tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-784980861232204042023-11-16T05:39:54.092-08:00One Life To LoveA woman's unspoken world emerges when glitter and wishes converge in her dreams. Never let on that the glitter is there...but keep on wishing.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-90468235375619876442018-06-21T14:04:00.001-07:002018-06-21T14:10:33.991-07:00Time Surge 1986 - "The Emerald Lights"<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"> Octavia didn’t say a word, but Tempest noticed she wasn’t flying upward toward the platform but rather
back to the elevator shaft where they entered this realm from the Tripskip
Annex.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The other time warriors were
already far behind in the fog for being trained as a warrior was nowhere near
the same as being born as one.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The air
was blasting through Tempests thin layered armor and her helmet was tight
against her chin, rubbing it a bit raw right on the tip.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She was astonished at how easily Octavia was
able to fly while holding her, then she noticed that she must’ve initiated her
skirmishers while catching her because she had two thick black bands clinched
on her wrists and two more on her ankles.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>The skirmishers were attached to the apparatus that held Octavia in the
air.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The wings were magnificently
designed with prongs and spinning dials that made no sound but were in sync and
creating a flight pattern that was mesmerizing.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>The material that was in between the bone structure of the upper wing
looked like thin animal skin but she wasn’t sure.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The cogwheel pumped up and down as she
flapped each time stretching the skin cells thinner.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was hard to tell how she was making them
pump because she didn’t have them on the platform and Tempest had not noticed
her using them before now.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They approached the doorway that she and Octavia had left
from and so they glided upward slightly to land smoothly.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Octavia put Tempest on her feet and instantly
the skirmishes fell off and disappeared.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Get back to the Tripskip and find a gentleman by the
name of Everett Palmer Fogg, he can be found in the Ironbark car.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He is a friend and is the best detective mind
that I know.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If there is a mystery to
solve on Celeruan Isle, we will need him!<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>You will be safe in the Ironbark car until I retrieve you.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I must appear loyal to Zebulon in the
meantime, now make haste! I can tell you no more.” Octavia said briskly.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The elevator shaft opened with no elevator inside. With a
stare from Octavia’s crystal eyes, the opposite side of the shaft opened and
Tempest could clearly view Waterman Annex just on the other side.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was the hallway where they had entered the
door. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>First Octavia ran and jumped out
and turned her head to see if Tempest was coming.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She didn’t notice how petrified and novice
Tempest was, and possibly even forgetting that Tempest wasn’t raised a Lingermancer
and had no concept of her speed.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tempest
took a deep breath and ran toward the open door and jumped through to where
Octavia was standing.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She let Tempest
pass and then shut the door behind leaving her alone in the Tripskip hallway
with all the random doors. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She needed to
find a gentleman named, oh she had already forgotten, and like that was super
easy on a seven story vessel that’s about a thousand miles long, that you have
also only been on once, she thought to herself.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>She looked up and down the corridors and with so many passengers going
hither and fro, she didn’t know who to ask.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Then she saw a map on one of the fluorescent walls.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She did remember the name Ironbark car and
hoped she could find it on the map.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Your destination please?” said a voice from inside the life-sized
map.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tempest squinted carefully and could see a digital face
formed out of letters and shapes speaking to her.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Once it started speaking nothing was legible
anymore so she decided to answer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Iron….bark….car?” she muttered like a robot.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Right this way.” Said the voice.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A door opened in the screen and at the top it read
‘Ironbark Car All Aboard’.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tempest took
a step and her leg entered the screen and as she continued to move she slowly
vanished into the map.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>On the other side
she reappeared in what she knew to be the 1920’s.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She looked down at herself and her armor was
gone and instead she was wearing a black tasseled dress and funny looking black
heels with a buckle across the top of her foot.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>She even had a small black coin purse clutched in her hands.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It wasn’t long before she noticed that
everyone in the car had stopped for a moment to look at the new arrival and she
so wished she could remember the gentlemen’s name at that moment.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Fortunately the passengers all went back to
their normal activities of smoking, everyone seemed to be smoking.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Some people were reading in big leather
chairs, others had tea and dessert sitting in front of them on tables with
white table clothes and shiny silver spoons.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>The waiters all had tuxedo’s on and many of the men had this tiny little
pencil shaped mustaches just under each of their nostrils.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The ladies were tall and thin and very pale,
until Tempest looked down at her own arm and saw that she too had fair skin, in
fact she fit in almost too well.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>After
taking a few steps into the room a man appeared from her right, like he was
part of the furniture.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“What brings a young doe like you into these parts of the
cosmos?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Felt you wanted to dabble in the
arts of debauchery?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>You see, I can be a
guide for you as I tend to know most of the important people who board this
vessel, no matter the likeness, they have to pass through me.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He said as he walked her by the arm.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>In his right hand he had a cigar, and he swaggered a bit
while he took each step, making is oversized suit buckle at the knees and
giving the jacket the appearance it was about to fall off.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That’s very kind of you sir.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I actually am looking for a certain fella,
maybe you can help?”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She spoke with a
squeaky girlish voice.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Hoping to appear
naive and vulnerable, she seductively adjusted his tie while she waited for his
answer.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He swallowed a little and his
mustache and lip curled up on one side.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“And who would this lucky fella be?”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He replied.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“A Mr. Everett Palmer Fogg.” She said and sat quietly
staring him in the eye.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The room went quiet again.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>His curled up face went flat.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tempest thought for a moment that she had
said the most vulgar word in their world’s history.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Internally she regretted even trying to find
this man because there were many walls and passengers and corridors between her
and her blood circle echo.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She stood
still and let her eyes scan the room.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Every black and white clothed person held their position looking in her
direction, almost like they were from a silent movie that had been stuck on the
film projector.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The only thing moving
was the smoke.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>As she continued to count
heads she spied one head, a hat covered head looking in the other
direction.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Curiosity got the best of her
and she removed her hand from curly lipped man and walked straight to the bar where
the hat man was standing.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Excuse me, I am looking for Everett Palmer Fogg?” she
said as she tapped him on the shoulder.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Who sent you?” she heard a deep reserved voice reply.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Lady Octavia Featherstone.” Tempest answerer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He turned his head slowly and Tempest was surprised that
he was a normal looking dude, pleasant face and sharp looking features.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He removed his hat to reveal slight greying
just above his ears and a head full of swayed back hair.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Radical Fantastico!” he finally replied.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tempest laughed out of the relief and he chortled back
and then the black and white mannequin people all went back to their socializing,
smoking, dancing and tea or whiskey drinking.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-49263451430359703842018-06-21T13:54:00.001-07:002018-06-21T14:04:56.531-07:00Within the Veil<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Within
the Veil</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">A glimpse of tender suffering</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">A wasted choking breath</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Come swiftly mighty stallion</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Be my one and final rest</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Lay in the night and whisper</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">How petals fall by choice</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Oh hear the thunders Opus</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Above the fallen ice</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Fury takes a hold of the victim</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Hollow soulless greeted stride</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Alone it finds its prism</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">My foe my feast my bride</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Where has the midnight loosened?</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">The grip within its belt</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Tightened among the laces</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">The straps with velvet felt</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Arise from ashes my rosebud</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Take hold within the flask</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Drink deeply Scarlett letters</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">And unveil your hidden mask</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-28825997428988528712018-06-06T12:56:00.000-07:002018-06-06T15:17:23.897-07:00Dreaming of Braxia - Sample from "The Emerald Lights"<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">Dreaming of Braxia</span></b></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> <span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">She had been there before, not entirely sure how but the
memory was there and it was fresh and real.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>There were dogs barking in the distance and a few stragglers walked here
and there in the shadows.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was a melancholy
night and the streets were shining with reflecting water and a smell heaved in
the fog like moist coal.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She could hear
noises in the street, some were small like a rat running to a gutter and others
sounded like a pail of water being dumped from a high window.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She wasn’t positive but she thought she had
emerged in a dream here before and that this was not a new experience.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Behind her there was a blank grey wall, with
no real character other than a basic empty perception of being abandoned.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If she touched it, she had the distinct
impression it would take her life, spirit, soul and she would be gone from this
place in an instant.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her eyes stung
thinking about leaving because if she was correct this was the one place that was
the perfect fit, the one place that was somehow right in ways she didn’t
understand.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There were details she could
imagine that reached her deepest desires, worries and fantasies.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Here she was once again and now she was
afraid to move.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Taking a deep breath,
she filled her lungs with the icy air and turned her face toward the road on
her left.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There was a fountain in the
square, it had water spurting from a horse’s mouth and the rider was a man
wearing a captain’s hat as he pointed his sword toward the sky.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The sword was lit up in a sapphire blue and
the handle had the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gladius</i>
engraved on it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The stone that comprised the horse and rider was a large milky marble cut from a single mass.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Water shaped like tiny droplets soared
downward as time seemed to slow down.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>She got caught in a magical thought as she reached in her pocket to pull
out a cigarette.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She remembered she
didn’t have anything to light it with so back in her pocket it went.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Quietly, she slipped down the silent road into the mysterious
and wondrous night.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She passed a street
sign, she could’ve sworn it said ‘Goodbye Street’, but it all seemed blurry and
distant.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her ears were ringing a bit and
her mouth was dry.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her body felt sore
and overworked and possibly a tiny bit damp. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The chilled air didn’t move but it choked her
in its deathly stillness.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She continued
to walk.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Each step hummed a song in her
mind that gave her life purpose.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was
a song that drove her to love life and to hope for a time when it could all be
