Recently I came across a story that really got my attention.  The story was of a woman who had been nominated for the Nobel Peace prize the same year that Al Gore won.  The woman’s name is Irina Sendler, and she had the courage to silently fight the Nazis, some of the most brutal men and women in all of recorded history.   She was a nurse and a social worker who worked with an organization called the Polish Underground.  With the assistance of approximately two-dozen other volunteers, she saved 2500 infants and children from certain death by smuggling them out of the Warsaw Ghetto.

Irina was granted permission to work in the ghetto as a sanitation inspector due to an outbreak of typhus.  The living conditions in the ghetto were horrifying, filthy, and grim.  Many died in the ghetto before being transported to the concentration camps because of the “living” conditions there.  They were dying of starvation and disease.  The Nazis “tolerated” the presence of a group known as the RGO, or Central Welfare Council, a polish relief organization of which Irina and her crew were a part. 

Irina walked into the ghetto with her big, black bag.  She looked around at the despicable conditions of the camp, overwhelmed by the rancid smell of decay and death.  Though she had been there countless times, she couldn’t get used to it, the sadness and the bleak inhumanity to which these innocent people were subject.  She glanced from person to person, some still having a flicker of life left in their eyes and faces, others with eyes that seemed dull and lifeless.  The wind was blowing that day, soft and bitterly cold. She tilted her head back, and looked at the grey sky as the wind graced her cheek with just a hint of hope. The buildings were once teeming with life, and now stood ominously, coffins upright. 

That day, she knew she was there to visit a family with two children.  The young mother desperate, panting, eyes scarlet in color.  She would have no tears to shed, as her eyes had almost dried up. 

“Please, please take the baby,” she begged, seeming like she was on the verge of vomiting.  Her voice trembled and shook.  Her husband was quiet and timid, and Irina could sense that he must have been a strong man before the round up.  He had broad shoulders, and wore a tattered, dirty jacket.  The sleeves were too short, and she noticed he had no shoes on his feet. 

He spoke softly to his wife, so softly that Irina could barely make out what he said.  He glanced at Irina and said, “take her to a new family.  Give her…” At that, he choked and sobbed, and fell to his bony knees.  He looked up and silently, but furiously begged to a god he once believed in.  Why have you done this?  Why?  Irina had visited so many families like this one.  Families who, because of their Jewish identity, were rounded up like cattle and shipped off to die agonizing deaths if they survived the ghetto, hell on earth. 

She gently took the baby from mother’s arms and placed her softly inside the big, black bag.  The mother let out a soft, terrifying squeal as the baby was closed gently and safely within this bag of freedom.  This was the sound of a heart breaking, and Irina had heard it before. 

She walked out the door, and out of the ghetto with that precious child in her keeping.  That child, along with approximately 2500 others, was saved by Irina Sendler, a true woman of strength, honor, and sacrifice.  She kept all of the names of these children in a glass jar she had buried in a secret location, and when the war was over, she attempted to find their families and reunite them.  Most of the families had been executed, but a few were reunited. 

Irina was eventually found out by the Nazis, beaten, tortured, and sentenced to death.  She was saved by members of the resistance group, Zegota, by bribing German guards, and until the war ended, she spent her time in hiding.   She died at the age of 98, in the year 2008 in Warsaw, Poland, the place where her heart would never abandon.  

This month’s topic is Every Day Heroes. I sat and pondered a moment on this topic and thought, sure I could choose a police officer, teacher, mother, and so on. But then thought about it and wanted to write about women in general.

Every woman is a hero in some way. Whether she’s a stay-at-home mom who is raising the children, kissing boo-boo’s and such. Or a mom who works outside of the home to provide for her family. Teachers are helping mold children of today. And police officers are keeping us safe.

No matter what, you’re sure to find a woman you admire and can look up to. One of who is strong, doesn’t take crap, and fights for what she believes in. I bet she just popped into your mind too.

I’m proud to be a woman. I am proud of the women before me who fought and the women after who will continue to fight. If you sit back and watch, women are everywhere now and women aren’t taking no for an answer.

