tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21875042234639389442024-03-05T05:53:37.898-08:00GOD IS GOOD, ALL THE TIMEGod never wastes anything in our lives. He is using all things together for good.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-87535901130842982072017-03-28T09:47:00.001-07:002017-03-28T09:47:59.193-07:00InstagramWell folks it seems I'm losing my blogging enthusiasm. While I am not going to say I will never come here from time to time to update on major life happenings, I will say that if you want to stay up to date on Moise and Kruz's progress you might want to check out instagram. I find that instagram is much less political and intrusive and time consuming than facebook and it's much easier to post a quick photo and caption than writing an entire blog post. You can find me on instagram at kkholmes1.<br />
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Happy Spring to you all. <br />
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God is good, all the time.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-13773826021530193992017-01-29T13:17:00.001-08:002017-01-29T14:25:21.941-08:00Less Screen Time, More Kruz TimeBased on my absence, it goes without saying that faithful blogging hasn't been my strong suit lately. There's one very simple, yet ever so important, explanation...... a beautiful, precious 4 year old. Kruz is in the midst of a critical, formative stage. He needs extra attention when it comes to growing and learning and becoming all that he is meant to be and screen time takes away from the time I have to give him. I've committed to less time with the computer and more time to teaching and playing. I've left facebook, partially due to my need to spend more time with Kruz but more due to the fact that social media did very little to bring out the best in me, and I haven't regretted it for a moment.<br />
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All in all, the past four to five months since my last post have been relatively quiet. I've come to cherish the quiet times in life--those times when normal, familiar, status quo borders on monotony. While quiet means that there is no thrilling news to share, neither are there earth shattering circumstances. <br />
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The holiday season came and went with very little ado. We stayed close to home, enjoying time together and keeping it ever so simple. <br />
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Earlier this month, after Moise started back to school but before the college kids started their spring semester, our family (with the exception of Moise and Grant) spent a lovely, warm week in Florida. While the trip was very enjoyable, Moise seems to struggle more with separation as he grows. It's difficult to truly relax knowing he's shedding tears and failing to understand where we are and why we've left him. It begs the question "is traveling really worth it?" We're a couple weeks home and I'm still contemplating the answer.<br />
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This month we're enjoying our usual winter birthday marathon. Grant, Jade and Brock all celebrated birthdays and Moise turned 16, a fact that I can scarcely wrap my brain around. We didn't hand the car keys over to him, which brought an unexpected sense of sadness, a longing for the way my mind thinks things ought to be. His birthday brought memories of our very early days with him, the days when we agonized over the decision to adopt him. So many people seemed intent on making sure we knew that he wouldn't remain a cute, cuddly infant forever. One day he'd be big and it wasn't going to be much fun. It would be hard. We were constantly asked the question, "What will you do? How will you manage when he's 8? 12? 16?" We didn't have answers then. We had virtually no idea. We were scared and overwhelmed by the many unknowns that lay before us. Back then we did it the only way we knew how... one day, one moment at a time. And here we are. He's 16 and, at nearly 140 lbs, he's passed me up in size. I have no explanation but somehow I still manage to lift him. It's been hard, really hard. We're still doing it the only way we know how.... one day, one moment at time. What we failed to take into account back then was how much he would grow us. Sixteen years ago, parenting a 16 year old disabled son would have been impossible for us but God has used these years to prepare us for today. He has given His grace moment by moment.<br />
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In other Moise news, the saga of his eyes continues. In November he had a second valve placed in his "good" eye to relieve the pressure that was robbing the little vision he had left. Last week he had an exam under anesthesia, which revealed that the pressure is down and he is able to see light. We are thankful and cautiously optimistic, knowing full well that this may just be a temporary fix. The eye exam did not bring good news for the left eye. In the doctor's words "the left eye does not look good. It's very unhealthy, as blind eyes tend to be." The left eye is virtually useless to him and we will spend the next months evaluating what is the best course of action regarding it. Moise has adapted to his vision loss and, with a lot of hard work and creativity, he's learning to read braille. He has a hard time feeling the tiny raised dots of typical braille so we have modified it to better meet his<br />
needs. He's a wonder. <br />
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Kruz has absolutely blossomed over the past several months. In October, a whole new world of exploration opened up to him and he began walking independently. His fine motor skills are still severely delayed but with a lot of perseverance and hard work we are seeing baby steps of achievement. On the self feeding front, he continues to try my patience but, while he still doesn't handle a spoon well, he's mastered the pincer grasp and finger feeding. His oral motor skills have also dramatically improved and he is now eating pretty much anything we eat. I don't feel even a hint of sadness at leaving behind blending, pureeing and fork mashing. He has a few words but, overall, his speech is not showing much progress. Next month he will have a second set of tubes put in his ears to ensure that there is no fluid reducing his hearing and, ultimately, his speech. He's pure joy.<br />
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The months away from social media and the quietness of the last year have given me a lot of time to think and ponder life, with all it's twists and turns. I appreciate the lack of comparison that comes without social media. I've found much peace and contentment in the quiet and I thank my God for it, knowing full well that life will bring many more challenges. Today, in this moment, I'm loving the way Moise teaches me, the way Kruz adores me, the way my older children love on our two eternal children. I treasure Sunday evenings, when all the kids, and sometimes a few others, come home for dinner. I love watching my older children spread their wings into adulthood, the way they learn, the way the change. I am humbled by the bond that laughter and tears have formed in this family and that God has taught us that His grace is sufficient for each moment. I love that these are my people .<br />
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God is good, all the time<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-34771070456688588652016-09-08T09:50:00.002-07:002016-09-08T10:27:30.573-07:007 Years Full Circle<br />
Yesterday marked seven years since the fateful day that Laynee drew her last breath on this earth. <br />
The worst day of our lives. The best day of her life. <br />
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Labor Day weekend….September 7th…… It’s all tied up into one long week of remembering every detail of the days leading up to and then after her death. I never cease to be amazed by the startling clarity of the memories, even now, 7 years later. It’s as if there’s a movie projector in my mind and the Friday of Labor Day weekend, prompted by some unseen force, the reel begins to rewind and plays back all of the beauty of her last weekend and the horror of our first days without her.<br />
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The farther away I get from that day, the more it takes my breath away. Not in an I-can’t-bear-the-heaviness sort of way. But in an I-am-so-in-awe-of-God sort of way. I grow increasingly frustrated by own inability to articulate the emotions and the ever deepening sacredness linked to my little girl……her life, her impact, her presence with the One who created her. <br />
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Not long after Laynee was buried- the exact timing is lost in the haze of numbness that protected me in those days- a couple whose son was tragically taken from them many years ago came to visit Jim and I. They shared their own experience, their grief, their sorrow, how they navigated through the trauma and pain, how it forever changed them. This couple’s faith was deep then and even deeper now. I vividly recall sitting on the sofa with this older lady, my hand in hers and asking “how long?” How long until the pain subsides? How long until the fog retreats? How long until I can function again? How long until it no longer consumes me? How long until I am me again? How long must I bear this? I clung desperately to her words. She, this one who’d borne this pain and survived, felt like my one link to brighter days. She could fix this because she knew, really knew what I was going through. <br />
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She looked at me with deep, soulful eyes and said “You’ll never be you again. But the answer is no less than 5 years.” <br />
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I felt like she had punched me in the stomach as the air whooshed from my lungs. “5 YEARS?!?!?” “I can’t do this for 5 years! No way can I feel this, bear this, live like this for 5 years! I can’t!”<br />
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Her response, filled with so much wisdom, was simply, “You can and you will. You have to.” <br />
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Her words have come back to me time and time again. She was right. I could. I did. I had to. Slowly but surely, somewhere between 5 and 7 years the fog has retreated, the numbness has faded away. Joy has stepped up and become greater and more prevalent than sorrow. Social settings no longer debilitate me. I have become less selfish in that her peace in heaven has become more meaningful than my own desire to hold her again. My longing to have my baby back on earth with me has been completely replaced by longing to join her in heaven one day. The two are astoundingly different.<br />
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She was right also in that I’ll never be “me” again. I don’t want to be that “me” again. There were so many things that “me” didn’t know. A depth of spirituality that I never knew existed. <br />
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I am also keenly aware that, though I can’t say exactly when, I have ceased asking questions that only God has answers to. All of the “whys” and “what if’s” and “hows” are meaningless. They zap us of energy, causing anger and frustration because they are answer-less. I don’t know why God took Laynee from this earth any more than I know why the season’s change or the sun comes up in the morning. I can’t make sense of her death anymore than the fact that he created her in another woman’s womb but brought her to my arms. I don’t know why some people’s lives seem to go smoothly while other’s run topsy turvy. Life and death and living……it’s all unfathomable, too big for the human mind to comprehend.<br />
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In all the years of agonizing and wondering and pleading with the God of the universe for understanding, I have come full circle. I don't need understanding. My faith has returned to it’s purest, simplest form. The only things that I know with absolute assurance are that there is a God, there is a heaven, and my baby girl is wherever heaven is. The anwer, “because He is God,” is enough and it brings peace and freedom. <br />
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The farther away I get from my last glimpse of her beautiful face, the deeper my desire to know the God who created her, the God who holds her, the God who has carried this family through unspeakable heartache. And the more I come to know Him, the bigger He becomes and the smaller I become. The bigger he becomes the more I cannot, I simply cannot, wrap my heart, my mind, my soul around Him. <br />
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This one thing I know. He is GOD and God is good, all the time. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-42055816199943080662016-08-15T21:00:00.004-07:002016-08-15T21:01:41.496-07:00All Good Things Must End<br />
We woke up this morning to dark, dreary, rainy skies. We’ve had a lot of those this summer and normally I welcome the quiet that a rainy day brings, a brief respite from the physical labor that gardening and yard maintenance and everything else that summer lays at our feet. But today felt especially dark and heavy. The rain beat out a perfect tempo to the gloominess that comes from knowing summer is wrapping up. School starts in two days. It’s inevitable and so is the feeling that comes with it.<br />
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I’m ready. I’m not ready. <br />
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It goes by so fast. All good things do and summer is one of those good things. One day…. yesterday, I think….. last school year was ending. Then summer sailed by in a blur of ice cream and freeze pops, fresh produce that I walked outside and picked from my very own garden, swimming and boating, long evening walks ‘cause that’s when it’s coolest, staying up too late and skipping the boy’s baths some nights because it’s too late, letting the boys sleep late just because I can. Now we’re here, it’s today, the very last night of summer break. Tomorrow is a school night and just like that it comes to an end. <br />
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School is hard for Moise. He doesn’t love it. He has been so peaceful, so quietly content all summer. No frustration. No agitation. No agression. School brings all of these things out of him. Transitioning back to school, separating himself from me is always brutal. I’m bracing myself for what’s coming but it makes me want to cling, just a little longer, to summer. <br />
I’m not ready. <br />
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This past week we’ve been squeezing out every last bit of summer fun. <br />
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I want to remember this summer. That this was the year that Kruz turned four and one day I turned around and realized that he’s lost the baby look and really, truly looks like the toddler he is. I want to remember that this was the summer that he hummed song after song as he played. I want to remember the countless walks the older kids and I have taken around the lake. That this was the year we learned to wake board. The many hours spent in my sister’s pool, Kruz just brave enough to sit on the steps and Moise holding his breath under water so long it scared people who’ve never seen him swim. I want to remember all the things that so often get lost in living. <br />
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Yesterday, as Jamee and I walked along the riverfront with the boys the graffiti spoke to me. It’s hard, so hard to send them back to school but I know, no matter what, they will be loved. Somehow, somewhere, sometime, they will touch someone this school year. They will make an impact on someone’s heart and leave their stamp upon someone’s soul. They will be loved because they are love. <br />
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I’m ready. <br />
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God is good, all the time. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-27669196752650280712016-07-14T14:10:00.003-07:002016-07-14T14:14:31.615-07:00For the Love of Summer<br />
We’re smack in the middle of summer, enjoying warm sunshine and soaking up as much friend and family time as we can. We kicked it off with Moise battling an upper respiratory infection that would not end. Resistant to many antibiotics, the gunk in his lungs seemed to take up residence, causing violent coughing, increased heart rate, low blood oxygen levels and an uneasiness in the pit of my gut. Moise is incredibly resilient though, and after several rounds of medication and a fierce determination to keep him out of the hospital we finally beat it and he returned to his normal self. Aside from that summer’s been fabulous. <br />
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Summer time challenges me. Round the clock caregiving and a commitment to retaining all that Moise and Kruz learn throughout the school year keeps me on my toes and leaves little room for down time. Summer school is always an option but we’ve never opted for it because I am of the belief that as long as we can maintain learning and development here at home, these boys deserve a break in the same way that any other child does. So we try to keep our calendar as free as possible, lower our expectations for what gets accomplished and try to take each moment as it comes, knowing that it’s only a season. The new school year will be here soon and then we can focus on what needs doing. <br />
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We’ve settled into a summer routine, a basic necessity for keeping things running smooth and reducing levels of agitation and frustration where the boys are concerned. I am so very grateful for the fact that both boys have taken to sleeping until around 8:30 most mornings. This gives me a few hours to get in some much needed exercise and quiet time to prepare my body, mind and heart for the day. I’ve long ago determined that quiet, alone time is way under rated. I think that I shall never again take it for granted. <br />
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Jade’s old bedroom, purple and lime walls and all, has been converted into a therapy room of sorts and it’s where we spend a large part of our mornings. We have two main summer time goals for Moise: to keep his hamstrings from getting tighter than they already are, and to retain his knowledge of braille that we’ve worked so hard to gain. We typically accomplish both from his stander. The stander stretches out his hamstrings in a long, gentle stretch. We try to have him standing for an hour each day, gradually increasing the stretch, and we work on his Braille, among other things, at the same time. <br />
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Our number one summer goal for Kruz is walking. He’s so close. My hope is to send him to school in August without his walker. There are three things that keep him from taking off on his own: balance, core strength and confidence. When we’re inside I take the walker away from him so that he can’t rely on it. We have exercises that we do for a few minutes at every diaper change to help with balance and strengthening. I’ve had to stretch my imagination a bit to build confidence. I take a soft cloth and roll it up and then wrap it around his hand so that it’s like holding onto a hand. As we walk, I gradually release my grip on the cloth so that it becomes slack and he’s walking with very little support. It may be that he will need to walk around with a rolled up cloth in his hand for awhile but that won’t bother me in the least. We also work on self feeding and other tasks that require functional use of his hands. This, admittedly, makes me feel like I’m banging my head against a wall. He vehemently resists any direction when it comes to using his hands. We play with water and beans and touchy, feely things to convince him that he can do all the things his senses tell him he can’t. We also informally continue to work on speech. There are no specific exercises set aside for this but all day long we sing and talk and play games with repetitive sounds. He has so many, many sounds that come from his mouth, if only he could form them into words. But words or no words….this boy can sing!!! Kruz is so often content to play quietly and as he plays he hums. He hums so well and so on key that we can play name that tune. There is something about his singing that humbles me in the deepest places of my being. What a beautifully pure image of joy in the face of hardships. He faces so many challenges and yet he chooses to sing every chance he gets. I want to be like that. <br />
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On the health front, we’ve been noticing a lot of redness and watering from Moise’s eyes. Last week’s appointment with his eye doctors revealed increased pressure in both eyes and a lot of inflammation in the left. While he never complains, the doctors say that he likely experiences a great deal of eye discomfort and, most likely, headaches. We’re back to using steroid drops and hoping that they help. They also informed me that there really is no point in continuing to purchase glasses for him as he’s not seeing out of them anyway. Moise, being a creature of habit, is not crazy about going without them and I haven’t decided whether or not that’s a battle I wish to fight. <br />
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While much of my summer is dedicated to meeting the learning and growing needs of our two youngest, there are plenty of other things going on as well. <br />
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Business is busy. <br />
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Jamee is working full time in radiation/oncology at the hospital and is settled into the adorable little home she purchased in March. She’s loving trying her hand with her own landscaping. <br />
