Join Our "Second Chances" Writing Contest!

[Daryn Kagan]

I'm excited to announce the kick off of our second ever writing contest!

How perfect that it's all about the theme of second chances.

I'm inspired by a wonderful new novel that comes out this week. It's called On The Divinity Of Second Chances. It's about an endearing, yet quirky family who all appear to be at the end of their respective ropes. Then life and second chances have a way of turning things around. It's a fun read that makes me smile and fills my heart with hope.

I introduce you to fun, spunky, creative author Kaya McLaren in today's featured story.

Kaya and I got to talking and thought it would be fun to hear your second chance stories. So please, post your stories below.

It can be about an amazing second chance you've been given in your life. Perhaps one that you've given. Or even one you wish could come your way.

I'll keep entries open until Friday. That's when Kaya will put on her judge's hat. Yes! Kaya is our guest judge. She'll pick the winning story. The winner receives an autographed copy of On The Divinity Of Second Chances.

Get those creative juices flowing. Kaya and I can't wait to see what you share and create.

[Erin]

oh my goodness - are employees eligible? I've got a second chances story :) Well, I'll be back with it, even if I *can't* win lol!

[Daryn Kagan]

Please do share! You immediately came to mind when I was thinking 2nd chances. We'll figure out another prize for you!

[Mary McManus]

In December of 2006, life as I had come to know it came to a screeching halt. I was diagnosed with post polio syndrome. I had contracted paralytic polio at age 5. With the help of a loving physical therapist and an amazing physiatrist, I was able to walk again but I metaphorically and literally limped through life. Despite having a stellar academic and award winning professional career as a social worker at the VA, I battled chronic pain, fatigue, weakness and depression and anxiety. In addition to experiencing childhood polio, my father was alcoholic, my mother was addicted to prescription pain killers and I experienced every imaginable type of abuse. But..... God was always with me, guiding and guarding my footsteps and then...what I thought was going to be a life crushing blow blossomed into the most beautiful second chance I could have ever imagined.
I was told by the team at the Spaulding Rehab International Rehab Center for Polio that I needed to quit my full time job which was exacerbating my symptoms of pain, weakness, fatigue, tremors, difficulty swallowing and breathing. When I began a course of intensive outpatient rehab, I decided that I needed help from God to heal my life. I returned to the teachings of Dr. Bernie Siegel and found so many spiritual teachers to help me on the path to healing. In February 2007, as I prayed at my dining room table, I felt the urge to create and what had once been a hobby of mine, writing poetry, poured forth from my soul and I wrote the poem, "Running the Race" about polio and post polio syndrome. One of the lines in the poem states, "while in my mind's eye I visualized winning a 10K race" - prophetic words as I sat in a brace, using a cane and at times a wheelchair for mobility.
I began to use visualization, meditation and the gift of poetry was also helping my body to heal. The combination of the wonderful therapy I received, the healing power of writing poetry and taking a leap of faith and leaving my full time job at the VA to create my own customized poetry company and to become a published poet, resulted in physical healing.
In October 2007, I was still having difficulty getting off of a low toilet seat and experienced fatigue and weakness. I knew a friend of mine, Janine Hightower, did in home personal training - but was there anything more that could be done for this body that had been ridden with the polio virus and then experienced post polio syndrome and held so much pain in its cellular memory? Janine was bound and determined to use all of her love, power of belief and skill to help me. She ignored the fear in my eyes and met me where I was gently encouraging me to take risks with weight training and a cardiovascular regimen.We were going against the 'conventional' wisdom for treatment of post polio syndrome which is to preserve and conserve whatever muscles and nerves remained. It was grueling mental, physical and spiritual work - but oh the joys and the rewards as my body got stronger and stronger and I was able to accomplish activities of daily living with greater ease.
If the Second Chance story ended here, it would have a very happy ending - I had my book published and I donate 20% to Spaulding's Polio Fund, I felt much better and my customized poetry business was expanding. But God had even greater plans for my second chance! In February 2008, after an assessment with Janine indicated that I had gained strength and endurance and built muscle, and reduced fat she asked for my next health and fitness goals. I told her I wanted to be able to walk outside, to learn how to dance, to feel freer in my body and then...God called me to say "I want to run the Boston Marathon to raise money for Spaulding Rehab." I had never worn running shoes and outside of trying to run in gym class, had never run a day in my life. She sent me to Marathon Sports in Brookline where I live where God sent me another angel, Spencer, who helped to fit me for my first pair of running shoes.I was also led to another angel, Janice Wesley, a physical therapist and energy healer who helped me with body alignment, gait and releasing the negative energy which had been trapped in my body. I started out running for 30 seconds and then walking for 4 minutes and 30 seconds. My heart rate would soar at these then modest attempts at running. But little by little, with sheer grit and determination and overcoming the pain and all the emotional sequellae to polio, I was ready to run the Boston Marathon for Spaulding Rehab. My husband and daughter insisted on joining me on this journey - God bless them and we became Team McManus. We raised over $10,000 for Spaulding Rehab hospital through our fund raising efforts and ... last Monday, April 20, 2009 we crossed the finish line of the 113th Boston Marathon.
With that goal behind me, I am being called to expand my customized poetry business to bless so many lives with my gift and help them express their love to others; opportunities are showing up for me to promote my book of inspirational poetry, "New World Greetings:Inspirational Poetry and Musings for a New World" and I am editing my 2nd book of inspirational poetry as well as working on a manuscript to share my miraculous journey with others; a documentary is being filmed about my journey entitled "Keeping the Pace", Daryn Kagan is going to share my story on darynkagan.com and I am being inspired to create opportunities to share my journey through speaking engagements. I envision that I will be making the talk show circuit rounds and am so blessed to be interviewed on many radio shows. So my second chance took me from the depths of despair to the height of joy, love and blessing others' lives with my story of courage, faith, determination and sheer grit! I am so grateful to God for my second chance and I am so grateful to be able to share my second chance story with you.