laughter instead of trepidation.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She
missed the days of gentle living but this life also offered mystery that a
boring life could never give her.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The night sky was getting lighter and the stars were
starting to slowly disappear.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Silhouettes
of buildings and homes started to form on the fuzzy horizon.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her heart beat a little hurried because it
was real, it was here and she was too!<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>This could be the most exciting time in a girl’s life, being able to
explore a foreign land and have total independence.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Morning perpetually felt
like a mystery, like she was stepping out of a book.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The pages were full of color and life, her
breath was heavier and deep inside her body was waiting to burst forth.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>You rarely have to look at your real life and
wonder if you are dreaming but in dreams you invariably wonder if you are
dreaming.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>That is how Tempest felt but
she was usually afraid to wake up.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The
sound of a train in the distance made the baby hairs on the back of her neck
stand up as she dodged briefly behind a large oak tree.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She ran her exposed fingers across the trunk
and the bumpy bark created imaginative walk ways under her finger tips as they
ran over them, almost reading them and she thought she could tell their
story.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She was exhaling loudly and felt
a grim shadow engulfing her mind.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She
had to think, try to recall exactly why she was here again.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was somewhat like a dream but it was too
certain, too absolute and she could feel the moisture on her fingers as they
tightened and trembled.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Slowly the sounds
of the Annex were coming alive.</span></div>
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It became hard to breathe as her heart swelled, she fixed
her leather corset as it was digging into her sweaty shoulder blades and
pushing her swollen chest into her throat.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Her long fur skirt was revealing her muscular legs on both sides and
exposing two brass Storm Brakkers, strapped on each leg.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her boots wrapped her legs like snakes, but flat
metal looking snakes that had nuts and bolts holding them together.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There were brass buckles and chains holding
the boots in place.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The color of the
metal changed with each step and the gears twisted and tightened or loosened as
it needed to so it was consistently tight enough but not ever too tight.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The fur skirt was fascinating because it was
almost alive and holding on to her hips as they shook with each step.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her waist was small and formed just like her
corset and she filled in the bust like liquid.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>She had nothing on her arms but they were glistening in the new sunlight
with dusted sparkles and a tiny taste of shimmering powder.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>On each hand was a black fingerless glove, stitched
on her hand to stay forever.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her nails
were short and silver, perfectly manicured and yet those fingers could inflict
a lot of pain if provoked.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tempest’s
hair was orange and wiry, at least in this place it was, just to her shoulders
and on top of her head sat a fascinator, just tilted a tad to the left, with a
tasteful feather and a leather strap much like the material on her corset.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>On her neck was something that was hard for
others to understand but it was common among Transcendents.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tightened like a cuff, was a thick black
choker laden with gears and chains that served to keep Tempest’s status known
to all, she was a warrior and this is what warriors wore.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She didn’t realize how completely exclusive
she was.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She didn’t know how unique she
was.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>After all, she was a Transcendent.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>For that reason she was created and chosen to
use her blood circle to converge the Legion of Ages in order to find the
Emerald Lights.</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was in that moment as she surveyed her curves and gear
it dawned on her that she was actually in someone else’s body, because it appeared she wasn’t a Transcendent at all, but rather a Lingermancer.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>At least in this incredibly convincing illusion
she was a Transcendent warrior and there was no denying it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This body, this being, was a different race
all together.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She was now intrigued at
where this was all going so she continued on.</span></span></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><strike></strike><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span>Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-40128952698506387922015-01-21T14:20:00.000-08:002018-06-06T13:38:46.238-07:00Why Moloka'i?In my dreams I am still there, or I have returned...and often I can't contain the joy in my heart as I swim towards the shore. The sensation of the pebble sand and the warm breeze brushing against my tanned skin is a memory that never left me. Deep ingrained in my soul is a bronze and orange sun that sets against a sparkling ocean, full of life and mystery but what was out there...in that horizon that never got touched? The thunder of the waves as they landed on the wet sand was like a heartbeat that rang in my ears many years later. That was my Hawaiian childhood. The last place I remember being truly happy. How many of us have a place in time they go back to in their dreams? The place where the whole future seems like a fantasy just waiting for us to embrace it...to set out and conquer that fear, to dance on the big stage of life, to live a life that brings us the deepest joy!<br />
<br />
In my dreams I return to that beach, to that sunset, to that thunder rolling ocean. I return to my 7 year old self. I return to my innocence. I return to Hawaii.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Recently my book club decided to read the novel Moloka'i by Alan Brennert. My first question was, "Why would I want to read a sad book about people being banished from their homes to spend the remainder of their life losing limbs and suffering unimaginable depression?". That is now the question of the year. After reading just 3 pages of this masterpiece, I realized why it was so important, I discovered "Why 'Moloka'i'?' was a must read for this grown little blonde haired girl...a girl who grew up wearing Muumuu's and Lei's...a girl who danced the hula, ate poi (and sometimes seaweed unwillingly, thanks Chad!) and combed the shorse for Portagee man o' war. I was young...and to some it may seem a little too long ago. But not to me. Those are the days I cling to when I want to give up hope. Those are the days I cherish because there is something about Hawaii, there is something (in this case) about Moloka'i. And this book brought many of those "unseen" things back into my heart and back into my mind.</div>
<br />
A Hawaiian girl named Rachel (so close to my name) yet born in the late 1800's, is sent away from the only home she has ever known, separated from her entire family, to live in the secluded region of Kalaupapa, Moloka'i - to face her future with Leprosy! Rachel's imagination was running wild, and she was naïve to what Leprosy meant and was certain that her death was minutes away. Much to my relief, the book covers the 70+ year stretch of her life. All the hopes and desires any girl would have, yet suffering physical and emotional scarring few of us can come close to understanding. As the story develops you see a very real person who loves the land and who takes her surroundings in with the same fervor as I hope I do in my life. Deep and thoughtful but also skeptical and untrusting - for many good reasons. There wasn't one possible way I couldn't love this story as it painted a very accurate portrayal of island life and the simple pleasure of breathing that the Hawaiians have mastered. Watching the ocean and all of God's creation in a paradise much like Eden - however set in a tragic historical reality called Leprosy. I think the most beautiful element to the story for me was to see the heart of a child ebbing and flowing as each trial was surmounted. I loved the realness I felt as she talked with her new "Ohana" and the dialogue was written so perfect you could hear it come out of your own mouth. She also develops a close mother/child relationship with a nun that is set over her as a teacher and guardian. And at one point this broken little lamb - one you would see as only a victim - saves the nun from a terrible mistake of suicide. I didn't cry while I read the book - too stubborn...until the very end. It was because I didn't want it to end. I wanted to stay in Hawaii...in Moloka'i...with Rachel.<br />
<br />
I am haunted by this story in a way I can't quite put my finger on but I am eager to find out. I know about 3 people in my personal life that need this book...and you might know who you are. Although a fictional character, Rachel has given me...or should I say God has given me through the story of Rachel, a perspective to look at...one that I hadn't thought of before.<br />
<br />
In my dreams I return to that beach, to that sunset, to that thunder rolling ocean. I return to my 7 year old self. I return to my innocence. I return to Hawaii.<br />
<br />Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-5586096932236193912014-07-29T15:31:00.001-07:002017-03-30T15:37:34.592-07:00So you think you can dance??Doctors orders were for me to "dance" with my children. As a result of my 4 pregnancies (two of which I had the lovely condition I call GD - Gestational Diabetes), and my 60+ lb weight gain (thank you genetics), I am a pre-diabetic and need to get those nasty blood sugars under control. Knowing I have 3 small children underfoot all day...and that they have the "A" word (Autism:) for my new readers), she suggested I "dance" with them. "Ya know, just turn on some fun dance tunes and dance in the living room. Everyone likes to dance and it will be good exercise and fun with the kids".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
In actuality, this is how it went.<br />
<br />
"Mommy is going to turn off Wubbzy since you've watched it half the morning, and we are going to dance," I said as I tripped over the carpet that had previously been rolled up in a bunch under the cupboard where the stereo sits. "I want Wubbzy!!" chanting from the hallway. I reached down to pry the broken cupboard open as it swung from one ragged hinge - the other hinge busted away from a shredded and gnarled piece of splintered wood. The first radio station I come to is finishing a boring song so I close the door and wait a few seconds for the next to start. Then some crazy-rap-90's-hip-hop-booming song starts playing and I try and roll with it...getting all dub-step and gangster...until I realized the kids are all screaming and asking for drinks and covering their ears. So, I switch the station. Nothing much better on the next go but I try dancing anyway.<br />
<br />
Now the kids are into it but they only want to do "ring around the rosy"...and now they are mad because I'm not spinning them and they are fighting for my attention. Next wonderful thing...Aidan wants chocolate-milk all of a sudden and starts climbing the gate. "Come on, lets dance", I yell enthusiastically as I start my 40 something groove... "No...I want milk..." Girls are now screaming and asking for different things...Kylie wants to spin...Kaelynn wants to run in circles...nobody wants to hold hands and now Aidan is on the floor squealing. At this point, the song is actually irritating and I'm cheerfully saying "lets dance...it's fun...right??" Now I'm dancing alone. Everyone is either crying or upset...or wanting milk. Well doctor...easier said than done.<br />
<br />
**Shaking my head** I will never get this figured out will I?<br />
<br />Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-90129997405258185652014-07-15T16:33:00.001-07:002014-12-12T15:31:01.030-08:00Finding compassion in places you never want to go...There is no structure to this post...just a venting session. Read at your own risk.<br />
<br />
Recently on social media, I was made to feel that sharing my pain was just a burden to others and that they didn't really want to hear my "pain" or "hardship". How can I put this? Sorry if reality is too hard for others but I sort of can't avoid my reality!! But, for the sake of saving friendships I decided to blog about my experiences instead. Whoever wants to read can...and the others can ignore them. Doesn't matter to me!<br />
<br />
Here goes my blog...<br />
<br />
I could hear the laughter of my children flowing down the hallway as my husband was being "monster Daddy". I should have felt a sweet lightness in my heart and possibly a tear should've appeared in my eye to live in that rare moment. I should've felt something wonderful. Instead, my body was holding up a countertop as I drearily stared into the room that used to have a dining table but is now a mix-match of loose toys, some broken, most orphaned and lonely but all sitting atop a dingy rug with holes. Oh, the unsettled living area is not why I stared off into space, nor was it the mess that was calling my name to clean it up. No, my glossy eyes and numb emotions go deeper than that. I believe its a protection that happens to mothers like me. But is it really protection? Why can't I enjoy the laughter coming from the next room? A thought like that can make the tension worse, can make the reality worse. I can't enjoy much to be honest. Most of my day is spent under attack and as a 24hr surveillance team of one. My adrenal glands are working overtime!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-sDuzeOc8UIsJ_3AIeNUm0DQnvD6qe8P0DlMNar7Edfxvp7rZZdnweCZOYqjdiOh5Ka8K4Zpv7KT0oDgQwKpbgmSYYKi2qNs3oGBwD2OYxX9qV9B_O5PKuW_djwtE5ba3zAtkgvminTL/s1600/IMG_0979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-sDuzeOc8UIsJ_3AIeNUm0DQnvD6qe8P0DlMNar7Edfxvp7rZZdnweCZOYqjdiOh5Ka8K4Zpv7KT0oDgQwKpbgmSYYKi2qNs3oGBwD2OYxX9qV9B_O5PKuW_djwtE5ba3zAtkgvminTL/s1600/IMG_0979.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
What I'm going through now is nothing new to what I've been facing for the last 5+ years. 3 kids with ASD. Why am I saying it again? Well, because I have to keep reminding myself that this is why life is so unbearable and sad most of the time. I read an article that said roughly, "mothers of special needs kids have the same symptoms as soldiers suffering from PTSD". I will never try and take the credit of something so honorable as a soldier, so please don't misunderstand. I'm just drawing the association that most times I feel like a surge of anxiety, fear, sadness, visions of danger, grieving, anger and total brain meltdown flow through me multiple times a day. I know other mothers that share the same emotional roller-coaster and we all agree, it makes us less available to take care of our very needy kids. We are stripped of our decision making process because we always have to factor in the inevitable, crazy and absurd!! I blog about these emotions because I can't understand them. I raised a child already, with the same list of rules that you raise your kids. You teach them to obey and how to be polite. Stay where Mommy and Daddy told you to or we won't go "______" (fill in the blank). Be nice to your sister or no "______" (fill in the blank). Life had conditions and consequences. Sure, kids disobey and don't follow the rules. But as time goes on they start to learn and start obeying more and more frequently. So why is this so hard for our kids to do???<br />
<br />