I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

***

Lacey Wolfe – HerStory: A Baby of Her Own

Lacey Wolfe has always had a passion for words, whether it’s getting lost in a book or writing her own. From the time she was a child she would slip away to write short stories about people she knew and fantasies she wished would happen. It has always been her dream to be a published author and with her two children now of school age, she finally has the time to work on making her dream come true.

Lacey lives in Georgia with her husband, son and daughter, their six cats and one black lab who rules the house.

You can find Lacey at the following places:
Facebook / Facebook Page / Twitter

Many years ago, a girl named Kim moved in around the corner. I knew she was special from the first time I saw her. She caught me singing at the top of my lungs on my front porch and she didn’t make fun of me. It turned out she was transferring to my school and was even in the same class. We wound up carpooling for several years and were pretty close friends in grade school. There are a few things that will forever remind me of Kim—punch buggies (our arms were always black and blue from hitting each other on the way to school), the musical, South Pacific (she had the lead and I was in the orchestra), and the fact that she was one of my only grade school friends who never acted uncomfortable around my aunt who had Down Syndrome.

Fast forward more than twenty years, and Kim and I are still living in the same little county in New Jersey. When the authors from HerStory decided they wanted to honor everyday heroines, Kim and her beautiful daughter, Tori, were the very first people who came to mind. In HerStory, I talked about my grandmother and how her love for her daughter helped her overcome all the odds. Kim and Tori have a comparable story with a similar happy ending.

Eighteen years ago, when she was scarcely twenty years old, Kim became pregnant with her oldest daughter. During her pregnancy, she was misdiagnosed with Lyme disease and treated with a drug she later learned wasn’t safe for pregnant woman.  Several months into her pregnancy, her baby started to develop problems. Two months before her due date, she was told the baby had died in utero. Where other people would have fallen into despair, Kim never gave up hope. She prayed every day for a miracle, and her prayers were answered. When Tori came into this world breathing, Kim was so grateful, it didn’t matter that Tori was handicapped. She was a gift from God, an angel.

Tori was eventually diagnosed with microcephaly, a disease where a person’s head is significantly smaller than average. She is missing two thirds of her brain and parts of her brain are deteriorating. Tori is unable to speak, to stand, or even to sit up without assistance. Kim was told her daughter would never live to see her first birthday, but like my grandmother Tessie, she has proven that a mother’s love outweighs any prognosis.  Although doctors claim Tori was the mental capacity of a three month old, Kim knows there is more hiding behind those beautiful brown eyes. Although she isn’t able to speak, Tori expresses herself through laugher and gestures her family understands.  One of the things everyone knows about Tori is that she’s a redneck girl at heart and loves her country music. She also enjoyed getting trussed up for her prom just as much as any teenage girl.

Not long after Tori was born, her biological father cut ties. Kim raised her alone for a few years until she met her current husband, Chris. Between the two of them, they have become a modern day Brady Bunch with five children ranging in age from two to eighteen. Chris legally adopted Tori and has helped make it possible for Kim to stay home with the children. This is important for Tori because her immune system is easily compromised. What would be the sniffles for the average child could become a two week hospital stay for Tori.

I chose Kim as my everyday heroine because, like my grandmother, Kim doesn’t see having a handicapped child as a trial. She doesn’t want people to pity her. Kim’s own words say it best, “Walking and talking are overrated. Having a perfect baby is overrated. Having a handicapped child isn’t a bad thing. We’re blessed. Tori is a gift and I wish more people would understand that. She smiles at me every time I walk into the room. She always appreciates me, and she makes even the most miserable person smile when they see her.”

My story Southern Daughter is based entirely on a fictional character I created, but this doesn’t mean that some of her attributes weren’t inspired by people in my life. For my everyday heroine I have chosen my mother. Her name is Paula and she is a very unique woman because she gives a real meaning to the word strength.

