Emerging Courageous Online Magazine

When Margaret finished her Master's Degree at the University, I can remember watching her get her diploma. As her line moved forward to the side of the platform, she seemed to have more energy than she could handle. I smiled as I saw her blow out air, a habit she'd had since childhood, and I realized she was just a little nervous. Though her degree was important to her, I could almost see the wheels spinning, "Let's go! Payback time is here, and I'm ready. I think I can make a difference in this world."

My earliest memories of Meggy always convinced me that she thought she could do whatever was required. When the doctors told her folks that she would never walk, nobody told baby Meggy. She would pull herself around in those old plaster casts, and leaning on the footstool and the over-stuffed chair, she would pull up and crow with delight. Struggle and try, struggle and try and never, never give up--these words seemed to form the central effort of all her behavior.

I can remember her mother putting her on a small blanket in the backyard on a temperate summer day. With a bonnet and sun suit, Meggy would roll one way and then another until she could reach the dandelions and press her nose against the fragrant if pesky blooms. She loved to blow the seed puffs, and her papa first taught her how to fill her cheeks with air and blow the seeds. Pat-a-cake was replaced by pat-a-cheek as she would pat papa's full cheeks and giggle to hear the sounds of the releasing air.

When relatives were able to get her admitted to Shiner's Hospital, she was in the hospital for months during her third year. She went back for another series of operations when she was four. Both hospital stays were followed by a long recuperation period. She willingly submitted to the foot exercises each day, and she and her mother learned to make a game of the painful manipulations. I can remember seeing her in brown high-topped shoes with tall braces attached. She would be dressed in sunny yellow with small bows around her braids, and though she walked haltingly, there was no such thing as quit trying. Her face reflected intense concentration as she moved across the room, but when she reached her destination, her face would glow with smiles.

When she returned home after the second series of operations, a next door neighbor sent her a bouquet of flowers. She loved flowers of all kinds, and the mixture of roses and spring flowers brought tears to her eyes. She just couldn't believe someone would send her flowers from the florist. Nothing would do until she slowly made her way outdoors and shared her thanks with the neighbor who was washing dishes at the sink by the kitchen window. Laughter, gratitude, and flowers just seemed to go together for Meggy.

Her mother, made out of the same stuff of diehard determination, would read "The Little Engine That Could" to Meggy. I can still hear her echoing the words of the familiar children's story: "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!" When the engine made it over the enormous hill with the toys for the children, Meggy would laugh as she and her mother chorused, "I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could!" With that same faith and hope, Meggy mastered stairs, rugged outdoor ground, and hikes with playmates. I watched the braces give way to low cut oxfords and finally to patton leather Sunday shoes and sturdy sandals. She learned to run, she learned to skip, she learned to play games, and she learned to ride a bike.

By kindergarten, she was exactly like every other child, and her determination and spunk took new directions. I watched her give over her Queen of the May crown to a child she thought more deserving. Though flowers were the love of her heart, I watched her give away the May Queen's bountiful basket of blooms. Any later regrets about her spontaneous generosity?--if so, she and mom handled it, and learned a lesson for the next time.

Though grade school sports and activities were challenging, she tried everything from monkey bars and swings to baseball and running. As her stamina improved, her concentration on learning and remembering improved. She and mom struggled with the early words until Meggy could read and recite fluently, and she frequently learned the words of stories by heart.

During fifth grade, the doctors called for further surgery, and Meg entered Shriner's Hospital again. During the three months' absence from school, she worked daily with the teacher employed by the hospital and kept up with the required learning. Her school classmates encouraged her with letters and cards. "How is your big toe?" one mischievous boyfriend inquired in a letter to her, and spunky Meg wrote back, "My toes are fine, and so am I. I'm sure you meant to ask about me!"

Once again, though, muscles atrophied in the long six weeks in casts, and when she returned home, she explained to family and friends that her first steps with high top shoes and walker were incredibly painful. The sharp pain was strong enough to cause her to pass out, but she gritted her teeth--and kept on walking. Again, God blessed her with continuous recuperation until she could walk and run, participate in junior high sports, and even wear high heels for her fifteenth birthday. Scars faded, muscles strengthened, and Meg entered high school to earn honors and participate in a wide range of activities.

The social and academic requirements of college and graduate school were difficult for Meg. As she lugged books and studied far into the night, she kept her eye on her goals, on the people she would help. Always in her heart was the over-flowing gratitude to God and others for all the care, help, and encouragement she received along the way. She graduated first in her class from a good church-related college and continued her preparation for teaching in graduate school.

As I heard her name being called to receive her Master's diploma, I watched her walk with grace and purpose toward the Dean. As she descended the stairs of the platform, a radiant smile broke forth, and I could just hear her thinking, "I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could!"