Tag Archives: parenting

The ripples of love

2 Replies

I remember the day like it was yesterday, even though it happened almost sixteen years ago. We had a very new baby girl, and I had just returned home from my first appointment with an asthma/allergy specialist for the Boy Wonder. As a young momma I had never encountered a doctor quite like this one. He had to have been in his eighties, and he (not his nurse or staff) made personal phone calls to all his patients just to check in with them. Growing up Southern and a coach’s daughter, it was just assumed that any male offspring would be involved in sports. After the visit with Dr. Goldberg, we quickly learned those dreams might not be the reality for both of our sons. From birth, the Boy Wonder had breathing struggles which culminated in our once finding him completely purple and breathless in the backyard, which is what finally prompted the doctor’s visit. The diagnosis: pediatric intrinsic asthma. There was a slim (very slim) chance that he would outgrow it, but for that afternoon, I cried for all things my sweet boy might miss out on. I was heartbroken for him.

Looking back now, how I wish that was the worst news any of my children would ever encounter.

With a good management plan, those tears shed in my living room were for naught, because he was able to play sports and live a fairly normal life (with the help of a bunch of medications). I remember the first day in intensive care the morning after the bus crash. The medical team was very concerned about his labored breathing until I explained his asthma. He did have severely bruised lungs, but thankfully neither was collapsed. For several summers, he even attended a summer camp just for kids with asthma and allergies. Ironically after his last summer at Camp We-No-Wheeze which happened to be the same year as our darkest day, almost all of his symptoms simply vanished. He hasn’t had one struggle with breathing since.

Yet, through it all (and by all I mean everything that my children have dealt with to this point), I have never once lost sight of the fact there are millions of parents who receive diagnoses that aren’t going to magically disappear, aren’t going to have a surgery or three dozen that will make it better, or aren’t nearly as easily managed with some medications. For some, their family struggles will consume almost every aspect of life that many (including me) take for granted. I was grieving future milestones for my chubby-cheeked toddler, while they will embrace each milestone met.

Please do not misunderstand my message as some of the best advice I have ever been given was “don’t apologize for being your child’s momma.” It is okay to grieve the little stuff . . . period. I’m not going to ever judge you or tell you “that is a first world problem” or remind you to count your blessings when you are feeling low, and neither should anyone else.

My point is looking back and looking forward, I know there are much bigger problems that many endure, some publicly and just as many privately. These families daily face moments when they are reminded how precious life truly is, how much is out of their control, and how often times, raising a child with a difference (any difference) is just as isolating as it is exhausting. Many milestones for these families are bittersweet. Some are never achieved, but many are in amazing, spectacular, and inspirational ways as the children in these families stop the world with their awesomeness. It is for the missed milestones, the hearts of mommas and daddies grieve. For all my friends who experience these moments of dreams deferred, my heart aches.

Recently I realized the ache in a momma’s heart creates ripples that vacillate out in enduring ways. The moment caused a lump to be stuck in my throat the night of graduation. Our school has a tradition whereby the graduates deliver flowers to their mommas. It is a simple and sweet gesture. The ripple that washed over me with a tidal wave of love was not the one pictured in my most recent blog, although that is when my son gave me my flower. My heart echoed God’s joy when he and one of his best friends since birth decided to give flowers to the mom of a former classmate.

flowers for kim

There were a lot of perplexed looks in the audience when the two of them grabbed a bouquet they had purchased and went looking through the crowd for this momma. I quickly scanned our entourage of over twenty strong, and there wasn’t a dry eye among us. We all knew that it was a milestone being reached in another way and on another day for her son, but that doesn’t mean his absence didn’t hurt and wasn’t noticed. Those two sweet boys wanted to acknowledge the gift she had been in their life, never missing a game or concert even when their childhood friend could no longer attend school with them. Sure he would be graduating a few weeks later, but the plans they all had back in junior high weren’t the ones that played out in real life, before autism and mental health were nothing more than words they had heard.

DSC_0055

DSC_0065

Watching the ripples of love from my heart pour out in action through the Boy Wonder and his lifelong buddy was one of the most precious moments of my life. Not for one second did I mind sharing my son with another mom, and I know the momma of the other amazing didn’t either. Our boys were truly men, gentlemen actually, filled with compassion and integrity. They understood the sting of crushed dreams, and for one small second, they hoped to wash away a hurt, if for just a moment. Waves of love and pride and gratitude washed over me as a tender reminder of the Father’s love for each of us, and in one tiny glimpse, all got to see the men He was shaping them to be. These are my boys (all three of them), and for that, I couldn’t be more proud.

10 days: the gift of a memory

Leave a reply

If you haven’t picked up on my reluctance to let this year fly by, then apparently I’m hiding my anxiety pretty well. This is the Boy Wonder’s senior year of high school, and I am going into this whole thing kicking and screaming. Twice yesterday I was asked about Christmas wish lists for my family. Even though my house would make me a liar, I am not a stuff girl (I just happen to live with a group of stuff people). The greatest gifts I’ve ever been given are a love for Jesus (but more importantly his love first), the love of learning, my kids, a great husband, time spent with family, laughter, a few family heirlooms, and I am not going to lie sweet tea and coconut body butter. What I really wanted to ask for was a way to turn back time to relive all the moments with my sweet little babies because I am not ready to launch one out of the nest.

When my trepidation meter is approaching a six or a seven on the Richter scale, God usually uses a friend to reel me back into the reality of he already has a plan for my good. So it was yesterday when with trembling hands, I began to thumb through old pictures because a yearbook deadline was approaching. Our school’s annual has a tradition of posting letters of encouragement and baby pictures for the senior class. Did I mention kicking and screaming? Anyways, the deadline for this whole shebang is tomorrow. As I was looking through the ones I felt wouldn’t have me shunned by a soon-to-be-eighteen year old (Yes all the embarrassing pictures did NOT make the cut). I looked really close at one of the pictures, and my eyes filled with tears . . . from laughing.

