tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-121537072024-03-06T23:02:35.842-08:00don't let life pass you byAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.comBlogger1091125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-8199737151817827482015-02-02T14:26:00.000-08:002015-02-02T17:16:14.918-08:00When your child is a burden...<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After three years our Max has racked up enough “serious”
diagnosis that we can comfortably say that he will probably need some sort of
assistance well into adulthood. Maybe forever. Only time will tell exactly how
independent he can be, but we have low expectations. In the three years since
he was adopted, our little guy has progressed one year academically. At nearly
11 years old, he reads, speaks and writes like a six year old.
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Which leads me to reexamine my personal views on what it means
to be tied indefinitely to someone with special needs. I’ve been thinking about
this a lot this week. How I used to view families in my situation, and I keep
coming back to the same word. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Pity.
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
I used to pity those families. The families that have little
to no hope for one of their own. For how devastated they must have been each
time bad news came in. As they watched their bar of expectations sink lower and
lower, until they finally stopped expecting things from their child. When they finally
realized their loved one would never be much more than a burden to the rest of
us. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>So if you’ve ever thought that about my situation, stop.
Right now. I don’t want your pity.
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Here’s why. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>In the past when I felt pity for another family with a
special child, it was because I personally didn’t recognize that special child
as holding the same value as a typical developing child. Like he was a lower
class citizen because he would never be on the same playing field as the
typical kids. Clearly being burdened with a lower class citizen is a reason to
be pitied. Right?
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
Then that burden became my child. That lower class citizen
became a member of my family. And my perception changed. Imagine that. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>How could I possibly have held someone else’s special kids
to a lower value? How am I ever going to say to myself that one of my children
is worth more than another? Because one will excel and the other won’t?
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What are you thinking
woman? It’s never ok to evaluate another person’s worth for any reason. Ever. Sweet
Jesus you’d think I’d know that by now. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Having a special kid isn’t devastating. It’s not a burden. It’s
really just sort of normal. It’s different, yes. But you learn. As with
anything you fall into a rhythm. A routine.
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
And our situation is different anyway. While it is true Max
is adopted, it should also be remembered that we didn’t adopt a special needs
child on purpose. We knew Max before we made our decision to include him in our
family. We thought he was a normal kid. </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Would our situation
have changed if we’d had an accurate list of diagnosis before we signed up?
Maybe. But I’m not going to dwell there. Because you don’t get to pick whether
your children are healthy or not. The end.
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
So do I know what the plan is for Max? No. Is my plan to bend
over backwards to get him the best education he can get to maybe eek out
another IQ point. Not really. I’m sort of ok with the idea of having a son who
stays six for the rest of his life. Because in the end it doesn’t really
matter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>If we hadn’t spoken for him he would have been cast out on
the street at the age of 18 with all the others. Aside from the fact that he now has parents who'll fight for him; being an American citizen
qualifies him for so much more assistance than he ever would have gotten if he’d
stayed in Russia. My son is not going to die on the street alone and afraid
because there was no one to help him.
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
So really, it doesn’t matter what the plan is. My kid has already beaten the odds. </div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-39470984046033342502015-01-26T14:21:00.000-08:002015-01-26T14:21:00.718-08:00Update on Max
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A lot of you have been following Max’s story. He’s our
youngest son, adopted from Russia three years ago at the age of seven. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our first year with him was rough. Really rough. Like 2
hours of Max screaming on the floor every day rough. It’s funny to think back
on my approach during this first year. How I parented him the way I parented my
other children, even though I knew he was a totally different can of worms. How
I wish I could go back to that mama and show her exactly what she was doing
wrong. Because she was doing it all wrong. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our second year was better. We had a team of specialists hop
on board to help us make sense out of this kid’s quirks. We were able to get
some diagnosis that made a big difference in how we responded to him.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So now we’re at year three. And I feel like we’re settling
in. At year three it’s not so much about standing our ground against the
endless meltdowns or figuring out why we were having so much difficulty getting
this kid to do anything. This year we can be more about pushing the boundaries
that we’ve clearly established. Figuring out which boundaries are safe to push on
and which are not. Which boundaries may never be ok to push on. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We don’t know what the future holds for this special boy. We
don’t know that he will ever be able to set out on his own, fully independent
from his parents and siblings. He may always need someone by his side ready to
step in when his boundaries get pushed the wrong way. That’s ok. </span><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-77981360699189041272015-01-21T17:25:00.000-08:002015-01-21T17:25:00.038-08:0011 years in - part B<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Louisa,</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My funny, funny girl. You were the one who played pranks on
us as an infant and at 11 years old you are still finding ways to make us
laugh. You definitely have your father’s sense of humor and love to bring the
funny. We love that. We need that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Neither you nor your sister wanted to receive any gifts for
your birthday this year. The only thing either of you really wanted was to have
a friend spend the night <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without the boys
around to bug you</i>. Can’t blame you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, 11 is rough. I’m definitely getting the “tween” vibe
from you and your sister. Caught in a place between wanting cute little stuffed
animals on your dresser, but not really wanting to sit at the kids table any
more. I definitely see you and your sister heading into new territory, but it
isn’t necessarily the same territory as other girls your age. Which is good. I
like where you’re going. Let’s stay on the path we’re on. Please. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As you are struggling towards independence I am constantly
reevaluating my approach to parenting you. You are pulling away just a bit.
