welcome back, Emily! I have missed you! I’ve thought of you often. I know that all of your online friends wish we could do more, but we’re supporting you in spirit!September 25, 2013 – 10:17 amReplyCancel

  • Janine Huldie - Emily, you are so right you find out who are your friends during the rough times, such as this. Thank you for sharing all you have been going through this past summer here today. I am truly glad you are back. Please do know you, your son and whole family are in my thoughts and prayers. And if you need anything, please just message me.September 25, 2013 – 10:20 amReplyCancel

  • Kristi Campbell - Stephanie,
    I felt shocked that some friends dropped back as well, but know that often times, people simply don’t know what to say or do. We’ve had some similar (obviously different as developmental delays are NOTHING like fighting cancer) experiences with friends of ours not knowing what to say about Tucker…and so they just kindof disappear.
    And I agree! Here’s to Emily’s memoir!

    Jessica,
    I’ve missed her too. I’m so glad she’s back.
    September 25, 2013 – 10:24 amReplyCancel

  • Kristi Campbell - Janine,
    Thanks. Agree about being truly glad Emily’s back.
    September 25, 2013 – 10:25 amReplyCancel

  • Jessica - Welcome back, Emily! (Although, I am new to your blog.) I love your attitude, and I am so sorry to hear about your Little Dude. I will keep you all in my prayers.September 25, 2013 – 10:26 amReplyCancel

  • Janet - What a great story Emily. Hard times are great sifters – you find out your true supporters is and sift out the ones that aren’t. There’s at least one sifted out that surprises me every time it’s happened to me, but what’s left behind is so much better. I wish you the best in the coming year.September 25, 2013 – 11:16 amReplyCancel

  • Michelle Liew - Emily, letting you know that I’ll always be sending thoughts and prayers your way. Through the hard times, comes something beautiful like empathy. Because, I am a brain tumor survivor too….and completely, in all senses of the word, understand.September 25, 2013 – 11:29 amReplyCancel

  • Rachel - Emily, this post literally made me cry. You see, my father died when I was eleven, and one of the most beautiful things that he taught me before he died was to accept people’s limitations. I watched many friends and family struggle with his illness, and stop coming to see him in the hospital. He told me not to judge people’s reactions, because we can’t ever understand what they are going through. I try to take that advice into my life. It is NOT always easy. We also had people embrace us like never before too, which was an incredible gift.September 25, 2013 – 11:59 amReplyCancel

  • Considerer - What a way to re-enter the Blogosphere. This is a gorgeous post, and I love the way you are committed to returning the empathy your son and your family receive. That’s a really nice gesture.

    I hope all goes well with the treatments.September 25, 2013 – 12:14 pmReplyCancel

  • Dana - Wonderful post, Emily. Clearly we should never underestimate those small acts of empathy – they can make all the difference. May your family continue to receive many small acts as you “go to battle and conquer the beast.” Welcome back!September 25, 2013 – 12:43 pmReplyCancel

  • Lisa @ The Golden Spoons - Wonderful post, Emily! Admittedly, I am one of those people who might be tempted to step back a little for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. Reading this, though, reminds me that even the little things matter to someone who is going through a difficult time and encourages me to step up rather than step back. Thanks for that reminder and prayers for you & your family!September 25, 2013 – 1:53 pmReplyCancel

  • Robbie - I am very sorry you and your family are going through such a difficult time. I am sorry that you have been disappointed by some friends. Not everyone knows how to respond. I love that you are using this time to teach valuable lessons.September 25, 2013 – 4:37 pmReplyCancel

  • Tamara - How awesome of you to not cross people off of your list as “good friends.” I know that people tend to have trouble coping when times are tough. Some people. Not all people. Glad to read your voice here and hear about your sons.September 25, 2013 – 4:42 pmReplyCancel

  • Lanaya | Raising Reagan - Very key point … allowing other’s to use your son’s illness as a teaching point for empathy in a GENUINE fashion.
    It is one of the hardest things to go through when you have to find out your true friendships.
    You never expect it to be the people you thought and that always baffles me.
    It is so very nice to meet you.

