Wear a cardigan for Fred

Once upon at time, four times each day, I set up a nebulizer machine in order to give our oldest son, Luke, his breathing treatments. Luke had severe childhood asthma, beginning when he was only a couple months old and lasting through elementary school. When he was a little baby, we would turn on the machine, hold the device in our hand, and spray the mist in his face, hoping at least some of that good medicine would make it into his tiny lungs. But once he was old enough to reason with (Can you ever truly reason with a toddler?), we set him up in a little red chair and put a mask over his face to administer the treatments. It took 30-40 minutes to finish a treatment, and we needed Luke to sit still with the mask, connected to the nebulizer machine, over his nose and mouth.

This was no easy task for a toddler, even one as docile and cooperative as Luke. The only way we were able to accomplish it with consistent success (read: the only way to keep our child breathing) was to turn on his favorite TV show, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Back then, there wasn't instant access to TV shows like there is today; we used our VCR to record one episode after another onto several tapes, so we could just pop one in for every breathing treatment. Of course Luke had his favorites, so oftentimes we had to search (fast forward, then rewind, then fast forward again) to find "Windstorm in Bubbleland," an opera sung by characters in the neighborhood, in which a windstorm threatens to destroy all the bubbles. As always with the show, there is a moral, a principle founded on love and concern for others. In this case, we learned that by working together, we can overcome even the hardest obstacles.

Do I love Mister Rogers? Oh yes I do! He helped me keep my precious little boy breathing.

...and that would be quite enough all by itself, but more than that, he taught Luke (and all of us) valuable lessons about what it means to be human. He tackled scary topics like death and divorce and windstorms in ways children could comprehend. He helped them feel safe, even in uncertain circumstances, even when a little kid with asthma had to sit still for breathing treatments four times a day.

The characters in the "neighborhood" weren't perfect. They displayed the gamut of human emotion, even though only a few of them were actually human (most were puppets). They got angry. They felt sad. They were lonely sometimes. Like all of us, they has strengths and weaknesses, good days and not so good. King Friday XIII was arrogant and often rude, but also kind and good at his core. Lady Elaine Fairchilde was brash and sometimes offensive, but on the inside, just as insecure as all the rest of us. Daniel Tiger was scared of everything (!) but learned to be brave when he needed to be.

Through story and song and puppetry, Mister Rogers taught us about what really matters--each other. He showed us our worth as human souls and asked us to act accordingly. He showed us how to love each other with the pure love of Christ. No, the show was not overtly religious, even though Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. But it taught the gospel right there; oh yes it did!

One time, during one of Luke's many hospital stays, I climbed up into his big metal crib, sat under the oxygen tent, held him in my lap, and together we watched Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. It gave me hope through one of the most challenging periods of my life.

Tomorrow is being dubbed "World Kindness Day" or "Mister Rogers Cardigan Day." People are encouraged to wear a cardigan in honor of Fred Rogers, and to spread kindness. I don't really wear cardigans much, but I dug this one out and will proudly wear it tomorrow.

For now, that will be my tribute to a man whose vision and talent impacted the world. And my small life.

But one day! One day in heaven, I will thank him personally for the peace he offered to one scared mama and one sick little boy.

I will wear a cardigan for Fred.