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Grant often seems to be MIA as he works long hours as an almost engineer. He’s currently on a three week backpacking adventure in the Canadian Rockies. I’ll be glad when he’s home but also glad he’s taken the oppurtunity. He is developed a love for photography and I can’t wait to see the pictures he takes. I know they’ll be amazing and might have to post a few, even thought I can’t take credit for them. <br />
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Brock is working full time for our business and becoming increasingly skilled. <br />
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Jade is working full time at a local coffee shop and putting her baking talents to good use. She moved into her own sweet little apartment. She’s got a flare for decorating and that place has “Jade” stamped into every little detail. She is young lady of many talents and they shine through nearly everything she puts her hand to. <br />
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We’re enjoying plenty of fun summer time activities as well. <br />
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A sampling of some of the things we’re enjoying lately:<br />
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Little boys keeping cool under the shade tree while mom gardens. Moise’s forever love of water and Kruz’s slowly growing love for it. <br />
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Popsicles and ice cream in many form and little brother who is always up in big brother’s business. <br />
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Moise may not be able to see or hear when we’re out playing in the water but he does know a good treat when he tastes it. Those eyes though. It hurts me every time I look at them. <br />
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Lazy summer days on the boat<br />
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Keeping cool and making memories with friends and family in the water. <br />
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Adult children trying out their Christmas gift that they’ve been waiting for since December. Mastering our newest water sport….. wake boarding. <br />
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Dads teaching daughters to drive the boat.<br />
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Pulling out jackets and pants and whatever we can find stashed in the camper to keep warm on chilly evening boat rides. <br />
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Sunsets over the water that never, ever grow old. They whisper peace to me.<br />
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The peace of a quiet boating community where we forget, for just a little while, that there are really awful things going on around this world. <br />
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Quiet walks as a family. <br />
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Daughters who are still willing to camp with us and make breakfast for all. I’ve never really understood why meals are always better when we’re camping and they are better still when I’m not the cook.<br />
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Cooking up dinner over an open fire. <br />
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The Tremont Turkey Festival………Kruz tolerates it but doesn’t love it. It’s too loud, too many people, too much for his fragile senses to take in all at once. <br />
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The Tremont Turkey Festival…….where all Moise’s dreams come true. <br />
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Good friends who offer….and we accept…..to help get our young man on the rides. It’s no small task but sometimes love requires hard things. <br />
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The joy, the smiles on his face on this one night of the year. There really are no words to describe it. And the carnival workers? They never cease to amaze me with their willingness to make it work for Moise. They tend to get a bad rap but they truly appreciate Moise and his challenges and for that I adore them. They bless him and he blesses them. God’s amazing like that. <br />
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Walks through the carnival. It’s the same each year: cotton candy, lemon shake ups, corn dogs and cheap trinkets you can win if you get sucked into the spirit of it all. <br />
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Big boys who love their dad. <br />
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Kruz’s fourth birthday.<br />
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Sunday evenings spent in the yard…..playing badminton or football, relaxing and enjoying the new fire pit that Jim came home last week and announced he was making. <br />
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Evenings or weekends in the hammock<br />
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Little boys who love their daddy. <br />
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Happy summer. Make fabulous memories and enjoy today. We never know what tomorrow will bring. <br />
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God is good, all the time. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-41608047475414405822016-05-29T13:31:00.001-07:002016-05-29T13:42:16.007-07:00$350 Fine For People Like Me<br />
Dear Gentleman in the Dollar General parking lot, <br />
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I’m sorry that I made you angry today. You parked a couple of parking spaces down from me and because of me you were unable to use a handicapped parking space. As you walked into the store with your cane you saw me unload my purchases, return my cart to the store and jog back to my car that was in the store’s only handicapped spot. As I jogged past you I heard you shout “there are $350 fines for people like you!” I knew exactly what you were saying and I want you to know that I understand. <br />
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To you it appeared that I was perfectly able bodied person who parked in a spot reserved for those with disabilities. You are correct. I am in excellent health. I am strong and active. I can walk and even run long distances. I do not take these things for granted. I know that they are priceless gifts and I am so very thankful them. I am also fully aware of the penalty for such an offense. I did not need that handicapped spot, but there’s something you don’t know about me. I would never, ever use a handicapped parking space unless I absolutely needed it because I know, from experience, that there aren’t enough spaces for the number of disabled people. I know also that many people do not abide by the law on this matter. If you had pulled into the parking lot just a few moments earlier you would have seen me rolling a wheelchair up the ramp of our accessible van. My 15 year old son was in that wheelchair. You would have seen me secure his wheelchair in place with straps and retractors. You see, my son has cerebral palsy and has never walked independently. For the past two and a half years he has been completely wheelchair bound. I do not need handicapped parking at all, but my son does and his wheelchair van leaves me no choice but to take the large, van accessible spots.<br />
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I didn’t respond to you when you shouted at me. Anger emanated from you and, I confess, that I felt angry too. I was angry for having been falsely accused. I have learned that when I’m angry it is often best to say nothing lest I regret the things I might say, so I just got in the van and drove away as you scowled at me. My anger continued until I remembered that I don’t know your story. I don’t know why you need to use a cane. Perhaps you are a war veteran and were injured defending my freedom. If that is the case, sir, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Or maybe you have a disease, like MS or Parkinson’s or something else that causes great pain to your body. It may be that you’ve only recently required the use of the cane and are struggling to accept what you cannot change. Today may not have been a good day for you and you were smarting from the injustices of life only to have me, a perfectly healthy young woman, take the parking spot that you thought was rightfully yours. I understand your frustration. <br />
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This is not the first time something like this has happened to me and it probably won’t be the last. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t return my shopping cart to the designated spot so that others wouldn’t have to see me, a very fit woman, walking easily to my van. However, my parents taught me to be respectful and to always return things to their rightful place. I would prefer not sacrifice respect for the sake of appearances. <br />
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I understand hardships. I have hardships too. Mine are different than yours but they are hardships, nonetheless, and they make me feel irritable and grumpy. Just this week I had to take two of my children to the doctor’s office. The entrance was not wheelchair friendly and I had a mighty struggle getting my son in the door. By the time I got them inside I was hot and sweaty and felt like crying. If, at that moment, someone did something that I felt was unjust, I may have acted just like you did to me.<br />
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I don’t know whether or not you believe in prayer, but I do. Prayer helps me accept the things that I wish were different. It helps me find joy in the hard times. Prayer helps me love people who sometimes seem unlovable and forgive those who are never sorry. I want you to know, sir, that when I got home today I prayed for you. I forgive you for falsely accusing me because I don’t know your story, just as you do not know mine. <br />
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Sincerely, <br />
People Like Me<br />
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P.S. I wish you could meet my two sons in the picture below. They bring so much joy to hearts that hurt. <br />
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God is good, all the time. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-53299926761760444102016-05-19T20:52:00.000-07:002016-05-19T20:55:42.946-07:00Let’s Talk About Restrooms<br />
I’m not typically one to get caught up in social or political issue and I’ve no intention of sharing my views here or on any other public social media. I try to keep somewhat abreast of what’s going on in our country simply because it’s my right and responsibility as an American citizen. But there is one issue that I’ve heard ad nauseam and, quite frankly, I’m sick of it. <br />
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Public Restrooms and Transgender people. I just don’t want to hear it anymore. <br />
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I reiterate, this post is not about whether or not I think transgender people should be allowed to use a the restroom of their choice. But boy oh boy am I tired of hearing all the whining about this topic. I’m tired of hearing of how it’s uncomfortable for people to use a certain restroom. I’m going way out on a limb here in saying that, regardless of whether a person walks into a men’s room or a women’s room, they can take care of business pretty quickly and quietly and be on their merry way. <br />
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Can I talk, for just a moment, about a less than ideal restroom situation?<br />
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Imagine being in a store or restaurant or park or any other public place and your 15 year old, 130+ pound son needs to be taken to the restroom or, worse yet, needs a diaper change. He’s not going to be taking himself. He can’t. He can’t walk into the bathroom or wheel his chair in. Actually, he can’t even see where the men’s or women’s room is. So he’s going into the women’s room with you. No biggie. If it’s a bathroom that you’ve never used before, you’re praying that whoever designed it has a clue about what wheelchair accessible really means. If there are other people in the bathroom, they may or may not look at you a little strangely. It there are children, the strange look is a guarantee but you don’t take offence because children are naturally curious. They’re taking in their world, learning new things. They can look, you’re okay with that. They may even ask questions, you’re okay with that too. The strange look could possibly be because there’s a boy in the girl’s bathroom but most likely it has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with the fact that he’s a 15 year old, 130+ pound boy sitting slumped over in a wheelchair and making deep guttural sounds or perhaps, on this particular day, he’s looking up at the ceiling and laughing hysterically at something only he and God can understand. When you get into the bathroom, holding the door open with one foot while you wheel him in with your hands, you instantly notice that the one handicap accessible stall is occupied by someone who isn’t in any way handicapped, they just like it because it has a little more room. So you stand and wait, praying they hurry because your son doesn’t know how to “hold it” and if he has an accident this bathroom trip is going to get a whole lot more interesting than it already is. But, at last, the stall door opens, hitting your son in the wheelchair because there’s not enough room for the door to swing open. Said non handicapped person in the handicapped stall looks at you as if she can’t imagine why you’re waiting for her when there are two other empty stalls. You’ve really inconvenienced her by waiting.You push the wheelchair into the stall and your heart plummets as you realize that it’s a narrow stall. There’s not enough room for the wheelchair and you and there’s no way your son is getting on that toilet without you. But you know what? You’re strong. You’re creative. You will find a way to get him on that toilet or die trying because you know full well what will happen if you don’t and…….well……you just don’t want to go there. And you do. You do find a way and you do get him on that toilet, the stall door probably never closed because the wheelchair was blocking it open but that’s okay. Once he does his business, you do it all over again in reverse. You get him off the toilet and into the chair and out of the stall. You don’t know how you do it but you do because that’s just what you do. You’re dripping with sweat and your clothes are frumpled and you look affright but his bladder’s empty. Mission accomplished. <br />
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If you think I’m exaggerating you’re invited to come to McDonald’s with me the next time I take my son to his favorite fast food joint.<br />
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When’s the last time you’ve heard disabled people ranting and raving about not having adequate bathroom facilities? They don’t. They don’t because life is hard for them at every turn and they know, they’ve learned, that life isn’t always fair. They don’t because they have real problems, like “how am I going to provide for my family without the use of my legs?” and “who’s going to help me get out of bed in the morning?” and “is there an elevator in this building?” and “did someone block my accessible van so that the lift won’t come down and I can’t get in?”<br />
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There are many public bathrooms that truly are accomodating to disabled individuals and those are very greatly appreciated. They are large and roomy enough for the person in the wheelchair and the caregiver. More and more public places are installing “family” bathrooms and those are fabulous but the problem of them being used by people who really don’t need them remains. Then there is the matter of diaper changing. It happens often. I am grateful that if this happens Moise has enough arm strength to hold himself in a semi standing position long enough to be changed. But have you ever wondered what a caregiver does when they need to change and adult diaper in public? Think on that a moment.<br />
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I know bathrooms. I can tell you that Culver’s and Subway in our area have fully accessible bathrooms. McDonald’s does not, therefore my son rarely gets to go to his favorite place. Potbelly’s has a horribly unaccomodating set up. Eli’s Coffee Shop in Tremont has very accessible bathrooms and that would be because I designed them. The Shoppe’s at Grand Prairie has fabulous family restrooms. Our pediatrician has terrible bathrooms but those at our eye doctor are great. Bathrooms are a big deal in the world of disablities. They have the ability to add trials to an already difficult life. But these problems are my problems, not everyone else’s. I don’t expect the whole country to change to make my life a little more comfortable.<br />
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And for the love of all that is good, don’t even get me started on handicapped parking spaces!!!<br />
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God is good, all the time. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-74424566394963892562016-04-17T20:48:00.002-07:002016-04-18T07:37:39.536-07:00IEP Time<br />
It's that time of year again, the end of the school year, when track is in full swing and the school year is wrapping up and we have IEP meetings. <br />
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IEP, for those who don't know, stands for Individualized Education Program. If you didn't know, prior to my telling you, what an IEP is, be thankful. That means your children mature and develop and learn right on target with other kids their age. Any child who receives any sort of special services (Speech, Reading Assistance, Physical Therapy, etc) from a school district has an IEP, which is a legal document that spells out your child's needs, how the school will provide for those needs, and how your child's progress will be evaluated. In the case of Moise and Kruz it's more of a legal book than a document. Every spring we (I and all of the people involved in his education: teachers, therapists, paraprofessionals, etc) collaborate to set the wheels in motion for the upcoming school year. <br />
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For Moise, these meetings last anywhere from 2-4 hours and there are typically 10-12 of us at the meetings. There is always a short little list of things he can do and a list longer than my arm of the many things he can't do. It's intense and without fail I leave wondering if we made the right choices, if we covered all the bases. Once upon a time these meetings for Moise were a source of great heartache for me. There's nothing quite like an IEP meeting to make you fully aware of just how wide the gap between your child and his peers is. But somewhere along the way it has become less painful. I've lowered my expectation and accepted what is and what is never going to be. The gap is no longer earth shattering. We've already had his IEP meeting and it has been determined that he will remain at Schramm Education Center next school year. I have been overall pleased with this past year. I do feel that, with the move, we lost a little in the area of academics but we gained much in the area of functional life skills, which is, at this point, of greater importance. <br />
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Kruz's meeting is set for this week and I am fully prepared for what's ahead. He's not making the progress that I'd hoped. I'm afraid...... terribly afraid.....that we (his educators and I ) are missing a piece of the very complex puzzle that is Kruz. He, like Moise, doesn't fit any sort of mold. I know that no two children are the same, they are all unique and individual and blah, blah, blah. But folks, we're talking any entirely different level of unique here. His disorder is extremely rare and virtually no one, not his doctors, therapists, nor educators, have ever heard of it, much less seen it and, quite frankly, have no clue what to do with it. Last year we set what we thought were appropriate goals for him based on his development at that time and what we thought we might be able to expect from him. We missed the mark by a long shot. Throughout the school year, I've waited and encouraged and gently nudged him, knowing full well that I couldn't expect too much at first. School was a culture shock to this sweet little one whose entire world revolved around his extreme social anxiety. His educators and I opted for sending him to our home school district based on the fact that he would have higher functioning peers to model after. We, or at least I, hoped that by being immersed in a classroom of higher functioning children he'd take off, blossom, reach for the stars. I don't need the people around the IEP table to tell me that that didn't happen. He, in fact, met very few of the goals we had set for him. <br />
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The big question is "why?" Why are we not seeing steady progress in certain areas? Are we, indeed, missing something? Is it just Kruz? Are our expectations too high? I've sounded the horn, having learned long ago that it's best not to wait until the actual meeting to voice concerns. I've spoken to each of his therapists and found that they too are scratching their heads. On a positive note, we are all in agreement that within the last month or two there has been a dramatic change in his social development. Although he hasn't met the goals, we've seen some slow progress in the area of gross motor. It is my opinion that he can walk. He just doesn't know that he can and, therefore, doesn't. Likewise, we are hearing a few more consonant sounds in the area of oral motor and speech development. But in terms of cognition and fine motor development there's been very little change in the last year. We work relentlessly on fine motor skills but it's as though there is a sort of impasse, some physical, tangible barrier that prevents him from developing in this area. <br />
