Prayers

Baseball. Ahhh....the crack of the bat, the dust flying from mitts, the voices in the dugout, "Humbabe...atta kid, get a stick, drive one somewhere, let's go Black Jack, Zach Attack, feet, feet, keep your nose on it, let's go 2-1." There's nothing better.

Here are the Cubs playing for 3rd in the Yakima Tournament. If not for one call, they'd have been playing in the championship game. They lost this one, a squeaker.











Now, as far as prayer...
Okay, I must be doing it all wrong.
I mean, I get that thing about God's will.
Really, I do.
And I do believe it's best for me.
Except that horrid little voice in my head.
It says, "But, wwwwhhhyyyy can't it go MY way, just sometimes?"
And I try.
I really Try. (See the capital T?)
But, as we know, trying and doing are not the same thing.
I struggle a lot.
I'm a self-confessed control-freak.
And yes. In my more irrational moments, I really DO believe I know better than God.
Read that again. Do you see how insane that is? But it's really true. Sometimes I think that if I could only sit down with him and EXPLAIN it, well, He'd HAVE to see it my way, right?
I think it's safe to say I'm no where near that acceptance stage.
In fact, I think I'm going backwards. Was in anger, now jumping back to bargaining.
Little deals with God. Little tests. Looking for signs.
I'm sure God thinks I'm hilarious.
And pathetic.
And blind.
So I sincerely hope that none of you are looking to me to further your spiritual journeys.
Well, other than being able to kind of shrug over at me and say, "Well....I know it's not THAT!"
Glad to be the Goofus example.


Kenny Jo is growing like crazy in so many ways. I don't talk much on here about the challenges he faces every day as he battles his autism. And I don't talk much about the anguish and heartache and exhaustion that comes from raising a child with "special needs." God, I hate, hate that phrase. Makes it sound as if we met those "needs" that it would get better...or that it's like other people have needs, too, these are just a little "special." Bull puckey. It's a disability. Kenny doesn't have special needs. (Well, he does, we all do.) He has a disability. His brain is not wired like other brains. And it can be sheer hell. Why am I talking about this. It's another of those things...people think they know what you mean. They have no clue. And I haven't found words to describe it yet. And all those pithy little poems about being selected for this because you're such a great mom or all the joys of Holland....blech. Nice sentiments, it's true. And some true things in those poems, yes. But your glasses have gotta be pretty, no make that NEON, rosy in order to believe that's all there is.

It's similar to when Dave would mention the short-term memory loss. He would literally be on his way to a meeting and forget to go. Not four or five feet from his destination. Then people would say, "Why'd you miss the meeting?" And Dave would say, "What meeting?" People laugh and say, "Oh, I forget things like that all the time. Ha, ha, ha." And I'd want to scream. Oh? You do? You forget. We all do. But most of us remember having forgotten when someone mentions it. Instead of "What meeting?' we'd be saying, "Oh, crud, I missed the meeting." Can you imagine how scary it would be to have no glimmer? And to know that the erasure of that memory was caused by a beast, growing and throbbing in your head, a beast that will eventually kill you? And that there is probably more and worse to come? That eventually this thing will take not only your memories, but your thoughts, your body, your dreams, your very life? People try to make light of things, but it's not very funny when you think about it that way, is it? Not when every twinge, every headache, every word you can't come up with might be the harbinger of the end. Not when you have to find a way to live under that, to make some sort of peace with it, to give it its due, but not let it take over.

Not very many people really understand. Same with autism. Especially with a kid who's doing well, like Kenny. Our UCLA consultant years ago said, "These kids on the borders often do the worst. They are at the highest risk for depression and suicide. Some kids can eventually function as "typical" kids. Some don't make a lot of progress, but aren't really even aware that they're different. Kids on either end learn to cope better. Kids in the borderland know they are different and are bothered by it, sometimes devastated by it." Makes me wonder about what is the right thing to do. I don't have the answer to that. I can only do the best I can with what I know, and pray it's enough.

Anyway, I vacillate between trying to give people the understanding of what it is we live with and keeping my mouth shut. I tend to choose to celebrate Kenny's successes. His struggles belong to him, and it's not up to me to put them all over the internet. But it leaves people not having a clue about what daily life is like, either. So it's not really fair of me to be all mad at those generic people who say well-meaning things. The well-meaning kinds of things that are actually hurtful.

Well, aren't I just Miss Merry Sunshine today. If you've come for a daily dose of Vitamin D, you're in the wrong place. Today, we're pushing cod liver oil. Heavy and nasty, but probably good for you in small doses.

My quote for today. I always pick one that illustrates what it is I need to learn today.

"It requires less character to discover the faults of others than is does to tolerate them." -- J. Petit Senn

The puppy is growing fast. We love her dearly already. She's sweet and smart and a bit sassy. Duke tries to sit on her with his chest. I think he wants to see if he can hatch her.



Kate and Zach spent the last two days devouring the new Harry Potter book. I had to wait my turn. Had to buy two copies of the book or I might have few surviving children! We heard not a peep from them for the last two days, but last night, after I threatened to steal their light bulbs, Z finally finished, and he and Kate stood on the stairs for an hour.

It was way too late. They needed to sleep, but I could hear their earnest voices talking. The laughter, the "ah-ha!" moments. They had travelled to a place separately, and brought their journeys together. I peeked around the corner. They were standing on the stairs, each on their way to bed, stopping as they passed each other, Zach on the way down, Kate on the way up. Their heads were leaning in together. They were sharing the memory of a magical place, and I believe, creating a magical place of their own. All evening they relished in the fact that they knew what had happened in the Deathly Hallows, and I, muggle that I am, was not in the know. They brandished sly little grins at the dinner table, exchanged little looks and clapped their hands over their mouths lest they say too much. It was priceless. So I watched, at midnight, their heads bowed together, their eyes bright, their voices hushed, soft light shining from their hair. I tip-toed back to bed and let them stay up way too late, reminiscing about Hogwarts.

And if you're wondering if my bed is made...it is...and as you can see, I've got lots of company. Two-face is on the other side, you can't quite see him in this picture. I have at least these three with me every night. Sometimes Macky joins us, too. So, you see, Cathy, that issue about which side of the bed is moot for me. I'm lucky to get a sliver of EITHER side!



And surgery is Thursday. Should be pretty routine. My mom and dad are here. Bob and Mindy are in Washington DC. Bob and Judy are leaving to help their son move. Mom and Dad have to leave on Sunday, so pray please, that I'm well enough to manage what needs to be done by Sunday. Because, if I'm not, I have to do it anyway.

Thanks for listening this far. I know I've been pretty pissy lately. Sorry for that.

You know, there are angels everywhere. A friend of Val's, Patti, who graduated with Dave, has a clarinet that Kate can use! Hooray! Now we'll see if we can get Group Health to help pay for some of the wisdom tooth removal.

Lots of love, and thanks for putting up with me. I'm pretty cranky lately, aren't I? But I'm Pressin' On!