What a Shame?

I had an interesting experience recently that I have been tossing around in my head...

An elderly lady who didn't know me nor Evie had introduced herself to us when we met her in a public setting.  She then looked at me and leaned in..."What's wrong with her eyes?" she asked me under her breath.

I said, "Oh, she's legally blind, but you can't really tell, can you?"  I smiled. 

The woman gave that type of scowl or pursed lips you see when someone eats a lemon.  "What a shame..." she said.

Instantly, that struck a chord with me...a chord of discontent.  (The first thing I wanted to say was, "Well, she might be blind, but she can still hear!!!)  I replied, "Well, don't let Evie know that, she's doesn't realize she's at a disadvantage.  She misses out on nothing in life, and is one of the happiest children you'd ever meet." 

The woman looked at me, a little stunned.  She said, "Well, good."  But, then the shadow fell over her face again.  "Just,"  she continued, "well, I guess they must have gotten to her eyes too late.  Not able to do anything for her?" 

I took a breath...this Debbie Downer was starting to grate on me.  "Actually she had 3 surgeries in her first year of life.  The glaucoma won in her left eye eventually, but her other eye is working hard for her.  She walks with a cane and is learning braille.  If you saw her on a playground, you'd never know she was blind." 

I had to get away from this conversation, I was about ready to ask the lady how she made it through life this long (she herself was walking with a cane to keep herself upright)~how can you make it that long if you believe any obstacle that falls in your path is a "shame?"

Here's the definition of Shame from dictionary.com

1. the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another: She was overcome with shame.

2. susceptibility to this feeling: to be without shame. 

3. disgrace; ignominy: His actions brought shame upon his parents. 

4. a fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret: The bankruptcy of the business was a shame. It was a shame you couldn't come with us.

 

NONE, and I mean NONE of these definitions even remotely describes Evie's life, disposition, abilities, motives, or heart and soul.  Furthermore, none of God's creation is a "shame".  We are not mistakes.  We are not "whoopses" in God's art studio.  Each one of us was knit together in the womb by a God who created such intricacies as DNA, RNA, mitochondria, cytoplasm, and gamines; we still have NO idea how all of this replication and duplication comes to pass in such a way that any of us even makes it into this world as "normal." 

 

I don't mind when someone asks about her eyes, or her syndrome; how she manages, how WE manage...that's great!  Ask away!  Learn, understand, be inspired, be impressed, be blown away...but don't feel pity.  Don't take a 1 minute glimpse at us and think you know us at all.  I should have asked her if she wanted a run down of everywhere we went last summer.  I should have asked for her address so I could send her a Christmas card.  I should have ACTUALLY made the business cards that I always had thought about making with the mission of the IWSA on one side and the synopsis of WAGR on the other.  Instead, I took a breath and got out of there.  After all, we had too many fun things to do with the remainder of the day than to let that woman look upon us with pity and tsk, tsk about the shame of it all.

 

For I know the plans that I ^[a]have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11

 

Brace Yourself: Dreaming of a White Christmas

This young lady has an amazing blog!!!  Enjoy!!! Brace Yourself: Dreaming of a White Christmas: A white Christmas, at home and in no pain. That's probably what the kids at Shriners Hospitals for Children are dreaming of this holiday sea...

Who Brought the Crazy Lady to the Game?

When you realize you're not acting like yourself...

Convicted...that's how I felt.  It was the first home hockey game of the season.  Each year I look forward to it with joyful anticipation.  I had never even BEEN to a hockey game before I met Jeff.  But when we started dating I was thrilled to find out that he would watch the Badgers play hockey on Saturday nights at the Kohl Center in Madison.

And so it's always been!  Hockey season rolls around and we know we will have a handful of Saturday nights which include dinner, drinks and dynamic ice-action.  Should be fun, right?

Well, last night...it felt...not so fun?

I'll admit, I've gone through many changes in the past year/year and a half.  One of them has been to eliminate things that bring me down.  I've found that when I'm staying positive, when I'm looking for the best, when I'm bringing God glory and walking the road He wants me to walk, I am soooo at peace; and there's no where that I'd rather be.

