Thoughts on Uvalde | by Linda Brendle
Published in the Rains County Leader on June 2, 2022:
The people of Uvalde suffered a great tragedy last week, and we suffered along with them. When something like this happens, there is so much that needs to be said, but too many words are the wrong ones. Words spoken or written during times of shock, horror, grief, pain, and anger often come out wrong or are misunderstood by those who hear them or read them, and they end up causing more harm than good. I was reluctant to write about what occurred, but so much heartbreak can’t simply be overlooked. First, though, I want to share some thoughts about my grandson “T”.
T is eighteen years old, and he graduated from high school this weekend. Even those who are not doting grandparents recognize that he is an amazing young man – intelligent, handsome, talented, ambitious, loving, and caring. A family friend who has a beautiful home with a stunningly terraced back yard overlooking the Brazos River hosted a celebration for him on Saturday, and it was attended by friends and relatives from all over the country. One of the highlights of the evening was when the small professional jazz band that provided entertainment took a break and T and several of his friends took their place. We had missed the concert where his group won the best jazz ensemble award, so I was thrilled to hear them perform in person. I was also thrilled to watch him interact with a dozen of his peers as they played volleyball, engaged in a photo scavenger hunt, and generally enjoyed one another’s company. It was’t always this way.
Life was hard for baby T. He was temperamental, going from sunny to stormy without warning. He was super intelligent from the beginning, but his emotional development sometimes lagged behind, and he found processing life very difficult. But his parents and others who loved him found ways of helping him cope. As a baby, they discovered that swaddling him tightly in a receiving blanking and making a loud “shhhhhh” noise in his ear to mimic the sounds of the womb settled him when nothing else would. As he outgrew that method, T responded to a different kind of swaddling. His mom or dad would take him into their lap with his back against their chest, align their arms with his, and wrap him in a tight kind of reverse hug. Like the swaddling, this contact soothed him, and even though it was often a kind of disciplinary action, he sometimes asked to be held.
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I don’t mean to make light of serious circumstances, but let’s face it, some of the situations that have arisen because of the Corona Virus are hilarious. The first time I saw a Facebook post that mentioned toilet paper, I thought it was a joke. However, a day or two later, Facebook and every other social media platform was flooded with stories, pictures, and jokes about empty shelves, hoarding, and panic at the possibility of being caught short of this bathroom necessity.
I had a new experience Sunday morning – I helped with KIDZ Church, a program at Believers’ Baptist for children from four years old through second grade. These children begin the service in the Sanctuary with their families where they experience worship in prayer, singing, and presenting offerings, and on the last Sunday of each month, they stay in the Sanctuary for the whole service. The rest of the month, though, they are dismissed to the KIDZ Church room in the Family and Children’s Building when Pastor Jason stands up to preach, and there they experience worship aimed at their level of understanding.
I’m home with all bones intact but with a heart that has more marks than I can count. Let me back up a step or two in case you didn’t read my last column. I went to Royal Family Kids Camp last week, a very special place where kids in foster care can spend five days and four nights just being kids and having fun in a safe environment. In 2013 I served as a counselor and came home with a broken ankle and a broken heart. This time I was the camp scribe. I wasn’t as actively involved in the organized games and other strenuous activities – and David was home praying that he would get his wife back in one piece – so I came home physically undamaged. But as I watched and listened with the eyes and ears of a writer, I saw and heard the struggles, heartaches, and triumphs of more children and counselors than before when I was focused on the two campers that were my responsibility. There are more stories than I can write, but here are a few.
questioned her counselor about the lifeguard’s ability to save her if she got into trouble. All campers are required to pass a swim test in order to venture into the deeper end of the pool or to go over to the pond. She wanted to take the test, but she was afraid, so she practiced long and hard. By Wednesday, she was ready to try. Everyone in the pool area had seen her struggle, and they all stopped to watch. When she passed, the cheers and applause were deafening. The wrist band she earned became her pink badge of courage, and she showed it to anyone who would look the rest of the week. 
As children, finding joy is as simple as picking a dandelion or coaxing Daddy into being the Tickle Monster for a few minutes. As the years pass, however, joy sometimes becomes more elusive. More joints hurt, more friends develop debilitating or terminal illnesses, and social calendars have more dates for funerals than for weddings. Joy is still possible, but it takes more work, and it sometimes requires an attitude adjustment.
Linda Brendle's Life After Caregiving 