I want to cry as I type this because this scenario isn't at all what is going on in our ASD home and it's like a foreign land. There is no "obeying or following directions" and no teaching "respect" (no matter how hard we try), there is no "if you do this, then you can have this"....again, we try...but we are ignored. How do we carry on like this day to day for YEARS??? I'm baffled. There is no answer. Yet we still try and in the meanwhile I feel like a complete train wreck. My back feels broken. My feet feel broken. My heart feels broken. If my husband were writing he would say the same about himself. So here we are 2 people leaning on each other to get through a lifetime of uncertainty. Wow. Marital bliss.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tVgnmRBFi_DFTxjqU9k3PVe4Xc8qxWROMRmVy6bxLn2v52fLGFHVKcmSFjsYzM4fN3XYg2CWlYHskwXsk00HZ-tUNKomRY3dl9u3NDOmws0tLBbjqRJ-tnQJK6Hn9ZqFMpCXdsafNCoJ/s1600/IMG_9857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tVgnmRBFi_DFTxjqU9k3PVe4Xc8qxWROMRmVy6bxLn2v52fLGFHVKcmSFjsYzM4fN3XYg2CWlYHskwXsk00HZ-tUNKomRY3dl9u3NDOmws0tLBbjqRJ-tnQJK6Hn9ZqFMpCXdsafNCoJ/s1600/IMG_9857.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
I hear others moms talking about their struggles. How to juggle ballet with soccer practice? How can they get home in time to fix dinner? I am not trying to dismiss that other people have stress. I am just looking for some common ground in my new life. I wish I worried about things that other people worried about so I could relate. I have to think about the strangest most random things regarding our kids and it is exhausting! For example: when we are trying make a decision about family vacation, we can't simply pick a place, save the money, buy our tickets and travel clothes etc. We literally have to think about: how can our kids cope, will they throw up, will they escape the location, what could happen if they did, will they get over the noise, will the crowds be too much, can they wait in line, what if they hit or punch someone there, will they stay in a stroller, can my body handle the constant lifting or fight when they have a melt down, do we need to bring an extra person, will it be a waste of money, will they sleep at night, can they get out of the hotel room, is there a balcony, can they lock themselves in the bathroom, will they eat the food, will they sit in a dining room, can we manage diaper changes on kids too big for the diaper changing station, how will other people treat us??<br />
<br />
Just plain planning becomes daunting. Most of the time we give up. We stop planning. Yes, we do have successful outings but it is NEVER leisurely. It is constant running and struggling. I am not kidding. We recently took a 2 week family "staycation" and did have successful trips to local amusement parks, the beach, the fair etc. Again I have to say, the craziness has become our new reality. We felt it was successful because we "survived" and we had a few laughs. Others might observe and say, "what an absolute nightmare, I would never do that!". Funny how your perspective changes. We see every outing as an opportunity for them to succeed in a social or community setting. When they succeed it builds their confidence. The only way for them to feel success is if we make it back to the car without any major meltdowns and very little yelling...and it order to do that we have to limit the length of time we are out. We've got it down to a science!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRAAc1yatF9yUM278cuQj-b6LFEEFPQOtq_-OW5AVeDnKnPFL8d5kYP5of31TeUB0WfcSs4ycGezX-IR-nOJzJeStmlCdQxzQZj3iyAsVSxhCbN7Gj6ssJZ66I7bFPMQ1OO1V28ntzOPY/s1600/IMG_0957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRAAc1yatF9yUM278cuQj-b6LFEEFPQOtq_-OW5AVeDnKnPFL8d5kYP5of31TeUB0WfcSs4ycGezX-IR-nOJzJeStmlCdQxzQZj3iyAsVSxhCbN7Gj6ssJZ66I7bFPMQ1OO1V28ntzOPY/s1600/IMG_0957.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
A few months ago, our friend and pastor at our church gave us this book. The author is a Japanese boy with autism that is non-verbal but able to communicate with an alphabet system and eventually was able to answer questions about how it feels to have Autism. It was earth-shattering stuff for us to read because we were able to finally hear our children's voices. Not to say they don't talk or communicate because they do...but this book talks about feelings. We don't get to hear how our children feel...but this book helps us do that. We realized very quickly that they are trapped in a mind that does what it doesn't want to do, that acts on impulse (no matter the consequence) and they wish they could control themselves but they can't. It gives me a compassion towards my children when they are lashing out and bashing things in their anger. I feel their pain. But I'm also their mother and I want to guide and direct but it looks so different than the methods I had used with my older son. This compassion has come from a place I didn't want to go...I couldn't have gained it if I never traveled down this road called Autism.<br />
<br />
As I wrap this up, I have 2 therapists in the other room working with my older daughter and I suddenly hear screaming so I come to see what had happened and the youngest had bit her really hard in the chest (over a toy). I gave kisses to the older, a little swat on the younger and made her say sorry. I keep hearing this will get better. I can only hope.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-79138310118498828062014-02-18T17:08:00.000-08:002014-02-18T17:08:00.402-08:00We don't need a break FROM our children with Autism, we need a break WITH our children with Autism.I'm a little hesitant to write this post as I'm aware that any opinion on parenting styles varies so much from family to family and even situations within the same topic can reflect very different realities. I will be using generalization about raising Autistic kids, so please bare that in mind as you read.<br />
<span id="goog_160817205"></span><span id="goog_160817206"><br /></span><br />
Going against popular belief and the multiple comments I get from loved ones and even strangers, I proclaim with fervor, "We don't NEED a break from our children". When I've spent an afternoon complaining to a friend about the "goings on" in our household, I can see why their conclusion is, "you need a break from the kids" or "do you have respite care, so you can get away?". At the risk of sounding double-minded, YES we need those kinds of breaks too but that is not the primary resolution to our troubled minds. If you have the time and the heart to follow along, let me take you on a journey into the deeper life of a family that has Autism in the center of their world.<br />
<span id="goog_649741984"><br /></span><br />
If you have children of your own, then you know that they are the center of your universe (besides the obvious disclaimer that God is actually the center and your spouse is your life partner, so lets establish that right away). That aside, your own children are who you live for, what you work for, who you would die for...you get the point. When life throws a situation of physical or psychological disability your way, that doesn't change your strong animal instinct to protect and nurture your child and to give them the best life possible. However, society limits your ability because of their capacity to understand and your own child may limit your chances of succeeding in the quality of life you wish to achieve. In the end, you don't go anywhere and the thought of exposing your family and heart to ridicule in a community outing becomes daunting at best. I have been there. I know. I have crumbled in total silence in front of strangers that could offer nothing but a cold stare. All the pain of my children's screams echoing in my heart because its not just my privacy and my ego that is on display but their undeserved anxiety and internal torment. Do I sound melodramatic? If I do, you need erase your preconceived and discriminatory mindset and really listen to what I'm saying.<br />
<br />
<br />
Despite popular belief that these children don't actually understand that they are different, and that they don't care about the trouble they are causing, or because they are spinning in a corner, they don't want to be with people or have friends, I say the opposite is true. They DO know they are different. They DO know they are drawing attention when they scream. They DO want friends. It is when their compulsive actions happen that they lose the ability to do what is right and therefore causing social discomfort resulting in withdrawal and outbursts. And the saddest part is, they know it...and they sense other people are equally aware. They have normal, if not high, IQ's and they have over developed senses so they can hear, see and observe more intensely than we can possibly imagine.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now apply this new thought process to how a child interacts with the people in their family. Parents, siblings, Grandparents take on a new role of companion and friendship. Relationships outside of this sphere are difficult if not impossible. These are the relationships that will strive to understand their minds and will cheer them on with all accomplishment's or failures great and small. These people will read books about Autism. They will talk to other families with Autism in order to gain greater understanding. They will advocate for their children in business and personal settings. These people will fight for their children's happiness and will protect them at all cost. In their life, there may not be anyone else to lean on in the future. They are at risk for abuse, neglect, isolation, despair and being shut out from society. I can see that many of these young ones have the potential to grow up and never overcome the behavior issues and the violent tendencies that could lead them into a life of medication and psychological supervision.<br />
<br />
<br />
To a reader, this is all about "someone else's kids". To a parent, this is all about "the child that is in the center of my universe". When I think of my own children being adults and how it will look to be 60+ years old and having to work through social and emotional outbursts with a 20+ year old, I can't comprehend it. And here is where my topic comes full circle. How do parents bond with their children at a young age when socialization with autism creates such a gigantic barrier? How can parents learn how to deeply stay connected to a child who isolates themselves and will only script in a corner with a book or other obsession? And then how do we translate that into the teen years and into adulthood? How? HOW!? <br />
<br />
<br />
When my husband and I married 6 short years ago, we gave our lives completely over to God and His Will for our lives. We said, "use us for Your Glory, no matter the cost". We didn't know what the cost would be. We still don't really know what He is up to and I'm not saying our children were the cost but we would be blind to not realize that somewhere in our life of autism is a bigger picture of God's grace. We have asked ourselves, "how can God use this pain?". We have literally spent hours and hours talking through situations we find ourselves in. We overwhelmingly find God in the conversations we have with people who are in our life ONLY because of autism. To be honest, none of the people that God has led to our house would be here if our kids were neurologically healthy. None of them! And THAT, is where we see God. So where do we go from here? We don't have the answer completely but I piece it together with other ideas that we have witnessed in our community and that is the fact that families with autism need help. In my short experience in this field, I can say the mothers have nowhere to turn. And, what happens most of the time is they turn from the family and run to outlets of one kind or another (pampering, girls night out, shopping, and in some cases unhealthy self focus that leads to division). Not to say they are all bad outlets, or to say they don't love their families. I think the opposite is true. I say, they love their families deeply but it becomes empty if you lose the reciprocal connection with the ones that struggle socially. If you have one nuero-typical child and a child with Autism, you see the black and white contrast of connection.<br />
<br />
<br />
Is the point I'm trying to make becoming any clearer? Parents need time and opportunites to connect with their autistic kiddos in an environment that makes them successful. Not trips to the store! Not running errands or going to birthday parties! The kids will fail. They will feel worse. And the parents will stop trying.<br />
<br />
<br />
This past 3-day weekend, we dedicated most of the time to taking our children on "child-centered" activities. We went to Santa Cruz and let them go on rides for a few hours. We took them to Chuck-E-Cheese and church and to the park. It was a whirlwind of fun, very exhausting and very expensive. We obviously can't do that every weekend. But, what I will emphasize is what my husband said at the end of it. He said, "this was the best weekend we have had with the kids EVER!" For 2 years we have had respite care come to help watch kids for date nights and other "us" time. It's necessary of course but it also takes us away from the kids. Now listen carefully to what I'm about to say. If ALL of the time we are with the kids is stressful because of busy therapy schedules and school buses and in between is only errand and grocery shopping, then where does the bonding time come in? If we don't plan specific bonding time, our children nor ourselves will survive the long haul. We believe that real help comes in the form of coming along side families and taking the burden on with them. Sacrificing a gentle easy time at the beach and instead offer to come to an outing to the beach with a family so you can be an extra set of hands and eyes. What this does is it creates a sense of belonging to the child (which is vital!) and also the family will feel loved and supported and maybe what is more important is they will feel safe. When we tackle big events like an amusement park or San Francisco without extra help, we fail...big time! It is a terrible experience for everyone and we come home wishing we had never gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
I challenge anyone reading this, if you know a family or ARE a family that longs for bonding, that wants their baby boy or teen girl to bond with them like they never have, please consider creating time WITH your child in an environment where they will succeed. I know first hand the heartache that comes from forcing a regular life on kiddos that have a hard time with "regular". Take breaks WITH your kids. Let them be free of schedules and forced trips to Target. And when you get a sitter...don't always take off and leave them but instead bring the sitter with you. Make it a family event. Play in the sprinklers, bury your feet in the sand, feed farm animals, plant some flowers. It might just change your life and better yet, it may change theirs.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-9591705677188384402014-01-30T14:42:00.001-08:002014-01-30T14:42:20.744-08:00It's totally definitely lovely up in here!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZzNWX-NWyYh-0pgI2QaTczXyj4KXTg8qovoQcTw2BitPrr-ZAPxrh4B-x5cR97tGYMpBJcMR6374lSKpu3NCNwaT61g67ett_FrWFUUihrpM33DmgtZkWoAVaMHkyJgr1UrAQHHCzuWY/s1600/Jake+is+a+nerd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZzNWX-NWyYh-0pgI2QaTczXyj4KXTg8qovoQcTw2BitPrr-ZAPxrh4B-x5cR97tGYMpBJcMR6374lSKpu3NCNwaT61g67ett_FrWFUUihrpM33DmgtZkWoAVaMHkyJgr1UrAQHHCzuWY/s1600/Jake+is+a+nerd.