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While I do feel a bit anxious about this upcoming meeting, I am hopeful. I look forward to seeing all of the facts of the last year on paper. I am hopeful that with enough brainstorming and pooling our thoughts, we'll come up with something that will work. <br />
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Meanwhile, back at the farm, we're living the way life has taught us to live.... one moment at a time. He's enjoying spring turned summer overnight, exploring the world and fishing with daddy. And we're soaking up the pure, simple joy that he radiates. <br />
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God is good, all the time. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-45236385528662888702016-04-10T17:56:00.001-07:002016-04-10T22:26:34.702-07:00From Diapers to Diploma, Just Like That<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: x-small;">***After weeks of trying to convert the blog to private settings, what I have found is that blogger makes it virtually impossible. Since starting a new blog under a different site came with a different set of problems, I have decided to keep the blog public. However, I will no longer be notifying of updates on Facebook or other social media. If you wish to continue to receive updates please sign up to follow by email in the right side bar. </span></i></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">You have brains in your head. </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">You have feet in your shoes. </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">You can steer yourself </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">any direction you choose. </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">~Dr Seuss</span></i></b></div>
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This last week a certain reality has hit home. Our baby boy is graduating from high school and going to college. Okay……so he’s not really our baby boy. We have three more children after him, two of them boys, but he’s the last boy I gave birth to. He’s the last <em>child </em>that I gave birth to so he’ll retain baby boy status for a long time…. as in forever. <br />
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Last week I went with him to his first meeting with his college advisor. When we arrived in the parking lot I turned to him and said, “this is your deal. Any questions he asks are for you, not me.” This is the point where we start cutting apron strings and I know, from past experience that it can be painful. Jim and I aren’t much into helicopter parenting. We’re here for support and guidance and encouragement and sometimes, maybe a bit too often, we voice our opinions, but the goal is independence. That’s what we’ve been raising them for and, now, here we are. We’re giving that nudge toward whatever comes next in his life. We walk through the admission process with our kids, coach them as they register for their first set of classes, and then we step back. We step back and watch as they grow and spread their wings and learn and succeed and fail. And we pray. We pray alot. We’re not going to agree with all the choices he makes and we’re going to cringe a little, or maybe a lot, as we see him making mistakes along the way. But we know that sometimes we learn the most from mistakes and failures and not so great choices. <br />
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I also ordered his graduation announcements this week. They arrived at my doorstep in a bright orange box and they’re wrong. The photos and his name are correct but the time, date and place for his graduation party didn’t print on the announcements. I stood looking at them for awhile, mildly irritated because I distinctly remember typing the information in when I customized the announcements. I’m not sure if the mistake was on their end or my end (probably mine) and I’m not losing any sleep over it. It occurred to me that if this had happened five years ago, as we prepared for Jamee’s, our first, graduation, I probably would have hit freak out mode. But Brock’s our fourth graduate, so I showed them to him. He shrugged his shoulders and said “Meh” or “huh” or “ungh” or something equally monosyllabic and incoherent. But I’ve been speaking his language for awhile now and I’m able to translate. In this instance “Meh” means “No biggie. It doesn’t matter if there’s printing on the announcement or not.” And I’ve learned something after many proms and homecomings and awards banquets and graduations and all the other things that go with raising kids. It’s profound…….wait for it…….NO ONE CARES. No one cares about graduation announcements: how many pictures are on it or how much you spent on them, if you made them yourself, or if the print is professional or hand written. No one cares about the food you serve at your party or how spectacular your table display is or how many awards your kid won or how perfect you may think they are. No one cares about any of that and certainly no one believes that your kids is perfect and exactly 37 days from today, when it’s all over, none of it’s going to matter, not even a little bit. What will matter is how respectful and responsible and kind he is. What matters is that he knows that nothing in life is perfect and nothing good comes easy and NEWS FLASH…you’re not any better than anyone else. So I’m sticking with the announcements, handwriting the information in and feeling thankful that my son is very responsible and hoping that we’ve succeeded in teaching him kindness and respect and all the other things that matter<br />
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For the last year or more we’ve been getting things in the mail addressed to Brock M. Holmes- brochures and pamphlets, mass mailings from colleges with his name on it. I always wonder how they got his name and if there’s anyone on the planet who actually chooses or even visits a college based on the 5X7 “Why you should send all your money to this college/universty” brochure. And letters……. if they have even a hint of athletic ability or any other talent, the letters start coming, stating all the reasons why you should play or run or perform at that school. At first it seems just a bit flattering and then you start to wonder, “For the love of all that is good, how does someone in Australia know that he’s a runner??!!!?!?!” and flattering is reduced to slightly creepy.<br />
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Last week I got an email from the school about registration and sports physicals for next year. I breathed in a deep breath of air and felt almost giddy at the idea that I don’t have to schedule sports physicals or write ginormous checks to enroll my troops in high school. Then I quickly deflated as I realized the checks I'm writing are much larger. They're just going to colleges instead of our school district.<br />
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As much as all of this feels really, really good….. like someone should high five me for getting 4 kids through high school…… it also feels a little sad. Because they’ve grown so very quickly and I really don’t know where all the time went. I mean... we were just in diapers and now we’re getting our last diploma. Because I know that he will need me differently from this point on. Because life becomes so much more complex and hurts tend to be so much bigger and my ability to fix things becomes nearly obsolete. I am going to miss how easy it is to show support…..by attending long chorus concerts or sitting for hours in frigid temperatures with gale force winds on cold, hard bleachers at track meets. Those things weren’t always super fun and I can’t exactly say I will miss them (and neither will he) but they said, “I’m here for you,” “I’m your greatest fan,” “I’m so proud of who you are.” And if I didn’t go, which was often, it said “It’s your commitment/responsibility. I’m still here for you. I’m still proud of you but our whole world does not revolve around you," another vitally important lesson.<br />
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The teaching and learning comes harder for them as they gain independence, almost as if there’s an entirely different layer, a whole new depth to their being that they’re just now discovering. The learning is harder for me too. Relinquishing hurts a little and, for parents, that’s what this phase is all about. We’ve been down this road three times now and every one of them has marched to the beat of a different drum. I can’t begin to think that I have any of it figured out because I know I don’t, not by a long shot. But that's what keeps life interesting. The fact that I don't know what lies around the bend, that I have no answers, especially in this finding-who-they-are stage of life, is what keeps me on my knees. So as I send this one off to new, exciting experiences and grown up decisions, I cover him, as I do all the others, with an extra layer of prayer. I pray that the God of the universe will continue to grow him in the areas where we've succeeded in teaching him and fill in the spaces where we've failed. There is comfort in knowing that there is a God. A God who holds him in the palm of his hand. A God who loves him even more than I do.<br />
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God is good, all the time.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-41619255511799054102016-03-26T20:08:00.001-07:002016-03-26T20:08:43.621-07:00Slow Down and Enjoy Yesterday I made what I thought was going to be a quick trip to Walmart. <br />
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Note to self: Going to Walmart on Good Friday will not be a quick trip. Ever. There will be people swarming every aisle. Said people will stop and look and ponder, for ridiculous lengths of time, every possible candied egg or bunny or duckling. <br />
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Having just returned from vacation, the house was void of a few essentials..... milk, lettuce, fresh fruits and vegetables, all the things that go bad quickly after a week away. And......having been a week away from Moise, I decided to take him with me, which instantly banishes the idea of "quick." Moise and "quick" are not words that can often be use in the same sentence. By the time I find an available parking space which will accommodate his wheelchair lift--not an easy find at Walmart-- and lower the lift, release the wheelchair from it's straps, unload him and raise the lift back up, "quick" is nothing more than a nice idea. So I embraced the outing with my boy. <br />
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As I maneuvered through the aisles, pushing wheelchair with one hand, pulling cart behind me with the other, I noticed one particular woman that repeatedly passed by. She was attractive, stylishly dressed, young, early thirties maybe, and appeared to be on a mission to get through the store as quick as possible. She was clearly irritated by the number of people so I tried to make sure she had room to quickly move past Moise and I whenever I saw her approaching us. When I got to the checkout she was in the aisle next to me, anxiously tapping her foot as she waited for the customer ahead of her. Tension practically oozed from her. I watched, intrigued as she hurriedly unloaded her items. Two cases of diapers in two different sizes, four brightly colored sand pails with shovels, and an assortment of Easter candies, 4 of each, told me she is a busy mama with 4 little ones. That's when I realized that she reminded me of myself 10-15 years ago. Uptight, stressed out, working too hard for things that don't really matter.<br />
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Sometimes I wish I could turn back the hands of time. Go back and do things over, knowing what I know now. I'd move more slowly, enjoy my children more and worry less about things out of my control. When I think back to the short time I had with Laynee, I never think of the things I bought her-- the Christmas gifts or Easter baskets or sand pails. Never. I remember reading her favorite books, her soft hugs, dancing with her in the kitchen, walking next door with her to see her beloved horses. I remember the house being in disarray because that's the way she played. Those are the things I remember. Those are the things I miss.<br />
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I don't know all the things that are going on in the young woman in the store's life, but chances are they aren't as important as she seemed to think. They probably weren't worth all the stress. For the briefest of moments I considered saying "I've been where you are. Slow down. Enjoy them while you can." I said a prayer for her instead. I remember people telling me the same thing. I heard them but I think I didn't really know how to take their advice. This lesson is one that can't be learned by telling, it can only be learned by living. I pray the learning isn't too hard for her.<br />
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We returned home form the south to find that spring has come to Illinois. We welcome her with open arms.<br />
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One of the best things about spring coming is that Moise's swing is back in business. That means Moise's radiant smile returns. He teaches me to slow down. <br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">But He </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">was</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">wounded for our transgressions,</span></div>
<span class="text Isa-53-5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; position: relative;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px;">He was</i><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">bruised for our iniquities;</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;">The chastisement for our peace</span><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px;">was</i><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">upon Him,</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;">And by His stripes we are healed.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 24px;">Isaiah 53:5</span></div>
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Happy Spring!! Happy Easter to you and you and you.<br />
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God is good, all the time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-91047009891538682592016-03-23T14:06:00.002-07:002016-03-23T14:06:54.664-07:00Vacation With Grown UpsWe're vacationing this week-- taking a brief reprieve from the stresses of every day life and relaxing on Orange Beach in Alabama, a place that has begun to feel like home away from home. We've been here, walked these beaches, so many times I've lost count. We've raised our children vacationing in this very spot. There are so many memories that they start to blend together with time. We remember the time we tried our first Dippin' Dots and the time Grant's back got sun burnt, the time a crab clamped onto Jamee's foot and another crab that "chased" my sister. There was the year of the jelly fish, the year of the sea anemone and the year of the duck on a leash. There were times with extended family and times with good friends. Some years we played lots of sand volleyball or built sea creatures out of sand or painted ceramic dolphins. One year Moise hated the sand and many years we rented the beach wheelchair monstrosity. There were a couple of years when dad stayed home due to work, a year when my best friend came along and the year we introduced our young Finnish friend to this place we love. Our kids connect Whopper's Robin Eggs, Twizzlers and chocolate Teddy Grahams with our trips to the Gulf. I can't say exactly the years that all of these things happened. I only know that they've all melded together into one long beautiful chapter in the story of my children's growing up years; a chapter punctuated with sun kissed faces, wind blown hair and layers upon layers of white sand.<br />
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It's been awhile since all eight of us have been here together and that's okay. Our children are becoming what we've worked so hard to raise them to be.....responsible adults. They have jobs and friends and other interests that soak up their time and energy. It's the first time in many years that Jamee has been able to join us but we're minus Grant and Moise. Grant's spring break didn't coincide with the rest and he has a big trip of his own coming up this summer. Moise? Well.... he just doesn't love vacations. They upset his deep need to adhere to routine and he especially hates the sand. We're getting better at leaving him home. He's always left in the very capable hands of our hired caregivers and we desperately need the reprieve from care giving. <br />
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Vacationing is different now than it once was. With the exception of Kruz, who rarely ventures far from my side, we don't need to know where our children are at all times. Traveling with adult chilren is much less complex than traveling with small, or even teen, children. We no longer spend vacation days building sand castles, judging diving contests or rubbing sun screen onto little bodies. Instead we take long walks down the beach, play Yahtzee, Knock Rummy or Farkle with our children keeping score. I take far less photos than I used to because adult children are far less tolerant of the ever present camera in their face. Still, I manage to capture a few candid shots here and there....shots that tell of real life.<br />
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Kruz continues to baffle me with all his quirky ways. The beach is a sensory warehouse that tests him in mighty ways. When we got here he would crawl, sit and lay in the sand but the second the bottom of his feet hit the sand his whole body went into overload. We've worked diligently on exposure, gently forcing his feet into the sand. He still doesn't love it but he's tolerating it. But the ocean water? He's not having any of it. It's a cold, unexpected discomfort and he hits freak out mode at the very idea of contact. So we're letting that one slide. We've learned to take baby steps and the ocean is one giant step that we'll tackle another year.<br />
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This little boy is doted on. How can he not be with so very many adults and one very precious little one? It's hard to know where the line is between spoiling him rotten and loving him with all that we have and, in truth, I'm not sure I care. I'm convinced that his most important role in this life is to bring hope, comfort, healing to grown up hearts. <br />
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There's a sadness tucked away in my heart amidst all the joy and pleasure that this trip has brought. On Monday I learned that my long ago friend, Kathy, left this world after a fierce battle with cancer. She and I graduated from high school together and then life happened. She went her way, I went mine. We lost touch but reconnected in recent years, thanks to social media. I watched from afar as she fought hard for life, for the sake of her three beautiful children. But it was not to be. She was full of hope and grace, dignity, selflessness, and so much beauty. <br />
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Being the first of my girlhood friends to leave this earth, her passing has touched a very deep place in my heart. Death, at any age, causes us to take inventory of our life, to cherish that which is important and weed out that which is not. But this......this makes me realize that, suddenly, I am that age. That age where cancer and heart attacks and other diseases begin to take parents, friends, husbands, siblings, those who've touched our lives, whom we have created history with. In Kathy's final days it was clear that love was the only thing that mattered. I want to live like that..... not just in my final days, but every day. <br />
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And as we spend this week immersed in the beauty of the sea, enjoying each other's company, soaking up the restfulness, I feel just a little guilty. Because I know. I know that for Kathy's children, for her twin brother and other family members time is standing still. Their world has crumbled while I am on vacation. I remember that feeling so well. I remember riding in the car from the church, where Laynee's service was held, to the cemetery, where she was buried. I wondered how people could be out walking and mowing their lawn and going to the bank on a day like this. How could it be a beautiful, sunshiny day when my soul felt so dark? How could the world keep moving on when mine had stopped? Yet I know that if Kathy were here she would say "Go." Keep living, keep laughing, keep loving. Right up to the very end. <br />
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I'm trying. Sometimes I fail, but I'm trying my very best to make the most of the time that's left. </div>