If you click on the link below, you can see Team McManus crossing the finish line and other photos from the Boston Marathon. My bib number was 22,786

http://www.marathonfoto.com/index.cfm?RaceOID=12902009S1&LastNa...

[Daryn Kagan]

Mary-
Thanks for being our first official entry! Leave it to you to be first across the finish line! Of course, you are!
--Daryn.

[Mary McManus]

LOL! I am - laughing out loud - life is good! Can't wait to read others' stories of second chances.

[Erin]

Please forgive the length of this story - it spans lifetimes, literally, and I've never figured out how to whittle it down to a more easily digestible length.
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In 2001 when my 12 day old daughter, Alexis died from complications after her open heart surgery, my life came to a screeching halt. Instead of going home with a cooing bundle of joy, what I took out of the hospital that night was a weight of depression so heavy that for the next 5 years, I traded living for surviving. I marveled daily at the fact that the earth kept spinning, I just couldn't figure out how people kept smiling, kept going without even noticing her absence.

In 2003 when I gave birth to my daughter Terra (named Terra Celeste - which loosely translates to mean "Earth Angel") it should have been my second chance. But the void inside me swallowed up the pride, and joy - and replaced it with fear and anxiety, and a fair share of confusion. As every mother knows, the moment you give birth you look down into your new child's innocent little eyes and cry. When Terra was born I did just that, looked down at her, exclaimed, "Oh my God she looks just like Alexis!" And cried. Not for joy or gratitude, but in renewed grief. Her birth didn't give me hope. I wasn't ready for hope yet. I was too engrossed in pain. Don't get me wrong, I loved her, I just didn't really trust her to stick around. That's what losing a child does, or what it did to me anyway; it caused me to stop trusting anything and anyone.

I suppose you could consider it a second chance lost - but that's not the end of my story, and as I sit here typing, she's playing the Wii a few feet from me - a precocious, incredibly intelligent and strong-willed, well loved 5 year old girl who has survived what we call "Post-Alexis Syndrome." Coddled and protected, spoiled rotten, and very very loved. But like I said, that's not the end of the story.

In 2005, I found out I was pregnant again. This child would be #7 - I'd joked that I was a bit like those machines at the tennis court, children seem to just come flying out of me. So, baby #7. Everything seemed fine, we were silly enough to assume everything would be fine. It's highly unusual to have 2 children in one family to be born with severe heart defects, besides, Terra was great, healthy as a horse, and the Universe wouldn't possibly be cruel enough to send us 2 babies with life-threatening issues. Right? Wrong. During a routine ultrasound at about 34 weeks, we were told that this baby was a boy. His name was already chosen, Donovan Zane LeClair - we'd call him "Nova" for short. We were also told that day that he'd be born with very similar heart issues to those that Alexis had been born with. Oddly, that diagnosis would be the beginning of the lights coming back on in my life.