    ¤´¨)
    ¸.•*´
    (¸¤ Lanaya | xoxo
    Raising-Reagan.comSeptember 25, 2013 – 5:09 pmReplyCancel

  • Kenya G. Johnson - To Emily – I love your last words – “I can’t wait to get started.” That in itself is beautiful. I can’t tell you how much i’ve learned from this series – this post included. Sometimes something is so that it’s too much to process and you can’t imagine what the person is going through. I’ve never thought it would make one less empathetic, rather just not knowing what to do. I have two friends my age with cancer. We’ve all known each other since we were 11 so that’s like 32 years now. We aren’t BFFs like we were then but we still keep in touch and show up to each other’s “important stuff” (just like long distance family). The news of both was a blow and I was reluctant to check in with them anymore than I usually do because I didn’t want to make every conversation about the cancer. It was so hard to make the first phone call after I heard. Anyway as I was reading your post, I said not making the conversation about cancer would be equivalent to backing off. Like I was ignoring the reality. I decided to just now to text one of them who is going through chemo now and ask “How’s chemo going?” She texted me back right away saying the cancer has shrunk quicker than the doc thought and so they are ahead of schedule. Then she followed that with a her posing with her bald head. So I know I went on an on here Emily but I just wanted to say thank you. I will do better about keeping in touch. And my goodness, just from seeing her smile and pose with a bald head makes ME feel better.September 25, 2013 – 7:12 pmReplyCancel

  • Katia - You taking your friends’ phrase “can’t imagine what you must be going through”, reversing it and using it to understand what they are going through is the essence of empathy and the Our Land series. I was judgemental as I read about friends abandoning a friend in a situation like this, but I guess some of your empathy rubbed off on me. I think that many people must get overwhelmed with the diagnosis and probably feel that they are expected to provide answers, failing to realize that it’s the gestures that count. Knowing that someone cares.

    I can’t wait to read your post about giving back once the little guy is well.September 25, 2013 – 9:21 pmReplyCancel

  • Ruth - I’m new to your blog, but will definitely be reading, and am sending you all positive energy and support. <3September 25, 2013 – 9:51 pmReplyCancel

  • christine - Oh, Emily, this was a wonderful addition to the Our Land. You are one generous, merciful, wise woman. We will be praying for you all.September 25, 2013 – 10:19 pmReplyCancel

  • Darcy Perdu - beautiful reminder of simple things we can all fo to lighten the burdens of our struggling friends!September 26, 2013 – 2:10 amReplyCancel

  • Anita@ Losing Austin - I love that you’re trying to accept some friends limitations when they don’t respond. My husband has a chronic illness and when he’s in the hospital people are so loving and caring, but forget the rest of the time, and I have no problem with that- they are responding when there is the most need, and I’m grateful. But where we’ve lost friends is with my missing brother- I think that they don’t know exactly what to do, so many do nothing. I have a hard time with those.

    So glad you’ve shared and are popping back in to the blogging world for at least a bit- your voice is needed!September 26, 2013 – 9:11 amReplyCancel

  • Hope - Such a heart warming post. It’s amazing to me that go through what you and your family are experiencing..your eminent thought is to begin returning the support and compassion that you’ve received. Says a lot about the kind of person you are. Your son and family will be continually be in my prayers. #BloppySeptember 26, 2013 – 10:52 amReplyCancel

  • Chris Carter - Praying for your precious boy- have been since I found out on Bloppies. I love your perspective. People can only handle so much, and I am sad that they can’t push pass their selfish vulnerabilities to love you more than their discomfort. I am so sad for that…

    But I pray for you. And I would give blood to your babe any day. Seriously. Message me if you need anything – at all.September 26, 2013 – 11:20 pmReplyCancel

  • Sarah Almond - Emily I have been thinking of you since I heard about your son. Keeping your family in my thoughts and prayers. So happy to see your post here on Our Land!September 27, 2013 – 12:27 amReplyCancel

  • catherine gacad - reading this came at the strangest and most apropos time for me. i’m currently writing a blog post/rant on friends who have been unsupportive during my time of need. i pray that i can be more forgiving.September 29, 2013 – 3:08 amReplyCancel

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *

*

*

N e v e r   m i s s   a   n e w   p o s t !