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I have emails to return and a recipe to look up for dinner. Now that our iPad is broken and our 5 year old has been home from school for a few days, due to bowel issues (lovely), he has no regular outlet to keep him occupied. Extra lovely. So, about 11:30 our middle-little gets home from school. Now they are all 3 here and as usual want 3 vastly different things to eat/drink or play with. As a substitute for the iPad, I allow our son to use my iPhone but the battery doesn't last long and it's our only outgoing phone in the house. Hence, major multitasking hiccups because while he's on it, I can't text or call people back that have, inevitably been trying to reach me for my daily schedule. At this point, the 2 girls are roaming around taking their clothes off in the living room and begging for juice cups, at which point I get for them after climbing a gate, once to get in the kitchen and again to get out of the kitchen. I have also been trying to get laundry done so I'm shifting baskets and making room for my Cornish game hens to thaw on my wash machine because the only counter space we have has a mixer, blender, coffee maker and tea kettle sitting on it....for lack of storage space...even more loveliness occurring. Ok, now they have their juice and I've put in a cute little Britishy piggy program and now I can get back to my computer work. But, that isn't all. If I go in my room, Aidan has to slam the door behind me, it's just the way he likes it and nobody can argue with Aidan. But, if the door is closed I can't hear the baby climb the gate and get a dry-erase marker and totally, definitely, can't hear her marking up the back door and dryer. And then, repeat, after swatting her bum and lifting her over the gate, back in the room and out again to find her with a fork in the 3rd yogurt of the morning (which Daddy has made very clear has to last to the end of the week) and she looks at me and with a raspy little voice says, "hi". I swat, lift and redirect her to the living room and make my way back to the emails that I still haven't done. All the while, Kaelynn is in a diaper and standing on a chair that she can placed directly in front of the tv and she's hugging the screen and shouting out words that nobody can understand. After she gets bored, she runs in the room where Aidan is calmly and quietly enjoying himself and screams "Kaelynns turn!!", so he goes to whack her in the face with the phone...but I was quicker this one time and grab the phone and in my held-back good mommy voice, I say, "Sorry Aidan, it's Kaelynn turn"(cuz it really was her turn)...he screams and runs out of the room and she proceeds to slam the door in my face. Kylie is missing now. Guess where she is? In the kitchen of course, and standing in the fridge saying, "juice". Swat. Lift. "I. want. choco. milk', chimes Aidan from behind me. I tell him to wait and then I smell something. Oh, the laxative must be working...so I'm off to change Aidan. Done with Aidan. "Mama, potty!", says Kaelynn as she does the wee dance to the bathroom and now Ky has to go too. Well, why not! Lets all go in the 4x6 bathroom! One is digging in the trash while the other is bashing my feet with a stool and we manage to get out of there with accomplished evacuation and mama gets the bright idea to put big girl panties on both girls!! Yay!! But it's lunch time so I've got to get something together but first I have to get them happy again and get these emails done. Of course, as I'm hurrying around and being all "busy momish", Aidan shows me my dead phone. No biggie. We can do this. And, it gives me a chance to dismiss the work that needs to be done and we do horsey rides and swings and climb on mommy until her hips are smashed into the carpet. And lets pull mommy's hair and kick her in the back. So, done with that quickly, haha. I chose frozen burritos. It's one of those "I cook from scratch a lot, and it's slim pickings" days! Got them in the oven. Back to email. Hear the girls in the kitchen. whack. Lift. whack. Lift (there are 2 of them this time)...both crying cuz mama is so darn mean. Back to emails. Wow, I'm making progress. Kids are quiet. Getting stuff done. Wait. Kids are quiet. I turn toward our bedroom door as it slowly opens and in comes a little finger with...stuff...on...it. Instant adrenaline, OH NO!!! She doesn't have a diaper on!!! Ok! Major mess ummmm, all over her legs and now I've got to get these undies off of her with out making a bigger mess, ok....on the floor...no no no...we shouldn't have done that! Meanwhile, my bedroom door is open because JUST THIS ONCE, I DIDNT LOCK IT BEHIND ME!!! and SO the other two take full advantage of mama being occupied!! Kaelynn has a heavy paper weight in her hand about ready to pound my laptop keyboard and Aidan can't be seen around the corner but I hear bouncing so my heart rate goes up about 50 pts. Gotta find those baby wipes! We finally get to the bathroom door, half organized with non-poop accidents waiting to happen, and the DOOR IS LOCKED! I'm trying to get my key with two handfuls of mess and the key is hitting Kylie in the face! Get the door open and now maneuver around the new light-tan bath mat we just got and I'm dropping wipes in the toilet...I know...I know...they aren't supposed to go in there, but the trash is full and these things were nasty! This goes on. and on. and on. We finally finish and I bring her out to the couch, and I'm running, I mean running because I know I have a fire to put out in my room and there is poopie on my carpet. But Kaelynn isn't in the room anymore, only Aidan...and he's hiding in the closet...so I search for Kaelynn. What better place than on top of the most expensive pillow in our house, with her big wet butt because she just wee'd all over the thing! Off come those undies! Now I have 2 naked little butts running around!! And with children that have Autism, they repeat everything back to you as you say it...so there is a constant echo, "stop it! (stop it), what are you doing? (what are you doing), come here! (come here), where are your clothes?? (where are your clothes). I decide they are both getting diapers and now Aidan needs to be changed again so he's pounding on the bedroom door that was locked by his sister. Open. Lock. slam. open. lock. slam. unlock. climb. lift. whack! And laundry is getting piled up again. And I still haven't emailed and how am I going to manage dinner. It's now 2:20pm and we have therapy at 3:30. And now I'm blogging...because darn it...I'm a freaking mess over here that needs an outlet!! Loveliness surrounds me...yep, it's totally, definitely lovely up in here! And that folks, is my memoire of the last hour. Good day. Good night. Good God.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-77852040432244801922014-01-08T15:10:00.000-08:002014-01-08T15:10:26.533-08:00Princess Giggle Once upon a time in a land of laundry and dirty dishes, there lived a "still very young" princess named Giggle. Giggle could find a reason to smile in almost any circumstance because it was in her nature to laugh instead of cry.<br />
<br />
When things went wrong - she laughed.<br />
<br />
When she got hurt - she laughed.<br />
<br />
When the future looked very dark and lonely - she laughed. <br />
<br />
One day, while Giggle was looking for reasons to laugh, a very dark stranger came along and told Giggle that she didn't have any reasons to smile or be happy. He gave her reasons to cry instead of laugh. Giggle wasn't ready for this darkness so she let him steal her happy. She let him hurt her joy and he made her cry day and night. Suddenly, she found herself comfortable there in the dark. Crying was her new laughing. She eventually forgot how to laugh. Her friends tried to help. They told her the stranger was wrong and that she had reasons to laugh and be happy. So, Giggle would try to laugh but she would cry instead. Her friends didn't give up. They cried with her. They prayed with her. They tried to make her smile. They talked about all the good things Giggle had to look forward to. They reminded Giggle about God's grace and His Love that was never ending. Day and night, her friends stood by her side.<br />
<br />
Many months went by...<br />
<br />
Giggle still hadn't laughed.<br />
<br />
On a sad Winter morning, she made her way to the garden to pray. Although she wasn't happy, she still cried out to God everyday asking to have her happy back. This day was different. She was numb...but, He was waiting for her with big strong arms. He wanted to see her smile and laugh again. He wanted to restore her happy. He had heard all the prayers and He had stored all the tears. He was waiting for her heart to be open to receive His happy. He smiled at her and her soul collapsed right before Him. She was an empty vessel. All cried out. Nothing left to give. It was then, that a flood of happy came in. Funny thing was, nothing had changed really. Her life was still the same. But, once again she could smile when things were bad and laugh when she had no reason. She exchanged her tears for laughter and her sadness for happy.<br />
<br />
Giggle's happy came from God all along. His happy was always available and was free. Giggle decided to keep it and praised God for His Happy :)<br />
<br />
Now Giggle is laughing again.<br />
<br />
When her heart hurts - she laughs.<br />
<br />
When she is lonely - she laughs.<br />
<br />
When her circumstances are hard - she laughs.<br />
<br />
After all, it's in her nature to laugh instead of cry.<br />
Giggle :)Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-8128167210711219312013-10-01T12:11:00.001-07:002014-12-12T15:31:16.841-08:00Mulitple children with Autism...The "A" word!! It does happen to everyday people.My husband and I have 7 children (His, Hers and Ours). 2 of our precious little ones have Autism...and a 3rd (the baby) is still undergoing testing. I think a lot about what I'd like to share with people, especially if I can shed light for families who are new to the autism world. And for you naysayers, YES, it is another world! A foreign world, where things of your former world no longer work, or make sense. The air, food, space, touch, site, smell, sound, desire, hope, friendship, mobility ALL becomes different. It's as if you were reaching your foot out to step on the ground and instead of finding a solid surface your foot bounced off and threw your body like a trampoline. All the while, people around you are saying, "just step on it, why are you bouncing, it's easy, you aren't trying hard enough, here fill out some paperwork so you can get an instructor on how to step on the ground??!!" It's humiliating and insulting to a certain degree, to be sure. You are supposed to know these things! They are YOUR children! So what if they speak a different language and bounce off the ground...you still need to find a way to stabilize their life, your life and live in a world of "normal" people.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixl4kIXrf1-Amvzn8A8esaMueMLlJQhzeNgHuff7xIvMXQzkXiGHB3hVoB7-l1leJYXHu9ctWRn2DJG6RRoodglZEmkSr6nVCC42ySeoBayUqNKiCap5jlvWnjvrJHDDAe2Sh_UOEO-S2Q/s1600/291998_10151003846066218_1722188071_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixl4kIXrf1-Amvzn8A8esaMueMLlJQhzeNgHuff7xIvMXQzkXiGHB3hVoB7-l1leJYXHu9ctWRn2DJG6RRoodglZEmkSr6nVCC42ySeoBayUqNKiCap5jlvWnjvrJHDDAe2Sh_UOEO-S2Q/s200/291998_10151003846066218_1722188071_n.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2KjpjvLQi_l62DVC6W0AMSNJP9l1HKbSoc5R7_QGf3ApaB7HB6RePW7F7diRX81lwu7e35WJlAzfAu3Qi1iHyzrThNbkuEarA1pyXCvc8eqAm1Fzgu9twSy1xScqqCEeAft3yukEn1uF/s1600/IMG_4834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2KjpjvLQi_l62DVC6W0AMSNJP9l1HKbSoc5R7_QGf3ApaB7HB6RePW7F7diRX81lwu7e35WJlAzfAu3Qi1iHyzrThNbkuEarA1pyXCvc8eqAm1Fzgu9twSy1xScqqCEeAft3yukEn1uF/s200/IMG_4834.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
The ugly truth is, not all people can handle your new reality. I have been completely dumped by friends, just dismissed and ignored. I blame their ignorance and try my best to just forgive and move on but it is very difficult when you can't even address the underlying issue with them. It's like you become a social pariah. If they don't know "what" to say, they just disappear so they don't have to say what is on their mind. It's hurtful and unkind. I'd rather be told what people think of my situation, no matter how hard it is to hear. But then again, I have learned a compassion about others that I didn't know before Autism. A kind of "reading between the lines", that helps me filter my words to whom I'm speaking so I don't do to others, what I so often have done to me. Now look at who I've become, a overly sensitive, critical and closed off person?? Not really...but sometimes...yes, that describes me. I don't blame my children. I don't really blame autism. I just know I've changed because of it...because of the "A" word. But not all changes are bad. Not all changes make us worse. I think a lot of the changes have affected our perspective...our values...and how we rely on God.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSFkm11he5Xts2-j-mtcGgYMjgQgQpouQVfoR41GmpDUMoku-no67Z5BvP7PSE5ZI4syWYT3l6Ryg-bQ1ntlz8eZOGLDMK07xiy1qxOiSKl3XKgurHlM-g6JSuCIXrPLebfglyvg5agts/s1600/IMG_8104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSFkm11he5Xts2-j-mtcGgYMjgQgQpouQVfoR41GmpDUMoku-no67Z5BvP7PSE5ZI4syWYT3l6Ryg-bQ1ntlz8eZOGLDMK07xiy1qxOiSKl3XKgurHlM-g6JSuCIXrPLebfglyvg5agts/s320/IMG_8104.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
People say...You should write a book! People say...You should tell your story!! People say...You should help other families that are hurting because of the "A" word!!! Can I ask one thing about that? How on earth can I help others when I myself need help?<br />
<br />
I remember a time when I could sit down and write, cook a meal, vacuum, grocery shop, use the bathroom, call a friend. I can still do those things occasionally, but I almost always pay a price. I have had to weigh out small tasks to determine if it's worth the risk of turning my back or placing my children in another room. Our 2 autistic children fight ferociously, they climb everything and jump off of high places and they don't have empathy. I have made the mistake of doing an everyday thing (like watching a TV program for 30 minutes) and even still, took at break after maybe 8 minutes and have walked into a room covered in feces...and babies faces and hands covered in it as well. Was that worth the 8 minutes of starting a program, that I can no longer finish but now have to bathe 3 children (in a plastic tub insert in our shower nonetheless), and now have to scrub and sanitize the room, open windows and spray so hopefully the house won't reek of poop all night!!!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnz_Br6NFhDsYk-Uobv4On32h870TpPyfL45k-EeXyylOfwmEL4tnMhwGGyS5jS-ut4FSlo69ZUlV9V8Tyfpjf-1kEQUbG_qQnXx4Y2KxsigIXwC3OkYxEu8gTIns6N5mBdHKB9B48i_O/s1600/IMG_5171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnz_Br6NFhDsYk-Uobv4On32h870TpPyfL45k-EeXyylOfwmEL4tnMhwGGyS5jS-ut4FSlo69ZUlV9V8Tyfpjf-1kEQUbG_qQnXx4Y2KxsigIXwC3OkYxEu8gTIns6N5mBdHKB9B48i_O/s320/IMG_5171.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
I love to write. I love to read. Now I don't only not have time...but I never get enough undivided time where I can actually concentrate and accomplish something. Therefore I blog...and in venting and blogging I discover that indeed I can help others by merely sharing.<br />
<br />
I now wear a key around my neck. I am known as "The Keeper of the Key's" or "Hagrid" (Harry Potter reference :), and it's because we discovered that our children were figuring out how to unlock the front door. Only solution to that is locking the house from the inside. I also lock doors in the hall and have keys for those as well. And hey, in case you were wondering, that goes against my every instinct! I don't like it. I want my kids to explore and feel open and welcome in THEIR home for goodness sake! It's a terrible conundrum I find myself in. I'm the mom who wants to be home with her kids! One who wants to play dress up and make mud pies and study bugs! I want to plant a garden with my little ones and watch it grow. I don't want an outside job so we can have fancy cars and an expensive house in the rich part of town. Yet, I am here...swimming upstream and doing what I can with my kids in a less than suitable home...and still not able to do the things a stay-at-home mom dreams of doing.<br />
<br />
I was telling a friend yesterday that if I let down all my gates and unlocked all the doors to see what my kids would do...they would:<br />
<br />
Run the perimeter of the house endlessly screaming, laughing, pushing and talking gibberish.<br />
They would open every cupboard, drawer, door and pantry...all while emptying all the contents. They would climb every shelf, counter, table, chair and bed.<br />
They would jump from one piece of furniture to another and they don't notice glass or breakable items.<br />
They wouldn't stop if I told them to.<br />
They wouldn't care if someone got hurt.<br />
They wouldn't care if they themselves got hurt.<br />
They would keep going.<br />
And going...<br />
<br />
I understand. Nobody should let the gates down with little ones running about, right?! Well, in our house...the gates don't stop them, they just slow them down. They can bust through anything.<br />
<br />
Now, enough of the hardship talk. Enough of the whoa's!!! Let me tell you another side of this world.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvwOHMSAV4tXOt731u-SUWQJWZeGDHWTwsHMgaDDixZKWnxzQpQwcFx2JaepbRZ3OWxsJfesqsgfVYQa1BJBRvJo4-_BoDxODUerf1M8n2WHznXNY36Xu5g2m8-fCSxU166-M4H3Nwzet/s1600/IMG_0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvwOHMSAV4tXOt731u-SUWQJWZeGDHWTwsHMgaDDixZKWnxzQpQwcFx2JaepbRZ3OWxsJfesqsgfVYQa1BJBRvJo4-_BoDxODUerf1M8n2WHznXNY36Xu5g2m8-fCSxU166-M4H3Nwzet/s320/IMG_0052.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Because of our families new challenge, we are forced to communicate about every detail of the day. What the kids ate and drank, how they managed the bus, what therapy times they had and any small achievements that may have happened. We talk about new ways to rearrange the furniture, how I can manage a trip to the store with certain kids and how another of them might be too hard on that day. My husband checks in regularly to see if there is anything going on that we need to talk about or pray about. Our schedule is strict. Our bed time is early. And our menu is simple. Because of this intense interaction, we ALL know...from the oldest to the youngest...where everyone is physically & emotionally at any point of the day. We don't require a lot of friend outings. They simply don't ask. I can skip some events that aren't crucial because our little guys don't know one way or the other...so there are no fights.<br />