He was born in December 2005, and much to our surprise and delight, the medical community had learned a lot in the 4 years since Alexis. Alexis was never able to come home, surgery was done as early as possible back then. With Nova, they had learned to allow the child to grow - the heart being larger made surgery a bit easier, the child being stronger made survival rates rise. When he was 13 days old, we brought him home. Over the next few months we would spend endless hours driving him to and from Charlotte, where he was seen weekly, by the exact same doctors who had cared for Alexis. There were tests, and 'procedures' and special precautions and plenty of medications, generally administered by the same nurses who had been there with Alexis. We didn't remember them, but they remembered us. They hugged us and reached out to us about the loss of our daughter, while simultaneously loving and rooting for the health and life of our gorgeous Nova. They made sure we knew that our family was not just "another patient" -not another set of worried parents, not another comatose infant body in a bed. They treated us like family, and surrounded us in love, and light, and, believe it or not, humor.

Finally, after 3 months of dreading it, the day came when we delivered our child into the familiar hands of the surgeon, for the open heart surgery that was his only hope at life.It might sound horrible now, but we laughed with them as much as we cried. Over the next 6 weeks Nova encountered every conceivable complication. He contracted several infections, and bed sores. He required 2 abdominal surgeries, an ileostomy and several catheterization procedures for clots and for clearing/widening his vessels. He struggled with being able to breathe on his own and was extubated and re-intubated several times. One day we joked that he was obviously one of our kids because he was hard headed and doing everything the hard way like the rest of our children do. As an extension of the joke, that afternoon we stopped at Staples and bought one of those silly "Easy Button" things - when you pushed it, you'd hear, "That was easy!" When we took it to the hospital that next day we all laughed, but let me tell you, that button saw a lot of action - every time they had to do anything to him, you'd hear "That was easy!" They knew that we wanted Nova to never hear the fear, the pain, or any doubt. We kept it as light as possible, we told him we loved him, and we enacted the 'Laughter is the Best Medicine' treatment. He knew he was loved, he heard our words and our happiness. We just couldn't imagine how negative energy could possibly help him any, so we disposed of it. The doctors and nurses joined us in the movement. They were incredible.

After 6 weeks of fighting, he contracted sepsis - a systemic infection. His blood pressure plummeted, his core temperature dropped, and his organs and extremities, including his brain, stopped receiving oxygen. He was brain dead. It is the body's self-preservation tactic - ignore the extras, and protect the heart - the physical basis for all life. That afternoon we removed him from life support, and he died in my arms. Ironically, in the end, it was only his heart that was functioning, and it pumped and beat so hard I could feel it in my own chest as I held him against me and waited for the inevitable.

Nova was my seventh child, but he was also my second chance. Through his life and struggles I found hope again, I found love again. The love and support of his care team, as well as that of the community, my friends and family, as well as an extended group of internet followers, I was no longer able to bury myself in the pain and loss.

Nova's nickname became a symbol. Nova - a star that explodes, shoots it's light to the far reaches of the universe, and dies out. Fitting I think, and I've dedicated myself to carrying that light into the world. No parent is the same after losing a child, but Nova reinvented me on a core level I could never have even imagined. Now, I do charity work, I live life from a place of gratitude and generosity. I try to take a bit of the energy that he instilled in me and allow it touch someone's life every day. I appreciate every moment, and every stranger I meet on the street. I'm all too aware of how one smile, one laugh -no matter how insignificant it may be to me at the moment- may be the thing that sets a person's life in a new direction.

I live a different life as a different person now, thanks to Nova giving me my second chance.

[Mary McManus]

Dear Erin - there is no way to whittle down a life transformed. I am so moved by your Second Chance story. Amen to gratitude and generosity and making each moment count. God bless and what an honor to meet in cyberspace.

[Susan Powell]

My story may not neccessarily be about second chances, although in my world, it was. It was a second chance to understand the gift of life, or to be blessed with the knowing of how tentative life can be.

I humble myself with this story, because it does not show myself in the light that I wish to be seen.

I had given birth to two beautiful children, a boy who was was 2/12, Zachary, and a girl Taylor who was at the time 5 months old. I became pregnant which was unplanned. I was upset, to say the least. I had not planned on having any more children, and found the news to be unsettling.

I gave birth to a boy, who we named Connor. As overwhelmed as I was at having three small children 4 and under, we celebrated his arrival.

To the day of his first month of life, I had put him down for a nap, and my daughter, and reveled in the ease of only having one child awake at the time.