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God is good, all the time.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-23910678795897626702016-01-01T13:22:00.003-08:002016-01-01T13:22:57.822-08:002015 In Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: left;">As I was looking through some photo files on my computer today I found myself working my way back through the last 12 months. I was struck by the enormity of all that takes place within the span of one calendar year. I'm so grateful for photos for without them there are so many life events that would be tucked so deep into the pages of memory that we would never look at them again. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">2015 has been a year of big changes. As I look back I am in awe of this journey called life. It's so full of the unexpected. When I look at this December I realize that it looks very different than we imagined it would back in January. Things have taken place that we couldn't possibly have predicted. There have been deep heartaches and life altering decisions. It's been a year of learning about relationships. Of looking back and realizing that things aren't always as they appear to be. We've let go of some relationships, rekindled old ones and formed </span><span style="text-align: left;">new ones. There have been many tears shed, so much laughter and more I-love-you-so-much-it-hurts moments that we can count. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">For me, personally, it's been a year of learning to take care of myself. Around springtime, the demands of normal life, combined with the the not so normal demands of special needs and grief that never ends, began to take a toll on me physically, emotionally and spiritually. There were signs that warned of needed lifestyle changes. So I've committed to lifestyle changes. It's a work in progress, but I'm learning. I'm learning to set boundaries and say "NO" to the expectations of those who've never walked in my shoes. I'm learning to discern between those who are positive influences in my life and those who are not and to embrace the positive and release the negative. I've learned over the past year that rest does not come easy for me but it's important for well being, as important as food, water and exercise. So I'm learning to rest.....really rest.... my body, my mind, my soul. And in the learning I am beginning to realize that it may very well be the most valuable and life changing lesson that I have ever committed to learning. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"> Here's a look at 2015</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">We kicked the year off with minor surgery for Kruz. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVP5H1XtYpqG6RIAi4RN7vO2riNfVIiXIniESXgDZS-Mh9T79Cv61c9vsAj8l87WA0XvKK2Oh6pc37VCwov3DXncE-JFBJqbU6YSgLaqANQlWXyxaj8rxcId604jdu0iE4j1QM5KnBSXNN/s1600/072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVP5H1XtYpqG6RIAi4RN7vO2riNfVIiXIniESXgDZS-Mh9T79Cv61c9vsAj8l87WA0XvKK2Oh6pc37VCwov3DXncE-JFBJqbU6YSgLaqANQlWXyxaj8rxcId604jdu0iE4j1QM5KnBSXNN/s640/072.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angelic</td></tr>
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While it was still winter, the boys and I, along with my niece, Danielle, made a trip down to Saint Louis to visit Jamee and Jade. That trip stands out because of a snow storm that we had the misfortune of driving home in. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint Louis</td></tr>
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Kruz and I passed the long winter days with regular play dates with my great nieces and nephews. He learned to play with peers while I fell in love with these little people. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making Friends</td></tr>
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In February, heartache found a place in our home once more as we were devastated by the death of our brother in law and favorite uncle, Matt. It has reminded us, once more of the frailty of life and the importance of love. </div>
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Due to an insanely busy schedule, Jamee was unable to come home until Easter. It was good to have all of our children home again and we spent a quiet Easter enjoying glorious weather. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't mess with these two.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much love it hurts</td></tr>
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In early May, Jim and I, with Kruz in tow, flew to Virginia to watch Jamee run her last races in her 11 year running career. She ended her career with 2nd and 5th places finish in the Atlantic 10 conference and a new record for SLU track and field. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her greatest fans</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPXZCaVB2R2h-L3VaF8z8zIf3z0cOOh-CHmJF7pVOs4cwqVaY4a_q2eFwWJozfy_1hKp87arWvctDU1SGJMUCHo3pgRbWI2HcjBQV6nxpeDhzHnqVQmy2x1JCzfEbhDY4LKAp-qoJ1DYmn/s1600/152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPXZCaVB2R2h-L3VaF8z8zIf3z0cOOh-CHmJF7pVOs4cwqVaY4a_q2eFwWJozfy_1hKp87arWvctDU1SGJMUCHo3pgRbWI2HcjBQV6nxpeDhzHnqVQmy2x1JCzfEbhDY4LKAp-qoJ1DYmn/s640/152.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last Race</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGAM7FQGgSJBVukGShloDip_taptnEviNtvhtxXgCC5fnnZsAc5WGTHY_kVkbkJL4m70Ufvjsx6z6XVA4xrK-1f5t_A8fF4crjEaa20WF49-TIdSsxhz-oF29qgZSUj5lsfUJ0evSKCuK/s1600/165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGAM7FQGgSJBVukGShloDip_taptnEviNtvhtxXgCC5fnnZsAc5WGTHY_kVkbkJL4m70Ufvjsx6z6XVA4xrK-1f5t_A8fF4crjEaa20WF49-TIdSsxhz-oF29qgZSUj5lsfUJ0evSKCuK/s640/165.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver Medalists</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Late May took us back to Saint Louis to watch Jamee graduate with her bachelors in biology. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHdcy9bpeSVGwTZgUOWBT1RGyJx5uyE0BUGrg-F7lhsiBRm8H1Czo1N-2deorhl_KZXI7B5jGGrIjzFDmDOzIFD0Enk_pVL10LWTndYt_2l4uqodf3brJxr35F9N8OWwRle1wChbFtfrg/s1600/179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHdcy9bpeSVGwTZgUOWBT1RGyJx5uyE0BUGrg-F7lhsiBRm8H1Czo1N-2deorhl_KZXI7B5jGGrIjzFDmDOzIFD0Enk_pVL10LWTndYt_2l4uqodf3brJxr35F9N8OWwRle1wChbFtfrg/s640/179.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accomplishment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jamee stayed in Saint Louis to finish her Radiation Therapy Degree. Jade, after bidding a sad farewell to her new best friends, moved home for the summer. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqjwqk6slVRz2GZaoRZxcbyG6x2bP6s794iconwG_Bk32PjLWHe52D9W17zlLTJwRlWCZni26GlJak9BDCnxeNOnl936aiVfIZbomZWTEN5dUrV4iZsl_c-1_VBqB0xkMHHt5xhlSYqu2/s1600/184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqjwqk6slVRz2GZaoRZxcbyG6x2bP6s794iconwG_Bk32PjLWHe52D9W17zlLTJwRlWCZni26GlJak9BDCnxeNOnl936aiVfIZbomZWTEN5dUrV4iZsl_c-1_VBqB0xkMHHt5xhlSYqu2/s640/184.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home Away From Home</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Boating: It's what we do in the summer. It's what we love.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipe27cKKO-SGgJMbTuPmJ0WilSNNZNWCvLcRvYSgkdp1s6fo3jap3KpSdNOyanX78082KDjOFw-x3K4_vzz-aqV5uj39wN95qxLRlsWYkLWegf_YGtE9XTJ4B6I58jZ3xjp1U0Fnibrcf4/s1600/028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipe27cKKO-SGgJMbTuPmJ0WilSNNZNWCvLcRvYSgkdp1s6fo3jap3KpSdNOyanX78082KDjOFw-x3K4_vzz-aqV5uj39wN95qxLRlsWYkLWegf_YGtE9XTJ4B6I58jZ3xjp1U0Fnibrcf4/s640/028.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water fun</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zdsYOQ079jGmYVbVf0IhuTX9OEKEGMyDTa1LZ0JHm66AkIyHne1ewueJ-_HM-6mpTpFY5jJD5tciymn65_zm8XHft7D4d643M6Tw7GwNHuRW_BZlJqxgHOJHtss8FeBX21YyukizCDCo/s1600/033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zdsYOQ079jGmYVbVf0IhuTX9OEKEGMyDTa1LZ0JHm66AkIyHne1ewueJ-_HM-6mpTpFY5jJD5tciymn65_zm8XHft7D4d643M6Tw7GwNHuRW_BZlJqxgHOJHtss8FeBX21YyukizCDCo/s640/033.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cards.....anywhere, anytime</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uZCfI6_kQgWHX9xF5tHpBlwkG3CvjG2w0biUzLsYksMBWegESmAI5wcMq8R0YRUi1CrVvSNkd7jv_ikteHGf4LsZgJ5vMHcc3vz-tuSZSaa0xpGnEgS6VdwPsJHYn3m5mH3YnImooAN9/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uZCfI6_kQgWHX9xF5tHpBlwkG3CvjG2w0biUzLsYksMBWegESmAI5wcMq8R0YRUi1CrVvSNkd7jv_ikteHGf4LsZgJ5vMHcc3vz-tuSZSaa0xpGnEgS6VdwPsJHYn3m5mH3YnImooAN9/s640/008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boy turned man</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW04Bq6AnbV9VkqeTmtg-CHjyC0SNQ7QsErHk2asqFxSiAtKWPR790vdwsA-mCGHktuehOC2c8ZdvJoxqEn371lh-MlpY9Q2fWPRMgdqpF9OKX2K8pbz4QWwHPRwobUVQBZRHJ1qkNXoHR/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW04Bq6AnbV9VkqeTmtg-CHjyC0SNQ7QsErHk2asqFxSiAtKWPR790vdwsA-mCGHktuehOC2c8ZdvJoxqEn371lh-MlpY9Q2fWPRMgdqpF9OKX2K8pbz4QWwHPRwobUVQBZRHJ1qkNXoHR/s640/009.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still got it</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This was a summer of rain which, of course, meant a summer of mowing, mowing and more mowing.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSXtTFYIc7KSwolw6RMOD5oytwtIGkcdQ-d6nlVrv2k4-mgrjlrvi4BLcARsLxkI2d9-CMxONqCdftaOwkKtfhoa4X1fNxtIcmARylrKxDRV-F8M4XlpZ8x3wcqfA2I2LvkbcrbvOKwCU/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSXtTFYIc7KSwolw6RMOD5oytwtIGkcdQ-d6nlVrv2k4-mgrjlrvi4BLcARsLxkI2d9-CMxONqCdftaOwkKtfhoa4X1fNxtIcmARylrKxDRV-F8M4XlpZ8x3wcqfA2I2LvkbcrbvOKwCU/s640/047.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the rain. Daddy and his boy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kruz's walker finally arrived in June.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiKKlRSoqAoc8Rz14Arvq1pkgPlLAnR7W91a0wxKfAJAqfpe1vkNbGfFSA1SkwwaQsP6UW8ptGrSs7Gws9TfAn-ZbK7bbGHhchf7EL6MZ9fwQnEGoZJ4GWi8qn4D8zlLLSY2E6YvfV9MB/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiKKlRSoqAoc8Rz14Arvq1pkgPlLAnR7W91a0wxKfAJAqfpe1vkNbGfFSA1SkwwaQsP6UW8ptGrSs7Gws9TfAn-ZbK7bbGHhchf7EL6MZ9fwQnEGoZJ4GWi8qn4D8zlLLSY2E6YvfV9MB/s640/007.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A whole new world to explore.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This summer granted the beautiful opportunity to spend lots of time with my sweet nieces. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkmk-j7c89gyrur84ERwMfxlJX3C0E5HnGm58ab9ZA5H3kzlZBYVw703mLNTVCG1x82IAmvnifq_cWm8wrKEb_wjSDVNneDymuFnUbShQDg_vdnMgBDmm36tyc945nlGY66f0uQONGqk5/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkmk-j7c89gyrur84ERwMfxlJX3C0E5HnGm58ab9ZA5H3kzlZBYVw703mLNTVCG1x82IAmvnifq_cWm8wrKEb_wjSDVNneDymuFnUbShQDg_vdnMgBDmm36tyc945nlGY66f0uQONGqk5/s640/008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much beauty in one place</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTEB_KxAcR__RnyFAQC9gs_xqwhKdqElanM27mfPRMjOja68hJaNGusoGD5xkqLm_UJs_N7p1EmDaqBlEZ3UaBC3Gbvi6YWPQnXTG-hH6Ot4lYoc5_hvJFM2NpzOZYKU3mxdQcGPiTRJ1/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTEB_KxAcR__RnyFAQC9gs_xqwhKdqElanM27mfPRMjOja68hJaNGusoGD5xkqLm_UJs_N7p1EmDaqBlEZ3UaBC3Gbvi6YWPQnXTG-hH6Ot4lYoc5_hvJFM2NpzOZYKU3mxdQcGPiTRJ1/s640/021.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun times. Beautiful memories.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGeIaYyYFuuSH7W_xNQqCsmo0h7pjP_3RTJMs7GB6NOYYLhnFil1aPSvt6n-R9zoc-WuilW8iHuPmayVgMpfwdq3MWh7vJYXvuhgVLPzRh-XN9ZkPnUgkteQJRSmxnAzi2xjX7aAxhZvj/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGeIaYyYFuuSH7W_xNQqCsmo0h7pjP_3RTJMs7GB6NOYYLhnFil1aPSvt6n-R9zoc-WuilW8iHuPmayVgMpfwdq3MWh7vJYXvuhgVLPzRh-XN9ZkPnUgkteQJRSmxnAzi2xjX7aAxhZvj/s640/013.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Littlest cousins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnF3NQWsSipYhhyphenhyphen13YJ72k44Rjlj9Cjc5tvTKJ7sfzqb0SaQ4LGA4_oK3sbu0ZScJlTIA1BookBNoOCoAW43bPHzub8MCbfnLchr297vfCvJC0vGaTgh10xv8b-8RJJlMTzyoX8YoHD7vz/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnF3NQWsSipYhhyphenhyphen13YJ72k44Rjlj9Cjc5tvTKJ7sfzqb0SaQ4LGA4_oK3sbu0ZScJlTIA1BookBNoOCoAW43bPHzub8MCbfnLchr297vfCvJC0vGaTgh10xv8b-8RJJlMTzyoX8YoHD7vz/s640/012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water Fun</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzePFjltQRK18WKBGqzS8YWtR4CReUj3Bklrr0nwNgG3Br-yplkJ4RHUZn5nYMPYS54QNSZ1b8FrU_8pqH2Zm-UBoKbX0RWfMrDDwAalr5vzrlB4G_sHwtM9ruMJf_zjNxKZiHZFXQtbE_/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzePFjltQRK18WKBGqzS8YWtR4CReUj3Bklrr0nwNgG3Br-yplkJ4RHUZn5nYMPYS54QNSZ1b8FrU_8pqH2Zm-UBoKbX0RWfMrDDwAalr5vzrlB4G_sHwtM9ruMJf_zjNxKZiHZFXQtbE_/s640/025.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father's Day<br />
My Whole World</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As always, the Turkey Festival came to town in June. My heart ached at the awareness that this is likely the last year that we will have the stamina to get Moise on his beloved rides. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTapB-aL1_ESM2LCs_CAONIh4Y-Yu0Wxq7vxOmgYInXB9aVwBCjYiRP04wq-cBy5VDS5DF7yNueacDMVOPkLRL5xxq69lNFOvSr-4S6ESjHxE877x2vqS_OUV1hzvXZnDy4eYb5qajYocz/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTapB-aL1_ESM2LCs_CAONIh4Y-Yu0Wxq7vxOmgYInXB9aVwBCjYiRP04wq-cBy5VDS5DF7yNueacDMVOPkLRL5xxq69lNFOvSr-4S6ESjHxE877x2vqS_OUV1hzvXZnDy4eYb5qajYocz/s640/025.JPG" width="427" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Please Dad"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Summer also found us camping with great friends. We take our camper. They take their new, awesome tent, complete with vestibule that turns to swimming pool in the rain. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_zhKgnu6t_YLQm-d6171J5PM7O9US_alMfgNX6zJT2IDwj7aVlrIGsPX1XOAqzu7F8kaCs7la0V9NoXVJrFtqaUo5pk-wHSIMG_zDf932GBJRV3PWS8viEBK_Gfw_9GGvAofMIzfeTQf/s1600/058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_zhKgnu6t_YLQm-d6171J5PM7O9US_alMfgNX6zJT2IDwj7aVlrIGsPX1XOAqzu7F8kaCs7la0V9NoXVJrFtqaUo5pk-wHSIMG_zDf932GBJRV3PWS8viEBK_Gfw_9GGvAofMIzfeTQf/s640/058.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Climber</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkXgmyVTXtznqfB19zOCf10LxukaGhutRnsVSvsrauEHD1MXXZ5_0JG9c1tSe_mEubiohtSwwP476xE4Xz-3ky5naN-z_uhyxGo_K7GKBMIXcUB_A61yQH4xYXezOcOU5teIXoNBliMLJ/s1600/063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkXgmyVTXtznqfB19zOCf10LxukaGhutRnsVSvsrauEHD1MXXZ5_0JG9c1tSe_mEubiohtSwwP476xE4Xz-3ky5naN-z_uhyxGo_K7GKBMIXcUB_A61yQH4xYXezOcOU5teIXoNBliMLJ/s640/063.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping meals always taste better. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We spent many summer mornings at the table, learning braille. It's his newest reality.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCx8lqNvJCNLaK_TWO5KzXCZwABn0p8HU1P11RRFvP1ZvPsDYKuJjP0Sorj8Au3WF0N513YYaTqL3RPamcFnTD8GmHjayQkqSiyVGycDUUshHxKGpr264U1B2BRCHC24CDSoDTXzy-nJP2/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCx8lqNvJCNLaK_TWO5KzXCZwABn0p8HU1P11RRFvP1ZvPsDYKuJjP0Sorj8Au3WF0N513YYaTqL3RPamcFnTD8GmHjayQkqSiyVGycDUUshHxKGpr264U1B2BRCHC24CDSoDTXzy-nJP2/s640/003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never give up. Never. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The rains caused many work related delays for Jim so Brock, Brock's friend, Kruz and myself headed for Branson without him. Not a fan of traveling without him but we made the most of it and still had a great time. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4VdTuUbq27LHaW_aal9LC_RtAVbXB3_QhghcRBB05f7Jmdi_y83EaXyT6kZf1KRALKR90T_d30k5ndqKiUyrEL2rZkI6hY6NXeRYVs52qJt5IfqS7ZOyJzoUFYv35KMeiKL4ZzjE5Qc1/s1600/093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4VdTuUbq27LHaW_aal9LC_RtAVbXB3_QhghcRBB05f7Jmdi_y83EaXyT6kZf1KRALKR90T_d30k5ndqKiUyrEL2rZkI6hY6NXeRYVs52qJt5IfqS7ZOyJzoUFYv35KMeiKL4ZzjE5Qc1/s640/093.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliff Jumping Craziness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglO_c2W5ikVU65tlt6oC185QnwrXYj5JbOSuMcxZXsHGytvBWl5-XAqpk1Q7jFXRlT5px3McjSUhmQqnI5UlbzQ8CSG8Y0-Sn7a7QRBigjMXlqdqD0RIOFHWmLextsPny_sjHg0CziFKSI/s1600/125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglO_c2W5ikVU65tlt6oC185QnwrXYj5JbOSuMcxZXsHGytvBWl5-XAqpk1Q7jFXRlT5px3McjSUhmQqnI5UlbzQ8CSG8Y0-Sn7a7QRBigjMXlqdqD0RIOFHWmLextsPny_sjHg0CziFKSI/s640/125.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Landing with 2 of my boys</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A decision not to send Moise to summer camp made for some great bonding time between my two youngest boys. They melt my heart. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p9g0NDVDLrAaxpW9l4sly_Ko9HY0WAUfUawM5sP0Yr9UY_fh_vhunM19h1tzZVHq3wkv65ccPQzlBHsuqaTobJwAwnM6zcyH6Jpf3i5jckJUN4ikpWlKlZ6yHJrbF2AsbF7tCVHhrG2k/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p9g0NDVDLrAaxpW9l4sly_Ko9HY0WAUfUawM5sP0Yr9UY_fh_vhunM19h1tzZVHq3wkv65ccPQzlBHsuqaTobJwAwnM6zcyH6Jpf3i5jckJUN4ikpWlKlZ6yHJrbF2AsbF7tCVHhrG2k/s640/026.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainy Days</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8JXCTgfeGgaRbpkSi3eJQi7dnCdzwNneUJRlP548HjoqnteTVkB8DYUXpx1dUdJlQRm3MuXz0EVxeLemBmdZkHrEcM43E7x4XIBkf0IJJSCpGp4QOXasUp-hjcRWqLfBxio62bF9DgER/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8JXCTgfeGgaRbpkSi3eJQi7dnCdzwNneUJRlP548HjoqnteTVkB8DYUXpx1dUdJlQRm3MuXz0EVxeLemBmdZkHrEcM43E7x4XIBkf0IJJSCpGp4QOXasUp-hjcRWqLfBxio62bF9DgER/s640/015.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshiny Days</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcYrfHWLseao5cz5yBU4OYDO88mJXSDMOO731BZ9-vmaCXr56Tw3V1Z6nLyCHJw-avqYvmRuS6REjCQPFnVPUEeDNE4ERQqqLAr-J3uR1o4ww8ldvKI0S0qy6hvwAYPEVwVEaElEgT8Ym/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcYrfHWLseao5cz5yBU4OYDO88mJXSDMOO731BZ9-vmaCXr56Tw3V1Z6nLyCHJw-avqYvmRuS6REjCQPFnVPUEeDNE4ERQqqLAr-J3uR1o4ww8ldvKI0S0qy6hvwAYPEVwVEaElEgT8Ym/s640/001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes we get creative.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHey7qFdTCbft66zL2aJaFVlWho2qYcRDaWVSqHPzS38vpxqVl_0L-bs-JymEyoj_hX84Isr6v_dpxzGhTOP0R1V9LSQAFO1wriqfoIlbJzMo-HkMJ8zJpBV-mGXSdNqpVyoPD2fhThMoB/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHey7qFdTCbft66zL2aJaFVlWho2qYcRDaWVSqHPzS38vpxqVl_0L-bs-JymEyoj_hX84Isr6v_dpxzGhTOP0R1V9LSQAFO1wriqfoIlbJzMo-HkMJ8zJpBV-mGXSdNqpVyoPD2fhThMoB/s640/023.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love you them so much it hurts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPawqNrVAI1lkT2cuojwRfDWw5o-u81DOy3dwfnet_UAxhIglBaVrRazv6PfFfy_4Zrw0ZANE73kbfbZtQAIGblC1UaLY0CqA_5462tE6ChKYUhKwvoCTDbvhIf6D5C3BWy2AU2glZcaEA/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPawqNrVAI1lkT2cuojwRfDWw5o-u81DOy3dwfnet_UAxhIglBaVrRazv6PfFfy_4Zrw0ZANE73kbfbZtQAIGblC1UaLY0CqA_5462tE6ChKYUhKwvoCTDbvhIf6D5C3BWy2AU2glZcaEA/s640/003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hammock Buddies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
In August I ran my fifth consecutive St. Jude Tremont to Peoria run. It becomes more meaningful to me every time I run it. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpWn1LI3YCGvNPpCHhz8uJhE2CaeNH4UfjK4xNp6AavHgRRM9hqUH14CbrCzTA2jonLE7LH7Ty_o3Hl8UDDHVs3BBSfeKAi5micfgxExCYgxGmvdSUkYpxHFTX5qlD8yHUIjj_uQlPlPU/s1600/043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpWn1LI3YCGvNPpCHhz8uJhE2CaeNH4UfjK4xNp6AavHgRRM9hqUH14CbrCzTA2jonLE7LH7Ty_o3Hl8UDDHVs3BBSfeKAi5micfgxExCYgxGmvdSUkYpxHFTX5qlD8yHUIjj_uQlPlPU/s640/043.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Jude Support</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Also in August, we were a welcome family for a young man from Sweden. Isac stayed with us for about 6 weeks before going to another Tremont host family. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHSXRRb8jOcAtUCAKaKxuBq8vmS_l0PGpFLfsJnjtM6o1D96eGBwu5MSmQTuPhMAXdPfgiQ0z6zQvu0rfqVm34FPlRu64pWA1KmUgPNhethyG61dJqSqQVzLI0mJAoONGFroZTei4DiCq/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHSXRRb8jOcAtUCAKaKxuBq8vmS_l0PGpFLfsJnjtM6o1D96eGBwu5MSmQTuPhMAXdPfgiQ0z6zQvu0rfqVm34FPlRu64pWA1KmUgPNhethyG61dJqSqQVzLI0mJAoONGFroZTei4DiCq/s640/024.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To America, from Sweden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The start of the 2015 brought myriad emotions as Kruz started early childhood at Tremont Elementary. We also made the painful decision to move Moise from Tremont to Schramm Educational Center for students with severe disabilities. And Brock? He began his senior year of high school.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHD3u_fhEqUVhlYguhUm_Agf5ioxgS5U7QLVFMeO5Xj6LiR8ify1wWsvYpHbNF55wrMdA0kSbO4MnuXKXNyCO9rW9ON_mwLFu1t8enP4n14L_FB1fi-qkFVRTOhkS_8qvmg6F2Z1J0HlqW/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHD3u_fhEqUVhlYguhUm_Agf5ioxgS5U7QLVFMeO5Xj6LiR8ify1wWsvYpHbNF55wrMdA0kSbO4MnuXKXNyCO9rW9ON_mwLFu1t8enP4n14L_FB1fi-qkFVRTOhkS_8qvmg6F2Z1J0HlqW/s640/001.JPG" width="449" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Day Ever</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEJpXnAvTNRB7uTBeBnfuQm_0617qKNWTGv5rwCRQMXNSHZQdExCmS9MyAXsm6yMA0iugRo3RhWegs7rYxbbrjTnlrq9sq-79_xvOfk7FLvlacr3IUZUEMns2b1YlybiFXV7TuozqBVad/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEJpXnAvTNRB7uTBeBnfuQm_0617qKNWTGv5rwCRQMXNSHZQdExCmS9MyAXsm6yMA0iugRo3RhWegs7rYxbbrjTnlrq9sq-79_xvOfk7FLvlacr3IUZUEMns2b1YlybiFXV7TuozqBVad/s640/008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day at a new school</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZWr4Eoee9EWn3iAVz-fMUU0fmncXJQjUhYL7aGKjsCSuB3hjgybWU5wTSfz_0SfRisFNnArI68ViRYJv_1rYyDyPa2_yNb4Tw_icKNMXXYfZERnc1DAvY-73YTaMC5R-ZjSUtm56-cGR/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZWr4Eoee9EWn3iAVz-fMUU0fmncXJQjUhYL7aGKjsCSuB3hjgybWU5wTSfz_0SfRisFNnArI68ViRYJv_1rYyDyPa2_yNb4Tw_icKNMXXYfZERnc1DAvY-73YTaMC5R-ZjSUtm56-cGR/s640/001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The First of the Last</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeDMdHxPllFAuXluXFiGpRgSYooBt6QR5t2wAacLK2qvQjlem1CrPOwFrffPuLTkU9jx1_VApofeusa9WxIeqJwD3pecz4k8eLJ5M7M6xRDM9eLPbbn3NfPCvI9CYZOHAuMz28FC294AT/s1600/Homecoming+2015+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeDMdHxPllFAuXluXFiGpRgSYooBt6QR5t2wAacLK2qvQjlem1CrPOwFrffPuLTkU9jx1_VApofeusa9WxIeqJwD3pecz4k8eLJ5M7M6xRDM9eLPbbn3NfPCvI9CYZOHAuMz28FC294AT/s640/Homecoming+2015+003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Homecoming week</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjjBMzgGkebLO2jeLzlDoPgR3o_99H21RSIXWJ-T7SPhAVv2mwyfIBAjOcDzxx7CtxWka2HmkAIFUgBy318dJEwI50KR8qDqDheP-xFw268fIS72t-YKo4jtaND0H82QJq8-XnIocWpHp/s1600/Homecoming+2015+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjjBMzgGkebLO2jeLzlDoPgR3o_99H21RSIXWJ-T7SPhAVv2mwyfIBAjOcDzxx7CtxWka2HmkAIFUgBy318dJEwI50KR8qDqDheP-xFw268fIS72t-YKo4jtaND0H82QJq8-XnIocWpHp/s640/Homecoming+2015+013.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Last Homecoming</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jade returned to Lindenwood, her dear friends and a very busy schedule in August. <br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jamee was formally pinned as a Radiation Therapist and after passing her Board of Registry exam, she left the city to return to Tremont. She was excited to be offered a position in Radiation Oncology at OSF Medical Center. After a broken engagement in June, her life looks drastically different than she thought it would but she's learning, once again, that she can do hard things and change isn't always a bad thing.