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Mother’s Day Song of Praise

Barbara Muir mum

I remember with a grateful heart Barbara Mary Muir, my loving mother, whose influence in my life will never be forgotten and can never be replaced.

Praise the Lord who chose Barbara Mary as my mother.

Although my life started with grim predictions of an early demise followed by two years of institutional care, I’m thankful mom didn’t reciprocate my rejection of her when she visited. When it was time for my discharge, I rejoice that she brought me home and did not relinquish me to foster care.

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If my mother had not expected the same from me as my average-size siblings—obedience, chores, and good grades—I would have grown up dependent, weak, and frustrated. In treating me according to age not size, she disciplined me when necessary and stood up to strangers who censured her for doing so in public. She offset the actions of relatives who favored me, especially elderly aunts who gave me more money than my brother and sister. On our drive home, mom insisted that I share it with them.

I’m thrilled my mother instilled a love of books and reading and always attended parent-teacher conferences to ensure satisfactory progress. She stressed the importance of education and supported me all the way to graduation from law school. My spiritual education was attended in Sunday School, church, and Bible reading.

Appreciation is due for mom’s instruction on how to live in a world which taunts those with differences. How empowering it is to understand words ignored cannot harm and smiles are stronger than scowls.

I’m glad my mother managed medical needs without (1) parading me before endless doctors; (2) overexposing me to radiation with countless x-rays for research purposes; or (3) trying useless remedies like calcium tablets, stretching, or hormones.

I’m delighted mom taught me how to be independent. She allowed me to go to kids camps and, at 15, to take a train for 300 miles to visit a girlfriend for a week.

In her quest for me to have fun like the other kids, she tried to get me a fast ride on a handheld surf board. Instead, I was dumped onto the sand when three waves piled on top of each other. My board went flying, my bathing cap was swished off, and I rode in on the bottom of the ocean floor with my feet facing their soles to the sun. Mom expected a torrent of fury when I surfaced. All we could do was laugh.

My joy is in knowing my mother’s generosity; hospitality; service to people in need; love of flower gardens, travel, theater, music, and vacations has spilled over into how I live my life. My regret is that mom took her last breath the day after Mother’s Day at age 45. Although I was not ready to say goodbye at age 26, I do not grieve like those who have no hope. I share my mother’s faith that we will meet again on the Day of the LORD. (1 Corinthians 15:51-57; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17.)

Image credit: unknown photographer of a well-known subject, my mum.

This post was first published on May 9, 2022 and is drawn from Chapters 1 and 2—’Understood’ and ‘Educated’—in Dwarfs Don’t Live in Doll Houses by Angela Muir Van Etten.

You may also want to read “Not Your Typical Mother’s Day Story.” May 10, 2021. Angela’s blog post. https://angelamuirvanetten.com/not-your-typical-mothers-day-story/ For information on Angela’s books, blog, and media go to her website at https://angelamuirvanetten.com/books/

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Relationships

Good Neighbors Give and Receive

helping pic lychees

Good neighbors have always been there for us. In an emergency they’ve used our spare house key to unlock the door for the ambulance and EMTs responding to Robert’s emergency 911 call and on holidays have shared home baking. It makes sense, therefore, that on May 16—National Do Something Good For Your Neighbor Day—we pause to appreciate those who are closest to us.

We were second generation homeowners in our Rochester, New York neighborhood. Many of the original owners willingly shared past stories about the street. Flora, our neighbor across the road, was a huge help.

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Without being asked, she regularly brought our garbage can to and from the curb, trimmed bushes, and swept the driveway. She kept a watchful eye on our place. If we left the garage door open, she let us know. When we were away and allowed a friend to work in our garage, she confronted him and had to be convinced that he had our permission to be there.

Mary, our next door neighbor, was friendly across the fence. Her gardening advice was invaluable. One day when Flora was helping Robert weed an overgrown flower garden, they started hacking at what looked like a dead bush. Mary helped me stop them from destroying the gorgeous lilac bush that blossomed in the spring.

When we were negotiating to buy the lot on which we built our house in Stuart, Florida, I sensed the owner was just as concerned to get a good neighbor for her daughter who lived next door as she was to get a good price. When mailing our financial offer, I included enough personal details to persuade her we were suitable neighbors. Thankfully, our classification as good neighbors wasn’t spoiled when we had to hook up to her daughter’s well for 10 days while our well was surged after sucking too much sand.

Other Stuart neighbors have also been a godsend. They’ve helped lift heavy packages and suitcases, raised the garage door when we were trapped, and plunged the toilet. Anonymous neighbors have carried palm fronds to the organic garbage pickup pile and wheeled the garbage can up the driveway.