<br />
Our kids are still very young in their minds so there is a sweetness about them that most mommy's love to hold onto while their children are growing up and they want wish they would stay small. That is a tender blessing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fZQJxZM9bJ63Swta9xCyaFC0uRbJXGNH3bAc-jY4pnL5Wv2rarxuinygBHYO55JF8JQV4REdkXeOZX90sh88pkps5EvKV8dzTm4N-O_ATH2HIV6vcxJxVzFrso26wxykirDncHDORpw1/s1600/IMG_6412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fZQJxZM9bJ63Swta9xCyaFC0uRbJXGNH3bAc-jY4pnL5Wv2rarxuinygBHYO55JF8JQV4REdkXeOZX90sh88pkps5EvKV8dzTm4N-O_ATH2HIV6vcxJxVzFrso26wxykirDncHDORpw1/s320/IMG_6412.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
Our special kids provide a sense of stability to our home. It's strange but they really do. We don't have to guess at decisions, we KNOW what we can and can't do. It wasn't that way at first, it is something you learn as you are presented with issues that you never had to face with your older neurotypical children. When we are in the moment we feel trapped but in a weird and almost magical way, we are free. Basic smiles and hand movements that others don't notice become a proclamation to my husband in the other room, "HONEY!!! DID YOU HEAR THAT!!!" "PRAISE GOD!!", I hear him reply...and all that because Kaelynn said in a slow methodical voice, "Mama. I want cookie.Yes?'<br />
<br />
Did you hear that? A sentence? Our 3 1/2 year old is making sentences!!!<br />
<br />
And we carry on...<br />
<br />
And we lift our requests to Jesus...<br />
<br />
And we take pictures as we go along...<br />
<br />
And the journey that takes place is like no other, it sings a song all it's own. A song that angels sing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cRGBzmIjQjPPAnm9aa_mV5U49tmSHqA44WJRv5pMGwPp-8cWeNx9pjINyDTkrOxCsrlX7dPVIL68hAe7lH5WWcG8Lfm5JgaU2eVEzO1ho8VstiNtdeV79A6oAUz3OJ-9feptLVN32y6u/s1600/IMG_5444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cRGBzmIjQjPPAnm9aa_mV5U49tmSHqA44WJRv5pMGwPp-8cWeNx9pjINyDTkrOxCsrlX7dPVIL68hAe7lH5WWcG8Lfm5JgaU2eVEzO1ho8VstiNtdeV79A6oAUz3OJ-9feptLVN32y6u/s320/IMG_5444.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-86529704727386549302013-06-19T14:09:00.000-07:002013-06-19T14:09:04.490-07:00Summer 2012 - Sounds a lot like Summer 2013An old post that actual made me laugh...some things never change!! LOL<br />
____________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
When I drive home after appointments with the kids, I listen to music to soothe the pain. I am not happy with seeing psychologists and having to answer "no" to questions about my children that I KNOW I should be saying yes to. I am sick of the paperwork and red-tape involved in regional centers, school districts, medical grievance departments and therapy agencies. I don't get heard when I talk to my children...and they certainly don't answer back. My agonies could go on and on and I try and "hold my chin up" as many of my friends and family have encouraged me to do. My question is, how do you do that when you keep getting "kicked in the chin"!?<br />
<br />
Last month was supposed to be the season of all seasons. Our 3 kids that live in Maryland would be visiting and Kyle would be getting time off that #1 he needed very badly but also...#2 he had to save all year so there was never another break along the way. In the short time the kids were here: the vacuum cleaner broke, the new trundle we bought for the toddlers broke, our garbage disposal broke, all 3 babies got hand foot and mouth disease, Kyle's grandmother passed away, my mother started her chemo treatments for colon cancer and our daughter Kaelynn was diagnosed with Autism. This WASNT going to be the season we were longing for. It WASNT our turn to get a break or to have a time of rest. We are a one income family, we don't get vacations, we don't own a house or enough cars. When we planned for the kids to come, we prayed that those things would change so we would have enough room for everyone, to maybe ease some of the stress. That didn't happen. Instead, it was harder. We joke that when our ship does come in...it will be the Titanic.<br />
<br />
I am tired of dragging out of bed to put out fires first thing in the morning. Changing up to 18 diapers a day. My children are in therapy each day with various people coming and going and almost always leaving a mess behind or setting my children free when I'm not ready, only so I can chase them through the kitchen and out the back door. Today, Kaelynn was upset and pulled every stitch of clothing out of her and Aidans dresser. Kylie is teething so she cries all day. Aidan has been constipated and when it ends he poops about 6x that day...resulting in a severe rash and sore bottom. Aidan and Kaelynn whine or scream to communicate and then hit me or throw things at me if I don't reply. Kaelynn throws everything off any surface, strips her bed, clothes and won't let me brush her teeth or hair. I hear some of you saying, "that sounds like any 2 year old"! Can I just say...it's NOT THE SAME! Discipline doesn't work. They have no empathy and high pain thresholds. They don't understand what social graces are. They don't feel sad when I'm angry with them. They are like strong-willed children on crack that don't care about danger. Can they be good? Yes, of course they have their moments. It's the day in and day out that just kills my skills...my mother skills, wife skills, cooking skills, cleaning skills...you get it. <br />
<br />
Today, I'm twitching....<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-1412963826695002882013-06-18T08:29:00.000-07:002013-06-18T08:29:06.272-07:00Engloria (The short version of a Scottish childrens book) - by Chella Rivers
Hello readers,<br />
<br />
This is a short version of a Scottish adventure chapter book I've been working on for a few years. I tried to publish the "long" version and then shortened it for a competition in a magazine. I thought it would be fun to post the short version as a blog since it's not terribly long to read. If I get a good response, I will post the long version, chapter by chapter. I hope you enjoy it.<br />
<br />
<br />
Engloria<br />
by Chella Rivers<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Nicola lived in a cold,
smoky cottage near the gate of Sorn Castle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The fog was always thickest there and seemed to purposely hide the
villagers’ view of the castle courtyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her stonewalled cottage made the bitter chill of winter a painful
enemy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The floors stuck to her cold,
bare feet early in the morning when she stepped out of bed, which was only made
of straw covered with dirty sheets with holes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Having food in the cupboard was rare and there was barely enough coal to
build a fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The butt and ben had one
big room that consisted of the living room, a wash area for cooking, a water
closet and a curtained area for Nicola’s bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">With auburn curls, bright green eyes and fair skin,
Nicola was a perfect picture of Scottish blood. She had one living relative,
Duncan McIntosh, and even though he provided for her, he was evil to the
core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Duncan was the grounds keeper for
Sorn Castle, yet he forced Nicola to maintain most of the chores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The loft was where dreadful Duncan slept off
his whiskey and of course Nicola was subjected to the stench of his filthiness
each time she had to clean up after him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Late one spring evening, after Duncan had fallen into
a drunken stupor, Nicola decided to spend some time at the River Ayr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the river there was a stone crossing that was
supposedly bewitched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The legend was told that if
you go under the bridge, you will end up in a land called Engloria and you may
never return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even so, she continued to
walk toward the legendary stone bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sky above her was covered in its common grey canopy yet was clothed
in lush green landscape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The water
passed by her as she walked and it didn't look back at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything around her stood still, and the
grass lay flat across the hillside as if it were waiting for the arrival of
someone very important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The canopy above
her appeared to get closer and darker and the air seemed to be getting thicker
the closer she got to the stone archway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her vision blurred as she tried to focus on the mystifying bridge
ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the thoughts that went
through her head felt useless and the eerie feeling that took over the glen
suddenly gripped her with terror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were sounds in her head that she knew for certain weren’t echoing in her
ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Black thoughts consumed her
emotions and if it continued much longer she would surely go mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fear of it all made her take off into a
full sprint back to where her home was in Sorn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She jumped over rocks and puddles, dodged thistle bushes and leapt over
fallen fir trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing could make her
feet move fast enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could feel
the baby hair on her neck stand up as she darted in and out of gullies and
divots in the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could feel the
force of something evil tugging at her clothing and hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Underneath the ground was a lurking darkness
that didn’t want Nicola claiming the joy that was just beyond the bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, it knew Nicola and sensed her
abilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nicola couldn’t have known
the seriousness of her travels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt
as if the ground had started to swallow her feet as she pulled her legs like
taffy from the dirt road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the forest
passed by her in a swift blurry mess, she could hear the whistle of the air as
it stung her ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She made an attempt to
go under the bridge<span style="color: red;"> </span>and was too scared now to
continue so she returned home flustered and scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By then,
the fog had swept in quickly from the coast and swallowed the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she continued, she looked in the distance
to see the outline of her cottage and feared that Duncan was awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being as quiet as possible, she crept through
the dense fir trees near her bedroom window. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She took a deep breath and held it in while
she pushed it open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could feel her
heart beat in her chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One leg at a
time, she managed to get back in her room without making a sound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still afraid to breathe, she slipped off her
shoes and scrambled in bed fully clothed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">The lamp from the front room glowed under her
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could smell the tobacco
burning in Duncan's pipe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was up, but
most likely heaped over his whiskey and not aware that she was even gone, which
was just as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a tall thick
brute with a scraggly red beard and moustache.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His nose and cheeks were puffy and splotched with redness since he drank
heavily and carried his anger around with him wherever he went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a wee bit she undressed and put on her
nightgown and opened her bedroom door to glance out to see Duncan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With one eye peeking through the cracked
door, she looked side to side and suddenly her stare was met with a pair of
bloodshot eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Where have you
been all night?" he bellowed as he pulled the door open forcefully and
dragged her into the room and on to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I haven't had my
supper you worthless little rat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
many times have I told you that you aren't allowed to leave this house until I
have had my supper?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As Duncan screamed, a
boiling pot flew across the room aimed directly at her head and she ducked out
of its path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inside she wanted to scream,
but she sat silently and gazed at the ground as his rampage continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucky for her, he was also drunk and was in
and out of consciousness and he began to wobble back and forth on his
feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her ears became numb during his
ranting and her eyes became heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
mind wandered off to the day's events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She still wasn't sure what spooked her at the burn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wondered if it was her imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either way, she needed to try again but this
time she wouldn’t go alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one
person that came to mind was Liam McPherson, a lad she had known her whole life
but also kept at a distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
afraid to get close to anyone but maybe he could help her face the bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, as she lay there, she recalled that
he told her that he had been to Engloria, yet she never believed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow she would find out if it were true.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Finally Duncan fell back in his chair and passed
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got up off the floor, climbed
into bed and closed her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nicola
knew that tomorrow would be here soon and she needed to rest for another day at
the burn.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">The next morning, after
eating a stale bit of toast she found hidden in the storeroom, she dressed herself with
whatever was clean in her bureau.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
she brushed her tangled hair, wrapped a hair-bob around her locks and left the
cottage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She quickly made her way
through the busy town to find Liam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
with him as her escort, she could brave the bridge once again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she came to the edge of a grassy knoll,
she could see Mr. McCombs’s horse and cart in front of the church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking a better look, she noticed that there
was a lad seated in the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
couldn’t mistake that it was indeed Liam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His hair and face were messy and unkempt and he wore a red and black
kilt with tall black boots that laced and buckled all the way up his
calves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Across his chest was a sash, the
same print as the kilt and underneath that she could see a long-sleeved white
tunic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On his left shoulder, he wore a
pin that had something written across it and a picture that she couldn't quite
make out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">“Good day sir,” Nicola said
as she curtsied, “Would you like to join me on a grand adventure today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand you are familiar with Engloria?”