With all those changes that I've made; surrounding myself with joy, enveloping myself with hope~last night surprisingly became an exception.  I came home feeling sad, downtrodden, and deflated.

Last season, I DID catch a foreshadowing of my startling realization from last night.  Last season, you see, I ran into a teacher with whom I'd subbed a couple of times.  She said, "Oh my gosh...I saw you at a hockey game a couple of weeks ago."

I said, "Wow, really?" 

She said, "Yeah~and I was like, 'Hey!  That's a side of her I didn't know she had.'"  Ouch...

Maybe because that's a side of me that I shouldn't have...

Maybe because that's the side of me that DOESN'T bring God glory...

Maybe because that's the side of me that would make people look at me and say, "You're a Christian?  Never would have guessed that!"

Now~some people would say, "But, you didn't swear, you didn't give the refs the finger, you didn't ....."  But here's what I have realized; that doesn't matter.  It's the voice...it's the yelling...it's the booing...it's the "Come on!  What are you thinking?  Let 'em play!!!!!"  Oh my...that's not me...not anymore.

I realized about half way through the second period that I was mad.  I was no longer having the same fun that we had leading up to the game: laughing until my stomach hurt, taking pictures, catching up on what we'd been up to over the summer.  No~I was seething with anger because of bad calls, waved off goals, and...hmmmm...the game? 

It felt like every part of my body was out of balance with The Spirit.  The Holy Spirit.  He's still there, inside me...but I couldn't hear him.  The crowd around me, the turbulence of the game; it was swallowing me up and I couldn't feel right in my own skin.  It was Anger...and that's not a fruit of the Spirit...that's a fruit of Sin.

So, this morning, I stood in the shower wondering how I could still wake up and feel so negative.  Then, while doing my hair, I continued to ponder that negative feeling.  I walked into church to start rehearsing for worship team and a friend of mine said, "I really appreciate your joyful spirit."  HUH????  I was just starting to doubt that joyful spirit still existed!

What was the difference?  How can I still go back to hockey and not let that loud-mouthed, sassy-pants-ed, ego-centric maniacal woman emerge?  PREPARE WITH PRAYER.  I prepare for my day at the high school with prayer~I pray on the days we have doctors appointments for Evie~I pray when our planes take off on our way to vacation, and I pray when they land us back at home.  I guess I never have considered praying before I go out for a night of fun and friendship.  But why wouldn't I? 

As our pastor said today in his sermon, we are Christian Ambassadors.  Everywhere I go, I am representing my Savior.  If HE never lashed out at others as HE himself were being lashed, then what would He think of me screaming as loud as I can, "Are you SERIOUS????  DID YOU SEE THE PLAY????" 

So, who DID bring that Crazy Lady to the game last night?  I did.  But, I really hope I never do again.  Sports are sports.  Games are games.  My friends, God bless them, because they haven't brought duck tape to put over my mouth yet~and they deserve better than I have been delivering.  And my God?  Oh my...He certainly deserves a servant with a quiet heart...and mouth. :)

Bitter Blood Bears Burdened Brains

Apparently, God wants me to consider my bitterness toward others...

Not ONLY was our sermon at church today on the burden of a bitter heart, but the couples devotional that Jeff and I read in the morning is focused right now on MERCY.  (The One Year Devotions for Couples, Ferguson.) 

So let me ask you the question that our pastor posed for us today...

Is there anyone with whom you are angry?

Did a face pop into your mind?  Did you whisper a name behind your lips?  I did...

Then you, and  I, are bitter.

(Insert cheesy Homer Simpson, "DOH!")

Yup.  I'm bitter.  Or, at least, I was...until the Holy Spirit finally opened my eyes to it today.  The human in us longs to hold on to that pain.  Why?  Because it's hard for us to believe that OUR worst transgressions could be forgiven, so CERTAINLY we can hold on to the bitter memories of others doing US wrong...right?

But listen to just how forgiving our God is...

He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever;
he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us. Psalm 103: 9-12

How about this?

