Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Thanksgiving



What am I thankful for?
My children, first, and always.
Coming home.
A hug from one of my teenagers when I come in the door.
That sudden realization that "right now," is precious and unrepeatable.
Ordinary moments.
Close friends.
Hands joined in prayer.
Voices joined in song.
Laughter, and tears.
Watching my kids perform in the high school play.
A smile from our choir director when we get it right.
My younger son, waving at me from the big front window.
An email from someone who knew me when.
Words of comfort, from the Lord.
My family.
Hope.

Friday, October 19, 2007

He Likes It!


Phew. Lucey and I took Joe up to his new school. There are eight of these ten-bedroom ranch houses around a central school building, all on one campus. His "house" is right next to a big playground. The other boys in his house are very sweet. When Lucey and I came in, one of them shouted "There's a GIRL in here!" very excited to see Lucey. We got Joe settled and said a quick goodbye. Joe seemed fine. Two days later, I went back to visit, bringing Joe's two older sisters up from the city. One of the boys (only a few of them are verbal) called out, "Joe, how many sisters do you have?" Elizabeth and Maggie charmed all the boys, as Lucey had. Joe seemed very happy, hanging out with the guys in his house. His case manager says they love having him in the school. He seems to fit in very well; he's wearing underwear and taking showers, two things I could never get him to do. Is it that easy? Wow. They're giving him some time to get used to things; in two weeks we'll have his first IEP meeting, to establish his goals. They've already met two of mine. He likes it! Yeah, Joe!
But I miss him. My hands miss signing things to him. I find myself signing the "Our Father," to no one, and reaching for his hands to help him with things.
I keep telling myself, if he's happy, I'm happy.
When I first moved into this house 21 years ago, I had 1.5 children, with three-year-old Elizabeth, and Maggie due in a few months. By 1993, when Joe and Lucey were born, the house was full to overflowing, especially when their friends came over. Now, we're down to two children again, and the house feels too empty.
But he likes it! Joe's adjusting, and so will we.
God is so good.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Letting Go


We have just two weeks left until Joe goes off to school. I've spoken to other parents who have sent their children away; one mom had to send her child to residential when he was only five years old. And he was her only child. Unimaginable.
As a community advocate I spend my days helping other people solve their problems. I wish I had a better solution to Joe's needs. Tony at Devereaux School says the children do adjust to their new home, but I remember one young man who came up to him while he was showing me around the campus, saying "Tony, when can I go home?"
It just broke my heart. My son, being non-verbal, can't even ask.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

All of Us Are Dying

What I love most are Mondays, when I can go to Eucharistic Adoration in our church. We are a very small parish, so we only have it once a week. It's a beautiful time to be still and listen to the Lord. I just let Him in, and drink up every word. Such riches!
Now, most of the people who go to Eucharistic Adoration are at least ten or twenty-plus years older than I am. In the past ten years, several of them have gone home to be with the Lord. I want to encourage more people my age to come to Church, but when I try to share how wonderful this is with friends, they look at me blankly. I wish I knew how to reach them. If you knew someone who loved you THAT much and never let you down, wouldn't you want to be with Him all time?
I find, when I go home, He reminds me to take Him with me.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

No Place Like Home



People sometimes ask where I get these pictures from. The nicely flattering implication is I find them online, I guess. Not being very "techno," I just point the digital and shoot. All the beautiful children on here are mine. This is Lucey up in the apple tree, shaking down a bountiful harvest. We are putting up tons of fresh, tart, organic applesauce this year; makes it hard to even think of eating the bland stuff you find in stores. God is good; when you live in the country, you really get spoiled.
Just heard from Joe's new placement. They have a spot for him. Now, how do I tell my handsome, sweet, funny, charming little boy he's going off to boarding school? I know he has to go. I can't meet his needs any more, the other kids are gone most of the day, and Joe's not happy being the only child at home. Plus, as a single mom, I really have to work. He had a great time at respite camp this summer, hanging out with other teenage boys at about his level; absolutely loved every minute of camp and beamed when we asked how he liked it.
We get to visit him on weekends; but they say he shouldn't come home except for holidays. I keep telling myself he's only going to be two hours away, but the truth is, it's a whole different world. I think he can come back next summer. I wish he didn't have to go. How can anyone else possibly love him like we do?