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fbdIJbDe56a7SfFVVJpfL8b389KYoRfEwnhp96mcSHxlecn5dErwVV01dGrwMqnH-YOeSj6lsCJn_XE0hnx1pmP2ouciRpcwr_IwpS7R6EjOO1Rh15lSkH7i4-j6J78rYVeghGDVbYAX/s1600/IMG_0539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7fbdIJbDe56a7SfFVVJpfL8b389KYoRfEwnhp96mcSHxlecn5dErwVV01dGrwMqnH-YOeSj6lsCJn_XE0hnx1pmP2ouciRpcwr_IwpS7R6EjOO1Rh15lSkH7i4-j6J78rYVeghGDVbYAX/s640/IMG_0539.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamee Holmes RT (T)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUVzg-ZYUvCxp7mU_TUR0VDxk2nSnbxjCZai4Zq7ZMpDIibdzYkMZoWNNc_XJBWmlINh5Q15jpAs0j7WaPJrRYQoW-AQJTjRNSjzGA4tvpAnB5BGcU17Dq4VOhwl8vY3KCg_UQney4L0fB/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUVzg-ZYUvCxp7mU_TUR0VDxk2nSnbxjCZai4Zq7ZMpDIibdzYkMZoWNNc_XJBWmlINh5Q15jpAs0j7WaPJrRYQoW-AQJTjRNSjzGA4tvpAnB5BGcU17Dq4VOhwl8vY3KCg_UQney4L0fB/s640/002.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall Traditon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Illinois fall was glorious and with Kruz in school for a few hours each morning, I found myself with a bit of quiet time each day, something I've never had in my life. I think that I shall never take the quiet for granted. It truly is a gift. </div>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZV4AuX3C7x5UBHkVgIJtYLb4vhgdQ8qhj5MtCgKcuyMNsQlkTkoNda4838_FY8Kl1ctr91rtvTD5xIFFAmA1MbjV2F1rlRt_Y2_Xl5hpS4vM3myd3_uqjNDFVmFXUrMRaDc-y7i1G9LeE/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZV4AuX3C7x5UBHkVgIJtYLb4vhgdQ8qhj5MtCgKcuyMNsQlkTkoNda4838_FY8Kl1ctr91rtvTD5xIFFAmA1MbjV2F1rlRt_Y2_Xl5hpS4vM3myd3_uqjNDFVmFXUrMRaDc-y7i1G9LeE/s640/014.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apples, apples and more apples</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9yw73kk5Wb2h7Eh7zSShSXvuEj4cBQ9qLTwCddfMJeoAeJWllv_ucAV5-1rsxt_uH-gzmpAAcSzsRf86bLN1xPcYHwXu3YybKqslbu3vl-itw3JzPycNriLrQgUSfuSyrLdbAR2dBply/s1600/077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9yw73kk5Wb2h7Eh7zSShSXvuEj4cBQ9qLTwCddfMJeoAeJWllv_ucAV5-1rsxt_uH-gzmpAAcSzsRf86bLN1xPcYHwXu3YybKqslbu3vl-itw3JzPycNriLrQgUSfuSyrLdbAR2dBply/s640/077.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fallen Leaves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Having made the decision earlier in the year to hire a part time care giver to help with Moise, Jim and I have enjoyed precious time spent with friends. Friends who've been a part of our life for years and new friends who have us wondering "where they've been all our life?"</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOrs9e_U3PiZf5iqcX6L7UDZ84XJCP0uE7D_SSf7H3pfCDwvyjiQaEOgnggQ-t1-HiBPYbSz8nRSvXnlEngTuZ0L_xPOynP56_IWpcEdVHvSRZ4tcgaiE_kToLIr2BVpVVadkeQB9Ez4S/s1600/048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOrs9e_U3PiZf5iqcX6L7UDZ84XJCP0uE7D_SSf7H3pfCDwvyjiQaEOgnggQ-t1-HiBPYbSz8nRSvXnlEngTuZ0L_xPOynP56_IWpcEdVHvSRZ4tcgaiE_kToLIr2BVpVVadkeQB9Ez4S/s640/048.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good Friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3uuN3vQxtrxx0MsuPFXe0pDBj_k2_yo9HEvgVPRYg-5zrAX0FvIvYlPAv3BKo_zPF630li58639ZRhE2GLb1wP2q9t7INKh6RFeE8VrWmCdMg33e0ryOqYFeRoTTYtXmiW9eNdCoNb-T/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3uuN3vQxtrxx0MsuPFXe0pDBj_k2_yo9HEvgVPRYg-5zrAX0FvIvYlPAv3BKo_zPF630li58639ZRhE2GLb1wP2q9t7INKh6RFeE8VrWmCdMg33e0ryOqYFeRoTTYtXmiW9eNdCoNb-T/s640/047.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgGYiAe_sozLeTyGgPSczlZhxL-5kTxfFSlHtNoTZ5va9-srZ5FIA-kZrOR8Lw-3N9Ub1kHfInUBy8DMNXrTqEC04oBX3Ro26SkJEH5CwzdcUUo0Sb7aCgpa2zVKUHvSwlHmrfPw0vUzw/s1600/071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgGYiAe_sozLeTyGgPSczlZhxL-5kTxfFSlHtNoTZ5va9-srZ5FIA-kZrOR8Lw-3N9Ub1kHfInUBy8DMNXrTqEC04oBX3Ro26SkJEH5CwzdcUUo0Sb7aCgpa2zVKUHvSwlHmrfPw0vUzw/s640/071.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jim and I celebrated 25 years together in September. I am so thankful we chose to do life together. He's the one I want to grow old with.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSkB7kck8CdRvMoqTGOLcsRYJO8FGx0u5khaW-Fp8dV32fOGlkvULtCRy80iB7G9FvXiJ8AgOL-vv28V4MR1-Fc-bvc4D0-oRpMGGvek_g3cHj4G4F3plPwdWxBqGKOyrmm_f7Al67jpjP/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSkB7kck8CdRvMoqTGOLcsRYJO8FGx0u5khaW-Fp8dV32fOGlkvULtCRy80iB7G9FvXiJ8AgOL-vv28V4MR1-Fc-bvc4D0-oRpMGGvek_g3cHj4G4F3plPwdWxBqGKOyrmm_f7Al67jpjP/s640/036.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And I thought I loved him 25 years ago. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fall also brought our final cross country season. It was bittersweet to bid farewell to a sport that has been so vitally important in helping our children become who they are today. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCozmVXPpumQkKPlOXJ6RqFuYOcu9bVx_vWnk4sW4ivMVOuozMWIUdLWzpl3i-if54llcmvgvGpKWiArzwqonAZWxavw_dgiMlTVtxUWoNwwgI9mckMIT_T13W3gM1T8yc4pHGQpYwgsT7/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCozmVXPpumQkKPlOXJ6RqFuYOcu9bVx_vWnk4sW4ivMVOuozMWIUdLWzpl3i-if54llcmvgvGpKWiArzwqonAZWxavw_dgiMlTVtxUWoNwwgI9mckMIT_T13W3gM1T8yc4pHGQpYwgsT7/s640/010.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So proud of who he's becoming. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvGQw34YYSniufqIZNh4ySCqc4hxvxAcRwD2xRzMupi5l5dZajQaXV6cQQK_y0qG9LVrEFSHOwdFYIJtoCqryiVc_snDZXV6y4mfkfZQm-RhF1ivNc7QqJUzSvpMBX4lIWJxZANHUAQT6/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvGQw34YYSniufqIZNh4ySCqc4hxvxAcRwD2xRzMupi5l5dZajQaXV6cQQK_y0qG9LVrEFSHOwdFYIJtoCqryiVc_snDZXV6y4mfkfZQm-RhF1ivNc7QqJUzSvpMBX4lIWJxZANHUAQT6/s640/013.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Endurance, discipline, sportsmanship</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Moise was crowned homecoming king at his school. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFVrsfFr7ayhv3VR6iNKHCLHONwoBu9jCn5e1N2Z7BX7D-wXvWReB1LgiWmCg7bIIRfn4XSjRfyCbgAqjDAQxir3NRWmYR5JHV4VPEndDj6ypuMxULR6lR_5yCL4ZxPfXVuFQSNMxY8nu/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFVrsfFr7ayhv3VR6iNKHCLHONwoBu9jCn5e1N2Z7BX7D-wXvWReB1LgiWmCg7bIIRfn4XSjRfyCbgAqjDAQxir3NRWmYR5JHV4VPEndDj6ypuMxULR6lR_5yCL4ZxPfXVuFQSNMxY8nu/s640/017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's a rock star!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In early December Jade made the very difficult but very wise decision to leave Lindenwood University and the friends she has come to love so dearly to finish her education closer to home. The year and a half that she spent away from home was a valuable chapter in her life. She learned much and grew in ways she wouldn't have without leaving for a time. We're so proud of her ability to lay aside expectation and do what her heart told her was right </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqCUJATt9-EEvWjLLgqEzp1qbMvxtU9lF5qKat-rrBM9MGU9s_hPSlz0tPPY4W6QckKalUEe-vXw-Pv2Rv_lPxJ1UYElgp4Ay37fAB9wggAAXyL-mBVQpPEnoFO5Nm5KFvybe1x-2Rbi_/s1600/097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqCUJATt9-EEvWjLLgqEzp1qbMvxtU9lF5qKat-rrBM9MGU9s_hPSlz0tPPY4W6QckKalUEe-vXw-Pv2Rv_lPxJ1UYElgp4Ay37fAB9wggAAXyL-mBVQpPEnoFO5Nm5KFvybe1x-2Rbi_/s640/097.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pursuing Relationships</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We stayed close to home during December, enjoying and unhurried quietness so contrary from what is typical this time of year. We drank too much coffee, ate far more than necessary, kept old traditions, formed new ones and soaked up the presence of my favorite people in all the world. Of all the gifts, love is the best. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"> </span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKAFfW_U5DRCoomMrjYGzVK4-A6ib28jvLcT-mTzv603Mrjg7a9pI51902AQ_Jg0KlhDClB8hBBglFwMiRK1tdoLuKDQfudVa2uislQDDOdtViTu2EBqXWHb1Q_tg-MqFvApS7n1z5aE7/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKAFfW_U5DRCoomMrjYGzVK4-A6ib28jvLcT-mTzv603Mrjg7a9pI51902AQ_Jg0KlhDClB8hBBglFwMiRK1tdoLuKDQfudVa2uislQDDOdtViTu2EBqXWHb1Q_tg-MqFvApS7n1z5aE7/s640/022.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas morning</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxSPVl0QPpaiwzgwMgzFaHE60D8sdHHQyNIwycnOx4M-xqZK3b9OHUGudrRX6uibYdEEQD-YIcUp1-YSk7Tbvsb396Yw0BDwW-noLRlvOulLJNfKYYqLV6e9rlVpprNmOszsLE8SScz71/s1600/045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxSPVl0QPpaiwzgwMgzFaHE60D8sdHHQyNIwycnOx4M-xqZK3b9OHUGudrRX6uibYdEEQD-YIcUp1-YSk7Tbvsb396Yw0BDwW-noLRlvOulLJNfKYYqLV6e9rlVpprNmOszsLE8SScz71/s640/045.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Child so loved</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhaD-q5ixmOwRXXYXgY7eci3ogZem164SI0uezXQVvtqr3xb0evyARpiOZy8l_90gnwh9x7azhxQR2fk0Rumz6GL3bKQulxwjv0G4aS2LTpAE-n0PKRXSQaOZCNaQBBu_x2tQC3nbLj39/s1600/065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhaD-q5ixmOwRXXYXgY7eci3ogZem164SI0uezXQVvtqr3xb0evyARpiOZy8l_90gnwh9x7azhxQR2fk0Rumz6GL3bKQulxwjv0G4aS2LTpAE-n0PKRXSQaOZCNaQBBu_x2tQC3nbLj39/s640/065.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Traditions</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Q-ATpC52cI-YuzfNLVzBoqD31P_F6sMCBDLi6ustIugAW-5ihT_AEamUfkQL0fMw5P9_m6zUI-27Nq5nbiehZi-YZ698tjdtW0kOYh_IV0nT10YfKjMKNd9vgW23o4ewJxBPErUI14t8/s1600/076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Q-ATpC52cI-YuzfNLVzBoqD31P_F6sMCBDLi6ustIugAW-5ihT_AEamUfkQL0fMw5P9_m6zUI-27Nq5nbiehZi-YZ698tjdtW0kOYh_IV0nT10YfKjMKNd9vgW23o4ewJxBPErUI14t8/s640/076.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Elfh8v9SnAXWDa-CXo0H5QpzNONCRmavkqGTaT_xlA2a_xpSuji7Myhd-AR7-RO1NUoSHy-wTEqr6ZfQCnSsj2ciJwkAp2CxKk-bItnrL6hoWQ7n4ZcnJR1c1EIc5TCwdrfoWnTZFe-l/s1600/085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Elfh8v9SnAXWDa-CXo0H5QpzNONCRmavkqGTaT_xlA2a_xpSuji7Myhd-AR7-RO1NUoSHy-wTEqr6ZfQCnSsj2ciJwkAp2CxKk-bItnrL6hoWQ7n4ZcnJR1c1EIc5TCwdrfoWnTZFe-l/s640/085.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sisters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We ended the year on an interesting note as a winter ice storm blew in, leaving us with no electrical power or running water for two days. It wasn't convenient, neither was it earth shattering, but it did make us thankful for modern conveniences. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In keeping with our holiday theme of quietness, Jim and I spent New Year's Eve at home together with take out Chinese and a good movie. I admit, we escorted the New Year in from Dreamland and I wouldn't change a thing. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy 2016 and so much love to you all.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
God is good, all the time. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-65887555514130654652015-12-22T20:39:00.001-08:002015-12-22T20:39:10.717-08:00Christmas.....Special Needs StyleChristmas tends to be a hectic and chaotic time of year. Packed with coming and going, shopping, baking, wrapping, planning, it can suck the joy from the very best of us if we let it. <br />
<br />
For the past several years, Christmas has been exceedingly hard on Moise. We've tried, in spite of the difficulties, to keep up with the traditional holiday hubbub. Dragging him here and there. Struggling to keep him content in an environment that breeds confusion and frustration for him. We've spent endless amounts of energy getting both, Moise and Kruz, dressed and medicated, packing special cups, spoons and extra diapers and loading them, complete with walkers and wheelchairs among piles of gifts and trays of mandatory festive foods, into the van. Upon arriving, the struggle to get them and all of their paraphernalia in the door of an already packed building is very real and very physically draining. Then anxiety and tension is immediate as both boys are instantly thrust into freak out mode from sensory overload. Too many people equals too much noise equals yelling, crying, rocking, thrashing, grabbing, scratching. Jim and/or I typically spend much of the holiday in a separate room, frantically trying to ward off the impending doom of Moise-is-going-to-flip-his-lid and ruin the day for everyone. All the while we hope, for the love of all that is good and holy, that Moise doesn't need a bathroom because that, in an un-adapted bathroom, takes us to the now-I'm-going-to-flip-my-lid zone. And somewhere in the midst of it all, the joy and peace of togetherness is lost. All in the name of keeping the Christmas spirit. <br />
<br />
This year, knowing that Moise's rapid growth over the last year would make every holiday event even more difficult than it was before, and with Kruz's histeria over too many people in one place at Thanksgiving fresh in our minds, we opted out of all Christmas gatherings. We said "no" to anxiety and "yes" to peacefulness. There's a hint of sadness as we bid farewell to lifetime traditions. But that sadness is quickly being replaced by a deep sigh of relief as we approach Christ's birthday without the mounting tension. Our two youngest boys come with their share of complexities. But there are times, like now - when they force us to choose simplicity - that I so appreciate them and the impact they have had on our life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZAInWdUubBXOEid19-dbwzQ14K3LEKxBM2bp-YSXqsjylyt1nlr2Cs7Tb4PbuHa-IDB1_hBnZ-vE76JXVqFzGw_41mNhxdc1S4nc0voYzK6f6_bWQWLwdSwVrd-U1Lbw4frcv4jmURYg/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZAInWdUubBXOEid19-dbwzQ14K3LEKxBM2bp-YSXqsjylyt1nlr2Cs7Tb4PbuHa-IDB1_hBnZ-vE76JXVqFzGw_41mNhxdc1S4nc0voYzK6f6_bWQWLwdSwVrd-U1Lbw4frcv4jmURYg/s640/004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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These past few weeks have been blissfully uncomplicated. We enjoyed holiday shopping before the stores became packed and the lines endless. We've strung lights and decorated the tree, baked cookies and wrapped gifts, all at a much slower pace than ever before. The nativity, with Mary and Joseph gathered around the One who was born to bring the peace that this world so desperately longs for, has been moved up to the dining room hutch, away from curious little hands.<br />
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We're three days into Christmas break and Kruz and I are enjoying longer than usual snuggles in the glow of the tree. There are few things sweeter than freshly bathed babies in snuggly footed pajamas that twist and dangle from baby feet. <br />
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I'm not sure if I've ever shared this with you, but my husband is amazing in the kitchen when he wants to be. I treasure the sound of he and our daughters working together over whatever happens to be the current culinary masterpiece. In this case--gingerbread men.<br />
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Jade and I have also shared lots of time in the kitchen this season. She's home from college, which offers plenty of time for making more and more holiday treats while everyone else is off to work. Without so many places to go, the baking is for no other reason but for the sheer joy of it. Kruz is wherever we are and spends an inordinate amount of time playing in the cupboards and occasionally finding himself in a predicament. <br />
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Gift giving, where Moise and Kruz are concerned, is completely stress free. I never, ever worry about what to buy or how much to spend. They like the paper and the boxes but they don't care about gifts and I've long ago given up the idea of buying obligatory gifts for them. I buy things if I think it might aide in their development but I know that all they really want is us, our time, our love, our touch. All the things that no amount of money can buy.<br />
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Laynee also continues to teach us in her absence. Another angel hangs from the tree, representing yet another year without her. Her tree out back glows beautiful and pink, a gentle peaceful reminder to slow down, to enjoy this moment because life is fragile and next year doesn't always come. </div>
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Christmas looks much different at our house this year than in years past. We're making new traditions. It's slow. It's quiet. It's peaceful. I am so thankful for the simplicity that our two complex boys bring into our life. It's so much easier to remember the true meaning of this season when we let go of some of life's expectations.<br />
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God is good, all the time.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-14961910727294180182015-10-25T09:35:00.000-07:002015-10-28T04:20:18.910-07:00I'm So Glad There Are Octobers. <div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;">I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. </span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;">It would be terrible</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;"> if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?" </span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;">L.M. Montgomery from "Anne of Green Gables" </span></b></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;"> I'm not sure what October is like in other parts of the world, but in our world (and apparently in Anne Shirley's) this autumn month is nothing short of splendid. I feel sorry, truly sorry, for those who don't get to experience October as we know it, a virtual feast for the senses. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;">Over the last few weeks we've donned everything from shorts, t shirts and flip flops to jeans, sweatshirts, and boots. It's the nature of the month: bright warm sunshine one day and blustery cold north winds the next. We've watched as, one by one, the fields around us are harvested. The combines, complete with large clouds of dust, make their way up and down every field in the area. Our view, blocked by six foot tall corn fields one day, stretches out for miles the next. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;">We've picked buckets and buckets of apples. The good ones became applesauce, apple pies, apple crisp, apple muffins, and cinnamon spiced apples. The not so good ones entertained us as we watched the horses next door munch and crunch and snarf on the sweet taste of autumn. </span><br />
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We visited the orchard for our annual race through the corn maze. The guys won but us girls sharpened our map reading skills. We'll get them again one day. We came home with arms laden with jugs of cider and cartons of apple donuts.<br />
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And pumpkins. They sit on the porch begging to be carved. In the meantime, the scent of all things pumpkin mixed with cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg permeates the house and every coffee shop around.<br />
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We've enjoyed countless nights around the campfire, talking with friends or family, roasting marshmallows and assembling warm gooey smore's. There's something mesmerizing about a campfire. Something that draws you in, welcoming you and inviting you to sit and stay awhile. It brings people together and somehow creates a sense of peacefulness. So we do and it always ends up being longer and later than intended. But that's okay because it's October and it only lasts a few short weeks.</div>
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And what's October without a hay rack ride down the country roads, bundled up against the cold winds in your face. I've always wondered: does everyone do hay rack rides? Or is it just a Midwest delight?<br />
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You guys, we are living our last October filled with cross country. Cross country is such beautiful sport in October. All those colorful trees and colorful uniforms. So much strength, discipline and determination coming together in one mass of runners. The stomping of hundreds of spike clad feet racing through grass and fallen leaves. It makes me want to cry. By the way, see those two boys in the the maroon and white uniforms? The shorter one in front with the dark hair is my son. He makes me proud. He's becoming a man too fast though. That makes me want to cry a little too. But I've learned to never wish for my children to stay young forever because sometimes they do. Sometimes we wake up and realize that our babies never got a chance to grow up. So keep growing my boy. Grow and mature and become a fine man of God. </div>
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Kruz goes to cross country meets too, only he doesn't run. He rides in his stroller and looks bored.<br />
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The ultimate trademark of October is leaves. Leaves that burst, from brilliant green to orange, red, yellow, brown. If you watch close enough, it's a stunningly beautiful transfiguration that takes place right before your eyes. And then, when they begin to fall the world, at least our part of it, smells like fallen leaves and burning and so much goodness. </div>
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Last week I watched one day as the last leaves on the Ash tree out back seemed to be clinging and hanging on desperately as the wind whipped and pulled at them. It reminded me of life. Sometimes strong winds batter us and we hang on to life, as we know it, until we can't hang on anymore. Finally, when we let go, we find that God--the same one who creates the winds and the leaves--has something better for our life--something that requires that we first let go. </div>
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I love October mornings when warm days and cold nights create a lake effect and we awaken to the majestic image of steam rising up to meet the glorious backdrop of fall. <br />
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Then, in the evening, the sunsets wow us with their sheer perfection. Sunsets always make me think of my baby girl, somewhere out there in a place I cannot fathom. But in my own humanistic mind she's there, on the other side of the sunset, waiting for me. Not missing me like I miss her, but waiting just the same. <br />