Wanting to be more independent. Which is super. I want that too. You make good
choices and I want you to have experience figuring out what you want for
yourself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want you to take the lead these next few years. I want you
to take my hand and show me the path that God has planned for you. Maintaining
common ground with you is such a high priority to me, but I don’t want to be
the one who decides what our common ground is. I want you to pick the
restaurant. I want you to pick the show on Netflix. I want you to think about
what I might like when you make these little decisions about what we do with
our free time, but ultimately pick the thing you want. Don’t let me decide what
you want. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I want most is
to be able to support you in these tiny decisions now, so that when the decisions
get a little bigger you’ll let me support you with those too. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You are smart, clever and funny. You are one of my closest
friends. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love you much,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mom</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-88872239081398015162015-01-19T17:22:00.002-08:002015-01-19T17:28:36.913-08:0011 years old, part A<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Annie</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I sit down every year to write your birthday letter I always
struggle to find the words to tell you how great I think you are. This year isn’t
much different. But if I had to pick a word for you, I’d pick joy. You’re just
a joy to have, a joy to parent, and a joy to be friends with. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This year our relationship has started the gentle shift towards
independence. We are starting to give you more freedom and respecting your
decisions. Because my darling, you make good choices. And they are worthy of
our respect. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’re a complete workhorse when it comes to your school.
You consistently go above and beyond what is asked of you, completing extra
work just for the fun of it. You are starting to like Math more these days, but
almost always have a book (or three) in your hand. Just in case. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You received a sewing machine this year and took to it right
away. You love figuring out how to engineer the design you have in your head. Like
your mother, you have no real use for patterns, or trying to make something
specific according to someone else’s direction. And I love that. Learn how to
make things up as you go. Adapt. Enjoy the process. Don’t worry about having
the perfect finished product. These skills will serve you well in life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love you, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mom</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-41311091303695874422015-01-05T18:20:00.001-08:002015-01-05T18:20:48.467-08:00the expectation gap...
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">So last week I shared a bit with you about how we were
willing to face multiple layers of disaster in the name of obedience in
relation to our housing situation. And the elation we felt when the situation
worked itself out in our favor; even though the results weren’t exactly what we
were hoping for. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But that sense of elation only lasted a short while before
reality crashed back in. Not so much that I was unhappy about staying in our
house, but more like feeling that God promised me one thing and delivered
something else. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
And here I am, staring down a gigantic chasm. A chasm spanning
the gap between my God honoring expectation, and the reality of my life
experience. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">So what then? What happens when you go out a limb and dare
to believe that God has made you a specific promise, and you pray circles
around that promise, attacking it from each side, just so you make sure that
you really understand all the ramifications that come with it. And it’s not all
some fantastic daydream that your entitled suburban heart just wants to
believe. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
And it isn’t indigestion either. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What happens when you’re embarrassed when your friends ask
about it, and praying about it is too hard. So you just pretend that you’re
still elated. But really you’re confused, and tempted to think that God is the
world’s biggest scam artist. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
This isn’t the place where you throw some well worn cliché
like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything happens for a reason</i>.