she added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Excited at the prospect,
Liam exclaimed with a bow, “Of course, my dear lady!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would be honored.” Nicola let her fantasy
and imagination take over and they set off, giggling as they walked. They paced
themselves shoulder-to-shoulder as they approached the auld brig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nicola was curious why the evil presence that
followed her the previous day was no longer there, and she wondered if having
Liam with her was possibly the answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was lovely to have him there and it was even better that she wasn’t
frightened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The morning sun reflected
off the water on the other side of the bridge and it sparkled like a sea of
jewels in liquid gold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their feet sunk
into the ice-cold water and they struggled to balance on the rocky bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each step resulted in sliding and grasping onto
something sturdy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time Nicola’s
feet submerged she could feel the water swish between her toes and it made a
gooey feeling run all over her body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
wet marshy water really was quite gross.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As they reached the last few feet of the covering, Nicola could see a
new world unfolding in front of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
her amazement, the landscape looked just like Sorn although there were no
houses or people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Munroe rose up to
the top of the world and the peaks were covered in fluffy white snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The meadow they stood in was covered in blue
bells and thick, white flowers called snowdrops that resembled tiny tear
drops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the outside edge of the
eastern glen there were groves of tall, white fir trees standing neck to
neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grass was cheerfully calming
and each time the wind blew the teardrops burst into song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The peaceful scenery seemed to be composed by
a master artist and Nicola knew that there was something special about this
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liam pointed out various areas of
land and explained the names of the territories. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">"Right there, where the
mountains start to climb is the Lankin Forest, where days and nights slow down
and small mysteries take flight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to
the right, just south of the burn is, Glen Lomond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the North is the White Forest and the base
of Whisper Falls,” Liam proclaimed whimsically, while he starred off into the
distance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Unbeknownst to them, when
they entered Engloria, they cracked the seal and now the darkness and its
leader were already transcending into the meadow that led into the Lankin Forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly, dark clouds formed above the forest
as the wind picked up speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
fearfully watched as the darkness started to close in on them suddenly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clouds hovered overhead and the air grew
thick and so cold that the puddles that had formed that day became tiny ice
rinks and droplets of water froze in mid air. The White Forest stood still as
the black engulfed the trees and attempted to strangle the leaves of the
branches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Black and grey images, like
wolves that could fly, jumped from tree limb to tree limb, taking out every
thing in their path. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Liam grabbed Nicolas and
hand and said, “Quick, I know a place where we can take cover as the storm
passes by!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">They ran as fast as possible
toward a large rock formation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They felt
cold against their backs and when Nicola glanced over her shoulder she became
very frightened by the storm as it appeared to be chasing them. Hand-in-hand
they went into the cracked mountainside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The black cloud that followed them had frozen everything in its path,
including the bridge and the Lankin Forest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were now engulfed in a marble and stone walkway that towered over
the great valley. The clouds had darkened the path, which offered no comfort,
and in the distance they could hear loud shrieks of a howling animal that
seemed to be in a battle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sides of
the crevice were vast and the sky was filled with black smoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, when they had gone through the
passageway and approached the top of the brae they peered over the glen below
to a brilliant scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ghostly clouds
hadn’t made it to this side of Engloria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The peace was astounding as eagles soared across the heavens
gracefully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nicola could see a family of
ducks playing in a nearby puddle, and they watched her closely in case they
needed to escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wondered why they
weren't in the giant magnificent lake just steps away from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nicola got chills all over her and tiny goose
bumps on her arms rose up making her cold suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Liam and Nicola looked down
into the glen near a grove of trees and then they heard what sounded like a
rush of wind and water coming from somewhere in the meadow below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clouds were combining together to form some
sort of an object that Nicola had a hard time distinguishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In between the clouds were speckles of
shimmery water that were transparent and suspended in the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The water droplets started to line up in the
form of something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They slowly came
closer together in such a way it seemed they could communicate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she focused and the formation started to
become clearer she could see that the water droplets had created an enormous
hand in the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nicola was startled and
started to run for shelter as she watched the water spectacle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last three fingers on the hand were now
tucked into the palm, as was the thumb, which left the index finger pointing
outward. As Nicola hid under a willow tree, she watched in amazement as the
extended finger, which she could barely see amidst the backdrop of the same
color sky, showered a spout of clear<span style="color: red;">,</span> fresh
water onto the valley below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It moved
with precision and functioned as a regular water spigot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was terrifying yet astonishing all at the
same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hand had no body attached
to it as it drifted from shrub to tree and from grassy field to rose bush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was obviously watering the meadow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Liam and Nicola stood and
faced the valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She reached for his
hand as they each took a deep breath of excitement and they walked deeper into
the world of Engloria.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Legends are mysteries that
are passed down from generation to generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The people in the legends are those that carry details of the
truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are ingrained in the minds
of those who live the story and then live to tell it to others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody who walks the earth wants to become
part of a legend, for then they will step into the unknown depths of a strange
and eerie existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet here they
were, in a world that would turn her belief system upside down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the moment they were born for and
they somehow knew this adventure would lead them to the greatest fulfillment in
the history of Engloria.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-44635893983418989232013-06-07T11:41:00.002-07:002013-06-07T16:08:50.656-07:00Why I'm able to Mother with love instead of merely surviving my Autistic children!Do you ever wonder about your neighbor and their rowdy children? Or look crooked at a family eating at the table next you and wonder why they can't control their child? Stop for a moment and think about the fact that you know nothing about that family unless you have spoken to them. Even then, they may not reveal the truth to a stranger or a person who doesn't need to know their business. When I'm in public and my child is climbing the walls, I don't make a proclamation of "my daughter is Autistic and that's why she's out of control", because honestly I don't need to make excuses (nor do I have the time), I just need to focus on teaching her the right way to behave and to ignore the negative behaviors that draw her too much attention. Does this sound foreign? It did to me also about 2 years ago when we were first learning this new technique of training our children how to interact in a social world when they have no social compass whatsoever.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJtFYxOyeKzpPppqGcLenh4Bw46JqfZrlqHjZhxjKsH6P1icvLotbC5jVnzthTb4RFG_7ZIcyLnS93jNqpfbgEM_JH6TI-Kv7Qz3djJuP3NykDxUFYxrxkl57_mrroYQhwEijblZrSQly/s1600/IMG_5446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJtFYxOyeKzpPppqGcLenh4Bw46JqfZrlqHjZhxjKsH6P1icvLotbC5jVnzthTb4RFG_7ZIcyLnS93jNqpfbgEM_JH6TI-Kv7Qz3djJuP3NykDxUFYxrxkl57_mrroYQhwEijblZrSQly/s200/IMG_5446.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
My life doesn't revolve around Autism, or does it? I find my thoughts gravitate to what ASD is teaching me, or rather, what my children who suffer from ASD are teaching me. I have been compelled to look deeper inside myself than I ever thought I needed to. I've had to remove scales from my eyes about my own heart and how over the years I have naively judged other parents. I escape in my mind to places I've never traveled (for those who know me intimately, it's usually England :), in order to survive those days that make ZERO sense and when my calendar is so full I actually need to be in 3 places at once and they are all equally important. I find I am a person who needs peace and quiet to concentrate on important detailed matters and because I no longer have that quiet time, I'm learning how to create a situation that motivates me enough to finish tasks that ordinary leave me baffled.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNgs92uqXKo862QoN3LkqckYA112Ah0pcB26eZNm5FcVtZwwrbxlrxsZVtpvNaaknzgnDHO-yEBrdsJnzTtrlspKKJh34JxhiGAynUlcTrQOGSvBGtGETLJuHRt2n0wZFLhSPga4sP0xw/s1600/IMG_5941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNgs92uqXKo862QoN3LkqckYA112Ah0pcB26eZNm5FcVtZwwrbxlrxsZVtpvNaaknzgnDHO-yEBrdsJnzTtrlspKKJh34JxhiGAynUlcTrQOGSvBGtGETLJuHRt2n0wZFLhSPga4sP0xw/s200/IMG_5941.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
I use the word baffled now. Amazing...haha.<br />
<br />
When I was in middle school I loved Punk music and I wore ghastly black clothes with chains and spikes. Due to childhood trauma, I also had emotional baggage that today would cost thousands in airport fees! Life was dark, mysterious and hurtful and hence I became those things too. I still find myself wanting to wear heavy black eye-liner and converse! Its comical really when you see who I am now and how I go days on end wearing whatever fits (even my husbands clothes), one would think I have no style of my own or any sense of fashion. But, in the midst of this irony, I have found a profound sense of freedom, after all aren't punk rockers rebellious in nature? Aren't they trend setters and haters of the common fashion world?<br />
<br />
<em>Why is she talking about punk-rockers and Autism? Where is all this going?</em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi6IHF9u4HV_ag8DQS6v1rj8ahsVx2E7tqhDPJDCKyOs8gJpogLl78CorwXvPCeKm0fmtSO06ax0WRjVf0uRh8qxYxIkA-nz0HnWvqOYpcrS_7rqvRkuUrVG-7WtU3hKr9k4qqermwlEN/s1600/IMG_2557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi6IHF9u4HV_ag8DQS6v1rj8ahsVx2E7tqhDPJDCKyOs8gJpogLl78CorwXvPCeKm0fmtSO06ax0WRjVf0uRh8qxYxIkA-nz0HnWvqOYpcrS_7rqvRkuUrVG-7WtU3hKr9k4qqermwlEN/s200/IMG_2557.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<em></em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Please let me explain.</em></div>
<br />
I am the mother of 7 children. I gave birth to 4 of them and 3 of them were entrusted to me by God. I also have what I call spiritual "adopted" children that call me mom :) They all face challenges in different ways. They have hurts and questions like I did. That is why my life was hard growing up. I'm sorry if this sounds "cliché" but lets be real, I could never understand and have compassion on my future children if I had the perfect upbringing. "There is no "perfect" upbringing" you may say...and I hear ya...but, there are "white picket fence" lives out there. Parents who stay married. Good family and friends encouraging good character. Money doesn't buy happiness but it does provide more opportunities to thrive in sports, education, travel and experiences. Everyone has trouble, yes. But, not everyone has childhood trauma.<br />
<br />
<br />
Recently, I have uncovered some truths about me that are bringing the last 40 years into perspective. Have you ever wondered why you have encountered various things in life and why others haven't? Why your parents divorced, why you were abused, why there was never security, why you rebelled and tried drugs or allowed people to take advantage of you? I usually don't think about it and maybe I should? I have just moseyed through life and took things as they came, one day at a time. I expected bad things. It was comfortable for me. I made decisions along the way that formed who I am. Some bad. Some good. But clearly there was a reason for all the hurt and I could've crawled into a ball and cried...and there were days that I did. I could've given up. I think often about what Jesus might say if He were physically standing by me in those moments. Probably something like, "what are you doing with what I have given you?" It's a hard question to face. It picks us up and dusts us off as we realize that it is because of His purpose that we pour ourselves out into whomever He places in our lives. Our family, children, friends, those in need and people who have nobody. Who am I to wallow and give up. Who am I to NOT do my best with those He has placed in my life?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHwIXLCysHhB6u9RlM20AwssA2HipKrkMnvnBcGvQy31yJwwSFi9jV02-b5dGlV0Y7K-AzXbF0PF8ECggKD4dAAAJ5Z0PXvRTgBXznuvwsVaTKkfiYWXwt9ubGZbGniRrgpPFjuo_3Yxj/s1600/IMG_4765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHwIXLCysHhB6u9RlM20AwssA2HipKrkMnvnBcGvQy31yJwwSFi9jV02-b5dGlV0Y7K-AzXbF0PF8ECggKD4dAAAJ5Z0PXvRTgBXznuvwsVaTKkfiYWXwt9ubGZbGniRrgpPFjuo_3Yxj/s200/IMG_4765.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
Finally it becomes clear if you accept that you aren't in control. All those memories and life experiences have formed you and me into the person who can handle what is going on today. If I'm being more specific about MY life, then I'd have to say that I am able to adjust to change, be flexible, accept craziness, be different, look different, improvise and stand out. That is where the punk-rocker in my shines...lol. And yes, I believe that God allowed ALL of this so that when I had to face the challenge of Autism I would embrace it and fight through the trials with love and tenderness. If I had a great upbringing, I could not handle this, it would be terrifying and I would crumble into a big mess of emotion. I am not perfect and have my moments when I don't think I can take it but God always shows me the way and gives me His strength. I hope I'm not coming across as knowing it all because that is not my intent in any way, shape or form. I am just doing what I do, speaking for myself and from the heart and sharing my own personal experience. Hopefully shedding some light for a mom, dad or care taker who is feeling the same hopelessness with their special situation.<br />
<br />Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-74767262675496562832013-04-15T13:57:00.001-07:002013-04-15T14:01:41.699-07:00We live and breathe Autism.<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;">Since 2010, we have lived and breathed autism. Looking back, the shock of hearing the diagnosis for 2 of our children didn't even touch the reality we were about to be thrust into, like it or not, we had to learn as we went...trial and error...sink or swim. We grieved the future loss of meaningful conversation and everyday interactions became more robotic and confusing for us and them. I quickly learned that I needed to focus when behavior interventionists were teaching my children how to express themselves and how to regulate their emotions. If my then 2 & 3 year olds were learning methods, I needed to be on board! </span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;">Fast forward to 2011, when our newest arrival came home from the hospital...I was thrown into a tailspin that has lasted over a year. I won't bore you with daily schedule chaos or massive paperwork overload...but let me share my heart. I was quite honestly sinking into a pit of NO control, energy, hope, understanding, focus and my ability to gain some sanity was literally GONE! I watched my babies growing into toddlers who screamed all day to get what they wanted, and if denied access they would climb walls, chairs, shelves, tables, gates, open child proof doors, push out window screens etc. They pealed paint off the walls, smeared poop around their room, banged on doors and glass, removed diapers and clothing constantly, emptied toy boxes, drawers and cleared shelves onto the floor multiple times a day. My life was and is a living nightmare. And let me tell you the difference between A-typical children and those who suffer from Autism. Autistic children do not respond to their name, the word STOP, or explanations of danger almost to the point they appear deaf or they get excited about the concept of being chased or reprimanded and they will pursue their activity with more vigor. </span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;">I continued on as before with constant therapy and gave up my privacy, pride, personal desires and peace for a life of work that had no certain outcome. Many well meaning friends and family encouraged me to pursue something for myself, a hobby or activity I enjoy. Well, I love to write and had finished a children's chapter book a few years back and tried to get published without success. I thought, " it makes sense to make some edits and submit it again". Reality kicked in after attempting a few times to sit quietly to write or log into a computer. My dreams or pursuits were a distant memory and the more I tried to achieve them the more frustrated I became that I was failing at it. Hence, my pit was getting deeper. I was facing an empty future of nothing but autism.</span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;">I remember a stranger coming up to me when I was in the "fog" of my new reality and she said there was a method of therapy in her country that works better than anything else she has seen and that is "just give them love". Even though I was overwhelmed with "advice" and constant pressure of things I should be doing, or not doing, or trying or needing to add to my list, this comment stuck with me. I knew she wasn't talking about the automatic love we have for our children. The love she spoke of goes worlds beyond that. A love that expresses itself in small opportunities that others miss. It's physically touching, squeezing, hugging, whispering etc...instead of scolding the child so they will calm down. It's going against our natural instinct and putting our own needs aside so the child has the "best chance" to succeed in their fragile environment. Loving them this way causes us to feel, to the best of our ability, from their perspective as a lost mind trapped in a growing body. It sounds crazy and I am sure people who watch me with my children have their opinions. But when you are faced with a potential threat minute to minute, you have no choice but to learn and implement what works, and lets be honest, desperate times cause people to try anything! It's certainly not full proof and everyday without fail, we are on edge and looking for "what's next"...always on guard...all hands on deck!</span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;">My heart aches. I want my babies to have friends and to play house or dress up or learn to ride a bike and take swim lessons...writing this even makes me cry. I ask God a lot of questions. I have struggled with His reasons for allowing this to happen to our precious little ones. My husband and I go on dates and look for other outlets so we aren't constantly buried in "autism" related activities and conversations. We pray with heavy hearts, although he tends to be more hopeful than I, we do ask for healing, a miracle, even small miracles like talking or expressing concern and love for others, which we have seen answers to in recent months. Ultimately, we know that God is aware and not surprised and we see him working in our hearts to softens us when we get hard, to mold us to be like His Son, to keep us tender towards sometimes unlovely situations. In closing let me share that Autism has changed our life for good. We will not ever be autism free. We have accepted that and love our children with more openness than I ever though I could have. But we grieve the dreams we had pictured of our future. We wish that this hadn't happened for many reasons but I think the one that stands out the most is we want our children to thrive and love life and without them being able to tell us their feelings or thoughts we can only grasp onto innuendos and wonder if "one day" they will be able to tell us "Mommy and Daddy, your love for us was so evident that everyday we have felt secure and happy because of you, and that has made a life of autism life worth facing".</span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;" /><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Helvetica;">Sent from my iPhone</span>Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-79621678654729748612012-06-12T13:06:00.001-07:002012-06-12T13:06:11.733-07:00No Phone ZoneLet me take you back to a date and time when phones were used for reaching out to someone because they lived too far away; to a time when the radio or television were on so that you could hear the latest in local news or hear a thrilling detective story; there was a reason the room you sat in was called a family room; parents and children laughed while telling tales of their day and enjoying supper together. Do those days sound strange and obscure to you? Have you lived that way as a child? Or even now as a parent?
