on this rainy monday morning

Not that long ago
I feared my cell phone.
When it rang
deep, hot panic hit my body.
This panic did not appear overnight
but rather after months
maybe years
of crisis phone calls.
Calls from the school....
"your son has panicked and run off the school grounds".
Calls from the doctors and therapists....
"we need to discuss hospitalization".
Calls from the hospitals....
"we need to keep discuss an extended stay option"
Calls from the insurance company....
"your claim has been denied, again"
Calls from my distraught son.....
"you hate me, I want to die!".
Daily phone calls
sometimes hourly
or more
conditioning me to flinch and dread each incoming call or text.
Those phone calls have slowed down over the last year
as we have inch wormed our way to more stable ground.
There are still hard moments
but for the most part
we are currently out of crisis.
We have entered a rhythm of medication,
therapy,
a solid IEP
and coping strategies
that are working for us
at the moment.
And most of the time
I don't flinch when I hear my phone ring.
Today was a rocky morning
He has his first round of high school finals today.
There has been mounting anxiety all weekend.
Small fits of panicky rage colored our morning.
I dropped him off at school with a brief encouragement
a smile
and a silent prayer
that this morning would not set us back too far.
This year
his first year of high school
has gone better than I ever could have imagined
and I do find myself
waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under us from time to time.
When the phone rang
an hour after I dropped the boy off at school
fear hit me and I held my breath.
I didn't want to look
I immediately expected the worst.
I checked the phone,
it was a text
from the boy.
Still not breathing, I read it.....
"I passed unit 3 with 82%!!"
And I took a deep breath
while tears quickly rolled down my face.
Thankfulness.
Relief.
Hopefulness.
Delight in the small victories
of a happy text message.

another birthday letter

Dear Bella,
17 years ago today, you made me a mom.
I was barely older than you are now.
So very surreal.
In this life, there has been no one person
who has changed, challenged and inspired
me more than you.
In the beginning days
your endless locks of wavy hair and huge deep eyes
wooed me into seeing and pursuing a life bigger than myself.
Your silly sweetness,
perfect innocence
and never-ending chatter
lead me to rip through my selfishness and see beyond myself.
And when we met Roger, shortly after your first birthday,
I let your love for him(and his love for us)
push me through towers of insecurities and brokenness
in hopes for a family filled with all the adventure and beauty I knew you deserved.
Beauty out of ashes.
I have said it before
and I always will return to it.
Your theme in my life,
your place in my world......
beauty out of ashes.
Hope from the hopeless.
God's precious and knowing gift to me when I didn't even know His name.
And now.....all these years later,
after a year filled with so much heartache and uncertainty.
He pushes me to remember the hope in you.
The beauty in our story.
My dear, beautiful girl......you continue to change and grow me so much.
Just as you made me a mother,
you are now bringing me to a whole new part of motherhood......
a part that is turning out to be far harder than those first days....
when the sleep deprivation and pain from an unexpected C-section pushed me to my limits.....
when I questioned all that I was and what I had in me.......
I find this place so similar....
yet vastly different.
Sleep deprived from sleepless nights of worrying for you......
heart wrenching pain of watching you suffer......
from the brokenness and horrors of this world,
from the places you have let yourself wander to,
from the your own hands.
In this place I find myself more helpless than I have ever been.
So powerless to protect you.
And in this place
I am coming to see that my job as your protector is almost over.
Though I will always desire to protect you(and probably keep trying now and again),
I feel myself letting go the grip.
Thoroughly exhausted from a year of holding on so tight,
as you  ferociously thrash against my arms.
I find my heart learning a new lesson.
My love for you is strong...
perhaps stronger than it has ever been....
but not strong enough.
And you,
my precious daughter,
are not mine.
You are at the threshold
to the very beginning
of a long journey to find your self.
To become,
to find your way
and(I beg, Lord)
to find your way back to into the arms of the One who's love is perfect
and true
and far greater than I could ever imagine.
You are bringing me to a place of motherhood where I watch you from a different place.
Trust God for you in a way I never have before.
For you are not truly mine
and my time with you has been a gracious gift I often take for granted.
This year I am learning to love you in a whole new way.
Deeper,
scarier
and oh, so filled with wonder.
Your beauty still steals my breath.
Your fearless heart and striking compassion for those you love,
blows me away.
You have so much that you are just starting to discover.......
you have so much to bring to this world.
So much.
I love you Isabella.
For seventeen years.
For this moment.
For always.
With hope, belief and anticipation,
Mom

It Takes a Village.....

to wash my clothes.  

Well...

at least it did for the last two months.

                                                       Our washer died suddenly in September.

