Stirring up emotions...

This summer, I am working (if you can call it that, because I LOVE it so it doesn't seem like work!) at a small, Montessori-school based summer camp.  The woman who runs it has hired an amazing group of teacher-counselors who give roughly 150 kids amazing experiences and care on a daily basis.  I am lucky enough to be the Camp Nurse and help to ensure all of our campers stay healthy and safe during their time with us.  I love it - the kids are great, and as mentioned, the staff is incredible. I'm in awe of their creativity, energy and the love they give to all of the kids, even those who test every last nerve!

One of the aspects of this position that I enjoy so much is that I am able to interact with the younger campers (roughly 21 months to 5.5 years) on a daily basis.  I know most of them by name and they know me, and we've created a nice little relationship.  This relationship has reached a comfort level with many where they have begun to ask me questions about my scars.  In their innocent, curious way, they simply want to know what happened, so I tell them in the best way I can to make sure that I don't frighten them. My simple explanation is that I was in an accident and I was burned by fire. For most, this is enough to quench their curiosity.

Now, for the random part (but it does all tie together)... this week, Rolling Stone Magazine released their cover that has the surviving terrorist in the Boston Marathon bombings.  It brought back the memories of a day that left me feeling skittish and nervous in a city that I grew into adulthood, and created my life in.  Fortunately, I was with two of my best friends and a host of amazing individuals and I was in awe and appreciation of the friends and family from around the country who checked in to see if I was safe.

I've been following the progress of many of the seriously, physically injured survivors of the bombings, and my heart aches for them. I've been through the skin grafts, the physical therapy and the occupational therapy, and I know that it's horrible. It's painful, it's miserable.  Just thinking about their fight brings tears to my eyes.  I was fortunate that my Dad fought doctors and won, and I was able to keep my legs, so this part of their struggle, I cannot relate to...

Even more random, tonight, I was listening to some music while doing some housework and the song "Carry On" by FUN came on.  I've never really listened to the lyrics, but because I was painting a boring white wall, I was paying more attention to the lyrics, and a few popped out at me and made me think...

Cause here we are
We are shining stars
We are invincible
We are who we are
On our darkest day
When we’re miles away
Sun will come
We will find our way home

If you're lost and alone
Or you're sinking like a stone.
Carry on.
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground.
Carry on.

There is truly nothing but grit, personality and the support of family and friends that will get these survivors - I do not like the word victim - through this battle. I give full credit for all of my success to my Dad, who was my shining star, and I can only hope that these individuals have someone just like him in their corner.  But if they don't, I know he's up there rooting for them.