Thoughts from the journey… Excerpts from a day in the life of Sherry McLaughlin

Let’s Eat!

I started writing a book in January 2005. I never finished it, but lately I've been thinking about it...about the importance of people I come in contact with...about the lessons learned that I might have missed had I rushed by too quickly. About the places I've been and the people I've met.

So, I thought I'd share some excerpts from the book that will hopefully get finished one day. I am going to call it, Lessons from a Life.

Good food ends with good talk. – Geoffrey Neighor

Born and raised in a traditional Filipino home, I realized something at a very young age. Food is a good thing. No matter what the occasion or who the company, sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen was a common occurrence. It seemed whenever friends and relatives came to visit, food was being prepared, or they were bringing food to be prepared or they were coming to prepare the food or prepared food was brought.

If you know anything about Filipinos, they never cook alone – and you can fit about 20 of them in an average sized kitchen. From a social perspective, preparation is just as important as consumption.

My dad’s two favorite words, “Let’s eat!” often spoken in the tone of a victorious battle cry, would result in hordes of smiling faces gathering around the kitchen table. Even then, he knew a secret that I had yet to learn: Food is our common ground. A universal experience. – James Beard

During my high school years, I attended a boarding academy. My parents would come and visit once a week, and with them would come – you guessed it – food. I had an entire drawer dedicated for my weekly stockpile of goodies. You can imagine how quickly the word spread. In fact, my parents were integral in spreading the message and as hungry kids would flock to my room each week, they would be supplied with their very own stockpile. Once the proverbial stores were filled, my dad would round up anyone – and I mean anyone – who wanted to jump in the family van, out for dinner. At times, we commandeered half of the tables at the local pizza parlor. Looking back, I realize how much my father must have spent on food for my high school friends.

“Dad, how many friends can I invite?” I would ask.

“As many as you want,” he would reply.

I graduated from high school and went off to college. My life became more of my own. I would come home on vacations and spend days catching up with my friends—eating out.

I got a job, got married and had a child and in those years, meals were rushed or “fit” into my schedule. I used to have a motto: if it couldn’t be cooked in less than 5 minutes, than we weren’t having it for dinner.

On the occasions I would visit my parent’s house, my dad would say, “Come, sit down and let’s eat.”

“Sorry, Dad.” I would reply, “I already ate and besides that, I’ve gotta go.”

If I wasn’t so busy, I might have caught the look of disappointment in his eye. But he would just smile and say, “OK, thanks for coming to visit. See you later.” I know he knew where I was coming from. His life had been just as busy as mine at one point, rushing from office to office, seeing tons of patients, being involved in extracurricular activities and raising a family. After all, I was the one most like him.

As I look back on the years before he passed away, I realize the countless invitations to the kitchen table I received from him. Some of them I accepted. I wish now I would have accepted them all. Hindsight is 20/20. The moments with my dad at the kitchen table are where I learned some of life’s greatest lessons.

For my dad, it was never about the food—it had always been about the time. For as busy as we both were, the kitchen table was a sanctuary all its own. A place where we could stop the rollercoaster of life, slow down, catch up and just be in the moment.

Life Lesson #1

The best gift you can give the ones you love

is a good meal at a nice table,

relished with flavor,

time

and great conversation.

It will fill not only fill the stomach,

more importantly…

it will quench the appetite of the soul.

Have a Little Faith

I had to travel this weekend at the end of a long work week to work a little more. I was scheduled to deliver the Missing Link Seminar to a group of therapists at Onslow Memorial Hospital in Jacksonville, NC - home of Marine Corp Base Camp Lejeune. And even as I was grumbling about being exhausted, I knew there was a reason I was meant to go this particular weekend. Long story short, I have received many blessings from the weekend, one of which was the opportunity to sit down and read Mitch Albom's new book, Have a Little Faith.

I read it in its entirety on my flight from Detroit to Atlanta, and it held timeless messages, many of which I needed to hear that night on the plane.

I hope you stop and take time to pick up a copy and read it. It will remind you of the importance of family, tradition and believing in something that is unchangeable and unshaking. These times call for something just like that.

Like I said, there were many blessings in the weekend. I had the opportunity to meet with a group  of therapists who sacrificed their weekend to learn about a new way of solving orthopedic problems. I got to evaluate a marine who was wounded in action, recovering from a bullet that pierced his left rib cage and tore up his organs on its way out of his right lower abdominal area. (Stay tuned for his case study) I got to see the looks of understanding and enlightenment of the therapists as we discussed the design of the human body and a better way of doing things. I saw how young our military is as they were out and about on the town, having just gotten paid the day before. They are young and bold...they drive big pick-up trucks and Corvettes...they have young wives and girlfriends and kids...and they protect our freedom.

I was reminded of the goodness of human kind, the sacrifices that our soldiers make in protecting our freedom and the big job those PT's have in restoring people back to health. I was reminded of how important our diligence is as therapists, because many times, we represent the only hope for the people we work with. I was reminded of how much we've learned in the last 10 years and how it doesn't matter how tired I am or how frustrating things get...the discoveries we make here need to get out there.

At one point, the marine looked at me and said, "Are you a faith healer?" I smiled and said, "I have faith..." and in my mind I thought to myself how looking at his wounds and thinking about all he had been through had restored my faith. I am so grateful to have met you, I wanted to say. You have no idea how much you've healed me. Thank you for what you do.

It was a long trip after a long week... intermixed with some great conversation, a good book and a lot of time to think.

Like I said, it turns out the weekend of work after a long week at work...was exactly what I needed.