The Tiniest of Gladiators

I stared into those biggest of blue eyes and felt the power of his fighting spirit, despite his pain and raging fever. A serious infection. Lymph glands. Potentially fatal because he was so very young.

Battling for his life, this tiniest of gladiators was none other than my infant grandson, Corbin Nicolas. My baby's baby.

That first day my heart was in my throat and my mind was screaming, "Why him? God, this isn't fair!" Somewhere in the back of my unsettled mind, it occurred to me that his life was still measured in mere days, and that he had been on this planet ninety times less than me.

I would gladly fight this battle for him, if only I could. "Put this on me, God. Spare him this agony. Please." I begged silently. I could read the same prayer in his mother's mind.

Visions of a tiny casket crept in uncontrollably. I was not in control.

The sheer horror in my daughter's voice that day announcing that something was terribly wrong with Corbin still reverberates in my mind, years later. But despite my many experiences with life threatening crises in emergency rooms with her younger sister over a decade prior, she was the one who took control. I wasn't helping her and I certainly wasn't helping my grandson!

Witnessing the intensity of the concerned doctors and nurses, helped. Watching the medications being forced into his tiny veins and having his unusually timid cries cease for a while, knowing he was getting relief, helped. Cradling Corbin on strolls down the hospital hallways with intravenous pole in tow, softly singing him one of my favorite songs, "The first time, ever I saw your face...", helped.

But it wasn't until the second morning when I stared again into those unwavering blue eyes that I realized this was his battle, and he alone was determined to win it. He believed! That was the moment I found my strength.

After his courageous ten-day battle, our little fighter emerged victorious. He not only amazed his wonderful paediatrician and hospital staff, but I feel, profoundly and positively impacted them. As he did us!

My precious bundle of joy is not a superhuman in a little body. He is simply a child, like any other, who knows nothing other than to fight every battle, and win.

Now I ask: what if you knew no other way than to just go out and win? At everything you do? The true achievers of this world have learned to carry forth this inborn power of belief that so many of us as adults have simply learned to unlearn. The Bible has it, "All things are possible to him who believes." [Mark 9:23]

It is the lack of belief that we can achieve almost everything in the world we desire that is most often the sole difference between success and failure. Between a life filled with purpose and achievement and joy, and a life of mediocrity.

The Law of Belief works like this: Whenever failure is perceived as a possibility, it grips your mind with its suffocating grasp until it becomes your reality. When winning is your only thought, as natural as gravity itself, victory is achieved. Not without sacrifice. Not without setbacks. And certainly, not without pain. But, it IS achieved!

Every now and then we all need a wake up call to remind us of the simple laws that propel our universe.

This time, mine came through the eyes of a child.

“A single smile can wipe away a lifetime's worth of suffering.”

©Rick Beneteau

www.RichardBeneteau.com