Who is a God like you,
who pardons sin and forgives the transgression
of the remnant of his inheritance?
You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy.
You will again have compassion on us;
you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea. Micah 7:18-19

Um...wow...this drums up in my mind the song by Casting Crowns... http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/castingcrowns/easttowest.html

Here I am, Lord, and I'm drowning in your sea of forgetfulness
The chains of yesterday surround me
I yearn for peace and rest

The best way for us to break free of our sins, is to forgive others for their sins.  God gives us this great gift of his Sea of Forgetfulness, but we can find ourselves drowning in it as we struggle to keep hold of those chains of sin, guilt, and bitterness.  They weigh us down, and continue to grow as our strength continues to fail.  The murky waters start to hide the chains, and the sand we kick up begins to blacken out the light from above...we struggle to stay afloat in our bitterness and shame...all we need to do is let God cast those chains DEEP into the sea to be forgotten forever. 

Why do we hold ON???

Our minds have learned that we want to win!  We want to be right!  We want the majority to vote in our favor and say, "Yeah!  I'm on your side!"  But God's vision is totally the opposite.  He says that mercy will be the winner.

Mercy triumphs over judgement. James 2:13

If we fail to believe that our all powerful, ever-loving God is able to forgive us for our sins~then we have NO FAITH.  Let's think about what all of this means!  God sent Christ to die on the cross for us~for our transgressions.  He bled and DIED so those sins could be cast away, flung to the ocean floor.  If we cannot accept that, and if we cannot accept that he did this ONCE AND FOR ALL...we have NOTHING. 

Forgiveness is not an option.  Forgiveness, love and mercy are what God has shown us, and what he has commanded we show one another. 

Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Micah 6:8

[Love] keeps no record of wrongs. 1 Cor. 13:5

You know that list?  That list of names you have in your head of the people who have done the wrong thing, said the wrong thing, written the wrong thing, voted the wrong way, put the wrong sign in their yard?  That list of "hurts"...like the time that so and so did this to you?  All those things that we are ready to chat about in a text, or post on facebook, or sarcastically mention to the person next to us at our kids' soccer game?  Guess what?  God already forgave it.  God already LOVES THAT PERSON all over again.  Does that make your blood boil?  Knowing that God loves that person JUST as much as he loves you?  But you never did ANYTHING like what THAT person did.  Really? 

Bitterness will continue to grow, will continue to spread, will continue to chain you to your own sins, while that other person against whom you harbor such thoughts and feelings has been forgiven, and may not even REMEMBER that thing which is the root of your bitterness. 

Okay, my heart is racing~blood pressure is up~and mind is spinning.  I have a lot of forgiving to do tonight...but for some reason I already feel lighter, happier, freer, and closer to God than I have in a LONG, LONG time.  I just got the green light to let go of all that pain from the past.  Actually, the light was green for a while now...someone just started honking behind me and woke me up to the fact that this day is new, God's love is new, and his mercy is new for me today, tomorrow, and always.

How GREAT is our God?

Would You Prefer a Wound from a Friend or a Kiss from Your Enemy?

My dad died unexpectedly back in June. For the past few years he had been struggling with lots of health issues, but never had any one firmly diagnosed. He had continued to be more and more absent from our lives, and for the girl (me) who only gets home to see everyone a mere 36 hours or so a month, that absence was deafening.

Finally, back in April during one of our visits, Dad had said to me, "The next time you come, be sure to bring my sunshine." His "sunshine" was Evie. He has sung it to her since the day she was born. I looked at him, with my mouth hanging open..."Dad...she's right there." "No," he replied, "That's not my sunshine, she doesn't have the time of day for me." I'll admit, it was one of the first times that I had ever seen Evie so "unresponsive" to my dad. He spent most of his time in the basement of the house. That was where he had his office, his golf items...it was, for lack of a better word, his own Bedroom. Where do you go when you're not feeling well? Your bedroom. So, Dad would often be in his Bedroom for most of our visits the past few years. When Dad said this, I admit, I felt a little bit of anger boiling inside me. Dad and I were ALWAYS very similar, and we would call a spade a spade. Thankfully, he knew this about me.

"Dad, you spend about 30 minutes a month with us when we come up here. How do you expect to have a relationship with an 8 year old that way?"

