Last night I watched the Pilot episode of NBC’s newest drama – This is Us. While I wasn’t totally sold on the premise of following several unrelated characters who share nothing in common other than the same birthday, the trailer reminded me of another one of my favorite shows – Parenthood. The previews of This Is Us gave me sort of the same emotionally-charged vibe, so I thought I’d check it out. To put it simply, I loved it. At one point, I was sitting on my couch sobbing.
Spoiler alert – there is a scene in the episode in which a woman is giving birth to triplets. She goes into distress, and one of the babies doesn’t make it. Afterward, the obstetrician, played by Gerald McRaney, is having a tender conversation with the father about how he and his wife had lost their first baby during childbirth and how that experience urged him to pursue a life of safely delivering babies. He said something about how the darkest experience of his life inspired him to do something good and how he hoped that this darkest day for the grieving father would lead him to the same type of path. That his third baby would be born into the world not in the way that had been planned but in a different way – as an inspiration to create a different good.
I was already blubbering over the couple losing their baby, but when the doctor started to tell his story, it struck a deeper chord in me. Over the past few months, I’ve noticed what I have begun to refer to as Silver Lining Moments – bad experiences that lead to something bigger and better, whether it be a different experience, a realization, or an actual thing. This heart wrenching scene in the television drama definitely spoke to this phenomenon.
Silver Lining Moments are usually viewed only in very distant retrospect. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but last weekend I was able to experience a Silver Lining Moment smack dab in the middle of a dark time. My precious ten-year old, who has been working herself to the bone, dislocated her elbow at competitive cheer practice. Sofia, who begged to try out for the competitive team, made it as one of the younger cheerleaders, and has been killing herself to land a back handspring and perfect her moves before this weekend’s competition, is now out for three months. All that work down the drain. All that effort for nothing, right?
Not exactly.
Through teaming with a hard-working and tight group of girls and led by amazing coaches, Sofia has developed a sense of confidence and belonging that she never before had. She has witnessed her own growth and now knows that she can improve and build her strength and agility through practice and by doing what her coaches tell her to do. Since school started, I’ve noticed that she walks with a more relaxed air. She’s sure of herself but not full of herself. As a mom, I want this for my daughter. Still, none of that soothes the hurtful truth that she can’t compete with her team. Their only competitions will take place before her arm heals. None of that good stuff can take away the pain or the lasting effects of this injury (hopefully there won’t be any bad ones!)
So, I cling to the silver lining moments of this very minor, very first-world tragedy. There were several. First of all, when Sofia sustained her injury, she was about 25 minutes away, with her team and coach. My husband and I were on our way to a benefit when we got the call that Sofia would be taken by ambulance to Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh. The pain was so severe that the adults present were concerned she would go into shock and felt that calling paramedics was the best course of action. It is terrifying to imagine your child riding in an ambulance at all let alone to think they would be without the comfort of their parents while in that scary place. Sofia’s coach assured me she would ride with her, and I was so grateful, but it turned out we made it to the gym before the ambulance took off. When I entered the ambulance and Sofia looked up at me from the stretcher, the very first thing she said to me was “Will you pray with me?”
That my child would choose to lean on God while she was in the worst pain of her life totally floored me. I was immediately brought to my knees. We prayed together through tears that God would give her peace within this horrible situation and just be with us as we endured whatever we had to. In that moment, as tears streamed down my cheeks, I was comforted by the fact that Sofia had somewhere to go, or more – Someone to go to – when she needed to be carried through a storm. It reassured me about her faith. Unlike her older sister, Sofia is not vocal or up front about her beliefs. We pray at meals and at the beginning and end of each day, and we attend church regularly. I don't force my faith on anyone, including my children. I'm a strong believer that everyone finds their faith in their own time and through their own journey, but my husband and I teach our children what we, ourselves, believe. I know I can’t get through a day without asking God to keep me on the right track, and I know that He’s the first one I go to when things are unbearable.
But I had no idea that Sofia would do the same.
It always surprises me when I see God working through her in ways I’d never imagined. He probably chuckles at the shock on my face every time He gives me a glimpse of what He’s doing without my knowledge. In my arrogance, I was suddenly both humbled and incredibly grateful.
Throughout the evening, we received well-wishing texts and calls from other parents and from team members. One parent even posted on Facebook asking for thoughts and prayers for Sofia from her followers. Suddenly, a troupe of women I’ve never met were thinking of and praying for my daughter. I believe in that positive energy, and I believe in the power of prayer. I’m also convinced that life is completely about connecting with other people – that it is our sole purpose to come together to support each other as human beings and that we use whatever history and baggage we bring to the table to help others with whatever junk they’re muddling through. This was one of those connecting times – when the universe or God or however anyone wants to see it – provides a moment of opportunity that brings people close to each other. It wasn’t a fun moment for us, but I could see purpose in it.
The last Silver Lining Moment of that night was the one that hit me the hardest and moved me the most. As we were speeding to the gym, before we had even laid eyes on Sofia, her older sister Shaia called my cell phone.
“Is Sofia okay?” she asked us, frantic to know that her sister was well.
“How did you know?” I was baffled, because Shaia was, at that moment, supposed to be mid-performance in a musical at a local theatre.
Apparently, Tell-a-Tween is a thing. Some of Sofia’s cheer team members had texted Shaia and alerted her to the situation. Anxious as a rule, Shaia was pretty freaked out, but we assured her we would update her and that Sofia would be in good hands.
It was endearing that Shaia was so concerned. As a parent, you want your kids to care about each other. It was Sofia’s behavior later that evening, however, that really showed me just how much they mean to each other. Again and again, she asked to talk to Shaia. Could Shaia call her as soon as the musical was over? When was Shaia going to call? How long was the show?
When the call finally came, and I held my phone up to Sofia’s face, her features relaxed considerably. It was obvious that, with every word she spoke and every painful moment she shared with her sister, she felt lighter, more at ease. It was in those seconds that I realized just how much they rely on each other, and it comforted me. It eased my load to know that no matter what happens to me, they have each other. Later that night, my parents, who were caring for my youngest daughter, told me that she had been terribly upset to hear about her sister’s accident. Saraya, who is not the most empathetic seven-year-old on the block, was even super supportive of Sofia in her time of need. This was a definite Silver Lining Moment.
I can’t say I’m glad Sofia has a dislocated elbow. It stinks. The Silver Lining Moments, however, help me to view the situation through a wider lens, to attach purpose and growth and maybe even fate, to a situation that seems pointless and tragic.
Now, even though the girls are back to fighting over clothes and who gets to take a shower first, I know without a doubt that there’s a depth to their relationship that is invisible but profound. I know that, even though her walk is quiet, Fia is walking with faith in her back pocket. And, in the faces of strangers, I see people who will lift my struggles into their thoughts and prayers, strangers who may become friends somewhere down the road of this crazy life.
Do you have a Silver Linings Moment to share? I’d love to hear it in the comments or reach out to me on my website at www.danafaletti.com. Let’s connect. It’s what life is all about.