<br>
<br>
Five years ago, I canceled cable and made a decision that I didn't want my family to waste away in front of the television; and I confess...me of all people found a replacement very quickly...my iPhone!!! It started small and innocent, but these little hand held devices are evil I tell ya!!! I was able to justify very quickly why being on my phone for various reasons (FB, Internet, Amazon, Netflix, Pinterest, Instagram, YouTube etc) was ok, after all, I was home a lot with 3 little ones that don't talk and I'm longing for the outside world and my boredom was starting to kick in. I told myself, "you deserve a break!"...but at what cost.
<br>
<br>
One day, my eyes were opened and I discovered a truth that sunk deep into my heart. This iPhone was stealing valuable time away from my children...the time I swore I was gaining by getting rid of television. I was tuning out my life, and tuning into the web. I am not proud and honestly a little ashamed because I stand on certain values about being a stay-at-home Mommy. Let me back up by also saying that I do cultivate learning, I am very busy, my kids are well cared for and we have a fairly strict schedule but I'm trying to convey a very specific message here.
<br>
<br>
When I saw little blue eyes peering around my phone; wrestling fights ensued between me and my kids over the phone; my nursing baby grabbing it while I nursed....I became the very thing I hate in this world! I decided then that I wanted to create an environment where my children would be at the very center. A home with songs, dancing...and a little cooking and cleaning....but love and laughter that bounces down the halls and attention from the eyes of their mother and that is when I created the "No Phone Zone". The zone moves depending on where our family is at the time, but basically consists of ANY room where there is ANY family member who is wanting attention...wanting to be spoken to, looked at, heard , cuddled, fed, scratched, read to, or simply watch a movie together etc. Basically where there is a heart need, there is No Phone!!
<br>
<br>
We aren't perfect at this yet. I still struggle with boredom but always hear a small voice when I'm letting things slip. I put down the phone...and walk away. I will no longer miss out on small things, that down the road are the biggest things; expressions, giggles, touches, snuggles, shared meals, happy smiles, sad boo-boos, water surprises, chasing bubbles, discovering insects, learning about trees and plants, drawing, teaching about Gods love...you get the picture.
<br>
<br>
So, for all you mothers and fathers...if you want to miss out on your childrens lives...do these things:
<br>
- text friends at your childs soccer game or ballet recital<br>
- check your FB while at stop lights or better yet, change your status while driving<br>
- go to the park and sit on a bench watching a YouTube video while your kids play<br>
- constantly check your messages while at dinner<br>
- talk on the phone while going for a walk<br>
- play scrabble while your child bathes a few feet away<br>
- watch a movie or search the web while you feed your baby<br>
<br>
I am guilty of a few of these and of course from time to time, an occasion comes up when you cant really avoid a call and in the case of having a newborn, trying to stay awake at night time feedings. But, we ALL can stand a few hours away from being plugged in and our children will learn about life through the expressions on our faces instead of seeing mom and dad worshipping a little metal box.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-46600008321138189732012-05-20T22:17:00.000-07:002012-05-20T22:17:19.360-07:00Lonely in the House of WishesIn the House of Wishes there lived a bunny named Lonely. He was fast and furious and liked to have crazy fun! He had sharp hearing and cute little buck teeth, with a pink wiggly nose. He was quite adventurous and everyone knew that he had great abilities and was very brave and talented. Lonely had friends. He lived with a llama, kitten and parrot. Even though he wasn't alone...he still was lonely.
<br>
<br>
He longed to stretch those powerful legs that jumped so high and could run so fast. The ground under his feet, in his humble surroundings, didn't allow him to even grip the ground to run. He wished he could eat the dandilions and clover in the Land of Open. Here he could only eat cabbage. He wanted to dig under the fence and go beyond the boundaries set for him because he wanted the adventure, but instead he was being asked to sit still. It made him sad. But, bunnnies don't stay sad for long when they are fed cabbage. And we all know what cabbage does!
<br>
<br>
Lonely suddenly realized the reason he lived in the House of Wishes. Instead of living in the Land of Open where the weather and temptations could get to him, he was safe and warm inside the place where wishes grew. He knew that one day he would be in the Land of Open again. He knew that during the time in the House of Wishes, he could learn to use those legs better, he would learn to eat what was provided, sleep when it was time and play with his friends when they came around. When Lonely was in the Land of Open, he ate things that were bad for him, he didn't visit his friends and he slept in the cold.
<br>
<br>
This was quite a lesson for Lonely but it gave him hope for his future in that Land of Open. He would just wait and trust and believe. That's why Lonely lives in the House of Wishes.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-5221796187742160982012-05-01T15:38:00.000-07:002012-07-20T17:01:20.238-07:00Our story - A mother's heart exposedHave you ever felt so hopeless that you have to try and look through a situation (I mean literally through, like X-ray vision), to hopefully catch a glimpse of something deeper on the other side that is trying to surface. Something of great value. Something that reaches beyond your own tangible hopes. A level of such clarity that you are certain only comes from God during the darkest moments in life. Or to put it differently, have you tried to look into the eyes of your own portrait and tried to ask the "you" in the portrait...."what were your dreams?".
<br />
<br />
We are there now. Looking in the eyes of our wedding portrait. What were the dreams of two hopeful people, wanting a fresh lease on life? Coming out of difficult loss and looking to the horizon, trusting God with our future. Looking to each other for love and compassion. Finally finding that one person who would urge us on during these dark moments. Always hopeful and encouraging. Yet, very innocent to the turn of events that will soon shake our world. Still very much committed and holding tightly to each other when we hear one bit of bad news after another. What a very different life we lead now, than our dreams had looked like 4 short years ago. Wondering all the while if God had forgotten our plea for help. Trusting His Word, but also afraid that His Will would allow even more suffering in the near future.
<br />
<br />
Reality came with a crash at the news that our baby son, Aidan, had Autism. Many don't realize the impact this had on my heart. The truth is, I waited for over 15 years to conceive my 2nd child and my biggest fear was that they could possibly be Autistic (since it runs in families and I have a 1/2 brother who has Autism). Before we saw any signs of his condition, I was already pregnant with our daughter Kaelynn. When Aidan was 2 and Kaelynn was only 10 months old, our home became a therapy zoo, with 20+ hours of therapy every week. I have counted, on average, 8-10 different people in my house, any given week. During this time we also had our two oldest sons living here (Jake, who was 16 at the time, and Alex who was 12 lived with us for the first 3 years). Living in a two bedroom, with 4 children and intense therapy...was enough to drive me mad. Just 2 months after this therapy started, we got the surprising news, we were going to have another baby. Prayers for a larger house increased and so did our stress level. Screaming is how these kids communicate and there was no rhyme or reason to the tantrums, fits, spells...whatever you call them. I know the difference because I had had another child who developed normally, and this was NOT normal! Watching Aidan was so painful because he really appeared to be in a panic and sometimes it was in the middle of the night. These type of things really leaves you isolated because going out to public restaurants, parks, library etc just doesn't work. As Kaelynn started getting older we watched her carefully. She seemed to be developing normally. But, the ugliest part of this disorder is it can appear out of the blue around age 2...as your child will start to lose skills they once had. Right now, we aren't sure but Kaelynn is undergoing therapy for much of the same things Aidan did at this age. Baby Kylie was born in October 2011. Immediately after her birth, Aidan had to transfer from his county program to our local school district. They have no flexibility, so at age 3 in Nov 2011, Aidan began a transition to a special preschool program. Starting in March, Kaelynn started her assessment, and now we have double the amount of people coming and going in this 900 square ft place. Since all this started we have a never ending challenge of keeping kids (who have no danger compass) safe, fed (food justs gets thrown around), clean (sensory issues don't allow for water, brushing, scrubbing etc); bungee cords, stroller straps or high chairs, baby gates, locks on doors and cabinets are no match for children who don't respond to requests or discipline or even their names or simple commands like STOP!! Very few people are able to watch our children so breaking away just for a couple of hours to recharge is impossible. Since Aidan was born, he has consistently had sleep issues...and I don't mean the kid has a hard time sleeping....he has a hard time not running around the house at 2am and bashing his body into walls...hence the sensory issues. Kaelynn has now learned this behavior so we have played musical beds/bedroom since they were born. You can imagine the stress level in a house that hasn't truly slept in 3+ years. Our rooms are basically on top of each other and we have no bath tub to bathe our kids in a safe setting...man, this story just keeps getting better and better!! One night when Kyle was praying about all of this I just started laughing hysterically...it sounded like a made up story.<strike style="text-decoration: line-through;"><strike><strike></strike></strike></strike>
<br />
<br />
Was this our dream? No. It has become the hardest part of our life. Yes, partly because of the stress and extra work load, but mostly because my heart aches for my babies and the struggles they have to face. Will they make friends? I don't know. Will they ever speak? I'm told maybe not. Tears are forming now as I write this very sad reality. We pray for healing and we still love our kids where they are at but going against the "mantra" of parents who support the "accept" theory, I have to say...I hate Autism! I hate what it's done to my son. I hate what its done to the rest of my family. There is no way around this feeling. Do I accept my child? Yes. I love him as much as all the rest, and because of his needs might even provide a little more affection and tenderness. But I still hate that we can't have meaningful conversation. He doesn't want to be close to me. He doesn't acknowledge us as his family. I don't get to teach him in a way we both understand. Everything is choppy and rigid. Nothing flows socially. I tell you, it's sucks!