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There's an achiness to October that can't be described. It''s so beautiful as summer and winter begin to intertwine. So beautifu that it sometimes hurts in that place deep inside that can't truly grasp God and all of His power. As the leaves turn and blow and fall, it signifies the beginning of the end of another year. </div>
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In summer and winter and October, </div>
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God is good, all the time. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-34015520130443725562015-10-08T01:34:00.002-07:002015-10-08T06:36:51.804-07:0025 Years and Growing<br />
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<b><i>Every love story is beautiful, but ours is my favorite</i></b></div>
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Jim and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary last week. I've struggled to find words to commemorate this milestone. How does one sum up twenty five amazing years of joys, successes, failures and sorrows in one simple blog post? There really are no words that can articulate all that fills my heart as look back over our years together. But if I were asked to choose one word that would best describe our marriage, our relationship, our love, I know exactly the word that I would choose.<br />
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GROWTH<br />
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The growth itself is not that noteworthy. After all, one would expect that in twenty five years we would grow... spiritually, emotionally, relationally. It is the means by which we've grown, that amazes me most.<br />
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Twenty five years ago we were young. I was 20. He was 21. We were both skinny and gangly looking. I had hair with bangs that reached too high. His hair was parted on the side in "slick back" style. Yet, somehow, we were very attracted to one another. We were so smart... or so we thought. We had an idealistic, storybook vision of what our life together would look like, complete with "and they lived happily ever after." We actually thought that we had some control of what our future would hold. We were wrong-- incredibly, unbelievably, utterly wrong. The picture in our twenty something vision must have been from someone else's future storybook because it certainly wasn't from ours. <br />
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Somewhere along the way our story has unfolded and....well... it hasn't exactly been a fairy tale. <br />
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We've grown. <br />
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We're not so skinny anymore and there are hunks of flesh in places we didn't even know existed back when we were 20. There are jiggly places on our legs, arms and belly. Our combined total of chins is greater now and we've long ago given up counting the gray hairs on our heads. We've grown little lines around our eyes. And the little spots that suddenly appear on our skin? The ones that once elicited an "Oh my goodness!! What is that?" Now get nothing more than a shoulder shrug, "Hmmm, there's another one."<br />
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We've also grown in number. One, two, three, four... 2 boys, 2 girls. The perfect family. Little mini me's growing up to be just like us and often taunting us with mirror images of some of our own not-so-perfect traits. Don't get me wrong... our children are wonderful. Just not perfect because that would require perfect parents and somehow, in all this growing, we never grew into perfect parents. Then, though not from my womb, children kept coming. A boy, a girl, another boy. I actually never thought I'd make a good boy mom so I really don't know who ordered up all these boys. I only know that there were phone calls and our hearts, already bursting with fullness, somehow grew and made room for one more. <br />
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Our home grew too. We went from a little house to a bigger house to an even bigger house. Then, the even bigger house started growing in unexpected ways. Rocks caused holes to grow in the windows. Dents grew in the plaster from too many wrestling matches or inside dodge ball. Mold grew in one of the bathrooms from failure to turn on the fan during too many eleventy hundred minute teen aged showers. That same bathroom grew a hair product film on every imaginable surface. Then, a few years ago, we started growing handicap accessible. Handrails, wheelchair ramps, lift chairs and extra wide doorways. The number of vehicles in our family has grown to the Nth degree. I'm fairly certain the mail carrier thinks we are aiming for the world record for number of auto insurance policies in one household. And my story book never made mention of a nearly 20 year old wheelchair accessible van that dings "DOOR AJAR" all the way down the road, but it's the one vehicle in the whole lot...I mean driveway....that I can't live without. Take the silver van. Take the truck. But don't take the red van with the wheelchair lift. And don't dare park too close to it or I'll hit you with my lift. <br />
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No one ever told us that raising children would become increasingly difficult as they grow into adults. I'm still smarting over this one. Someone should have told us this!!! But NO!! My storybook never once told us that the scrapes and boo boos of toddlerhood would morph into heart aches so big that no amount of kisses or band aids or stitches could fix. That should be written in every couple's storybook if children are a part of the story. But through all of the laughter, the frustration the heart ache of parenting, I've grown deeper and more fully in love with the father of my children. <br />
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Twenty five years ago we pictured romantic dinners by candlelight and quiet winter nights curled up by the fire. We couldn't possibly have known that every night of our life would be a date night for us. Yep. It's true. Every night Jim and I meet around 8pm in our handicap accessible bathroom and we dance the same beautiful dance together. It's a dance of showering, diapering, dressing and medicating two boys who can't do it themselves. We've been dancing this same dance for years and we move together in flawless motion. It's not our favorite dance. Some of the moves are physically taxing, but we've nailed it. Along the way, the love in my heart has grown deeper from the daily witness of the gentleness with which my man can dance.<br />
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After we buried our youngest daughter, there were many well intentioned folks who felt the need to warn us of the divorce rate for couples who lose a child. "Losing a child can be really hard on a marriage," they said, as if maybe we hadn't already thought of that. But they hadn't read our real life storybook either. They didn't know that our hearts would grow ever closer as we witnessed our own pain reflected in the other's eyes. They didn't know about the endless nights when our tears would blend together in one unending stream as we shared our wretched, mutual pain. During this time we thought we'd never smile or laugh or feel joy again. But we did. And we grew. I can't begin to explain it but our marriage bond grew deeper through all the agony. My need for the man whose heart was equally as shattered as my own, grew exponentially through all the rubble and brokenness of grief.<br />
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If we'd written our own story it would have looked dramatically different. It would have been free of trials and pain and rivers of tears. Because we didn't know. We didn't know that real growth comes from poor choices and failures and being stripped of all that we thought we were. As I look back over the years, the very good times and the very bad times, I can't thing of a single time when we grew because everything went exactly as planned. I wonder, if we met that young couple today, the ones who vowed to do life together 25 years ago, would we even recognize them? Would we be able to see through the gray hairs and chiseled edges to the idealistic youth that thought they had it figured out?<br />
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I am grateful for this man, with whom I've spent more than half my life. I can't wait to grow through the other half of life with him, even though I know it's never going to be a fairy tale and we're not writing the story. <br />
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<i><b>Therefore what God has joined togehter, let no man seperate.</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Matthew 19:6</b></i></div>
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God is good, all the time.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-45085223480887009832015-09-06T11:18:00.002-07:002015-09-06T11:19:59.886-07:00Not This WeekendI opened my eyes this morning as the sun was just beginning to filter through the shades. I felt it immediately-- the tightness in my throat and chest, the heavy weight of my arms, the writhing in my spirit, tears stinging the back of my eyes, a sense of disconnect from the world around me. The human body is an amazing thing. Even before my mind could brush away the cobwebs of sleep and form a coherent thought, my senses knew, it's Labor Day weekend.<br />
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Six years ago we were in the midst of a beautiful weekend. That Sunday was spent hiking and climbing the cliffs of Giant City State Park with my parents.<br />
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We had a picnic lunch under a pavilion as we waited for a rain shower to end. The kids thought it funny when grandma tried her first taste of Pepper Jack cheese and immediately dubbed it "evil cheese." We ate ice cream in a joint that could have been the setting of an old western movie.<br />
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It was hot and humid, just like today, but grandpa toted Laynee on his arm all day long. Grandpa and his youngest granddaughter formed a bond that weekend. He was her newest hero and she added Papaw to her vocabulary. We all laughed at her sweet little girl antics. We loved her. We adored her. <br />
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Six years ago today, life was so good, so happy, so free of grief and trauma.........and then it wasn't.<br />
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I wasn't taken off guard by the feelings that greeted me this morning. They are a familiar part of grief and loss. I know them well and have come to expect them. What does come as a surprise is the intensity of the feelings. How can it be that, six years later, the wounds can still be bleeding? How can it be so raw, so fresh?<br />
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Labor Day weekend will forever mark the anniversary of the last time we held her. It hurts, it always will. I've long ago given up the ridiculous notion of "getting over it," as society would like for us to do. My heart, my life has moved on but I'll never be "over it."<br />
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After six years, I have come to understand and expect that somewhere around the middle of August, around the time that school starts, my senses begin preparing my heart for this weekend. There comes a day, each year, when I step out my door and I know it's that time. Something seems to change in the atmosphere. The air feels different, hot and dry. The morning dew is thicker. It smells like a combination dry leaves and corn ripening for harvest, a smell forever stamped in my mind as the "smell of Laynee's death." It's the smell that permeated the air as our horror unfolded and we fought to bring back life. Bright colorful dahlias and mums begin to make their appearance and my mind knows those are the flowers of Laynee's funeral. I hear the sound of a hunter's gunshot somewhere in the distance, another reminder that it's that time of year. All of the senses come together bringing memories of our last days with her. <br />
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A couple days ago a photo came up on a my facebook timeline. "You posted this 4 years ago," it said. Four years ago, three years ago, every year since 2009, this weekend has been painful. We've remembered and we will continue to remember.<br />
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Last week a friend ask me, "will it be better the day after Labor Day?" It won't. There will be foggy memories of her funeral, of putting her in the ground,, of broken hearts, wounded children, and trying to go on when our world had crashed. It won't be better right away, but it will get better. We've been here before. The pain will not go away but neither will it remain in the fore-front of our hearts. </div>
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Good things will come again. We'll laugh again. We'll know peace and happiness and joy. But not today, not this weekend. </div>
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<i><b>He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Psalms 147:3</b></i></div>
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God is good, all the time. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-63361142927676083822015-08-19T11:52:00.002-07:002015-08-19T11:52:26.714-07:00Does Heaven Have A Yellow Bus?The first day of another year of school. Momma's all over the world experience that bittersweet emotion as they send their children off to the world of learning. My own stomach was a pit of nervous and excited tension as I packed lunches and book bags and, one by one, sent my children off. <br />
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Moise was smiling and happy as we wheeled him to the bus. My heart tugged a little as my over active mind imagined his confusion when he finds that school is not the same beloved halls he knows. There will be no familiar faces, or secretaries who hand him candy when he delivers the lunch money. His Aunt Gail won't be there to see him in the cafeteria at lunch time and all the kids at the new school won't know to give him "knuckles." But I'm trusting in the knowledge that God has this under control, that he knows Miose's needs better than I do. I'm going back to the calm, peaceful assurance that we felt when we made the decision to transfer him to a different school. <br />
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Kruz exuded sweetness as he marched out to the bus in his walker, sporting new duds and Spider Man on his back. His world is expanding on this first day of school. He's gaining friends and teachers, new toys and exciting adventures. He'll learn from and teach those with whom he comes in contact. Before he even begins, I know that he'll spread his infectious joy to all.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His bus ride entertainment is covered by the strap he found the minute he got on the bus. </td></tr>
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I felt my chest tighten as the bright yellow bus pulled away with two of my boy's in it. Tears clogged my throat and pain knifed through me. As I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep all of the emotion in check, I had to be honest with myself. The pain that I felt was not about Moise going to a new school or being separated from Kruz. It was about Laynee. <br />
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Laynee desperately wanted to ride the school bus. Every morning, as our other five left for school, Laynee would dissolve into tears over being left behind by her siblings. She pointed and reached and begged to get on the school bus. Our beloved bus driver, Danny, would sometimes intercept her as she made a mad dash for it. And every day, as I carried her back in the house, I would wipe her tears and promise her "pretty soon. You're not quite big enough, but pretty soon you can ride the yellow bus." Pretty soon was just a couple months away. It was almost in our reach, but it never came. I couldn't keep my promise. Laynee never got to ride the yellow bus. <br />
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The deep pain that I felt this morning was a fresh wave of grief that collided and tangled with bittersweet emotion of back to school. In the early hours of this crisp August morning, Kruz lived out Laynee's dream, the promise that I was never able to deliver to her. Even though I know that heaven is better than I can comprehend, I want her here today, waving at me from her school bus. But since she's not, I hope there's a yellow bus in heaven.<br />
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God is good, all the time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-32726561461325502162015-08-15T05:25:00.002-07:002015-08-15T05:25:55.653-07:00Summer's End"Summer's almost over" has been the back drop for everything I've done or thought this week. Summer's end, marked, for as long as I have memory, by the first day of school, looms before us, coming a day closer with every sunrise.<br />
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There's a bright yellow sign in the periphery of my mind. It's flashing and warning: CAUTION: BIG CHANGES AHEAD. Brock, last child of my womb, is a senior in high school. Moise is going to a new school, one which presents much newness and uncertainty. A fact which guarantees a few bumps in the road. Kruz, my baby, child of heart healing, is going to school. Another bumpy guarantee. <br />
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And my heart? It's working to prepare itself. I remind myself, like a broken record (does anyone remember what a broken record sounds like?) that change is good, that Moise and Kruz will be fine. No problem. God's got this. <br />
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Meanwhile, we're sucking every last drop of fun from this summer.<br />
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We snuck in one last camping trip with friends. I've always thought of camping as something that we did for our kids. With kids it's a lot of work for mom and dad but they loved it so much and so many memories were made at the campground. Now, with Kruz being the only little camper, we're finding that it's not work at all. I find myself asking "what's wrong? Why is the refrigerator not stuffed full? Why are we not dragging umpteen bags around? Why is the door not slamming eleventy hundred times? Why are we actually getting to sit on our big ol' Bass Pro camping chairs? It's marvelous and bittersweet. While we enjoy the quiet, we miss telling Grant to "quit messing with the fire." I miss squirting blobs of shampoo on four little heads and telling them to head for the shower. I'm certain we'll adapt to these camping changes quite nicely. While the memories are the sweetest, I'm certainly not opposed to making memories of a different kind. <br />
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Baby doll gets drug all over the place, typically by the arm. She is going to need many baths in her lifetime. Here's to hoping her stuffed body can withstand the many washings. I have my doubts. </div>
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I've had the pleasure of spending extra time with my sweet nieces this summer. When they're around, the place rings with the sweet sound of little girl voices once again. Although this summer's temperatures, by comparison, have been mild, we've sought water every chance we could.</div>
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It's been several years since Moise has been in need of the typical back to school supplies but this year found us venturing back into the school supply aisles with Kruz's list in hand. It was euphoric. There's so much color and excitement in those aisles. I opened a box of crayons and wanted to cry over the sheer perfection and organization nestled inside that yellow and green box. I hope Crayola never feels a need to change their box. </div>
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I grabbed a box of markers and marveled over the reality that standard, primary colors are hard to come by. What happened to red, green, yellow and blue? But then there they were, all of the primary colors carefully molded and unblemished in the oval slots of the water color paints. Kruz didn't need a pencil bag but I grabbed a plastic one anyway, just to sniff it. It smelled so schooly. My mind took me back to my own school days and my annual resolve to be more organized. I always knew, as I sat with all my crisp new school supplies spread out around me, that I would be less messy. I carefully penned my name... Karol Glueck.... as if there were a hundred other "Karol's" in my classroom, onto every item and determined that I wouldn't doodle on all my notebooks this year. It was a resolve that lasted all of two days.<br />
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Then I came upon the "Trapper Keeper." In our house, the excitement over being old enough to need a "trapper," was nearly palpable. Our children searched those aisles painstakingly for just the right one. And once we found the right one? The <i>scritch </i>of velcro being opened was all we heard for days, until they finally boarded the bus, trapper in hand and the world by the tail. The trapper was a right of passage into middle school.<br />
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The quest for a backpack was an interesting one. Kruz is not big. At three years old, he measures on the growth chart of an eighteen month old. Backpacks, apparently, are not typically made for eighteen month old. I went store to store, my euphoria quickly morphing into irritation over the size of backpacks. <i>"Why are they all so huge?!?!?! Don't they know that there are little kids in the world who need a backpack?!?!?" </i>School supply shopping is only fun when you find what you need. A standard child sized pack nearly drug the ground and knocked him flat on his rear. I finally found one that was a bit smaller, and in primary colors too. But once I put it on him, this too seemed like a great big backpack fail.<br />