I do not know what made me check on him at the exact moment that I did, but when I opened the door to my bedroom, where he lay in a bassinet, I heard a noise that to this day I will never forget. I later found out from the doctors, that the sound I heard was that of someone who is about to expire, otherwise coined the "death rattle;"

Without seeing him, I knew something was horribly wrong. While I sprinted to the bassinet, I arrived only to find a child who's color matched that of an indigo sky. I grabbed him out of his sleep and ran around screaming, for lack of knowing what else to do. I called 911 and the next thing I knew there was a stranger in my house, who told me he knew CPR. I gave my child to that stranger, as I really could not cope with the fact that I may have my dead child in my arms, unable to help him.

That stranger brought my child back to a beautiful shade of grey.

After a week in the hospital, and many tests, the diagnosis was.. an aborted SIDS. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

I was one of the lucky ones, the doctor said. My timely entrance into that room was nothing short of a miracle. It does not take a long time from the onset, to the death. If I had gone into that room 5 minutes later, I would have found my child gone.

I cried long and hard that day.

I had been upset about the pregnancy, did not plan on having another child, and was not sure how I could afford it.

My life has never been the same since.

That day I earned a second chance at having a child, Connor, who I cannot imagine life without.

I was one of the lucky ones.

I learned that day what a gift life is, and have spent everyday since, living in the moment.

That child is going off to college in the fall, and I am brought to tears at the thought of him not being in my presence, everyday.

God taught me a lesson about life that day, one that I will never forget. Some people don't get that chance and have to go on after dealing with devastating loss. They are the people I truly admire.

My second chance was born with my third child, the one that I was upset about being pregnant with. All three of my children, I am truly blessed to have, even in their teenage years! They have taught me more about life than anything else.

I believe that we encounter second chances everyday, from the little things like taking time to notice the color of the sky on a given day, to understanding a profound lesson like the gift of life.

[Connie]

My wish for a second chance would be for my daughter's mother-in-law, Rachel. For Rachel, being a survivor of hurricane Katrina was devastating - not only in her home and material possessions, but in her health, spirit, feeling of self-worth,
When Katrina was being forecast, Rachel - like many seasoned locals thought it was a "routine" evacuation - just another few days away and all would be back to normal like so many times before. She hasn't known "normal" since that day. Rachel lost her home, car and all her possessions. She was, however lucky enough to have a job to return to. She lived in a FEMA trailer in a parking lot for nearly a year, and then was offered temporary housing by the delivery driver at her job. With what little assistance insurance money she got, she did the responsible thing and paid the mortgage for a home that was no longer habitable. Ultimately, her condo association realized that they were not insured to rebuild, so her home was sold at sheriff auction and she received less than 10% of the value of the home prior to Katrina.
The published death toll of Katrina is really not accurate if you take into account the deaths in the months and years following caused by stress, hopelessness and despair. The stress of living in a "war zone", reading the obituaries of 30,40 and 50 year olds who died of stress-related illnesses (some of her own family and friends), and the constant unknown and uncertainty took it's toll on Rachel's health as well. Finally, her son went down and packed up her belongings and convinced her to come to Ohio to live with him and my daughter. I know in my heart that we wouldn't have Rachel with us today if she had stayed much longer in her home of New Orleans. Rachel is in her 50's and starting over at that age is a scary thing. She's a hard working, honest and loyal woman who cannot find a job. She will always have a home with my daughter and son-in-law, but what she needs is her independence again. We share 2 grandchildren - they are the joy in our lives. I know that they are what keep her going, but I want more for Rachel. I want a second chance for my friend/my nearly-sister to once again be the lively, independent woman who appreciates herself and loves what she's doing. I want Rachel to be able to exhale, to feel security, peace and comfort.
That is my wish for a second chance.
Thank you - Connie

[Mary McManus]

Dear Connie - I join with you in prayer asking that God bless Rachel with a job, and a second chance to feel independent. She is blessed to have you for a sister and a loving family to surround her. Thank you for bringing awareness that the impact of Hurricane Katrina is still being felt by so many.

[Eileen Schuller]

Back in the saddle

I could barely move to dress my wounds and there was no salve that could take away the pain of multiple contusions, sprains and swollen joints. I should have listened to that little voice inside my head screaming, “Don’t get on”, “He’s not ready”, “The saddle doesn’t fit”. I could see the tension and fear in the gelding’s eyes but all I could hear was the owner who had grown tired of my tender, slow training daring me to ride now. I could close my ears to his taunting but I really wanted to ride. My best judgment bowed irresponsibly to my ego and my painful destiny was but minutes away.