Ouch. I saw it. I saw what that wound did to my father. We had been eating, and he pushed his plate aside in silence. My heart was pounding in my chest. The tears were aching at my eyes. I did NOT want to hurt my dad! He was my guardian, my warrior, my biggest bear hug EVER! And what I said had hurt him, but what I said was the truth. And he knew it.

"Thanks alot..." he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Dad..." I said, "But it is the truth..." Oooo...had I just poured the lemon juice on top of the wound? Yes...I had.

We sat primarily in silence. I tried a few attempts at conversation. But that empty pit of fire in my stomach was rolling with lava and spitting flames of fear that reached my brain and said, "What did you just do???"

In May we made our monthly visit to MN. The weekend always flies by because we get in at about 11 o'clock on Friday night, sleep, have Saturday to do our playing and have our fun, and then leave either after breakfast or lunch on Sunday. That's why I say it boils down to about 36 hours a month. My dad was THERE. I mean, he was present and accounted for. Not just for meals, but he even found a comfortable chair that he could manage some extra time in. He watched us playing our dice games. He watched DVD's with us. We had conversations that we hadn't carried on in months.

In June, it was even better! Oh my goodness! And Evie got us all together for a picture. The last picture that we have of my dad. All of us in the living room. Evie was a complete ham that trip too. She was commanding that Grandpa "play guitar". I just remember his goofy smile as he sat in the green chair strumming an air guitar. *click* A final image of my dad. That next day, as we got ready to leave, storms were coming through the Twin Cities and I pulled up radar on my phone. Dad was sitting in the chair, he had been for almost 2 hours, waiting for us to get our things together for our departure. He was holding my phone and watching the radar. It may seem like nothing to others, but it is now a miracle to me. He wasn't just coming up stairs to kiss us goodbye. He was present, very present, and very much a part of that day. My phone would time out and lock up on him and he'd call me over to open it back up again so he could watch the radar. *click*. Snapshot. I love you, Dad. We watched those storms come rolling in on my phone together, and I had no clue what storm was brewing ahead. Six days later, Dad was dead.

Why am I telling you all this? Because Proverbs 27:6 says "Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." Hmmm...then the Bible directs us to Matthew 26:49 "Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, 'Greetings, Rabbi!' and kissed him." Judas gave Jesus a kiss as a sign to the Roman officers that "this is Your Guy...take Him away, and show me the money."

Yes, I hurt my dad. But my hurting him was out of love for him. And, had I not hurt him that day...had I shied away from the truth~which was hurting me and Evie and Jeff...We would never have had May or June. We would never have had Grandpa on the air guitar. I never would have had those moments of daughter helping father with her phone so he could sit and ponder whether we'd be safe on our trip home. The wound I gave my father that day hurt him, but he was a strong man who loved his family and suddenly he saw what his actions were doing to the relationships he had as father, father-in-law, and grandfather.

So what would YOU rather have? A wound from a friend who doesn't WANT to hurt you, but knows that the truth is the only way to help you? Or a kiss from your enemy: from your traitors, from those who maybe care more about the number of their friends, or the "comfort" of their friendships then they do about YOU as their friend?

Grandma Ev's Homestyle Cinnamon Toast

Grandma Ev's Homestyle Cinnamon Toast

Grandma Ev made, hands down, the best Cinnamon Toast, EVER!!!  I thought I would share the recipe...

2 loaves of bread
1 tub of butter spread
1 glass shaker (with a red/orange top shaped like a cone) full of cinnamon sugar

Directions:

Slather both sides of every slice of bread with butter spread.  Be sure to use the entire tub.
Shake cinnamon sugar mix onto one side of the bread.
If you're not sure if you put enough on there, put more on there.

Lay prepared bread on a cookie sheet.
Bake bread in oven at 350 degrees until the granddaughters wake up.

Take toast out of oven and allow it to cool on the "pink plate" or the "white plate with roses on the one side" until Gary Gnu reads the No Gnus is Good Gnus on the Great Space Coaster.  Watch the girls eat as much toast as they can.  When the Showcase Show down has begun on The Price is Right, the girls are finished and will not be eating anymore toast.