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Perhaps more concerning, even than the size of the bag, was Kruz's lack of interest in the bag itself. He was far more interested in the straps. This is going to be a problem. Straps are one of his quirky obsessions, which in many situations is a beautiful thing. Waiting endlessly at a doctor's office? No worries, we've got this. Just hand the boy a purse strap. But in school this distraction will need to be reckoned with. Bring out the strap eliminators!!!! He'll find straps in places they never knew existed.<br />
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But Grandma G saved the backpack day. Exit primary color, strappy, too big backpack. Enter Spider Man. It's just the right size. It doesn't pull him over. And there are no straps. Oh......and it's Spider Man. Enough said.<br />
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Come Wednesday morning, ready or not, I'll be sending three boys off to school. Bring on the changes. <br />
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Until then, we've a few more mornings of long snuggles and we're not missing out on a single one. <br />
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Happy back to school days.<br />
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God is good, all the time.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-48668345116860968202015-07-29T06:06:00.001-07:002015-07-29T06:06:20.195-07:00Summer DaysEvery season is my favorite season. When it first arrives (the first snowfall, the first hint of orange in the tree tops, the first robin or the first smell of fresh cut grass) I know, without a doubt that this is my favorite, until the next first sign of season arrives. There's always something, the next new favorite, to look forward to. But right now, we're soaking up summer and enjoying it immensely.<br />
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The first part of summer was consumed with preparing a small house in town for Grant to move into. It left precious little time for much else but we did manage to squeeze in a camping trip and a couple of days on the lake. As the older kids move on with their own lives, doing grown up things, we find that our family excursions are starting to consist of Jim and I, Kruz, and Brock and friends. There is an ever present awareness that soon Brock will also be off doing grown up things. Until then, we're enjoying the calm, laid back camaraderie of not quite adult boys.<br />
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Climbing continues to be little brother's favorite past time. Even when we go camping, he finds something to climb on. His world is so big and full of exploring. I treasure the opportunity to see the world through his little boy eyes.<br />
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He wins hearts wherever he goes. He's so quiet, so joyful, so full of peace. <br />
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On weekdays, everyone is off to work and my days are filled up with little boys. We do typical and some not so typical boy things. Our mornings start off lazy. Moise's current cocktail of medications has him sleeping much later than usual and Kruz has always been a great sleeper. As long as there's not an appointment to rush off to, brothers sleep late and mom enjoys the quietness.<br />
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Moise is teaching me braille and it's truly amazing that something so simple as dots, when put together in proper configuration, can open up a whole world of communication. And blindness, frustrating as it may be, has renewed my never-under-estimate-him motto. He amazes me with the things he can learn. <br />
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Play dough is a new favorite past time. Kruz still shudders a bit at the feel of it in his hands but he tolerates it better each time we bring it out. Moise has many uses for the stuff. He smashes and rolls and cuts it. We also cut out shapes for math.<br />
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Wet has been the central theme of this summer. It rains often and when it's not raining, the extra moisture in the area causes the humidity to be stifling. But we get out as often as we can, in the mornings or evenings when it's more bearable. We swing. We swing a lot. Moise on his swing, Kruz in his swing or both of them together in the hammock. </div>
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After years of dormancy, Kruz has happily put the swing set back in motion.<br />
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Kruz's walking with his walker is coming along. He hasn't mastered maneuvering around objects and often finds himself stuck in tight places but we're getting there and I'm hoping he'll soon be independent in it.<br />
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Moise's two primary sources of exercise are swimming and riding his bike. We try to get at least one, preferably both, of them in every day. There are times when having two non ambulatory boys requires some creativity. Sometimes I just have to laugh in wonder at the fact that this is my life, so dramatically different from anything I could ever, in a million years, have dreamed up. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Laynee's garden becomes fuller and more beautiful every year. There's an ache deep inside of me every time I look at it. It's such a beautiful reminder of the child who enriched our life so much. It reminds me every single day of the growth that has taken place in my own heart since we said "good bye" to her. In spite of the pain, God has been so incredibly good to us. </span><br />
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Aside from playing with little boys this summer, I admit that I'm not accomplishing much else. I am a perfectionist by nature and there are eleventy hundred jobs and projects that jump out at me every day, things that nature and instinct tell me I "should" be doing. I was raised with with the words "don't put off for tomorrow what you can do today" ingrained in my brain. And, while, I think there is much wisdom in those words, I have also learned that "if it can wait til tomorrow, I won't regret playing with my children instead." Children grow up quickly and sometimes tomorrow doesn't come. And if tomorrow doesn't come I'd rather say "I played with him on that last day" than "I cleaned my garage that last day." <br />
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<i><b><span id="goog_935641514"></span> "Today why don't you love a little deeper,</b></i></div>
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<i><b> laugh a little harder, </b></i></div>
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<i><b>hold the ones you love a little tighter</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Because tomorrow is never promised."</b></i></div>
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So much love to all of you.<br />
God is good, all the time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-17629250865807857132015-07-13T06:20:00.001-07:002015-07-13T07:01:50.318-07:00The Sound of His Voice<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>The mountain is voiceless and imperturbable: and it's </strong></em></div>
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<em><strong>very loftiness and serenity sometimes makes us the more lonely</strong></em></div>
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<em><strong>--Henry Van Dyke</strong></em></div>
For the first time in many years, Moise is not attending camp this summer. Since he was about 7 or 8 years old, he has gone to camp for children with disabilities. The camp is wonderful, run by caring staff members and filled with activities and outings. The activities are, naturally, geared toward seeing and hearing children. I knew that, without his vision, the majority of his time at camp would be spent sitting in his wheelchair-- not watching, not participating, just being--while the other children took part in the activities. He would be bored and boredom results in extremely negative and aggressive behavior in Moise. Camp days are long days, with him leaving at 8am and not returning 'til 4:30pm. In all the years of going to camp, I've never been convinced that he loves it. Each morning when I put him on the bus I felt a twinge of regret as he seemed so resigned to his fate of every day camp. Then, each afternoon when I picked him up, I felt the twinge again, as he came off the bus looking utterly spent and unhappy. Over the years I developed a love/hate for his summer camp. <br />
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There were many variables that factored into our decision to forego camp this season, not the least of which was the fact that I am no longer working outside the home. When I was employed, it was simple. I had to go to work. Moise needs constant care. Therefore Moise had to go to camp. But my being home, coupled with some extreme behaviors last spring and a newly hired caregiver to help out a few hours a week, led to the decision to allow him to spend his summer at home. <br />
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The best thing about no camp? We spend a lot more time together.<br />
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The worst thing about no camp? We spend a lot more time together.<br />
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It's a strange dichotomy. On one hand, it's life sustaining love, peace and perspective. On the other, life sucking weariness and exhaustion. Somewhere in the midst of it all, there's a delicate balance that I struggle, daily, to find.<br />
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Much of my summer has been spent entertaining, teaching, challenging him. Through it all, I talk to him, because, as parents, talking to our children is what we do. I instruct him, praise him, correct him, comfort him and sometimes reprimand him. And lately, perhaps because he and Kruz are the only ones at home with me all day, I find myself longing for him to answer me. I long to hear the sound of his voice. Recently it has struck me that I don't even know what his voice sounds like.<br />
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All day long, I listen to him. I'm conditioned, to the point of hypervigilance, to every sound he makes. He has his own sort of octave that ranges from deep guttural moans to repetitive "uh uh uh uh uh" to high pitched squeals, but never words. I know what every sound means. I know, by his sounds, when he is happy, sad, angry or excited, but I don't know the sound of his voice. I don't know his words. I don't know what produces all of his emotions.<br />
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I know there are words in there, locked up inside of him, and so often I wonder, what would he say if he could use his voice? Would he tell me that he hated camp, that he never really wanted to go there? That he's glad he gets to stay home with me? Would he say that Kruz drives him crazy with his constant glasses snatching, ipad stealing attention? Would he tell me that his hip hurts much more often than I will ever know? Would he say "You know that yogurt you give me every single night with my meds? Well, I've always hated yogurt!!" Would he say that he thinks life is bitterly unfair? Or would he say "it's okay, Mom. I'm tough, I can handle it and God is good."<br />
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So many times I sit and watch his face and wonder at the mix of emotions and expressions that I see there. I wish that he could tell me what it is that brings a smile to his face at times for no apparent reason. And when he laughs hysterically, until drool runs from his mouth and he can't catch his breath? I want to know what's so darn funny. I could help him so much better if he could tell me what hurts when his features twist into a grimace. Life would be so much easier if he could articulate what's going on inside of him when his jaw tightens and his fists clench in rage. And when the tears of sorrow start to fall? How I wish that I could hold him as he pours out his heart...all the hurt and frustrations of his life.<br />
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There are big changes on the horizon for Moise and they make my heart ache. Big changes are hard for anyone. I think about when my older kids transitioned to college or new jobs. They come home and tell me all about their new adventure, the good and the not so good. It was so difficult to send my daughters off to college, but I always knew that I could talk to them any time I needed to. They could tell me all the things they loved and hated about their new life. Many times I heard "Mom, I want to come home." So many times I just needed to know that they were okay and I would know. By the sound of their voice, I would know. As Moise gets older and moves onto whatever comes next in the world of disabilities, how will I know that he's okay? How will I know if he's terrified? How will I know if he loves it or hates it? How will I know if, God forbid, someone hurts him? He can't say "Mom, I want to come home."<br />
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If only I knew the sound of his voice!<br />
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God is good all the time. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-28171112049288720032015-06-21T20:06:00.002-07:002015-06-21T20:06:57.213-07:00Kruz News: Three Years OldKruz turned three last week. Birthdays are a joyous time of looking back to where we've been, how we've grown and changed and how far we've come. <br />
There will always be a little piece of my heart that regrets that I wasn't there when Kruz (or Moise or Jalayne) drew his first life sustaining breath outside the womb. I wish that my mind held the sweet memory of the first gaze into the eyes of long awaited love. <br />
I can't begin to say what occupied my day on June 16, 2012. What I do know is that my mind was ignorant of the fact that my fourth son had made his way into the world. Although I don't know all the details surrounding his birth, I suspect that day's ambiance wasn't merry and celebratory, as we tend to imagine when a child is born. Born with a perforated bowel, two major heart defects and facial deformities, joy likely turned quickly to concern as the reality that something's "not quite right" became obvious. Kruz was whisked away to Children's Hospital of Illinois and there he stayed for nearly five months.<br />
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I wish I had been there for those months, that he hadn't been alone in that hospital bed. I wish that I had memories of long nights of rocking and snuggling and sweet baby breath. If I'd known, I would have been there. From that first day; the day I changed him, with trembling hands, into his "going home" outfit and placed him into the car seat that we'd bought on a whirlwind stock-the-house-with-baby-stuff shopping spree, I loved this child with every beat of my heart. I think there has always been a place for him in my heart, a place that sat empty and waiting, a place that could only be filled by this one precious boy.<br />
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In spite of those missing months, we couldn't possibly cherish our beautiful boy any more than we already do. I cannot imagine life without his sweet innocence and the joy that he brings to our lives.<br />
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Things have not been easy for Kruz. He has and will continue to face many challenges. But he's learning new things every day. His personality is beginning to shine-- happy and funny and so full of love.<br />
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He's had his walker for just over a week and already he has become more adept at maneuvering it.<br />
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His current favorite past time is playing with his own image. He looks for himself in mirrors, windows, the fireplace door, the wash machine, and anything else that might him a glimpse at the cute little guy that looks back at him. He stands at the freezer door and dances and prances on his toes so much that I'm starting to see ballet in his future. <br />
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He melts my heart. Every single day this child melts my heart. <br />
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Throughout the day I felt twinges of pain in my heart. The knowledge that we were not blessed with the honor of celebrating 3 with Laynee was never far from me. But that awareness made this birthday that much sweeter.<br />
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We celebrated in quiet, family style. The way he likes it. They way we all like it. Right here at home with the people who love him most. I made spaghetti, his favorite, and he ate it big kid style. In other words, it wasn't pureed, a monumental feeding milestone. Sometimes it takes my breath away when I watch him eat, he's come so far in such a short time. <br />
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He tasted his cake but wasn't too keen on it. <br />
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No worries, Moise ate enough for both of them.<br />
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He was showered with "noisy" toys. Because right now it's what motivates him best. He is beginning to grasp cause and effect. If I push this button it's going to play music and light up. We're taking his cues and gently nudging him in that direction. Learn baby learn. Push that button. Flip that switch. Turn that wheel. Watch what happens and then do it again. He's learning how to play because, for some, playing does not come natural.<br />
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But of all his toys, with all their bells and whistles and flashing lights, the thing he likes best, the thing he always comes back to is his books. A new book from Grandma Kathy makes him ever so happy. Keep reading Kruzer. You'll learn so many things that way. <br />
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<span id="goog_629475866"></span><span id="goog_629475867">I can't believe how far he's come. He is such a bright spot in our lives. He has done more for this family than we will ever hope to do for him. He's brought healing and joy and love, so very much love. My love for this child is so great that it hurts at times. </span><br />
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Kruz Kadarm Dowah Holmes, my big 3 year old......."You're BEST."<br />
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God is good, all the time.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-27687193240363860592015-06-15T08:18:00.004-07:002015-06-15T12:08:58.926-07:00When the Carnival Comes to TownMost things in life are a mixture of pros and cons, happy and sad, rain and sunshine, good and bad. As humans, we tend to notice the bad more than the good. We rarely miss the rain but many days the sunshine goes unnoticed. But sometimes there are moments that feel like perfection, moments where you wish you could bottle all of the sunshiny happy and make it last forever.<br />
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This weekend we had a perfect moment with Moise. It was a an hour of so much happy that my heart could barely contain it all.<br />
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It was the weekend that the carnival came to town, the annual Tremont Turkey Festival. For most, the Turkey Festival is one of those good and bad events.<br />
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It's so bad! It's almost unfailingly hot, humid and sticky. There are some years, like this year, where the rains come, turning an entire section of town into a muddy, sloppy mess. For those of us who volunteer, it sucks up an entire weekend's time and energy. There are usually at least one pair of shoes that will never be the same after the festival. The smell of smoked turkey, corn dogs and funnel cake adheres itself to clothes, hair and nasal passages. In so many ways, it's truly miserable.<br />
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But it's so good! It's great food and fun, laughter and meeting up with friends. Most of all, it's a perfect display of community, as hundreds of people from our little town come together in volunteer effort to benefit our town. We feed and entertain thousands over the course of three days with 34,000 pounds of turkey. Truly remarkable.<br />
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Moise adores the Turkey Festival. Jim, forgetting about the festival, had originally scheduled a Thursday evening business meeting with one of our perspective homeowners. He had bid on a new home and this meeting would hopefully seal the deal. When he remembered it was opening night of the festival he called to reschedule saying, "it's the best night of the year for my son and I can't miss it."<br />
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Moise's glee was so great, when he learned he was going on the carnival rides, that he could hardly stay in his wheelchair.<br />
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There are no words to describe the feeling that fills my heart when something so simple makes him so unbelievably happy. Moments like this make me so grateful that Jim and I get to be his parents. There is no question that life would be simpler if Moise didn't face so many challenges, but I think that if that were the case, the perfect moments would often go unnoticed. </div>
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Patience is not one of Moise's greatest virtues but he waited so patiently to ride the rides, clinging to his Dad's hand. He knew that his Dad would tackle the strenuous feat of getting him on the rides. </div>