As newlyweds in Baltimore living in a multi-level apartment building, we had to learn how to be good neighbors. Despite not talking loudly in the hallways or running the dishwasher late at night, the noise from dragging the stool across the kitchen floor resulted in neighbor complaints. In this case, being a good neighbor meant replacing the stool with a carpeted platform along the length of the counter.

Over the years we have been good neighbors when we—

—watched a child while her mother took her sister to the ER.

—shared plants, coconut palm saplings, coconuts, and fruit with whoever wanted them.

—welcomed new neighbors with flowers.

—stopped guests from parking on our neighbor’s lawn.

—kept an eye on their home while they were away.

—prayed for them when they grieved the loss of a pet or recovered from surgery.

So what are your good neighbor experiences? 

This post is adapted from the second book in my dwarfism trilogy, PASS ME YOUR SHOES: A Couple with Dwarfism Navigates Life’s Detours with Love and Faith. https://angelamuirvanetten.com/pass-me-your-shoes/.

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Presidential Impact

Presidents Day

The New Zealand Embassy in Washington, D.C. was the meeting place of two presidents representing two countries in March 1981—not the White House or Camp David. The venue was chosen because the Little People of New Zealand president asked to meet the Little People of America President. And in an extraordinary turn of events, the meetings continued in civilian quarters for another 41 years as a married couple! 

As husband and wife, we now look back on Presidential influences in our lives. On January 20, 1981, President Ronald Reagan ordered a retroactive hiring freeze that eliminated 1800 federal jobs, including Robert’s position as a communications engineer with the Access Board.

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Because the national media covered Robert’s story as a hardship case, I had the advantage of boning up on his background before we met. And with his job frozen, Robert had the time to be my tour guide during my five-week visit.

The Lincoln Memorial was our first stop. President Abraham Lincoln’s statue towered above us at more than six times our height. We were inspired by the display of Lincoln’s words from the Gettysburg address: all men are created equalbecause we shared a life mission to achieve equality for little people and others with disabilities.

On July 26, 1990, President George H.W. Bush advanced this goal when he threw open the door to equality for people with dwarfism and disabilities by signing the Americans with Disabilities Act.

In October 1993, President William Clinton inspected a three-foot-high Lego replica of the White House with Secretary of Labor, Robert Reich. The president joked that the four-foot-ten secretary “could almost live in there.” Kyle Smith, a New York Post reporter, sought my reaction to Clinton’s quip. My answer reported in Smith’s article—“Labor Sec is a living doll, says big Bill”—made me a target of two polar opposite radio personalities, Howard Stern and Rush Limbaugh. Both Stern and Limbaugh took umbrage with my saying the joke was inappropriate and didn’t help our cause. Limbaugh said, “What cause?”

After 17 years living in America as a legal permanent resident alien, I tired of sitting on election sidelines. I wanted to vote. And on January 17, 1998 after news broke of President Clinton’s alleged White House sex scandal with a White House intern, I knew I needed to vote. So on June 26, 1998, I applied for citizenship. And the basis for my decision was confirmed in December 1998 when President Clinton was impeached for perjury and obstruction of justice. My application was approved and my naturalization ceremony followed in Miami, Florida on September 25, 1999.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s directive to hide his dependence on leg braces and a wheelchair for mobility was reversed on January 11, 2001. A life-sized statue showing FDR in his wheelchair was added at the FDR Memorial entrance and accurately demonstrates that his strength was in his leadership not his legs. Disability doesn’t limit what people can accomplish and should not be hidden. 

So how have American Presidents impacted your life?

You may also want to read:

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Marriage Vows and Valentines

Valentine

Our love journey did not begin on Valentine’s Day. In February 1981 we didn’t even know each other. Rather we made our love commitment in marriage vows on October 31, 1981:

We will stand by each other no matter what happens, respecting each other’s individuality, understanding the other’s needs, accepting our changes, and enjoying our love until death parts us.

Nonetheless, in February 1982, I did expect our first Valentine’s Day together to be special.

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I gave my husband Robert a romantic card depicting a cartoon of a woman with curly hair lying under the bedcovers with an empty pillow next to her. The message read: “If you’d like to be my Valentine, you know where to find me. All my love and kisses.” Instead tears flowed when Robert had no card to give me. Of course in the long haul, our marriage vows were much more important.

We could not have imagined what “standing by each other no matter what happens” would involve—adjusting to life as an alien resident living thousands of miles from families in New Zealand, Australia, and Florida; qualifying to practice law in America; multiple moves across state lines chasing jobs as a two career couple; employment discrimination and unemployment; running a sole proprietor business; betrayal by a trusted friend and embezzlement; LPA leadership; surgeries for cataracts, detached retina, hips, and aortic valve replacements; workaholism and marriage counseling; car accidents; ice storms and hurricanes. Yet with God’s help we kept this vow.

