Badassamys: Tales of the World's Most Badass Family

Today I arrived home from church to a package in my mailbox with “Santa, North Pole” as the return address, a lovely note that said “Merry Christmas! You are AMAZING!” and a gorgeous red necklace (I really love, big, gorgeous jewelry.) This was a completely anonymous, incredibly generous gift that left me a bit flabbergasted. My first reaction was to cry out to the universe that I am not, of course, amazing. That’s been my go to response for the majority of my life. After lots of therapy and some spiritual guidance I am trying so darn hard to be open to love, so I didn’t do that. After some self talk I have to admit that by all objective measures I am kind of amazing, and I’m admitting that here on the world wide web.

Here’s the deal, though. We’re all amazing.

My 13-year-old was knocking holes in walls and being driven away in handcuffs less than three years ago. Once she left strapped to a gurney after an intervention from three police officers and two EMTs (she was 10). She spent six months in inpatient care for Reactive Attachment Disorder and came home about two years ago. A few weeks ago during family therapy, her therapist let us know she and her brother had been at level one behaviors (“regular kid” behaviors) for months. Today, her therapist knocked us down from weekly family therapy to every other week, and we may move to “when needed” therapy. That is an amazing kid.

Here are some of the other people who are amazing. The new friend who gave me a bone crushing hug and wished me peace this morning is amazing. The reading specialist who took my “not at all reading” fourth grade son and sent video of him reading two days later, telling me he knew all he needed to know and just needed someone to help him let it loose, is amazing. The therapists who help my kids, when the odds are stacked so far against them are amazing. The friends who treat me normally and provide lots of silly distraction while I’m dealing with absurd choices, are amazing. Friends who call and say “hey, it’s raining, want me to pick up your kid from school today?” are amazing. The stranger who offers a cough drop. The sister who seriously considers taking my totally un-takeable kid. And the anonymous friend who sends an unbearably kind note with beautiful jewelry when I am struggling so much to be in the spirit of the season, the season of rebirth and of letting God and love in, is amazing.