Here are a few things that I need to explain before any of this story will make sense. My sweetie and I are not rules people. Translation: As parents, we feel that we should have some basic principles like respect and love that guide what we teach our children. We have high expectations and hold our children accountable, but outside of that we believe our children should live life exploring the world around them. Creativity, imagination, exploration, individuality, and energy, are all embraced here. Yes, the occasional mess is a result, but messes and mistakes are how you learn to be kind to those who are struggling.

One time we had some friends who came to visit. They were rules people. Their children had to sit quietly and do what the parents encouraged for play time (which was typically quiet activities). After staying with us for an entire weekend, their parting words to our one year old daughter was “Good Luck, Erin, you are going to need it!” I don’t do judging others, and I abhor “the mommy wars”. I am certain their children grew to be fine young people, but I voted myself off their island and moved on.

As we grew up with our children, our friends changed over the years too. I think it is a natural evolution of friendship. Many of your friends are parents of kids your kids have as friends, teammates, or classmates. Face it people: these are the peeps you see most often.   There exists a small number of people who have journeyed along with us from toddlerhood to now, and they can testify (although much like I don’t like people seeing my storage room, I sincerely hope they refrain from doing so) to the energetic household we had. Oh, who am I kidding, we still live in.

This is where the picture I found comes into play. When we moved into our home Sawyer was only six months old. I was working full time at the university. We didn’t get all the safety measures in place like we had hoped because we were reminded yet again, despite our love of capes, we are not superhuman. It took three months or so just to get all the boxes unpacked. I needed to shower before work; so I took the necessary precautions: locked the outside doors, blocked the steps, grabbed the baby monitor, and took the quickest shower known to humankind.

When I opened the shower curtain, I saw my twenty-nine month old holding these:

Yes, that would be our carving set.

Yes, that would be our carving set.

I startled him with a blood curdling scream. Grabbing a towel, I asked Reed what was he doing with the carving fork and knife. In his defense, he was a huge fan of Bob the Builder back in the day. He answered honestly, “Fixing Sawyer.” Not exactly superhuman, but I daresay, I impressed myself with the manner of swiftness I used to scream once more, deftly nab the cutlery, skid still soaking wet across the bathroom floor, race down the hallway to find Baby Sawyer happily sitting on the floor playing with his toys. With laser vision, I discovered one tiny pin prick on his forehead directly above his right eye.

Picture taken one day after "the incident".

Picture taken one day after “the incident”.

Let me tell you. The existence of a benevolent God above was more than a Sunday School lesson at that moment. Rules or no rules! Those safety latches were put on before we went to bed that night. This is not the kind of exploration we had in mind – E.V.E.R!

Even though, I cannot get a time machine for Christmas . . . yet. I am really thankful for the gift of a memory, long since forgotten, but provided just when I needed it. I couldn’t ask for a better present than that. Unless of course, anyone knows a way to slow down time.

Just when I thought I was safe

2 Replies
Picture found at www.awayathomemom.com whose blog on this subject made me chuckle.

Picture found at www.awayathomemom.com whose blog on this subject made me chuckle.

I had the honor of speaking to a MOPS group in a town not-so-far from my own this morning.  It was a blessing, bringing joy to my heart with the knowledge that my story of forgiveness touched other lives.  Time and time again, God has used events in my life to teach me about His heart for forgiveness.  Totally unscripted as I stood there before those sweet mommas; I knew how I was to end the talk.

Without forgiveness, mercy and grace are just words. 

It was a great experience, and I am glad I had the chance to go.  But that isn’t what I am choosing to share with y’all.  No, today I am going to share one of those divine appointments that just make you smile.

One my drive to the church, I had drunk a large Coke which didn’t seem to be a problem until I was backing out of the parking lot to head home.  Now here is a serious lesson in pride – something this girl could use some work on.  I was too prideful to scoot back in and ask to use the church’s restroom.  Racking my brain on what was available in Montevideo, I made a bee-line to the mecca of all Southern girls: Wal-mart.

As I entered into the bathroom, I ran into a mom of one of my children’s former classmates.  We hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I don’t think she recognized me at all.  Thus, it wasn’t time for a reunion in the potty department. First, I really had to go, and second, who does that?  Hey!  I know our daughters were not really friends, but your child used to be a classmate of my child.  So nice to see you!  Glad we bumped into each other.  I love what they’ve done with the place.  That probably never really happens.

I soon discovered that this mom wasn’t using the facilities, in the traditional sense.  Nope! Instead of bathroom, it was her conference room. She was having a cell-phone conversation with another one of her children (who apparently made a bad choice at school).  She proceeded to coach the child on what she expected of him; told him, yes in fact, he was in trouble; and explained how he was to apologize the teacher and make better choices for the rest of the day.  She ended with the words all children need to hear: I love you.

Then it came over me, and I knew why God put me in THAT bathroom at THAT very time. Seriously God! I am tinkling here, and you want me to tell that Mom you are proud of her. 

Apparently, her child thought the conversation was over and hung up.  But this mom called back to the school to make sure she connected with the teacher. (This was a good thing because I still needed to wash and dry my hands, and I didn’t want to have to chase her around the rolled-back discounts.)

While she was on hold, I walked right over to her and said, “If no one has told you this in a while, God wants you to know:  YOU are a really good momma.”  I stayed long enough to see tears well up in the corner of her eyes, and then I excused myself.

I keep my eyes and ears open to how I can bless others, but this was new. . . even for me.  So I guess, today I am thanking God for good mommas and full bladders.