Put the remaining-uneaten, but equally as well cooked toast into a bread bag...just use one of the bags you just took that fresh loaf of bread out of...

Tell the girls they should take the remaining Cinnamon Toast down on the dock to "feed the fish".  Then marvel at how big the fish have gotten, and wonder why they seem to be over-taking the lake.

"Go into town"... A.K.A. driving to Siren, and certainly stopping at the Fancy Freeze for a dish of ice cream... go into town and buy two more loaves of bread for breakfast tomorrow, because the kids can't go hungry.

Forever in Blue

Forever in Blue by tammie-hefty featuring miu miu handbags

Somewhere, Dreams are Waiting to be Dreamed

Have you ever wondered where dreams go when they die? Or where they come from when they take on life? 

 I saw some dreams come into existence over the course of these past few months of my life. I can only attribute it to prayer, everyday, and to listening to God's direction for me through His love letter to me. He reminded me that He has called me to a higher purpose. That I am not able to just sit by and watch life happen. That I have to take an active roll in the construction of my family and the community around me.

When you walk in God's will you receive the peace that only He can provide. So, call out to Him. And then listen. Listen for His direction...for His opportunities that come your way. Listen to His Word so you can recognize His voice among the many voices that fight for your attention.

There are limitless dreams waiting to be dreamed. Reach your hand up high to the sky and grab hold of them...God is just waiting to pour them out over you...

Crime and Pumice-ment

I am gearing up to celebrate the Easter holiday. A holiday centered on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As I ready myself for that, I look back over my year and think, "You really needed Jesus' blood this year, Tammie Jo." Even as I age, I continue to need Jesus more and more. Does that make sense? Wouldn't I get wiser and have less tendency to sin as we mature? It seems counterintuitive.

But it's not...

Consider dry skin, for example. Dry skin has plagued for many years...even back to elementary school. What's worse, as people age, their skin, the first layer of defence for their bodies, is exposed to greater numbers of harsh environmental elements and conditions. If people don't have enough water in their systems, or if their systems aren't absorbing enough moisture, then their skin becomes hard and calloused in order to protect them from the world.
So now I have even drier, harder, more calloused skin than when I was younger. I hate that! My hands scratch Evie when I put lotion on her after a bath. My skin randomly just splits open on my finger tips, especially during the winter. Blech!

Fortunately, you and I were not created by a God who says, "You have dry skin? Well, then we don't want you...". Instead, we have a God who carries a pumice stone. A pumice stone is the funny looking, light weight, grey stones that are coarse and gritty when you touch them. God calls his pumice stone the Holy Spirit. According to dictionary.com, pumice can also mean to clean; and callouses can also come from friction. I find those two distinctions quite poignant as I consider how the world can make us unclean, and that we are becoming calloused due to tension, and friction. But I digress...:)

What does God do with the pumice stone? He takes some time and starts to file, file, file away those rough places of my heart. I can see the microscopic flakes of deadened feelings, calloused pieces of soul, and hardened emotions swirling and floating away with each brush of the stone.

He stops buffing, and looks deeply at me. The roughness is gone. My body is finally realeasing that dead part of me-the part that had calloused and hardened so I wouldn't feel as much pain. But He doesn't quite see the new baby-pink fleshiness that would come with new life.

"We can do more, " says God. The pumicing begins again. Now I feel know He's smoothing out my head AND my heart. The stone moves back and forth, back and forth; like waves of water across rocks on a shore. He's trying to get the heart and the head to an equal cleanliness, an equal newness. He's gently reminding me that the heart and the head typically give me the right answers and guide me the right way to go, but sometimes, I don't get the message because of the callouseness of my soul.

Instead of punishing me for my crimes, God chooses to pumice me. When I have built up too many barriers, too many callouses to the pain of this world; when I have been away from His Living Water, when I haven't had time for Him to nourish my soul...I get off His path...I can't hear His voice. So then, I have to go through the discomfort of pumicement; a gentler alternative to the wages of sin, but time-consuming, and sometimes heart-wrenching.