<br />
<br />
When I spoke earlier about looking through a situation, this is one that I long to get my arms around. I'm trying to find that deep meaning of why?? It's a scary place to go, because its there that really deep hurt is exposed. I have been there before...but never on behalf of my children. I don't want to dig deep on something that will reveal my child's pain to me. The reason I am writing this...is that I need to air out my emotions. I spend most days in this house with 3 diaper babies who scream all day. I'm writing because one day I'd like to look back and see where I've come from. I'm writing because I hope someone will read this that feels this same agony and I can help them be okay with "hating autism", and to not feel guilty about it. So much of what you hear on the Internet is about accepting. I understand the concept of why you might want to accept it...but I also don't see what is wrong with stating the obvious...Autism steals from families. Can I still find joy in my days?? Of course! I am making the most of a bad situation and Jesus is helping me, or more likely carrying me. I am lost without Him and He knows how I feel.
<br />
<br />
If you find it in your heart to pray for our family, please do...as we have a most uncertain future and many more challenges ahead. With no cure and such a wide spectrum, the outcome for Aidan and Kaelynn is totally and completely in Gods hands.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-10083257156950015032012-04-26T13:25:00.001-07:002012-04-26T13:25:17.913-07:00Back-Scratch JunkyOriginally Published 11-14-2006
My son has crossed over! I don't know when it happened or how I can bring him back now...I think it's hopeless! Routinely, he will exhaust himself trying to get his fix of getting "scratched" accomplished. I have witnessed this tireless effort many times and it makes me laugh without fail.
Last night he even screamed, "SCRATCH ANYTHING! JUST SCRATCH!". Every night he flops his body on my bed, upside down, sideways, diagonally, face down, fetal position...any different way hoping I will give in to his request - always with a look of total desperation on his face. Like if he doesn't get scratched he might just die right there at that very moment.
**Picture this with me**
I'm tucked in bed ready to read myself to sleep and in comes my junky. Flopping himself across my lap, his arm comes crashing across my chest and I hear a sigh of frustration, "aaaaaggghghhhhh...please scratch until 10:24...okay, okay...scratch until 10:16...please...Mom! (pause) Scratch! Mom! (pause) I want you to scratch...!" So, I give in...I start to scratch his arm...He complains, "you're not doing it hard enough, okay go slower...now go down this side, cuz you went down the other side. You aren't doing it right, do it like this (as he demonstrates). I tell him, "I don't need your instructions Jake!" "But, you're doing in wrong and not following the rules," he says. I reply with laughter, "What? Is there a book on how to scratch and how not to scratch?". "Yes!", he giggles back.
Did you know that there is a specific way to scratch a back, arm or head? I have been in back scratch training for at least 5 years now.
Here are the rules:
You can't go too fast or too slow and don't ever change your speed.
You have to put just the right amount of pressure consistantly.
Your fingernails have to be even and real...not acrylic.
You have to cover the entire area at random intervals that equal the rest of the surface - never cater to one area more than another! Yes, this is true and very important!
If you decide to go in circles you have to cover the whole area with circles, don't change the direction of the circles or start going horizontal or vertical just because you feel like it.
If you're scratching the head, you have to go against the hair and you have to start the scratch before the hairline...always start right next to the ear.
KEEP IN MIND THESE RULES CAN AND WILL CHANGE DEPENDING ON THE JUNKIES DESIRE AT THAT VERY MOMENT! I'VE SEEN IT HAPPEN...DON'T LET IT HAPPEN TO YOU!
This is very serious business if you want to please your back scratching junky!
I don't know how to break him of this addiction. It is a sad reality in our home. I just say, "your poor wife is going to have a hard time learning all these important rules. She is going to spend every night of her life negotiating how much time she is willing to spend on scratching."
If you have any advice for a tired back scratching Mom...please reply!Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-71983805291861974632012-04-11T17:22:00.001-07:002012-04-13T15:03:53.918-07:00Princess SandThere once was a princess in a really close land <br />
The land was dirt the land was sand <br />
Where can I build my castle high? <br />
The ground is soft, I dare not try. <br />
<br />
She needed a castle where she could live <br />
Live like a princess, like a princess should live <br />
Can't live without a tall tower keep <br />
Where will I lay my head to sleep. <br />
<br />
I can't live in this land that is covered in sand <br />
I need help from a sturdy, loving hand. <br />
Asking her Father above the clouds <br />
His land wasn't sand or dirt or ground. <br />
<br />
Help me with my problem, my problem so deep <br />
My castle my home, your promise to keep <br />
She called out to Him every day and night <br />
Give me the answer I'm praying you might. <br />
<br />
I want my land to be firm like you <br />
Not like the sand that my feet walk through <br />
He certainly listened He had a plan <br />
But princesses don't get answers on their command. <br />
<br />
As the days passed by the princess grew weary <br />
Her heart was sad and her feet were dirty <br />
Not much like a princess she felt in her soul <br />
I'm ruined and tired, I want to let go. <br />
<br />
I haven't the strength to continue in sand <br />
I wanted a Rock from my Father's hand <br />
I might as well forget the dreams I've once shared<br />
I'll just sit in this pile of sandy despair. <br />
<br />
But before I settle for having nothing at all<br />
I'll make one more plea, I'll make one more call. <br />
She opened her eyes flowing with tears <br />
Father, please don't let these months turn to years. <br />
<br />
I'm yearning for blessings that come from your throne <br />
I want to learn how to get to the land that you own <br />
From sand to the Rock can't be that far <br />
If that's what it takes to make splendor from scars.<br />
<br />
I'm willing to leave the land I called home <br />
My broken heart needs your healing alone <br />
Her Father replied and assured He always had heard her <br />
Live on my Rock and ask nothing further. <br />
<br />
As the year continued, things got even harder <br />
She couldn't help but think that He'd forgotten her <br />
She leaned on His promises and gave Him her hope <br />
But here she was again, at the end of her rope. <br />
<br />
Without being fully healed from before <br />
She thought the pain was over, yet there was more <br />
For some unknown reason she didn't see clear <br />
This wasn't going to be the year of all years. <br />
<br />
In fact, there were more traps set in the sand <br />
She found herself caught up, but not by His hand <br />
Frustrated and weary by making mistakes <br />
She reminding Him daily she wasn't that great. <br />
<br />
She failed at everything she had ever tried <br />
Even trusting in Him was an effort that died <br />
"Faith, what is that...if it isn't what I'm showing?" <br />
Each night she couldn't keep the tears from overflowing. <br />
<br />
She clung on to something that she couldn't see <br />
Her fingers were weak and her strength gone indeed <br />
There really wasn't anywhere else she could turn <br />
The only thing to do now was to learn. <br />
<br />
At the bottom of the sand pit and looking a mess <br />
He reminder her again she was His princess <br />
He hadn't forgotten and he knew full well <br />
There were times in her life that had been pure hell.<br />
<br />
He had held her chin up during the darkest of days <br />
And knew she had trusted Him in her own special way <br />
She sensed His presence and now it was time <br />
She looked up from the bottom and started to climb.<br />
<br />
She cried all the while and it hurt to even breathe <br />
At least she knew He'd be there, and that He'd never leave. <br />
Yet the question remained in her heart and her soul <br />
What more could He want? She had given her all. <br />
<br />
There wasn't anything left that wasn't filled with soil <br />
And her broken condition was proof of her toil <br />
She had nothing to offer and wasn't sure she knew how <br />
To even be a princess, she felt less than ever now. <br />
<br />
Given up on her dreams for the fairytale story <br />
That she could tell about later to give Him the glory <br />
But, to Him she's still lovelier than silver or gold<br />
And He is the Author of the life that unfolds.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-54043796007086343072012-04-10T16:03:00.001-07:002012-04-10T16:05:22.772-07:00What I believe Autism is...and what it isn'tAutism is:<br /><br />A scary word to hear about your child.<br />A reality for normal families with normal children.<br />Life changing.<br />Hard to understand.<br />Worrisome for the rest of your children.<br />Exhausting for the child and for the parents and siblings.<br />A new way of life, we weren't expecting.<br />A continuous struggle.<br />A way to bring family together.<br />Heartbreaking.<br /><br />Autism isn't:<br />The end of the world.<br />Deadly or contagious.<br />What defines my child.<br />Made up or fabricated in parents minds.<br />The same for every family.<br />Going away.<br />Predictable.<br />Fair.<br />Outside of Gods Devine purpose and plan.<br />Too big for God.Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-32497164342609968552012-04-05T15:42:00.003-07:002012-04-05T16:36:31.016-07:00Chili and ChocolateAs I'm typing, my 3 year old son is screeching from his bedroom...a sound very much like the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings. I simply want him to take a break. You see, he slept from 9-11:30pm last night and then was up until 6:30am. At 8am I had to wake him for a short time because his regular therapy starts at 8:30. Of course, we realized after about 10 minutes that he wouldn't make it through the session, so the therapist left and I let him go back to sleep until 11 o'clock...and when he got up, we got ready for the bus and he was off to school. Long day for a three year old. Its always a tough decision to try and get him to nap because I literally have to sit and listen to the tortuous scream. It's almost worse than just letting him stay up.<div><br /></div><div>My two year old daughter is going in circles around the stroller that sits in our living room (for lack of a better location) and she's muttering "a dah, tha...**breathe breathe** a dah, tha...." and reverse... A bub-bub....a bub"...and now our 5 month old daughter is starting to whine. Oh joy!</div><div><br /></div><div>So why do I sit and type away as if I have nothing better to do? Well, I don't really know?!! It makes me feel better to write out my frustrations (sometimes) but, I have also realized that somewhere in the middle of all this nuttiness....I am losing myself! If I don't connect with my intelligent womanly side....I will surely become one of these adorable little alien babies that I reside with! Blubbering nonsense, spinning in circles, screeching like the Nazgul...drooling. Or, I will turn into mush (Although that might be because I ate a whole can of chili and a Hershey bar for lunch! You heard me right America!...chili and chocolate!!) But, you get my meaning right? If I'm not careful I will lose it...all of it!! I'm sinking like the Titanic! Not enough lifeboats! Freezing cold water!!! People stealing my floaty toys!!! It's madness!</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><div>Now let me be really sparkly clear like a fresh water spring....I am 100% devoted to my wonderful husband and our kids. I am not losing my mind there. He's right by my side going through this too and if he could blog my feelings, you would get 537 pages of heartfelt tender and raw stories. </div></span><div><br /></div><div>But, I am human afterall...therfore I blog. I blog for all the stay-at-home, same four walls, tight budget, one car Mommies or Daddies out there who need a laugh or simply a new way to look at things. You know who you are! Life isn't always cake...sometimes it's gluten-free cake.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78498086123220404.post-7038859807774709142012-03-16T15:17:00.005-07:002012-03-16T16:14:20.455-07:00Facing the unknown<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My husband will laugh when he reads this...and will think I copied him...even though my blog page was started in April of 2010...just too busy with the wee'uns to get around to writing. (heehee honey, riding in on your blogging coat-tails).</span><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I decided to start writing again because it's a great way to express myself when I have very little outlets nor time. A lot of things can happen in a few years (although I don't plan to rehash at the moment) but recently, I realized that when we least expect it, true hurt can surface and take us by surprise and literally knock the wind out of us. I like to use the expression, "knocked the wind out of my sails"...because frankly...I am at full throttle 99.9% of the time. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">When I DO stop and let myself see what is happening around me, it's painful yet liberating that I am NOT in control. What's more, I realize what a serious situation I find myself in at times and that isn't always fun. I don't think it's healthy for anyone to walk through their life and ignore the struggles that are happening, nor is it good to dwell on them. That is why the scripture says "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me" (Psalm 23:4). The intent is not to STAY in the valley nor walk BLINDLY through the valley. Let's face it, times get hard for everyone and we need to learn as we go through it or we could end up on the other side of the valley, very bitter and angry. And I have been there before too...no bueno!</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">After receiving a bit of discouraging news earlier in the week, regarding our 2 year old daughter possibly having Autism (as our 3 year old son does), I handled the paperwork and meetings like a champ at the time of course...like any level headed woman; then yesterday I completely fell apart while I was bathing her. As I explained to my husband later, it was as if I was holding all of my dreams of her life (ballet, piano, ponies, being a bride, becoming a mother) in the palm of my hands and they all turned to sand...and I had to watch as it all slipped through my fingers. Not able to hold them together for her. Not being in control. That is when I faced the unknown. I don't like this...I am angry...I hurt for her...for us...and it isn't fair! I am human and I know my heart. But, what beautiful reassurance we have when we don't have to face it alone...and to remember that it isn't my incapable palms that she is ultimately being held by...it is Jesus and His more than capable, nail scarred palms that are holding not only my daughters dreams, life, body...but also her entire future!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">A few months ago, after giving birth to our youngest, I was having a conversation with God that sounded something like this.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Me: God, please don't let anything happen to my children. I've had a hard enough life and I don't think I could bear it....I love them too much!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">God: I do too. That is why I gave them to you.</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I am trying to let this resonate. And like any mother, I will have to readdress this over and over. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Thankful for another day!</span></div>Ladycelt21http://www.blogger.com/profile/16056089227326662518noreply@blogger.com1