Not once, but twice, I mounted the huge draft/palamino cross. The first time I was caught totally off guard by his large leaps across the arena. I had never been on a bucking horse so my rider inexperience came through strong. I clamped on with every muscle in my body that only made my involuntary dismount more painful. I remember hitting the ground and not much more. Apparently I was out cold for a few minutes. But I knew when to quit, right?

Sadly no. My ego was still alive and I had been trained that you had to get back on or the horse would win.

I should have raised the white flag and bowed out while it was easier to walk away but I mounted again and within seconds I was ejected and fell perpendicular to the ground into the four rails of the round pen. Slow motion video would probably have shown various parts of my body trying to go through the bars with my spine being the only thing preventing that from happening. Within seconds of hitting the rail the horse pushed my falling body into the fence crushing me against the pipes. As my body fell to the ground one last deserved indignity hit me in the form of a hoof punching my hind end.

I’m not sure how I managed to drive home. I cried all the way. All of a sudden, I was seriously frightened of an animal I had loved all my life. I just couldn’t face riding again. I convinced myself that at 43 I was too old to ride anyway. It’s amazing how long a bruise can last. Not the physical kind of course because the body is usually quick to heal. The bruise to one’s confidence can last forever.

Seven years later I moved to Southern California. I had gone to a few horse shows here and there a long the way but they only made me sad. I met a lady with my same first name. She had pictures of horses throughout her cube. She shared stories of her “girls” and invited me to go for a ride. I tried to explain the fear of the pain that no longer haunted me in words that didn’t try to repeat the experience from seven years before.

She persevered and eventually I went for that ride. I was nervous all the way but Ice, true to her name, maintained a coolness despite my high tension. Over time one thing led to another and I found myself at a natural horsemanship clinic with Eileen. I left with the tapes, the books and all the tools convinced that I still wouldn’t ride but I would love to learn to dance with a horse from the ground.

Truly this was less painful and as I learned to use my body in all new ways while learning to play with a horse, while learning to dance with a horse, something marvelous stepped back in. My confidence around horses had returned but I still didn’t think it was enough to convince me to ride. Sometimes, thank God, when we least expect it life just gets easy.

I had trained Ice to place her body parallel to the fence where I sat. I reached over as always to pet her and thank her for staying so quietly with me. The smell of her coat, her quiet breathing, the warmth of the sun in her polar fleece like winter fur all lulled me into a peaceful place. I spontaneously swung my leg over her unsaddled back and just sat there. I never thought sitting still on a horse could be so thrilling. It was beyond glorious. I didn’t ride into the sunset that day. In fact, I jumped quickly off before she even offered a step. That wasn’t what got me actually riding her though.

One of the natural horsemanship classes is called “undemanding time”. You just sit with a horse for 30 minutes each day for 7 days. You’re just there to see what happens. Although she would always do what I asked, I never sensed she wanted to be with me. I entered the first session convinced that she would snub me. I walked passed her to the corner of the stall and sat on the ground hoping that ignoring me wouldn’t include stepping on me.

Within seconds of sitting down she started turning carefully around to face me. She then walked toward me until her head was above mine. She rubbed her muzzle over my baseball hat and then pulled it off very slowly and dropped it to the ground. She then nuzzled my hair her pursed lips softly shuffling my bristly hair.

She slowly moved her head down the left side of my face barely touching me and stopped at my shoulder. She raised her head and repeated the movement down the right side of my face. Her head return to just above mine where I could hear her breath a huge sigh. I felt protected and cared for as if I was her foal. I knew she had promised to take care of me and from then on she always did. My riding was still clumsy but she patiently tolerated my bumbling ways.

My second chance came in a stall through a horse that didn’t know or care what happened between myself and the palamino seven years before. Because of Ice I now listen more carefully to that small intuitive voice but not out of fear, out of confidence. I still prefer to dance with a horse on the ground to riding, to inhaling the smell of a freshly groomed horse’s coat, and to just sitting with one to see what will happen. Most of all I am grateful for the second chance that her and her owner gave me.

Who would have thought my confidence was in a stall all that time?

Tags: chance, chances, contest, divinity, kaya, mclaren, of, second, writing

[Mary McManus]

Dear Eileen - what a beautiful story. We can learn so much about ourselves through our relationship with God's animals. Thanks so much for sharing.