Because that’s just dumb. And it doesn’t fix anything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is the place where you make a decision. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Is my faith strong
enough to get through this little quandary, or is this God thing some sort of
elaborate joke. <o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I think God drops these circumstances on us just to see what we'll do. To see
if we really mean it when we say we're in this relationship, no matter what. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or if we really just
came to Him for a handout. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If He sends us away
empty handed the first time, will we have the faith to come back again. Will we
come back a second, third or millionth time without a guarantee that we'll get
what He promised us in the beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">And even if we never get
what we originally wanted, will we still love Him anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">So
I don’t know what is in store for our family in the future. I don’t know if
we’ll decide to pursue a new house in the spring, or hold off for another year
or two. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What
does matter is that I’ve breached the expectation gap with my faith intact. And
if I’ve done it once I can do it twice. I can continue to ask for things and
know that the world isn’t ending when I don’t get them.</span> </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-35452729439984412462014-12-29T17:44:00.000-08:002014-12-29T17:44:14.227-08:00Staring down Tsunamis
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You may or may not have been following the housing saga that
our family embarked in last summer. If not, let me just summarize by saying it
was three months full of wave after wave of the uncertainty of transition. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Leading up to the anticlimactic day that we decided to take
our house off the market. But even after we made that decision, God had one
last crushing wave to drop on us, just to see how we would respond.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two weeks after we made that decision we received a very
respectable offer. Two weeks after we decided the promise of transition was no
longer worth the emotional uncertainty. Two weeks after we said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ain’t nobody got time for this amount of
crazy</i>. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two weeks after school started and fall activities caused my
schedule to implode. And there was nothing on the market we wanted to look at,
which meant that accepting the offer might have led our family into a season of
homelessness; a season of perpetual transition without a clear finish line. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But in my heart, refusing the offer would have been an act
of disobedience. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Saying yes = homelessness. Saying no = disobedience. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So here I am, staring down this wall of water that is going
to crush me no matter what I do. If I stay, I get soaked. If I run, I get
soaked. Either way, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something bad about
to happen</i>. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So we accepted the offer. Accepted the fact that Jesus might
want us to celebrate Christmas in a hotel room. Accepted the fact that our
special needs child might be out of school for a month and therefore a hot
mess-screaming disaster for at least two months. And even better, that our special
little boy who spent 7 years of his life being homeless was about to be
homeless again. If this is where our obedience leads us, so be it. SO BE IT.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We marched right up to that tsunami of potential disaster and
laughed in the face of its threats. Oh yes we did. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then the annoying buyer backed out. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have never been so thrilled to not get what I wanted. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-14587060373550314052014-11-17T13:06:00.000-08:002014-11-17T13:06:00.849-08:00Survival of the most persistant<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I wrote a book, the title is Dissident. There’s so much to tell you. I don’t
even know where to start. How about publishing. I had no idea what I was really getting myself into when I opened that word doc nearly two years ago. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To get a book in print, it’s best to go through an agent. At
least for your first book. Querying agent after agent to see who is willing to
represent it. This agent will find a publisher who will buy it and turn it into
something amazing that people will buy. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And you can guess what happens when you’re an invisible
first time author trying to get attention in a sea of others just like you. An
endless parade of rejection letters. Or worse, just being ignored. I read
somewhere that you should expect to be rejected (or ignored) 100 times before
you find someone willing to take you seriously. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not sure how true that is. But it was scare me away from the
profession for a long time. Talk about a colossal waste of time. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I also read that those who make it in the industry aren’t
necessarily the ones with talent. This profession is all about survival of the
most persistent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or in my case, relentless.
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So at this date, I think I’m about a third of the way to my
goal of querying 100 different agencies. After about the first ten it became a
game of cut and paste. Each agent wants something just a bit different, but
really it’s all the same. The same questions asked in a different order. Cut.
Paste. Send. Next email. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Except for the guy who asked me what other ideas I had.
