Just because something is not widely known, doesn't necessarily mean it's any less impressive. As I wrote earlier, on my trip to San Francisco last week, I was very impressed with the Golden Gate Bridge and it reminded me of the importance of persevering even when (and maybe especially when...) people say something is not possible.

 Although it's less well known, it wasn't on my "must see while in San Francisco" list and not considered a "wonder", I was equally impressed by the Bay Bridge. Built around the same time as the Golden Gate Bridge, it too was widely regarded as something that could not be built. The challenges were different—in this case not severe winds, tides and fog, but a combination of deep water, shallow mud flats and distance—but by combining elements from different designs, the challenges were eventually overcome. The Bay Bridge quickly became the favourite way to travel between San Francisco and the East Bay and when it suffered a major set-back during an earthquake in 1989, yet another solution was developed, different from the first one and adapted to the information and resources available at that time.

Certainly, in trying to find solutions to the challenges that my daughter has faced after suffering a childhood stroke, I can relate to the need to be creative and combine elements of different approaches to a unique set of circumstances.  It's not easy to push yourself to "think outside the box" and come up with new or combined approaches rather than simply applying ones that are readily available. And, the effort to do so is not necessarily apparent to others. However, just because others don't see the work that went into something or the result isn't considered as spectacular as something else, doesn't mean it's any less "wonder"-ful. 

This week, I had the privilege of taking a break from a particulary cold Canadian winter to spend some time in San Francisco. One of the sights I couldn't miss of course, was the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, now 76 years old. 

As the picture from my trip shows, the Golden Gate Bridge is indeed impressive but at one time, it was actually referred to as “the bridge that couldn’t be built”. Joseph Strauss, the engineer who designed the bridge apparently spent more than ten years building support for the idea in Northern California and after that, it took four years to actually construct the bridge—including major struggles with severe winds, tides and fog. Still, today the Golden Gate Bridge is considered on of the seven man-made “wonders” of the modern world and is one of the most widely recognized symbols of San Francisco.

As I looked at the bridge, I was reminded, on a very large scale, of the importance of working towards what you believe in, even if others say it can’t be done and even if the surrounding circumstances push against you. Because, with enough perseverance and commitment, the result might just turn out to be something enduring and “wonder”-ful.

Every January, people make new year’s resolutions, promising themselves that this year, finally, is the year that they’re going to lose weight or get fit or accomplish that certain something that they’ve always wanted to do. But even with the best of intentions and the most sincere of resolutions, we often find ourselves discouraged and abandoning our goal after only a few months. 

I have struggled with this myself but when it came to helping my daughter overcome the effects of a childhood stroke, abandoning the goal of helping her progress as much as possible was not really an option. Still, the motivation to persevere didn’t just come on its own—it’s something that I had to continuously work on. As I explained in my book, it was a bit like catching fireflies on a high school camping trip many year ago.

The thing about fireflies, is that they don’t glow very brightly and they don’t necessarily glow consistently either. They flicker here and there as they go about their quiet bug lives. But, just because you don’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Maybe you just happened to be looking the other way or maybe there was something in the way so you didn’t even have a chance to see the flickering. Or maybe, you were just too distracted to even notice. That’s how it has been for me as I’ve looked for little flickers of hope, trying to figure out how to help my daughter.

It would be much easier, of course, if we all had a glowing bag of fireflies, so to speak, to guide us and serve as a constant source of inspiration. But that’s not how it works.  We are all responsible for finding our own little flickers of hope and keeping them glowing within ourselves as we travel along facing life’s challenges. The good thing though, is that the more I practice looking for little flickers of hope, the more I find them all around me—and the easier it is to stick to my goals.

I hope this year brings everyone many exceptionally bright fireflies.

Happy New Year.

A couple of months ago, I attended a presentation by a pediatric psychologist. It covered everything from the major milestones in a child's development to the stages of grieving that parents typically go through when they find out that their child has a serious condition. Throughout the presentation, I desperately wished I had received that same information a decade or so earlier when my daughter was first diagnosed. What I particularly appreciated, was that a number of times, to underscore the fact that what she was explaining was to be taken as a guideline, not an absolute, the presenter said to always remember, that after all, "...development is a mystery."

I tried not to let it show that my eyes were welling up and I was starting to feel the tightness in my chest that is all too familiar to parents struggling to help their children with whatever challenges they may have. As I wrote in my book, despite all of the times I was told that my daughter could progress no further and what was now required on my part was a healthy dose of acceptance, I could never let go of the idea that no matter what, there was still a possibility for improvement—no matter how slight and no matter how imperceptible it may be to others. And, as it turns out, the cumulative effect of all those ever-so-slight improvements that I continued to strive for, has been that my daughter has exceeded all expectations.

The basic idea that development is a mysterious process that we can’t accurately predict is at the root of many of my choices as a parent over the last decade or so. Life is not linear, no one can know for sure what a particular outcome will be and so, development is indeed a mystery. To me, that all translates into a reason to always hold onto a little bit of hope and keep persevering, regardless of the context.

“You’re so stubborn!” That's something I’ve heard a lot in my life, particularly over the past decade or so as I’ve tried to find ways to help my daughter overcome the effects of a childhood stroke. 

Maybe that’s true, maybe I am “so stubborn”.  I was certainly too stubborn to unquestioningly accept the first opinion that my daughter would probably never walk and that she would most likely be developmentally delayed.  I was too stubborn to accept that there was nothing I could do to help her.   I was too stubborn to accept the countless times that I was told that she had already reached her full potential when I believed that nobody could know that for sure and it was still worth trying to help her.  And, I was too stubborn to give in to the feelings of helplessness that so often overcame me as I tried to figure out what to do next.  

Although it stung every time that I was called “so stubborn” (I’m pretty sure that it was never meant as a compliment...), now, it is something that I am proud of. It is, in part, because I am “so stubborn” that my daughter is perfectly fluent in English and French and holding her own in a mainstream school. It is, in part, because I am “so stubborn” that she has learned to play the violin despite that the use of her right hand/arm is limited and that her first teacher said that it would not be possible.  It is entirely because I am “so stubborn” that I have spent countless hours translating the difficulties that I faced rehabilitating my daughter into a book to try to help others facing similar situations.  

Although I am proud of it, the truth is that the word stubborn is not very nice. It sounds kind of ugly and if you look it up, you will find that it is defined as “unreasonably or perversely unyielding”.  That’s definitely not a compliment.  So, instead of “so stubborn”, I prefer to think of myself as “so dedicated”, “so caring” and “so resilient”.  The outcome is the same, of course, but the description of the action behind it is much nicer.

So, whatever your challenges may be, I encourage you to be so dedicated, so caring and so resilient. And, if that’s not enough, then go ahead and be “so stubborn”.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s a very good thing.