Asher Will Watch My Actions

Kayla’s Playground is one of our favorite places. Asher and I go there quite often, usually early in the morning before the place gets crowded. The place is actually divided inro two playgrounds: one for toddlers and one for the older children. Asher isn’t quite three years old yet, but he prefers to challenge himself with the equipment on the “big kids” side of the park. There are plenty of things on which children can climb, slide, spin, and jump. The playground is specifically designed with disabled children in mind. That makes it unique in the local area. The play area is named after a little girl, Kayla, who had cerebral palsy and died quite young. It was dedicated in 2015.

A couple days ago, Asher and I were at the park just after sunrise. There had been a heavy dew overnight, so everything was damp. Asher insisted on going down the big slide anyway. The result of that was that backside of blue jeans got wet. He didn’t care. He was having a good time. Asher and I had the playground almost all to ourselves. A maintenance guy from the city was cleaning up before the crowds came. Otherwise, Asher and I were on our own.

There was one other person there. A woman was wandering through the play area, examining plaques on the fences and making an inspection of sorts. I asked her, “Cleaning?”

She smiled shyly and said, “Oh no. We have a volunteer group coming here next week, and I am looking for things they can do.”

She paused for a moment, and said, “I’m Kayla’s mom.”

Oh.

Then she looked at Asher and smiled again. She asked me, “He’s so cute. Do you come here often?”

“Almost every day. Asher likes it here.”

Kayla’s mom replied, “That’s wonderful. It really is a wonderful playground. Enjoy!”

Then she walked away, looking for things to clean or repair.

Asher tried all the equipment. He climbed ladders and went on the swings. He walked along the balance beam and the rope bridge. Then he went into the area where there was a swing designed for kids in wheelchairs. It is quite an interesting set up, and all children gravitate toward it, just to see how it works. Asher fooled around with some chains that are used to secure a wheelchair in place. As he was investigating, Kayla’s mom walked over to us.

She asked me, “Do you know where this came from?”

“No.”

She smiled and said, “Australia. There are only twenty-five of these in the world, so if you hear about one of them, it is something very special.”

I nodded and said, “Your daughter was special too.”

She nodded. Then she said, “Kayla taught me so much. In eight years, she gave me the perspective to know what this place needed. And she was nonverbal!”

“Asher teaches me a lot too.”

We talked for a while. Asher was busy exploring and kept one eye on him as I conversed with Kayla’s mom. I mentioned to her that Asher was my teacher. She remarked that he taught me patience. That’s a fact. I told her that for years I had been a student of Zen meditation, and now Asher was my instructor. He keeps me aware and in the moment.

I explained that my wife and I are Asher’s fulltime caregivers. I told to her that our lives revolved around this little boy. She understood that completely. It was comforting to me. Many people don’t understand.

Kayla’s mom talked about her prayer life and her relationship with Jesus. It became clear to me that her faith kept her going. Somehow, she was able to care for her disabled daughter, deal with the girl’s untimely death, and then help to create this playground in her honor. That’s impressive.

She commented that as Asher grows up, I would pray with him, and he would learn about Jesus from me. I shrugged and said, “Words don’t mean much.”

She was shocked. She asked, “You mean the words of prayer?”

“I mean the words of anything. Asher will watch my actions. He will learn about God from what I do. If my words are congruent with my actions, then he will listen to what I say. Otherwise, not.”

Then I quoted Francis of Assisi, “Preach the Gospel always, Use words if necessary.”

She countered by reciting the Prayer of St Francis from memory. She grasped what I meant. It had been unnecessary to for me to even talk about it. Her whole life is faith in action.

I mentioned to her that “Asher” means “Happy” in Hebrew. Then I told her that Asher’s mother has his name tattooed on her arm in Hebrew.

She asked, “So, she’s Jewish?”

“I don’t think so, but then, it’s hard to tell.”

I said, “Well, I go to a synagogue on Saturdays.”

She gave me a funny look.

Them I said, “And I go to Mass every Sunday.”

She laughed.

She thanked me and my wife for stepping up to care for Asher.

I choked up a bit and said, “What else could we have done?”

She replied, “Like with Kayla, what else could I have done?”

I said, “Some people don’t make that choice. I know that. Some can’t. They don’t have the resources.”

She said with assurance, “A person can always find the resources.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe faith can move mountains. Sometimes it does. 

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Frank (Francis) Pauc is a graduate of West Point, Class of 1980. He completed the Military Intelligence Basic Course at Fort Huachuca and then went to Flight School at Fort Rucker. Frank was stationed with the 3rd Armor Division in West Germany at Fliegerhorst Airfield from December 1981 to January 1985. He flew Hueys and Black Hawks and was next assigned to the 7th Infantry Division at Fort Ord, CA. He got the hell out of the Army in August 1986.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.