Our ability to “respect each other’s individuality” is continually challenged. Take, for example, Robert’s idea of being ready for a camping trip was a kayak strapped on top of the van without packing any food, bedding, or camping gear. Also, I often didn’t appreciate Robert’s humor. Like when he forwarded me an email listing bumper stickers he thought were funny. Only a couple caused me to even crack a smile. One sticker reminded me of our road trip experiences—He Who Hesitates Not Only is Lost, but is Miles from The Next Exit.

And I was not amused when I missed an I-90 exit when driving home from Boston, Massachusetts to Rochester, New York. Robert took great delight in repeatedly singing the chorus from “M.T.A.,” a song about a man trapped on the Boston subway.

Well, did he ever return?
No, he never returned and his fate is still unlearned.
He may ride forever ‘neath the streets of Boston,
And he’s the man who never returned.

On the flip side, Robert wasn’t amused when his photo in the gallery of national officers published in the 1983 LPA Boston convention brochure was of him sporting a snorkel and goggles in contrast to the formal attire of the other officers. I had sent the editor two photos—the funny one for the editor’s personal pleasure and a serious one for publication. The editor shared the joke with everyone.

            Forty years later in our retirement years we are now learning to accept our changes, and enjoy our love until death parts us.

This post was adapted from book II in Angela Muir Van Etten’s dwarfism memoir trilogy—PASS ME YOUR SHOES: A Couple with Dwarfism Navigates Life’s Detours with Love and Faith, https://angelamuirvanetten.com/pass-me-your-shoes/. 

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Mother’s Day Song of Praise

Mum & Me
Angela and her mother stand smiling in front of a yellow flower garden; both have short brown hair. Angela’s batik dress is ankle length with long sleeves; her mother’s floral dress is knee length with short sleeves. Her mother holds a Bible in her left hand and a jacket in her right hand. Angela’s head is at the height of her mother’s waist.

I remember with a grateful heart Barbara Mary Muir, my loving mother, whose influence in my life will never be forgotten and can never be replaced.

Praise the Lord who chose Barbara Mary as my mother.

Although my life started with grim predictions of an early demise followed by two years of institutional care, I’m thankful mom didn’t reciprocate my rejection of her when she visited. When it was time for my discharge, I rejoice that she brought me home and did not relinquish me to foster care.

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If my mother had not expected the same from me as my average-size siblings—obedience, chores, and good grades—I would have grown up dependent, weak, and frustrated. In treating me according to age not size, she disciplined me when necessary and stood up to strangers who censured her for doing so in public. She offset the actions of relatives who favored me, especially elderly aunts who gave me more money than my brother and sister. On our drive home, mom insisted that I share it with them.

I’m thrilled my mother instilled a love of books and reading and always attended parent-teacher conferences to ensure satisfactory progress. She stressed the importance of education and supported me all the way to graduation from law school. My spiritual education was attended in Sunday School, church, and Bible reading.

Appreciation is due for mom’s instruction on how to live in a world which taunts those with differences. How empowering it is to understand words ignored cannot harm and smiles are stronger than scowls.

I’m glad my mother managed medical needs without (1) parading me before endless doctors; (2) overexposing me to radiation with countless x-rays for research purposes; or (3) trying useless remedies like calcium tablets, stretching, or hormones.

I’m delighted mom taught me how to be independent. She allowed me to go to kids camps and, at 15, to take a train for 300 miles to visit a girlfriend for a week.

In her quest for me to have fun like the other kids, she tried to get me a fast ride on a handheld surf board. Instead, I was dumped onto the sand when three waves piled on top of each other. My board went flying, my bathing cap was swished off, and I rode in on the bottom of the ocean floor with my feet facing their soles to the sun. Mom expected a torrent of fury when I surfaced. All we could do was laugh.

My joy is in knowing my mother’s generosity; hospitality; service to people in need; love of flower gardens, travel, theater, music, and vacations has spilled over into how I live my life. My regret is that mom took her last breath the day after Mother’s Day at age 45. Although I was not ready to say goodbye at age 26, I do not grieve like those who have no hope. I share my mother’s faith that we will meet again on the Day of the LORD. (1 Corinthians 15:51-57; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17.)

This post is based on Chapters 1 and 2—’Understood’ and ‘Educated’—in Dwarfs Don’t Live in Doll Houses. Email angela@angelamuirvanetten.com to qualify for a new and free autographed print of this book when purchased with Pass Me Your Shoes or Always an Advocate for only $10 a piece. Click on https://angelamuirvanetten.com for details on this dwarfism memoir trilogy and subscription to my weekly blog.

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Honeymoon Romance Takes A Dive

Pass Me Your Shoes

Our Oahu leis made of fragrant yellow ilima flowers put us both in the mood for romance, though our ideas of how to achieve this were quite different. I thought it would be romantic to walk back to our hotel along the beach. Bobby preferred to walk on the sidewalk along the main road. As a Floridian, Bobby saw no special attraction in traversing sand and surf, but wanting to please his bride, he agreed.