Inspiration to me, from me, and around me~in The Fires of Sorrow

As usual, I find myself inspired by the words of Oswald Chambers in the time-tested My Utmost for His Highest. Oddly enough, the inspiration comes from the devotional for June 25th...don't ask me why...
"My attitude as a saint to sorrow and difficulty is not to ask that they may be prevented, but to ask that I may preserve the self God created me to be through every fire of sorrow," Chambers begins. His inspiration was John 12:27-28~ What shall I say? Father save me from this hour? But for this cause came I unto this hour, Father, glorify Thy name.
I have to say, every now and then, I get it. I realize that the stresses which play in my brain, and the questions about the future that tumble around in my heart~they are all there because God ordained them to be and He will, therefore, create the eventual resolutions. But, there are also the times when, rather than being inspired by God's intentional use of me, I feel more...perspired. I feel like a sweaty old t-shirt that has been wrung and wrung and wrung until everything that is needed out has been wrung out.
And that's when I stumble. When I lose my inspiration and turn to perspiration...I focus on how hard I've worked, how little I've slept, how much I've read, or wrote, or thought about this and that...When I focus on my efforts, then the Little Green Monster of Entitlement starts to speak in my brain:
Tammie, you work so hard...you deserve this...
Tammie, why should you always have to take the high road? They shouldn't talk to you that way...
Tammie, it's not really that big a deal...you work hard so you can play hard...
Oh, I tell you what, that Little Green Monster of Entitlement sure can make me forget what the point of "all this" is. As Chambers points out, "Our Lord received Himself in the fire of sorrow, He was saved not from the hour but out of the hour."
Yikes!!! I think I need to put little post-its around my house that say, "Be Inspired, not Perspired" (Or is that too close to "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff?") It feels like when I'm called into battle on behalf of the Lord, I ready myself quickly with the Holy Armour and swoosh my sword and pound by breastplate like Tarzan~by why do I so quickly peel back the armour and expose myself to sin? I say, "Phew...made it through that one...now let's have some fun and forget about the One who helped me win that battle."
I guess that's a part of life...learning to keep the armour on, learning to become so strong, that the armour no longer feels like a heavy burden. I think the Inspiration is something we're supposed to learn by turning to God's Word every day to remind us that we are to go through the fire...that no prayers or petitions will douse the fire and make it smolder out...our prayers and God's Word are the strongest weapons we have to battle the fire and make it through.

Hopefully I've inspired both you AND me...Now, I have to go find some post-its and get to work shining up the armour...

Great Things?~What's Your Perspective?

This past Sunday, our sermon at church was on Worshipful Women, like Mary and Elizabeth in the Gospel story. We took a close look at Mary's Magnificat~her song of praise to God for what he was about to do by bringing Jesus to earth. Mary said, "...for the Mighty One has done great things for me..." (Luke 1:49)NIV

Now, I don't know about you, but being a pregnant, un-wed teen, to me, (while possibly a way to get on MTV), is not the way I would consider myself being blessed. But, why did Mary see it this way? Because she knew that God had a plan, and she knew that even though she was "little Mary", with God all things were possible, and he could save the world by using her as a vessel.

So, our pastor posed the question: How has God done great things for me? (Meaning, each of us, as ourselves.) How has God chosen to bless me, in other words, by doing GREAT things THROUGH me for ALL MANKIND?

Well, let's consider my "new life." I previously was helping to manage a dental office. I had worked in the front offices of dental offices in Madison for 9 years. While I had, back in 2007, returned to school to try and earn a teaching degree so I could teach Special Ed, I had to withdraw from school a year later once I realized how much longer that journey would be, and what it would cost my family financially, and psychologically.

So I continued to manage. Now, many of you know, I'm a stubborn person...I make things work...I will not admit defeat. But over the course of the past 2 years, I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into a depression. I was completely discontented with my life. I was struggling to figure out how to get out of a prison that I felt trapped in.

Enter God...in his wonderful way, he knows that I often need him to slam me over the head with a frying pan before I realize that I need to change direction. Back in June, he wound up and let her rip...blammo!!! The frying pan landed on my thick skull and I was no longer gainfully employed. Since God manages to somehow have this stuff already covered, he managed to put Jeff and I in a position where this was an "okay" thing. We were going to get by just fine for a while and I could start looking for something else.

