The Rocks...

A professor of philosophy once stood before his class with an empty glass jar.  As his students watched, he filled the jar with rocks.

He asked, "Is this jar full?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, but you're wrong!"

The professor proved this by adding small pebbles to the contents of the jar.

"Is this jar full yet?"

"It HAS to be!"

"But no, it's not."

The professor then added sand to the jar.

"Is this jar full?"

There was a pause, "Uh, yes."

"Okay, the point I am trying to make to you here, this jar is actually a metaphor for our lives."

"How?"

"Now listen carefully.  These rocks, pebbles, and sand are also a metaphor of all the things which fill our lives.

The rocks are symbolic of the most important things in our lives we treasure, like the ones we love and hold so dear.  These rocks should always matter most to us."

"What about the pebbles and sand then?"

"The pebbles and sand also represent things filling up your life.  Though they may mean a great deal to you, they really carry little weight.  When compared to your rocks they really can be replaced."

The students were silent because the professor's message was beginning to sink in.

"Now think of this...you can pour water in this jar too which is symbolic of even more things that can fill up your life if you choose to let them.  Yet exactly like the pebbles and sand they are all replaceable.  Class, my assignment for each of you is to get a glass jar, gather or buy rocks you like then fill your own jar.  Think about what your rocks represent to you and their importance.

Then bring it to our next class."

No one of us who lived the day of 11 September 2001 will ever forget that terrible day or the images.  Heroism abounded.  Then those who could say goodbye to the ones they loved did so who were able to access a working phone.  Love was poured out.  When these stories reached us all, everyone embraced what mattered most.  We were all forever touched.  Forever changed.

Most may not be aware or remember, but a Little Person was on Flight 93.  Her name was Marion Britton.  She was an Assistant Regional Director for the New York Census Bureau, having risen to the top after twenty-one years working for the Bureau.

Ms. Britton and her co-worker Waleska Martinez were traveling together that morning to San Francisco for a conference.

For several years I was a Moderator of what was known as The Dwarfism Group online where Little People could visit.  In the days before Facebook this was THE online place to visit or find information.  At the time the group had approximately 6,000 members.  The Main Group was open to all.  But satellite groups were created by members just for Little People.  I really had my hands full though keeping the rudeness and ridicule with the same ugliness we encountered in the world outside from intruding upon us online by removing these mean individuals from the group.  This was one time I could retaliate just by making a few clicks using my mouse, but infuriating I had to keep doing this at all.

During this time period I created a satellite group that became quite successful...a chronic pain support group open to not only Little People adults but Little People children and their parents, including the average height parents of LP children.  This had never been done before giving so many a safe platform for the pain we live with.  So not only LP adults but LP children and their parents participated. 

One of my members and also of The Dwarfism Group was Ms. Britton.  And guess what?  I was not the only LP who told funny stories!  Marion did too!  Not all LP's have a wicked sense of humor you see.  So it wasn't long before we were friends, keeping members inspired and laughing.  Marion also had the honour of being our Pain Group's oldest member she "wore" with pride.  

We always said we would meet someday but both of us had jobs where we were as busy as two cats with long tails in a room full of rocking chairs so it never got to happen.

Within days the names of the passenger manifest who were on Flight 93 had come out.  As one could imagine we were all devastated to learn Marion was on that flight.  Suddenly the horrors of 911 dug even deeper.

However, for the sake of not only my children but my adults too in the group I steered us into focusing on the bright happy memories of Marion in the weeks ahead and not the horror or imagined horrors of the final moments.  We focused instead on the love and the humour she lived.

So you see dear ones, the rocks we would fill our jars with should be treasured now, always letting who the rocks represent know how much you love and appreciate them.  Even the ones we may never meet 

yet hold so dearly.  So very dearly.