In 1992 my parents were in a terrible accident where my mom ended up suffering nerve damage in one of her legs. She had many surgeries to try and correct the damage, but none were successful. The damage ended up triggering RSD, which is a chronic disorder that affects the nerves. She deals with pain every day. She told me once that she has to wake up each day and decide that the day is going to be a good one and that this is the only way she can function on account of the never-ending pain.

It is this that makes her my everyday heroine. If you saw her, you would never think she dealt with pain based on the way she acts—she is happy and fun-loving. Something I don’t know that I would be able to do if I was in her shoes. She has taught me so much, but the main thing I’ve learned from her is that happiness is a choice. You can make the best out of your situation or you can spend the rest of your life feeling miserable. No one controls your happiness, only you do and if you remember this then you’ll be able to live a full and happy life for as long you live.

Thanks mom, you rock.

***

Every day I see my hero. She gets up and comes downstairs. She spends most of her day online because it’s an effort for her to do much else. She’s my daughter, Ostara. Last week, she turned 16. 

Ostara has POTS. That’s Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome for those of you who don’t know what it stands for. The doctors that deal with this condition estimate conservatively that 500,000 people in the US suffer from POTS, though they say there may be many more because it’s difficult to diagnose, and many doctors don’t consider it despite the fact it’s been written about in medical journals. POTS has several symptoms that make it hard to pin down, including a general feeling of dizziness, an increased heart-rate when the patient stands up, chest pain, nausea, headache, stomachache, joint aches, and brain fog. It seems to manifest slightly differently in each patient. It can occur suddenly or gradually, at almost any age. Women seem to get it five times more often than men. Ostara got it at age 13.

She was walking across the room. She stretched her arms, you know, like many of us do, and then she fainted. From then on, she’s been on a downward spiral. At first, she was dizzy off and on. The doctors had no idea what to tell her. She didn’t quite know how else to describe how she felt. Gradually, it got worse. We went to doctor after doctor until we finally discovered her current pediatrician. While she wasn’t sure what was wrong with Ostara, she wasn’t willing to give up. As Ostara’s dizziness increased and she began showing other symptoms, the doctor finally ordered a tilt table test last fall.

During this test, they were able to recreate Ostara’s fainting and we finally had a diagnosis: POTS. We had something to research. We found a book on the subject and learned a lot. Ostara has continued to worsen. She had to give up her walks around the block that she so enjoyed because her dizziness was getting so bad she couldn’t handle it. We ended up getting her one of those rolling walkers. Now on her good days she can go out. When she gets dizzy, she can sit down on the seat until she feels better. Her brother always goes with her so she’s not alone. She knows she’ll probably have a bad day or two after she does a walk, but she does it anyway. I admire her for not giving up.

She’s still willing to try anything her doctor suggests in the hope it will help. So far, nothing really has, but she’s always positive.

She uses her time on the computer to work on her art. In the past year her skills have improved immensely. She draws the cutest characters. I admire that she uses her time to improve herself however she can, despite the brain fog she often complains of. The brain fog makes it hard for her at times to put coherent thoughts together or concentrate for long periods of time. But still, she doesn’t give up. She has her sense of humor, she greets every day with a smile, and she’s always ready to laugh, even when she feels awful.

2012 was a banner year for women’s issues to be at the forefront of political debate. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to expand our rights, but to limit them. Politicians deigned to define what constituted rape and what did not. Employers wanted the right to decide whether the medical coverage they provided covered birth control. After all she fought for, Margaret Sanger would be rolling in her grave.

As many older protesters have declared, they can’t believe they’re STILL fighting for these things. It should be a done deal. A no-brainer.

Writing for HerStory is just a continuation for me. I’ve long been involved in birthing rights for women, so why not all reproductive rights? The right not to procreate is as important as the right to birth your baby the way you want.

Women have had to fight for a long time. Our ancestors fought for the vote. They got it in 1920, when the 19^th Amendment was passed. As I wrote about in The Woman Rebel, Margaret Sanger led the crusade for the right to control our own reproductive decisions. Birth control was gradually accepted after many servicemen returned from World War I with veneral disease, and by the mid-1940s, birth control was fully embraced by the medical profession in the United States. In 1965, a physician was convicted for helping a married couple obtain birth control, but his conviction was overturned by the Supreme Court. Birth control was legal…for married people. It wasn’t until 1972 that it was legal to distribute to single people.