I was ready to walk barefoot and enjoy the warm water caressing our feet, while Bobby preferred wearing his shoes and socks, suit and tie, in the style of an English gentleman. Thus, he was reluctant to go anywhere near the water because he did not want to get his shoes wet.

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Again, for the sake of his bride, he not only took off his shoes and socks, but he also walked with me hand-in-hand as the water lapped our feet. He even perked up when the skyline of Waikiki and Diamond Head presented a perfect backdrop for him to photograph me in the sparkling water.

Soon thereafter, romance and perfection took a dive. With the roar of three waves piling one on top of the other, I let go of Bobby’s hand, lifted my dress, and braced for the crashing waves. Regrettably, Bobby anticipated nothing—his first indication of trouble was when he found himself flailing prostrate in the swirling waves and clawing in the sand to resist the undertow threatening to pull him out to sea.

He wondered if I was looking for evidence of his demise when he heard me calling out, “Pass me your shoes! PASS ME YOUR SHOES!”

Of course, it was nothing so sinister. I had withstood the waves by digging my toes deep into the sand, but could do nothing to stop Bobby’s plunge. My first thought was to salvage his shoes since he had been so adamant about not getting them wet.

I helped Bobby to his feet and noticed something far worse than wet shoes—salt water was streaming out of the camera case still hanging around his neck. His camera was ruined. I captured the moment on my cheap camera and titled the picture: Total Trauma. Somehow Bobby’s photo of me on Waikiki Beach survived the salt water—our $200 picture represented the replacement cost of the camera, not the value of the subject matter. This was when I learned that a new camera was a nonnegotiable budget item. I did restrain Bobby from bringing the ruined camera on the plane in a bucket of water to prevent further corrosion.

This post is excerpted from “Pass Me Your Shoes: A Couple with Dwarfism Navigate Life’s Detours with Love and Faith.” Click on the title for a Look inside at the books first few chapters, endorsements, Table of Contents, and a wedding photo. Link to retail sites on my website at https://angelamuirvanetten.com/books.

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Ruby Wedding Anniversary

1981-03 NZ embassy

This year’s celebration of our 40th wedding anniversaries on October 31 and November 28 is a good time to reflect on why we are still married. (And yes we do celebrate two church weddings: one in Papakura, New Zealand and the other in Stuart, Florida.) We are certain that God not only brought us together, but also was the reason we stayed together.

Many assume that we met at a conference for Little People and that we were a ready-made couple given that we are the same height. But we actually met at the New Zealand Embassy in Washington, D.C.

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As President of Little People of America (LPA), Robert extended an official welcome to me as the President of Little People of New Zealand (NZ). I had reached out to Robert as a resource during my Winston Churchill Fellowship which brought me to the United States for three months to study disability civil rights laws and public relations programs designed to improve attitudes towards people with disabilities.

When Bobby walked towards my desk in the NZ Embassy library, he was all smiles. For some inexplicable reason my heart beat faster as he got closer to me. I don’t remember a thing he said. I was unnerved by the proximity of his brown eyes gazing directly into mine. We were eye-to-eye because we were the same exact height.

Our lives were about to change forever. We had no idea that our business meeting would blossom into romance and marriage seven months later. Thankfully we understood that being the same height would not help us understand, love, and communicate with each other. All height gave us in common was to know what it’s like to be short. It taught us nothing about living together ‘happily ever after.’

Yet for 40 years we have kept our marriage vows to:

stand by each other no matter what happens, respecting each other’s individuality, understanding the other’s needs, accepting our changes, and enjoying our love until death parts us.

And these vows sure have been tested by cultural differences, disasters, disability, disappointment, discord, discrimination, disease, and dishonesty.

The traditional gift of rubies is not part of our 40th celebration. (We unwittingly jumped ahead on that one with ruby rings on our 10th, 15th and 25th anniversaries.) Instead we acknowledge the fulfillment of the benediction given by Reverend Andrew Bell at the close of our NZ church ceremony:

May God the Father bless you,
May Christ the Son take care of you,
The Holy Spirit enlighten you,
And the Lord be your Defender and Keeper,
Now and Always, Amen.

In this season of thanksgiving, we are grateful for God’s faithful guidance and protection through many detours on our road to sustaining love and faith.

A full account of our marriage memoir is told in “PASS ME YOUR SHOES: A Couple with Dwarfism Navigates Life’s Detours with Love and Faith.”

BARGAIN HUNTER’S ALERT: the “Pass Me Your Shoes paperback is discounted below the cost of printing and, in honor of our anniversary, a newly released Kindle edition is available for only $4.99.