Many lasting life lessons are not academic, but are the soul's spiritual lessons for growth through adversity. These are moments of transformation and illumination felt deeply as you are in alignment with a universal higher and greater power.I was honored to witness many of these lessons through my daughter, during the final days of my stepfather's life.

Treasuring my daughter from the moment he knew she would arrive, we all saw their special connection. As Parkinson's disease and strokes began robbing him of independence and his tremendous intellect, she was eleven. She had lived through her parent's divorce, moving, my Mom's cancer and her father's suicide. I wondered if she would protect her already fragile heart, or be open and vulnerable by loving him through his full lifespan.

Seeing him as the precious grandparent he had always been, through more than 2 years of hospitalizations and nursing home stays she lit up his face with every visit. After wheeling her new bike up to the second floor of the nursing home to show her Dan-Dan, she proudly rode it right out the front door! My daughter creatively included him in her life, and as she adapted, found her love still fit.

During our last Christmas together my stepfather struggled to share his last advice for her to "take advantage of every opportunity". A simple message,it reflected his life philosophy. After the holidays, his life's journey was nearing an end, and hard decisions for end of life measures brought anguish for my Mother.From three hours away, the stress of being apart was enormous, and weekend visits and late night phone calls left us living on edge.

Then came a mid-week call indicating that the time was near; sleeping more than awake, doctors said soon he would only sleep away. School was concerned about absences,but we knew we had to go, as we knew the pricelessness of closure, and the empty pain of having none.

The bright blue February day contrasted with the grayness of the pain we felt; we had lived through the death of my ex-husband, and knew what my 75 year old Mom was soon to endure.Entering the hospital room felt like we had entered a different dimension; it was not the setting but the circumstance that felt alien. This was not what life should come to, not a life well-lived in service to others. Our hope was for a meaningful and memorable visit, but I saw that we had entered a different form of "life classroom".

He was no longer hooked up to tubes he hated but seemingly unaware of our presence; we learned that he had been awake the day before. Perhaps we had missed the opportunity for him to know our goodbye. Uneasy, but staying close, my daughter hated seeing him so thin, his white hair not so clean. Together we gently washed it one last time, and like always, she gently put lotion on his thin skin.I watched her care for her "Dan- Dan", much as he had cared for her as an infant,her eyes filled with love and acceptance. Life is a full circle!Loving them both, it was almost more than I could bear as I witnessed the essence of my child truly loving another soul, just as they are.

My stepfather had spent his life striving for perfection in all he attempted, to "earn" or deserve acceptance. Even a masters degree in divinity, chemistry, and physics, and a doctorate in education did not lessen his drive to prove himself worthy. Giving thousands of hours in public service, as a spiritual, personal, community and professional role model, he was not satisfied that he had done enough. He always graded himself slightly short, denying his Parkinson's diagnosis for as long as possible, and embarrassed as he lost strength and balance.

The purpose and meaning of his experience had been a topic of private discussions between us as I suggested his illness was a way for him to be humbled enough to finally love and accept himself. He knew intellectually that grace is a gift and not a pre-paid plan, and I reminded him that he was perfect as he was, with a wheelchair or hospital bed. Now I was saying goodbye to a man truly humbled, and still loved beyond measure. Was that not Grace? Did he feel it in his heart?

Moreover, his long illness had shown my daughter growing in grace, patience, compassion and love. She had come to see love as not only good times, like playing catch, helping with homework, or coming to watch school plays and basketball games. Loving now encompassed loving someone even when pared down to the very essence of life, vulnerable and fragile. Since her Dad's death, she understood why love is to be treasured and never taken for granted.

Now, it was time to head home. My stepfather had been lightly awake at times, and hopefully he had heard us tell him how much we loved him. I whispered in his ear a wish to let me know when he "got where he was going",to let me know if he and my husband were together again. (They had been great buddies,sharing a sense of humor unique to their relationship.)

As we neared the door, my daughter turned back for one last try. I believe she needed something she did not get from her Dad, to hear this goodbye. She had encouraged him all afternoon to speak, but he had not spoken in a couple of days. I ached for her disappointment, and questioned whether I had exposed my child to too much. Had I hurt her in trying to help her?

Leaning over the railing very close, she said slowly one more time, "I love you Dan-Dan." Now awake, I saw he was looking right at her, focusing very intently. We heard a very soft, but clear and precious "...Love ...(pause) .. You". They were the last words that kind, generous and wise man ever spoke, a true gift to a devoted granddaughter who needed that last goodbye so very much.

Almost two years have passed since my stepfather's death, and tears are hitting my keyboard even now. There is no doubt in my mind that I had the guidance of a higher power helping me parent that day and perhaps heal a small part of the ache for her Dad.

We are faced with so many decisions as parents, the sum total of which help to shape who our children are and will become. Yet, many singular decisions made day- to- day, over and over, appear to be of no great consequence. How do we know which decisions are life-changing? If we reflected too greatly on that, we would make no decisions at all!

I often hear parents who are struggling with major life decisions voice a desire to protect and shelter their child, even staying in unhealthy relationships believing it is best for their child. What are we teaching our children in that classroom that is Life? Children are resilient, and wiser and stronger than we imagine. Lessons they take away from observing and living our choices will one day influence the choices they make when it is all up to them.

Listen to your heart. We hear that so much because the messages of the soul offer guidance, whether through prayer, meditation, music or quiet reflection. By appreciating and respecting a child's spiritual needs, we are able to place them in a path of learning through adversity, or to try to steer them out of the path. Sometimes the best path for their emotional growth is right beside you, learning from you, while you are still able to hold their hand.

My daughter listens to her heart, even if it hurts. She reaches out to help others,such as in comforting cousins as their Mom was suddenly dying. She sat by her Aunt's hospital bed to tell her goodbye when others were hesitant to enter that hospital room, taking my Aunt's hand, and saying goodbye. Her sensitivity and compassion have helped a close friend who recently lost her brother in a car accident, with an inner wisdom greater than her years.

Would I wish for a less traumatic childhood for her? Of course, but I also trust in a Purpose for us all, and see her growing into a young woman with compassion and a deep capacity for understanding. I know in my heart that she will continue to follow her unique life path in a way that honors and expresses her many special gifts. Guided by her promise to her "Dan-Dan", I know he is also making sure she takes advantage of that opportunity.

And, if you are wondering, he did let us clearly know when he "got there".

"No exercise is better for the heart than reaching down to lift up another." Tim Russert