It was also during this time that we realized that my daughter needed me and I needed my daughter more than we had ever noticed. I was never home when she got up in the morning, I was already at work. I was rushing home trying to get her picked up by 5:30, just to rush us through dinner and rush us through bedtime and avoid any (and hopefully all) chances of meltdowns. Once I had time with Evie, I began to see my communication with her change...I was more patient, I took the time to teach, I took the time to listen, I took the time to love and respect her. It was a relationship transformed. *Thanks, God*

I also was finally able to do the things I never had time to do when working full-time. I got Evie into physical therapy and got her into horseback riding therapy. I never, EVER, would have had the time to consider the evaluation appointments, nor the scheduled appointments as times I could have taken out of work. With all her doctors' appointments as it was, there was just so much time out of our work schedule that I, or Jeff needed to be off...but now, I could just say, "I'm not available" if I were called on a day she had an appointment, without having to consider if the absence would reflect poorly on my job. I'm happy to say, these appointments have made great changes in Evie's balance, coordination and strength. *Thanks, God*

When it came around to deciding on a few job offers...we suddenly realized something...maybe it was better for our family to take the risk, and not have a regularly scheduled job. Maybe it was better for me to substitute teach, right in town here, so I could have EVEN MORE time with Evie...mornings, AND afternoons. As I turned down an incredible job offer that would have really set our family in the black on our finances, my stomach lurched...but my heart glowed. We were choosing thriving personally from surviving financially. *Thanks, God, we know you'll provide*

Now that I was going to be home in the afternoons, I could take on new things! Evie and I decided to start going to AWANA at our church here in town. I started to help lead music for the kids. For a "small church" our AWANA program sees +90 kids come through on a weekly basis. That's great! What's even better? That FAITH follows me into the schools!!! No longer must we keep our joy of the Lord buried deep within! I walked onto the playground today and felt like a Jonas brother! I had kids swarming me saying, "I know you from AWANA!!! You sing at that Church!!!" *Thanks, God...did you REALLY see it happening this way? :)*

I had mentioned when filling out my paperwork for substitute paraprofessional as well as substitute teaching that I would do any grades and any abilities. Well, special ed is a tough part to fill. So, I have been blessed to have been called for each school, and have worked all but 2 days so far these past three months in special ed...my passion, my inspiration. And, as I start many weeks with a blank calendar, like last week...I ended up working every day I could, and this week is filling up just as fast. *Thanks, God*

So, was being unemployed in a turbulent financial time, without plan, without alternative something that most people would say, "the Mighty One has done great things for me?" Probably not. But when we step back, and look at how this change in my life has trickled and trickled and trickled and impacted education, faith, communication, and physical and financial health...I mean...WOW, GOD!

I am EXTREMELY blessed.

Thankful For...

We are doing this on our WAGR/11p Deletion listserve and thought I'd share my list of thankful things with you...

I have so much to be thankful for:

I'm thankful that even my mistakes can become blessings

I'm thankful that the Badger Hockey team swept North Dakota and won a game against #1 Gophers

I'm thankful that I have an incredibly wonderful and supportive family and group of friends

I'm thankful for WAGR/11p Deletion Syndrome and all that it has taught me

I'm thankful for incredible doctors, therapists, teachers and staff that work the MH schools

I'm thankful for Facebook, E-mail, and Twitter for making the world a smaller place so the few families of WAGR don't have to feel so alone

I'm thankful for Thin Mints, ice-cream, and pizza

I'm thankful for shirts that have tags on them because Evie always plays with the tags...especially thankful for the ones on the side of shirts and not the back of the neck

I'm thankful for the advancement of medicine and science so we can live longer, healthier lives and make EVEN MORE mistakes to learn from :)

I'm thankful that gas prices are lower (ha, ha, just kidding; wanted to see if you were still paying attention.)


I'm sure I'm forgetting something here...but hoping that I've covered it all :)

A Memory that Haunts Me Still~In the Robe-Room

The question struck me this morning...out of the blue

What ever happened to that little girl in the robe-room?