Whew! It took most of a century to get to that point, yet by January of 2012, Time Magazine’s Adam Cohen was asking if birth control could possibly be made illegal once again. With the big conflict over birth control and the conservative attempt to defund Planned Parenthood (arguably Margaret Sanger’s greatest accomplishment), will America’s women end up any better off than we started at the beginning of the 20^th century?

In January of this year, the Republican National Convention has resolved to defund Planned Parenthood in its entirety based on its history of providing abortion services, but it seems they are not only against abortion but against birth control. Cohen quoted one New Hampshire lawmaker as saying: “I am opposed to providing condoms to someone. If you want to have a party, have a party, but don’t ask me to pay for it.” Iowa Representative Steve King suggests that if birth control is too easy to get it might destroy America. “If we let our birth rate get down below the replacement rate, we’re a dying civilization.”

And don’t get me started on the Personhood bills that have been presented in state after state, giving fertilized eggs more rights than the full-grown women gestating them. That’s an argument for another day.

The Affordable Care Act, the long-awaited healthcare-turned-insurance-reformation law put a good portion of its provisions into effect on January 1 of this year, when all insurance companies that participate in the national health care system were mandated to provide birth control without a co-payment or a deductible.

Time will tell whether the Affordable Care Act will be able to maintain what it promises or not. States and insurance companies alike are still fighting it. As for women, it looks like we’ll still be fighting for the same rights we already won just to keep them.

I encourage all women to be aware of what is going on in our government. Don’t be afraid to write your legislator on any topic that concerns you. You don’t have to go to jail like Margaret Sanger to make a difference. Make your voice heard. Women make up half this country and we count. We vote. We deserve to be treated as whole persons.

Caffeinated Thoughts. RNC Passes Resolution to Defund Planned Parenthood. January 25, 2013. http://caffeinatedthoughts.com/2013/01/rnc-passes-resolution-to-defund-planned-parenthood/

Cohen, Adam. Birth Control: Could It Be Illegal Again? Time, Jan 30, 2012, http://ideas.time.com/2012/01/30/birth-control-could-it-be-illegal-again/

***

Kate attempted to negate the customer’s dissatisfaction, “They are really good. I guess people are snapping them up. Is there anything else you need?”

The woman shook her head ‘no’, paid for her purchases, and departed only slightly appeased. Shooting a glance to the clock, Kate sighed. The store often got busy around this time of day and sometimes her relief was late, causing her to go over on her time. The manager was very strict about going over on the clock. Even when it wasn’t her fault, he would reprimand her and, unless it was thirty minutes, he didn’t pay her for the extra time. Though she knew that was illegal, she couldn’t afford to lose her job by confronting him. She hoped this day would not be one of those run over days. Five more minutes and another day would be done. The time dragged. It was now five minutes past her shift end and there was still no sign of Carl, the third shift attendant.

The store became thick with customers as people were getting off work, buying gas on their way home for the weekend, and stocking up on snacks or last minute items. A good number of customers came through the line. Apparently, her distress was showing as the woman now standing before her asked, “Are you alright?”

Shaking off the anxiety that was making her tense, Kate responded brightly. “Yes, thank you. I am just ready to go home.”

“Long day?”

“Yes,” Kate answered as she attended to the woman’s check out then asked, “Is there anything else you need?”

The woman glanced down to the lottery tickets in the counter display and said, “Yes, give me two of the Jackpot tickets.”

Swiftly, Kate tore off the tickets and the woman handed her payment. Kate gave her change and the receipt. The woman delayed her departure, smiling broadly at Kate and pushing one of the lottery tickets toward her. Patting the ticket, the woman announced, “That’s for you. Good luck.” Then, the woman scooted out the door.