Which made me laugh. Because he doesn’t realize that I have well organized outlines
for about 10 more books on my computer waiting for my attention, and about 100
loose threads that are waiting in the corners of my mind for their turn to be
woven into something that makes sense. And beyond that there’s a slush pile of random
story elements that could be something. Someday. So we’ll just put the lid back
on that can of worms and move on. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Survival of the persistent I tell you. Someone has to tell
all these stories. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make sense out of
these pieces. I guess it's going to have to be me. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ll keep you posted. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-79275964517192974132014-10-13T13:15:00.000-07:002014-10-13T13:15:00.445-07:00The truth about the truth<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The more fiction I write, the more I’m completely fascinated
by it. And by how it’s totally not what I thought it was. So as I wrote my
little book I had a handful of questions that I wanted to answer. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The first one is how do you fight a war without a weapon in
your hand.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The second was what does it take to turn a nice boy into a
murderer.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But there’s more. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With this book I wanted to think about Church politics. If
you haven’t read the book, I have it set up so that the “favored” community
represents the church as a body of believers set up over several locations.
With my Academy set up as a representative physical church. A place my
characters assume they’ll be safe from the murderous Underlanders. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But as most Christians are aware, standing in a church does
not make you a Christian in the way that standing in a garage does not make you
a car. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My characters are not safe in their church. The church has
just as much internal conflict as any other organization that mankind dreamed
up. Administrative runaround, discrimination and cliques, putting the needs of
one’s self ahead of the needs of the group at large. No one likes to admit that
these things exist within the church, but they do. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So much untapped tension in the church. I love it. So much
more I can’t wait to point out in the future. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t call us goody-two shoes. You have no idea. We’re just
as messed up as you are. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So not so much of a question this time around as a comment
on human nature. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">True safety will never be found with another human or within
a building. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The whole Christianity faith has so many different little nuance-y
conflicts. Internal conflicts, external conflicts, some are more pronounced than others. But they're all rather beautiful in their own right, I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to address with these books. Some
day. All of it. All these pretty little threads that tangle up my mind will be
woven into something that makes sense to someone else. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-86839793907113003372014-10-06T13:11:00.000-07:002014-10-06T13:11:00.297-07:00On creating a murderer<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I first started writing I was all about trying to figure
out a series of events that followed a logical progression. But after I was
nearly done with the first draft of this book I realized I had no idea how to
write a book. I had no idea that it wasn’t really about the sequence of events
at all. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was mostly about how my characters responded to what I
did to them. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As in how they survived the worst things I could think up to
do to them. Because the backbone of good fiction is pushing your character to
his limit, just to see what he’ll do.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of the questions I set out to answer in this story is
what happens when you take a couple of normal people, people like me and my
family, and back them into a corner. Then give them a weapon and see what they do. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I think about my male lead, Tobias, I think of my son,
Alex. What would it take for my boy to take a weapon and use it to murder someone?
Would he be able to do it? How far would an enemy have to push him to get him
to that point? And when he got to that point, would he really be able to do it?
Would he lay down and die or fight back? If i was me, I’d probably just die. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which is why I’m
not a character in my story. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-55929589380601129092014-09-29T13:09:00.000-07:002014-09-29T13:09:00.077-07:00When characters revolt<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I’ve probably said it before, but I’ll say it again.
Writing fiction does weird things to your head. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve always had a bit of a screw loose (don’t laugh, Dad). I
know. But writing fiction takes my oddness to a whole new level. So let me tell
you a bit what it’s like when your characters decide that they’re real people. And
don’t believe you when you try to say otherwise.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the book I wrote, Dissident, my female character is Shiloh. I wanted
her to follow in the footsteps of the other strong feminine warrior heroes. With
girls like Katniss and Tris to live up to, she needed to be fierce or get out
of the way. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But. One day I was twiddling around, trying to avoid
responsibility and so I sat down with Pinterest to find some visuals. Ok. I
decided to take her shopping. Shiloh and I. Shopping on Pinterest. Weird things
to your head I tell you. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So anyway I was trying to figure out weapons and such, and
she told me she didn’t want a sword. She wanted lace. LACE. I died just a bit
when she said that. How am I supposed to have a warrior in a lacy top.
Seriously. But she wasn’t kidding. Then she picked out a gold necklace that she
wanted (which incidentally made it into the book, her picking out a gold
necklace in town) because SHE WAS A GIRL and wanted to be treated LIKE A GIRL. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who was I to argue?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So after her little “don’t give me a sword tantrum” I was
left to figure out how to deal with this heroine who needed to learn how to be
fierce without a weapon in her hand. I think as the story continues (still
collecting ideas, but I think I’ll be able to complete the story with three
books) I think you’ll be pleased to see how Shiloh figures out how to wage
battle against her enemy without the sword I tried to give her. How to fight corruption
and injustice on her own terms. How wars are one with words instead of with weapons.