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He's got a special dad and he knows it. What he doesn't know is just how hard it is for Dad to get him on those rides.</div>
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Moise is fearless on the rides. Neither Jim nor I will get on them but we have great friends who are always willing to ride with Moise. His pleasure is obvious as we watch from the sidelines. I can only imagine the sense of freedom he feels as he flies through the air. This one night of every year, he doesn't need to see or hear or walk to feel the rush of pleasure that the rides bring. For this one night, I believe that being Moise is far greater than being a typical 14 year old. </div>
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After putting him on the last ride of the evening Jim leaned close and told me "This is his last year of rides. I won't be able to get him on next year." The words were only confirmation, I could clearly see the struggle each time Jim carried him to the rides. At 112 pounds, Moise's body is large and heavy, his palsied legs cumbersome and awkward. He grows bigger by the day, it seems. Next year the effort involved in bringing him so much joy will be physically and logistically impossible. I pushed the painfully obvious truth aside. We'll deal with next year when next year comes. I etched a picture of this, his greatest joy into the pages of my mind. I never want to forget this perfect moment in my little boys' life. </div>
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Kruz was rather apathetic about riding the merry go round. He didn't resist it, but neither was he elated by it. </div>
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He was perfectly content watching and carefully taking in the carnival atmosphere around him. Perhaps his own love for rides will come in time but if not we'll find whatever it is that brings him greatest joy. For now, I (his mommy) am his greatest joy. He and I have our own perfect moment every night as we read stories and sing songs together before bed. I'm soaking up every single one of those moments for I am keenly aware that nothing so perfect lasts forever. </div>
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Kruz wanted nothing to do with the sugary puff of cotton candy. On the other hand Moise, after testing it a few times with the tip of his tongue, dove right into it. </div>
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Life is filled with joy and sorrow. The more life I live the more I realize that the most perfect moments require the presence of both, the good and the bad times. </div>
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We wouldn't appreciate the sunshine as much if we never had rain.</div>
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God is good, all the time</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-58456836649814156082015-06-07T17:50:00.001-07:002015-06-07T18:53:04.700-07:00Hello SummerThe last couple of weeks have been spent settling into summer. Structure and routine is an important part of Moise's daily life. He's a creature of habit and summer throws a curve ball at his usually regimented schedule. No school means our home is filled with people coming and going in all different directions at all different time, which sets us up for potential disaster where Moise's emotions are concerned. We strive for some degree of structure and roll with the rest of it, dealing with the not so fun moments as they come, savoring the calm and peaceful moments.<br />
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We're getting lots of brother time in. Kruz is utterly enthralled with his big brother. He tends to be a bit of nuisance, always up in Moise's business. He takes Moise's glasses and runs with them, swipes his toys and is constantly using Moise or the wheelchair for balance and stabilization. Moise takes it with the patience of Job, incredibly tolerant of his pesky little brother. <br />
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Kruz only recently discovered that Moise's ipad does some pretty cool things. Moise can't see much on his ipad but he does enjoy the changing lights and sounds of Baby Einstein videos. There are glimpses, each day, of typical big brother, little brother relationship. I store these moments in my heart, they get me through the tough times.<br />
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Kruz's desire to walk is great. We're still anxiously awaiting the arrival of his walker, which I am hoping will help him build the confidence he needs to take off on his own. But for now, he is self appointed transporter of Moise. He seems to always know exactly where Moise is headed and takes it upon himself to make sure he arrives safe. <br />
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One of our biggest goals for Kruz this summer is self feeding. He doesn't love to eat, tending to need only to satisfy his hunger and therefore, is not overly motivated to feed himself. After trying and failing with many adaptive spoons that were recommended by his therapists, I finally melted and angled a plain old disposable toddler spoon from Walmart. It's perfect. The bowl of the spoon is shallow enough that he can pull the food into his mouth. The handle is short enough to allow him optimal control. And after boiling it in the microwave, I can manipulate the plastic to exactly the angle that he needs to easily direct it to his mouth.<br />
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At first, he refused to even touch the spoon. We overcame that obstacle and now he's getting pretty good at getting the spoon to his mouth but then, as soon as the spoon touches his mouth, he releases it. It's messy and sloppy and frustrating beyond belief but we'll get there. In the meantime, it's another test of perseverance and determination. <br />
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Little brother has discovered that there's a whole big world out there to be explored. While I work in the garden and flower beds, he finds whatever he can to climb on. <br />
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It delights my heart. It's so beautifully normal for little boys to climb and explore and in a world where so many things are abnormal, normal is not taken for granted. He hasn't quite mastered getting back down but he's ever so proud of getting up.<br />
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He and I spend and extraordinary amount of time in Laynee's garden. It's the very place that she died, the place where she drew her last breath and said "good bye." I feel her there. There's peace in this place: new life and growth and beauty. There's healing for me and lots of learning for Kruz. Someday I'll tell him all about his beautiful older sister while we tend her garden together. I'll tell him of the one who came before him and went before him and left so much love. <br />
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Moise's days are filled with lots of time on the swing, one of the few things that blindness has not robbed him of. We give him a freezer pop and he thinks he has the world by the tail. A gentle reminder that the simplest things are sometimes the very best things in life. <br />
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Saturday we headed out for an impromptu day on the water. Glorious weather demanded a kick off to this year's boating season. We quickly packed a lunch, making do with whatever could be scrounged up from the pantry and fridge, threw beach towels and sunscreen in a bag and off we went. <br />
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There was abundant sunshine and just enough warmth to make it a perfect day for all. Cool and breezy enough for little boys to sit and enjoy the boat and warm enough for others to enjoy the water. <br />
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Boating is a regular part of summer for our family, the watery venue of summer time fun. It's the convergence of family, friends, sunshine, laughter and a lifetime of memories. <br />
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Sunday brought summer rains; hard, heavy, torrential rains. We snuck out in between storms to find that our yard had been transformed into a river, rushing from the field across the road. <br />
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I love the hope and wonder that comes with each new season but today my heart is especially grateful for summer. She wraps her arms around us like a soft warm hug, reminding us that there is always hope and love and life.<br />
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Happy Summer.<br />
God is good, all the time.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-81112691139420442552015-05-28T04:51:00.003-07:002015-05-28T12:20:12.484-07:00Moise Moment: Farewell Tremont Schools<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>"You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step"</strong></em></div>
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Ten years ago, Moise started school in an Early Childhood classroom at Tremont Elementary. Since that day he has grown and blossomed under the careful teaching of the faculty - teachers, aides, therapists and administration- of Tremont Schools. He has learned things that I never imagined he could learn. He has been loved and accepted as a part of this school and this beautiful community in which we live. <br />
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Through the years, my heart has been warmed over and over by fellow students who see him around town and rush to greet him. I love hearing exclamations of "There's Moise" or "Hey Mo" or "Give me knuckles, Mo." I love that the children aren't afraid to touch the boy in the wheelchair, the boy that makes strange sounds, and laughs when nothing's funny. Over the years, teachers have shared countless stories of children who bicker over who gets to sit by Moise or push his wheelchair. There are classmates who will give up their lunch time with peers to eat with Moise and his less than proper table etiquette. Yesterday his communication notebook came home with a note that said the kids in his class were telling about their favorite things about Mo--his smile, his kindness, his love, his sign language, his "knucks" and his laugh. Today's notebook said "Mo won a race with his bike today and his name was announced over the loud speaker." The sentence twisted my heart into a happy, painful knot because I know, beyond a doubt, that the only way Moise won any kind of race, even on his bike, is if the other children graciously allowed him to be victorious, a beautiful testimony to the compassion of his classmates. These are young people who know that sometimes there are more important things than winning. <br />
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Today was the last day of Moise's seventh grade year. It was also the last day that Moise will attend Tremont Schools.<br />
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It grieves my heart some, because Tremont feels so incredibly safe. There was comfort and security in knowing that there was always someone that I know well around every corner in the Tremont schools. I know also that our little school is filled with young people, those who have grown with him, who would fight for Moise if need be. This little village that we call home has been an intricate part of Moise's growing and developing. <br />
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I knew that this day would come eventually. Every spring, Moise's educational team and I gather around a table to discuss goals for his upcoming year. Many years we have toured other special ed classrooms to see if there is one out there that might better suit him. And every year, when it's all said and done, we all (teachers and therapists, Jim and I) come to the conclusion that Tremont is the best place for him. Until this year. <br />
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The past two years have been rough for Moise on so many levels. The vision loss has further complicated an already complicated life. Moise has adapted somewhat to the vision loss, but the fact remains that he is both deaf and blind, in addition to being wheelchair bound. We've pushed hard from an academic perspective, always blown away by how brilliant he is. But he has plateaued in this area. He continues to learn, but as academic concepts become more abstract, they become increasingly difficult for him to grasp. <br />
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He's fourteen and in the world of special needs fourteen is the magical age at which we begin to prepare our kids for transitioning into adulthood. We start asking the questions, "what will he do when he is no longer able to go to school?" "How are we preparing him to function in life?"<br />
Tremont, population 2,200, does not have a large number of children with severe or profound disabilities and, as a result, does not have a functional life skills program that is equipped to meet Moise's wide range of needs. In March we began researching schools in our area that have great life skills programs. There were three school districts that looked like possibilities. However, upon contacting these schools, we were told that they didn't have the resources to meet his needs. The deaf/blind component is a tricky one and we're finding that most schools, at least those around here, really don't know how or aren't willing to handle it. It's a sad day when your child is too special for the special ed programs. <br />
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There is a school in a nearby community that is designed specifically for children with severe and profound disabilities. Schramm school has been in operation for many years and they have an excellent life skills set up. We have toured Schramm before and there have always been aspects of the program that were undesirable. Our greatest concern about a school like this was that Moise would be underestimated and therefore limited in his progress. But they are restructuring their program this year and after much deliberation we have decided to try it for next school year. I asked the director if Schramm has had any other deaf/blind students and the answer was "No." There have been some deaf and some blind but not both. But there are hearing and vision consultants that come regularly to Tremont to work extensively with Moise and both of their offices are in the Schramm school. They are fully aware of what he is capable of and we are confident that they will guide the teachers in dealing with his lack of vision and hearing. Most importantly, Schramm is a life skills facility. It is equipped with kitchen and laundry where students can learn basic housekeeping skills. There will be many outings, which will prepare him for better functioning in public. He will also be assigned a job coach who will help prepare him for getting a job in the future. The school has a therapy pool, which will be excellent, as swimming is really his only means of exercise. In a world where there is a great surge toward inclusion, we are a taking a step away from it in favor of striving for greater function. <br />
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I am beyond grateful for the years that Moise was able to attend Tremont. It has been so sweet to have him in the same school that our older children grew up in. The school and our community have given much to him. I believe that he, in turn, has given back to Tremont. He has been a great teacher to many, adults and children alike. He teaches things that can't be found in the text books or on line. He has been the greatest example of perseverance that many will ever see. He is living proof that life isn't always fair but even in the midst of unfairness, we must never, ever give up. There is something about Moise that causes others to reach down inside of themselves and find all of the goodness that is there. He puts priorities in perspective and helps us realize the truly important things in life. Most importantly, Moise has taught many of the students and faculty of Tremont about acceptance and a love that knows no limits.<br />
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We feel confident that we have made the right decision. It's worth a try at least. Still, it scares me a little. Moise's entire future overwhelms me but we don't have to do it all at once. Trying Schramm is the first step to the rest of his life. <br />
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God is good, all the time. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2187504223463938944.post-15368321693221034592015-05-17T12:25:00.000-07:002015-05-17T12:25:14.064-07:00Beauty, Pain and Everything in BetweenTransition is a two edged sword. So beautiful. So necessary. But every transition comes with some degree of loss. Sometimes the losses are welcome and sometimes they are painful. Change always causes hearts to experience the gamut of emotion.<br />
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We've been bombarded with change and it's subsequent emotions this week.<br />
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Jamee graduated.<br />
Jade moved home from college.<br />
Grant left for a long awaited, carefully planned 6,000 mile road trip.<br />
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Thursday morning Jim and I dropped Kruz off at Grandma Kathy's. She's not really his grandma but who's worrying about blood lines? She loves him with grandma love and Kruz loves her right back. I take him there and I don't worry because, in that grandma sort of way, she's the next best thing to his mommy. As we pulled from her drive and headed toward Saint Louis, I was grateful for her presence in our life. <br />
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We snuck into the arena at SLU in time to watch Jamee , donned in black cap and gown, walk in with hundreds of other health science graduates. I was so excited and so proud as she walked across the stage to receive her diploma. A Bachelor of Science in Radiation Therapy.<br />
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My mind flipped through the pages of memories of the past four years. We agonized over the decision of where she would go to college, to run or not to run. Decision made, she headed off. She was scared and I was an emotional wreck. That first year was filled with many ups and downs. There were countless "how do I?' phone calls and some "I want to come home" calls too. But she grew and matured and came to love Saint Louis and her college. I grew too. I learned to loosen the apron strings, to trust her judgment, and give her room to soar. This week, amidst all of the pride and excitement there's also a fear of the unknown. Will she be able to find a job? Where will she and Caleb live? Will she love the career that she's chosen once she enters the work force? As I watched her interaction with other graduates, I sensed sadness.<br />
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Over the last four years she has formed deep and beautiful bonds. Relationships that have helped her form a different, broader view of life and ideals and love. We can clearly see that her heart is breaking at the reality that she will never see some of these friends again. Like her, they are moving on, some to other parts of the country, others to different parts of the world.<br />
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From Jamee's graduation we headed over to Lindenwood University to collect Jade and two car loads of stuff, her life for the past year. We found mixed emotions there as well. Excited chatter and laughter among her friends, but also a sort of clinging to each other.<br />
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They've settled into college life and independence and now, suddenly, it comes to a screeching halt in exchange for life back home. There is a sense of looking forward to renewing old high school friendships along with uncertainty that comes from knowing that all of those friendships won't look the same. Jade has changed, her friends have changed. Will they pick up where they left off? She was glad to come home, but also not. Joy in returning, sorrow in leaving.<br />
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And those two car loads of college life? It doesn't really have a home in our house. It's misplaced and chaotic. <br />
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It causes overwhelm and mild irritation but I've learned, having experienced it several times now, not to let it get to me. This is small stuff and we're not sweating the small stuff. We're grateful to have our daughter home and there's no way around bringing the dorm home with her. The disarray is temporary so we shove it into a closet or storage, awaiting August when it returns to college. <br />
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In the midst of all Jamee's graduating and Jade's moving back, Grant was preparing to head out. A trip, which he and his two friends had long dreamed of, was finally happening in the wee hours of Saturday morning. They headed west with the intent to cover about 6,000 miles within a couple weeks time. My heart swelled with happiness for him but there was also worry. Will they drive safe? What if they got lost in the middle of nowhere land? Did they take warm enough clothes for tent camping in the cold mountain temperatures? My little boy is not so little now. He's all grown up, a young man and he doesn't need me to pay attention to all of the details. I am beyond trilled for him to be able to do this. It's a once in a lifetime experience. It's priceless memories being made. And my boy knows me well. He's sent me countless texts and pictures already. He's letting me know he's okay, that he's utterly awed by God and His creation. <br />
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My heart is full. Life is beautiful. It's painful. It's everything in between. <br />
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God is good, all the time.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10375070245303834905noreply@blogger.com1