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Goodbye and Hello



Just sang at a lovely funeral for a friend's mother.
Actually, Mary was singing the Mass for her own mother, and I joined a few choir members in supporting her. She sang beautifully, and delivered a heartfelt eulogy at the end of the Mass.
As she sang, I was remembering the viewing I'd gone to the night before; the family had arranged hundred's of photos of Mary's mother and dad with their six beautiful children and grandchildren around the closed casket. Mary's dad, the town mayor, shook hands and greeted everyone with his kind smile. He looked tired, but at peace after his wife's long illness.
Mary and her brothers and sister were sharing stories with friends, laughing and crying over a life well lived, a mother greatly loved.
Makes you stop and think: "what would people say about me?"
Came home to find a friend is expecting another child.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

A Gift in Disguise


I've been turned down for jobs in the past, because I have a child with severe needs, now a teenager. People mean it kindly, they say, "Oh, you can't work, you have Joe." I smile and walk away, seething inside. Of course I have Joe, and he likes to eat, just like any other child.
For almost fourteen years I have carried this burden, seeing the painted-on smiles of people who look at me and my son as if we were both low-functioning non-people. The smile is too bright, the eyes pass somewhere over our heads as they nod and move on. Some stop and say, "oh, I just love children like your son, they're so adorable." Others, more well-intentioned say, "I don't know how you do it," implying I have extraordinary abilities. What they're really saying is "-but I'm glad it's you and not me."
I ended up having to patch together childcare on a day-to-day basis, using three of Joe's siblings as a sort of tag-team. For several years I worked in a city an hour away, where no one knew my younger son. I missed most of my childrens' growing-up during those years.
Finally, I started teaching in a school district half an hour away from my house, still juggling childcare responsibilities with the other children, because no one wanted to watch Joe. Substitute teaching in a nearby district meant I was pretty much on Joe's schedule.
A kind neighbor started watching him for half an hour in the mornings, so I could get to work. I taught at the high school so I could be home in time for Joe.
There was no question of working in the school district where I lived; I had spent too many years advocating for my son to receive a Free and Appropriate Education according to the Commissioner's Regulations for the State of New York.
My son is a wonderful, handsome young man who likes to hang around with regular boys and girls. He can't talk to them; he just likes being there. He loves music and french fries with ketchup, and water slides and any place that has lots of boys and girls around. Joe likes it when his friends read him stories or play ball with him. Most of all, he loves it when they talk to him, as if he could talk back.
He just likes being treated like a person.
Recently, I applied for a job with a community action group, in another town, of course. They reviewed my credentials and said everything was fine, but "this job involves working with parents of children with special needs. In order for them to feel you're not looking down on them, we can only hire someone who has a child with special needs."
I just smiled, and pulled out Joe's picture.
The so-called burden had become a gift.
A friend likened my situation to that of Hagar, in Genesis 21, where she has fled with her son Ishmael into the desert.
After wandering God knows how long, Hagar finally lets go of her burden, her son. When she does, a well of fresh water appears, and she and Ishmael are saved. "God was with the child as he grew up."
Another story about letting go, and trusting God.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Coming Up For Air


Just spent three days dealing with social service agencies, caseworkers, and therapists, advocating for my younger son's needs. After three days, I badly needed to come up for air. I joke about it sometimes but it's true: I forget to breathe. I'll be speeding along a major highway, thinking about who I need to contact next, and realize I'm not breathing. It happens far too often.
I went out into the garden for a break. I started some new strawberry plants this year, Alpine Something Or Other, and delicious slightly tart little berries are appearing under the broad strawberry leaves. If I'm lucky, I can pop a few in my mouth before some mysterious intruder comes in for his share of the goodies.
More and more, my garden has become a place of prayer. Occasionally there are whole afternoons where my three busy teenagers are doing other things, and I have time to think and pray. While I'm tying up the beautifully abundant squash plants, trying to teach them to leave the less boisterous pepper and tomato plants alone, I can pray a rosary or take my time saying one of the psalms. And there, I can breathe deeply. It's God's way of calling us back into remembrance of Him, through His creation.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Finding out you're not alone


Find a church, learn how to bend.
Instant relief.
Get small, let God be God.
You don’t think you’re carrying that cross all by yourself do you?
Who are we kidding here?
Who do you think you are, God’s gift to the rest of us?
Oh wait a minute -- you are.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

What would you do if God told you His plans?


Does God talk to you?
Are you kidding? God talks to everybody, but most people don’t listen.
I didn't listen to him for most of my life.
What kind of relationships do you have where no one listens?
What happens to the relationship? Right.

Most of them are like that, aren’t they?
I'm just beginning to learn how to listen, and follow Him.
I found out it's all about relationships.
A real, close relationship with God prepares you, better than anything, for listening and serving others without neglecting yourself.
God made you to praise Him, not to throw your life away.
Excuse me, I have to go catch up on the laundry.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Benediction

I discovered there is life after burnout. This is good news, and something good to say about burnout. That is, you can survive it. I found it amusing, teaching a course on therapeutic listening for three years, and occasionally using stories from my own life to illustrate the course.