In shock, Kate looked after the woman and managed a thank you just as the woman exited the door. The next customer was waiting, impatiently. Kate tucked the ticket into her pocket and went back to work. Just short of the thirty minutes that would get her paid, her replacement appeared. Kate hurried out, eager to pick up her daughters.

***

It was Saturday morning and the rain was falling hard. Forced by the gusting wind, it beat against the window pane. The day echoed Kate’s emotions. After putting gas in the car, buying a few groceries and setting aside that week’s portion of the rent, Kate’s Friday pay was reduced to $3.48 cents. Having lost her well paying job eleven months ago, by no fault of her own, along with her condo in the better part of town, life was looking bleak. Her meager savings account was depleted and she was concerned that she wouldn’t make it to her next paycheck.

A small voice broke her deliberation, as her youngest daughter queried, “Can we go to the movies?”

Washing away her melancholy, Kate turned to her daughter with a smile, “No, honey. We can’t afford it. How about we play a game instead?”

Nine year old Ellen’s face puckered into a pout as she complained, “We always used to go to the movies on Saturday and we don’t have television. Couldn’t we, please.”

With affection, Kate soothed, “I know. I wish we could afford television or go to the movies, but there just isn’t any money for that right now.”

“I don’t like being poor.”

Collecting her daughter in her arms, Kate admonished, “You are not poor. We have more than many people. We have a roof to keep us dry and food to eat, that is much more than some people have.” As Kate issued these words, her thoughts were filled with the potential of what could happen if she missed even one day of work.

Wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck Ellen whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too, but we’ll be okay.”

Ellen’s big sister, Kelly, was leaning in the doorway. At the ripe old age of eleven she was very wise and caring and she smiled at the two asking, “What game are we going to play…as if I didn’t already know it will be Scrabble, since that is the only game we have.”

With a high pitched titter, Ellen announced, “I’ll get it.”

The three played several rounds of scrabble, laughing at some of the words and challenging others with look ups in the dictionary. It was Kate’s turn and she was mulling over what she might construct with the letters on her tray. Seeing she could make the word ticket, she placed the tiles on the board. As she dropped the last letter, she remembered the lottery ticket still in her pocket from the previous day. Not wanting to raise hopes only to dash them, she excused herself and secretively located the ticket. Gently, she scratched off all the coverage on the ticket and examined the results several times—just to be sure. The ticket was a twenty dollar winner.

The tears would not be held away. Kate slid down the wall and whaled, unable to contain the emotion. Promptly, Ellen and Kelly came to her, covering her over with love and affection in an attempt to console her. When her emotion finally found ground, she showed them the ticket and asked, “So what movie do you want to see?”

***

There were a number of everyday heroines in this little slice of life. First, there was the woman who chose to ‘shine a light’ on Kate. Though the woman didn’t know Kate, she connected with her distress and made a small gesture toward acknowledging it. Second, there was Kate, who typifies many single mothers of today faced with hard choices, including the choice of staying within the ‘light’ of love and caring rather than falling into the ‘dark’ of drugs, abuse, and neglect. Then there were her daughters. They chose to be supportive and stick together.

As we go through our lives, we often become oblivious to the people around us that we do not know. When was the last time you actually looked the cashier, receptionist, attendant, or waitperson in the eye? Take the initiative to ‘come aware’ of those around you. That is the only way you will ever see an opportunity to change a life. Sometimes even the smallest of kindnesses offer huge impacts. Something as slight as a smile could be all it takes. Commit random acts of kindness for you never know when your kindness will be just the thing someone needs in that moment.

“In a world filled with darkness, choose to be a light.”

***

 Morgan Summerfield is a published author, a painter, a mother, and a grandmother. Many say she is possessed by her passions. She will tell you she is infatuated with fiction and an avid seeker of knowledge. Her background is diverse, having worked in many areas, including, teaching, bartending, construction, and consulting. Currently she works with a domestic violence shelter and education agency. A quote from Morgan: “There are a few really important things in life, then there is everything else. Pay attention to the few.”