It was my senior year of high school, and I was in the Seattle, WA area on a trip with our Concert Choir. We had been touring there; performing and competing. Near the end of our trip, we were to perform at a church and then stay for a meal in the church basement. I don't remember all the details of the church, but I remember the room where we changed into our choir robes. I remember it because it terrified me and left me with an image forever burned into my memory; an image of a girl...

I only remember snapshots of this event. I remember the room was large, and quite vacant where we changed into our robes. I remember a wood floor and the walls were lined with those shelves that have the bar under them to hold hangers for hanging coat or other articles of clothing. And I remember seeing the wheelchair on the side of the room opposite the door through which we entered. And I remember seeing the girl in the wheelchair.

The wheelchair was turned toward the wall. FACING the wall. And her hair was dark brown, like a chestnut.

I quickly walked over to her. I stood in front of her so she could see me. She was in a contorted position, her limbs were curled up making her immobile. I said, "Hi, Sweetie..." in the long-drawn out way that you speak to a small child so as not to frighten her. She smiled, and moved her mouth as if trying to respond. No sound came out, but I knew that she was warmed by my presence. I raised my right hand, and I caressed her cheek. The smile grew larger, and she moved her cheek into my hand the way a kitten presses into your hand when you pet it...she basked in the touch, in the affection.

My stomach began to turn. Why was she here? Why was she kept in a room behind a closed door? We were at a CHURCH!!! Why had someone closed her away as if ashamed of God's creation?

I knew I had to sing for these people, but I knew I could never eat with them. I could never break bread with them and pretend like their actions weren't horrific and cruel.

I turned her wheelchair around so she was facing all of us and I proceeded to change into my choir robe. I didn't want to leave her there, but I had an obligation to fulfill.

We sang, and the congregation clapped. And it was time to change back into our street clothes and join the church downstairs for supper. I went out to the bus. I was too nauseous to eat. I was upset. My mind was racing. Some of my friends came out to the bus and told me that they had asked someone from the church about the girl. The response had been that she preferred to be in that room. She didn't like to be where all the people were and all the noise was. I knew that was a lie. Why would the door have to be closed? Why was she pushed up against a wall~facing the wall? I knew that any child who nuzzled up to me, a stranger, the way she did was craving touch, warmth, affection, love...

I think I remember trying to go back in. I think I remember crying softly to myself as our bus pulled away. Dr. C (our director) would not allow us to talk or even listen to music when we were preparing to sing, but since we were done I was able to put my headphones on and escape to my mind.

She was perfect. She was God's creation. And she was hidden away by people who didn't understand the basic needs that human beings have. We were made to worship God. We were designed to praise him. And they were keeping her from that. But were they?

No. Because the Bible tells us that some day, we will all fall down and praise the God who made us. And that if this earth ever stops praising him, then nature will cry out~the rocks and the trees will sing his praises. That little chestnut-haired girl, with no voice, and no movement from her limbs was praising God with her smile, and her eyes, and her nuzzle into my hand. You can't hide her away no matter how you may try...

Why did that image come back to me today? Was it being home in Stillwater? Was it reading an article in the Star Tribune about a friend from high school and a facebook group she created to reminisce about life in Stillwater? Or was it maybe that the little girl's soul became a part of my soul when we connected that day two decades ago? Maybe without a voice of her own, I am the only voice she has. So, I felt compelled to tell her story here so she has a legacy that her family wouldn't give her. Maybe God brought me that church to start stirring my passion so I could be a better mother to my daughter who might not look like other daughters, and might not talk like other daughters; but who is the perfect image of God on earth as she dances and sings in the aisles of our church.

So how do I end this narrative? How do I close this thought? Maybe I can't. If 20 years passes and I still remember so clearly a little voice-less girl with whom I only shared 10 minutes of my life~then maybe I'm not supposed to have closure on this. I will let her image haunt me in order to keep my passion burning. I can't wait to meet her in heaven some day so we can rejoice together and cast our crowns at our Maker's feet, lock our hands, and twirl and dance~and let our hearts sing...