On June 4th,
2013, a bright source of light was transferred from the harsh reality of a
transplant hospital in Omaha to a much kinder gentler existence with the Source
of that light. After an entire lifetime
of major physical challenges and suffering, and at the ripe old age of 24
years, 6 months, and 18 days, my dear, creative, bright, beautiful, funny
friend Molly Jo Eaker-Pearce stepped out of her wounded battered young body and
into the perfect health and wholeness of eternity.
Molly probably wouldn't
remember the first time we met, since she was only a baby. She might not remember the second time either
- but I certainly do. It was in
Flagstaff, at the Li'l Bit North Ranch - and a group of us had just finished a
women's retreat with Molly's mom, Melisa.
I stayed an extra day - and that was when Melisa had the bright idea
that she could go into town to run some errands, and that I - the very experienced
30-something mom of two with a BA in Education - would be quite capable of
taking care of this tiny sprout of a 3 year old while she was gone for a couple
of hours.
Now, I knew
something about Molly from the grapevine of mutual friends Melisa and I had -
but I had not really spent much time with her.
I mostly knew that she had serious physical challenges - that she was frail
and kind of sickly - and I had seen her dragging the pole on wheels that
carried her feeding pump around behind her much of the day. With more than a decade of being a mom, and my
saddle bags overflowing with creative drama training and experience with
special needs kids, I had no reason to
think this sweet blue-eyed angel would be any kind of a challenge. But unfortunately, Molly decided she did not
want Mom to go… and when Melisa had the audacity to go anyway - Molly's anger
flared. I tried the normal distraction
things - games, stories, even Barney on the TV (oh, my… I was, in the near
future, going to watch an unimaginable amount of Barney shows and play Barney
games and spend more time desperately looking for her lost Barney that she
absolutely had to have or the world would come to an end), but on this day,
poor Barney was not getting Molly's attention.
I assured her (over loud wailing) that Mom would be right back - and she
was only going to get a few things from the store - but it had no effect. Her anger grew to rage - and then to complete
outrage that Mom would dare to go off and leave her! And then… I was privileged to witness my
first, official, dyed-in-the-wool, Molly Jo Pearce temper tantrum.
I know it is perfectly
age-appropriate for a 3 year old to throw a tantrum when they don't get their
way. It's just that I had no concept of
the amount of power and fury contained in this petite, apparently frail body
that had flung itself to the floor in front of me. The wailing - the flailing arms and legs…
what was I to do with this supposedly sickly child who was quickly turning into
a Tasmanian She-Devil before my eyes?
I tried again to
convince her that mom would be back soon, but the kicking and screaming
continued. I tried distracting her with funny
voices - silly songs ….even using my official authoritative "Mom"
voice to demand she calm down - but Molly was not to be dissuaded. I was really afraid that something horrible
was going to happen - that there might be serious injury, Finally - after what seemed like an eternity,
(but which was probably about 20 minutes), when nothing I said or did had made
one bit of difference, I quit. I just
gave up and lay down on the floor next to her.
I placed my hand lightly on that trembling little back, and lay there,
saying nothing. At first she escalated
in protest, but after a few minutes, the yells began to fade into whimpers -
and I felt her muscles slowly begin to relax under my hand. It would take quite a while before she stopped
completely and yielded her spot on the floor, but the worst was over… for now.
I didn't know it at
the time, but extreme tantrums and dissociation are one way that kids who have
been through medical trauma process some of that emotional pain. They can literally get so lost in the emotion
they just check out and don’t even know what is going on around them anymore. All I knew on that sunny summer day in the
mountains of northern Arizona was that I would never again equate a frail body
with a frail spirit, especially not in the case of one Molly Joe Pearce, determined
3 year old and Tasmanian She-Devil impersonator!
There is so much power
in the way we present ourselves to the world every day. Molly, with all her physical limitations -
displayed more power to affect good in the lives of people around her than most
of the famous and supposedly powerful
people I know. So the easiest way I
have of sharing one of the major lessons I learned from Molly is to quote
Marianne Williamson: “Our deepest fear
is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond
measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask
ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually,
who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not
serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children
do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not
just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we
unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated
from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Molly knew this
about herself. In her short lifetime she
learned what many of us never find out - we are the powerful beyond
measure.
Thank you, Mollywog. Your power is awesome… and it is with us
still, along with your joy and your passion for life. Enjoy your next journey my friend!
For most posts about
Molly – please go to:
