$350 Fine For People Like Me

Dear Gentleman in the Dollar General parking lot,

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.
 
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.

Sincerely,
People Like Me

P.S. I wish you could meet my two sons in the picture below.  They bring so much joy to hearts that hurt.

God is good, all the time.

Let’s Talk About Restrooms

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. 

Public Restrooms and Transgender people. I just don’t want to hear it anymore.

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. 

Can I talk, for just a moment, about a less than ideal restroom situation?

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.

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.

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?”

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.

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.

And for the love of all that is good, don’t even get me started on handicapped parking spaces!!!

God is good, all the time. 

IEP Time

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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.

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.

God is good, all the time. 

From Diapers to Diploma, Just Like That

***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.  

You have brains in your head.  

You have feet in your shoes. 

You can steer yourself 

any direction you choose. 

~Dr Seuss

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 child that I gave birth to so he’ll retain baby boy status for a long time…. as in forever. 

                                                                               
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.  

                                                                                    

                                                                              
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

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.

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.

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.

 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.

God is good, all the time.

Slow Down and Enjoy

Yesterday I made what I thought was going to be a quick trip to Walmart.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

We returned home form the south to find that spring has come to Illinois.  We welcome her with open arms.

 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.

But He was wounded for our transgressions,

He was bruised for our iniquities;

The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,

And by His stripes we are healed.

Isaiah 53:5

Happy Spring!! Happy Easter to you and you and you.

God is good, all the time.

Vacation With Grown Ups

We'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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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.

 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.  

 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.  

I'm trying.  Sometimes I fail, but I'm trying my very best to make the most of the time that's left.  

 God is good, all the time.

2015 In Review

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.  

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 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. 

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. 

 Here's a look at 2015

We kicked the year off with minor surgery for Kruz. 

Angelic

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. 

Saint Louis

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. 

Making Friends

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. 

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. 

Don't mess with these two.

So much love it hurts

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.  

Her greatest fans

Last Race

Silver Medalists

Late May took us back to Saint Louis to watch Jamee graduate with her bachelors in biology. 

Accomplishment

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. 

Home Away From Home

  Boating:  It's what we do in the summer. It's what we love.

Water fun

Cards.....anywhere, anytime

Boy turned man

Still got it

This was a summer of rain which, of course, meant a summer of mowing, mowing and more mowing.

After the rain.  Daddy and his boy. 

Kruz's walker finally arrived in June.

A whole new world to explore.

This summer granted the beautiful opportunity to spend lots of time with my sweet nieces.  

So much beauty in one place

Fun times. Beautiful memories.

Littlest cousins

Water Fun

Father's Day
My Whole World

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. 

"Please Dad"

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. 

Little Climber

Camping meals always taste better.  

We spent many summer mornings at the table, learning braille. It's his newest reality.

Never give up.  Never. 

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. 

Cliff Jumping Craziness

The Landing with 2 of my boys

A decision not to send Moise to summer camp made for some great bonding time between my two youngest boys.  They melt my heart. 

Rainy Days

Sunshiny Days

Sometimes we get creative.

I love you them so much it hurts

Hammock Buddies

In August I ran my fifth consecutive St. Jude Tremont to Peoria run.  It becomes more meaningful to me every time I run it. 

St Jude Support

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. 

To America, from Sweden

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.

First Day Ever

First day at a new school

The First of the Last

Homecoming week

Our Last Homecoming

Jade returned to Lindenwood,  her dear friends and a very busy schedule in August.

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.

Jamee Holmes RT (T)

Fall Traditon

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. 

Apples, apples and more apples

Fallen Leaves

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?"

Good Friends

Old Friends

New Friends

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.

And I thought I loved him 25 years ago.  

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. 

So proud of who he's becoming. 

Endurance, discipline, sportsmanship

 Moise was crowned homecoming king at his school.  

He's a rock star!!!!

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 

 

Pursuing Relationships

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. 

  

Christmas morning

Child so loved

New Traditions

Cousins

Sisters

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. 

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.  

Happy 2016 and so much love to you all.

God is good, all the time.