      This may not seem like a huge deal to most......

and in the grand scheme of life 

it certainly was not the end of the world.

   But.....

      It made things a lot harder.

A 

lot

harder.

     We have 7 people in our family.

6 beds,

7 people using towels on a daily basis,

at least one person spilling something daily,

7 people wearing at least one set of clothes every day,

(and several people...I won't name names....who wear more than one set of clothes a day)

That mounts up to a lot of laundry. 

Mountains,

in fact.

About 2 loads a day.....every day.

14 loads a week

56 loads a month.

So in the two months we were without a washer

We had roughly 112

loads that needed to be done.

That's a lot of laundry.

That's where our village came in.

They came in and washed my socks.

and all my other clothes.

pretty much every friend I have spent any time with in the last two months

has either done my laundry

or watched me do my laundry

in their washing machine.

My laundry has been to at least 12 different people's houses.

I only went to the laundromat once.

And even then

a dear friend gave up her Sunday afternoon to go with me

and sit in a corner of a crowded and cramped laundromat.

Amazing friends.

That's what we have.

the kind that you can share your dirty laundry with

   literally.

And today

thanks to the generosity of several friends

I get to wash my own clothes

in my own house

with my new

and lovely

washing machine!

Thank you village.

you are greatly appreciated. 

the girls in my life.......

are

strong

courageous

resilient

vibrant

silly

loving 

stunning

beautiful

mysterious 

extraordinary

precious

                                                            unpredictable yet consistent
                                                                       mild and fierce
                                              similar in so many ways, yet remarkably unique
                                                               mysteriously complex
                                                    constantly surpassing my expectations
                                                                           

                                                       

quickly becoming

the women in my life

                                                                                               
         

It's a bird!

It's a plane!

No......

It's..........

SUPER EZRA!

This year was really the first year that Ezra really got into the Halloween thing. He is a REALLY big fan of dress-up right now, so a holiday dedicated to putting on costumes and eating candy was really about the coolest thing he had ever heard of.  He was saying "Chicken Feet!!!!" for days before Halloween. It took us far too long before we figured out that he was actually saying, "Trick or Treat"!
And the little man was overwhelmed with delight when his costume came in the mail from Auntie Jennifer. A customized super-hero costume complete with the most fantastically flowing blue cape you ever did see. He immediately put it on a has really wanted to wear it ever since. The cape has become a constant accessory. Not only is it the perfect super-hero cape..... apparently it also makes the perfect "bad guy" cape, bird wings, magic carpet, tent(if draped over a chair or...in a pinch, simply thrown over your head), baby blanket and.....
Ezra's personal favorite...........

                                                                A KING'S CAPE!

The cape is the perfect compliment to what is probably my all time favorite costume from Auntie Jennifer. She made it for Ethan when he was 3 or 4 and it has held up beautifully over the years.  Ethan wore it all the time until he was too big for it and I can think of at least 5 or 6  little boys that have borrowed it over t he years. And now, little man Ezra has claimed it as his own and wears it at every chance he gets.

Now that I got that self indulgent melancholy out of the way......

Let's look on the bright side.....
shall we?

Fall is upon us!

Time to pull out the sweaters,

turn up the heat,

put on the fuzzy socks,

make something warm to drink

and take cute fall pictures of these guys......

It's been almost a year since I kept up on this bloggitty thing.....
And here I am again!
Did you miss me?
I missed you!
And when I say you.....
i think I mean
me.
well......
me writing
to be specific.
Even though this blog has been sporadic in the the best of times
it has been a good reminder
that I have a voice
and something to say
besides
things like......
"Don't forget to wash your hands!"
or
"Can you think of a friendlier way to say that?"
So...
here I am again.
I make no promises.
I'll write when I can.
And
I'll try to post lots of photos
when I have nothing interesting to say.

healing hurts

this year is a year of recovery
a time that we have set aside to stop
breathe
begin the process of grieving what we have lost
feel the weight of what we have seen
lay on the floor amidst the broken pieces
and weep
scream
until there is nothing to do......
but get up
battered....
and bloody.
we are getting up.
and I would love to tell you.........
of the beauty
of the peace
of the miraculous
the happy ending I so desperately ache for
but....
no
not today
today we force ourselves forward
tired
weak
we manage what seems completely unmanageable
stumble through
daily waves
angry fits of rage
sadness
confusion
the debris
that comes with healing
six therapy appointments a week
piles of books
support groups
conversations that will rip your heart out
All while trying to live in the land of the living......
trying to pretend that we are are OK
trying
to believe we will survive this
I'm told we will survive this
and most of the time....
i believe it