Lessons Learned

During and since my brush with death four days ago, I’ve been pondering what the greater lessons are to be learned from all of this. While my coffee was brewing this morning, I had time to contemplate and came up with these lessons learned. They are in no particular order.

Denali

Listen to your dog; she’s right. Whether it’s not walking on thin ice or barking at other dogs, she knows what she’s doing. When she thinks you are the best person in the whole world, you are.  When she loves you more than anyone else, you deserve it. When she wants to be rubbed, it’s because you need her touch.  Listen to your dog.

The people who have wronged you don’t matter. When you only have a couple of minutes left to live, those people won’t even cross your mind. It will be as if they never even existed. Spend your thoughts on those who matter to you, not those who don’t. The people who have wronged you don’t matter.

Make plans for tomorrow. We all need things to look forward to. Weddings. Vacations. Holidays. Keeping irons in the fire propels us forward, making us put one foot in front of the other. They give us a reason to get up each morning, a reason to live another day. Write your upcoming plans on a calendar. Look at them everyday. Get involved. You have a purpose. Make plans for tomorrow.

Road to the wild

Tell someone where you are going, literally and figuratively. Share your desires, goals, and hopes for the future with someone, at least one. By having someone else who knows where you are going, you have created a support system, someone to check in with, to keep you on track and accountable. It’s someone to support you and remind you of the good things coming up. If you never tell anyone where you are going, no one will ever be able to celebrate with you when you get there. No one will ever know when you need encouragement to keep going. No one will ever be able to support you when you get off track. No one will ever know when you need them to throw you a rope. No one will know where to start looking for you when you don’t come home. Tell someone where you are going.

Blood is thicker than water. Family is the most important part of your life. In your last moments, it will become clear. Understand that not all family members are important, and not all important people are family. You know in your heart; you know who has your heart. For me, it’s my daughters, my sister, and my dad. They consume the vast majority of my thoughts and are with me in spirit throughout the day. I’m always planning for the next time I feel their embrace. Hold on to those moments. They are what keep you afloat. Blood is thicker than water.

My classroom

Don’t ever give up on a kid, because they won’t ever give up on you. If you are a teacher, you have that one disruptive student (or more) with whom you have a love/hate relationship. You want so badly to “save” him by helping him to read better, write better, communicate better. You see his potential, but he drives you crazy in the classroom. You know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he has the potential to be an amazing adult, but he desperately needs the academic skills you have to offer and he won’t put forth the effort. You don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t believe in himself, or he really doesn’t think what you have to offer matters. You know it does, so you keep trying to save him. Just know that he knows. He knows. One day, he may be the key to saving you, so don’t ever give up on that kid.

Find your village. You may have heard the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child.” As true as that may be, it also takes a village to make yourself a home. Had I been living on the road system and fallen through the ice on some trail, and if someone had happened along to rescue me, chances are that I would not have known that person and the only people who would have ever known about the event would have been them and me. No one would have known to check on me later that day. No one would have given me a hug on Monday in school. No one would have told me how glad they were that I was alive. I would have been alone with my trauma, but I wasn’t. I have found my village. I am surrounded by people who matter to me and to whom I matter. I live in a place where people talk to one another and help one another, rescue one another and smile at one another. I live in a place where we take care of each other’s kids, and we take care of each other’s pets. We need one another to make the village work. They need me just as much as I need them. Whether you live in a city or on a remote piece of land, you need a village. Stay connected. Be involved. Care and be cared for. If you don’t have one already, find your village.

April and Robbie - to be married 6/18/16

Sarah and Joseph - to be married 9/4/16

You are younger than you think. Whatever your age, you have much left to offer the world. I felt much younger riding home than I did going up the river last Saturday. I’m not nearly as old as I thought. I’m not even half way through my career. I still have a PhD to earn and lives to change, students to teach and curriculum to write, daughters to wed and grandbabies to hold, trails to hike and rivers to cross. You, too, have many things in front of you, whether you are a teenager or an elder. As I tell my students, “Carpe Diem.” You are younger than you think.

View from the teacher's workroom at school.

I’m sure there are more lessons to be learned from this harrowing experience. Perhaps they’ll come to me as I’m standing in the shower tomorrow morning or watching the Iditarod racers cross the finish line in Nome next week. Whether I’m alone or surrounded by people, there are always lessons to be learned.

Unalakleet is at the end of my rainbow.