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which is so much better than what I had originally figured
out. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Strange things to your head I tell you. Characters that
write their own stories. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Characters that don’t realize that they don’t really exist. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is my world. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-79390444834005445012014-09-22T14:26:00.000-07:002014-09-22T14:26:00.417-07:00Death to perfectionism. Don't tell my realtor. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">God has been showing me so much as we’ve been in the transition
to a different house these last few months. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A big part of the moving process is making your house
presentable enough for other families to come and look at it. To see how they
would live their lives in your space. Which presents interesting challenges
when your family obviously does not fit in the space they’re confined to. And
you have a special needs child who doesn’t have the slightest clue about how
the process works. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So a challenge was thrown down. The challenge to find the
balance between maintaining show ready perfection and the reality that we are
real people living real lives. That balance is going to be different for
everyone, but when I prayed over the quandary this is the answer I got. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Let people into your imperfect house. Not because they’re going to buy
it, but because it’s ok to call perfectionism a trap. I don’t need your house
to be perfect to sell it, so just trust Me on this one. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ugh. That was a hard pill to swallow. Laughing in the face
of the natural inclination towards perfectionism. Choosing to be above having a
perfect house, when every fiber of my being screamed that my rational was
insane and demented. Intentionally leaving those tiny Legos in the crevices of my
house because God said I could. Such a rebel. I know. Don’t tell my realtor. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So from the home owner who’s probably a bit too far on the “anti
show ready” end of the spectrum. Well. What can I say,</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Besides <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">screw you
people who made fun of the Lego’s on my floor</i>. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ok, that was mean. Maybe what I want to say is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I would prefer not to manipulate you into
thinking that we are perfect people living perfect lives with children who
never touch anything. Thank you for not noticing the stray Legos that are
EVERYWHERE</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We’ll take them with us
when we leave</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but until you put in
an offer, it’s really not worth it to try to get every single one off the
floor. So there. God bless. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-82007038605975407112014-09-15T14:31:00.000-07:002014-09-15T14:31:00.096-07:00the rest of the mower story
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So last time I told you the mower story. A story about how I
almost gave up on life because I couldn’t start the stupid mower. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which wasn’t so much a story about having a tidy yard as
much as it was a testament to the fact that God uses funny things to show us
the Truth. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But in the days that followed that little showdown, in the
moments where the tears came back each time I considered what had really
happened that sunny summer morning on my driveway, I had to wonder why.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jesus and me. We’re like this. Thick as thieves. So why on
earth did He let the failure chatter get so thick that I was ready to give up
over something so silly? Where were the warning lights? Caution tape? A quick “hey
lady you’re being silly. Stop it.” would have gone a long way. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So a few days after that little stunt I was standing in my
new “sanctuary” (aka that spot on my driveway where that stupid mower finally
started up) trying to get a sense of why things had gone down the way they had
and got a moment of revelation. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Satan had permission to call me a failure until I hit my
breaking point so that Jesus could show me that I wasn’t. End of story. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Working mowers don’t lie. A freshly mown lawn is proof that
everyone can see. A flashing beacon if you know the story behind it. Jesus was
here. Satan is dumb. Don’t believe him. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-52780220159531213442014-09-08T14:29:00.000-07:002014-09-08T18:32:46.916-07:00the infamous mower story<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Over the last couple weeks I’ve been sharing with you about
how the transition to a new house has affected me and the things that I’ve
learned from the process. I hope in some odd way you’ve found a way to connect
to our situation. Or at least laugh about it. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So this last one is a bit personal. The kind of personal that
makes me guard it fiercely because I don’t want to be that vulnerable with you.
But those are the best stories. Am I right? </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So here we go. Eek. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our house has been on the market for 4 months. 4 agonizing
months. Which is normal. I know. But for some reason I thought we’d be special
and get an offer in the first 3-5 days. Which we did, but then they walked
away. Long story. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So 4 months in to the process I’m feeling rather vulnerable
and angry that this isn’t what I signed up for, because I’m the mother of a
special boy and I’m ENTITLED to an easy transition. So GIVE ME WHAT I WANT. OR
ELSE. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ha ha, I know. I’ll give you a moment to get your chuckling
under control. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ok, so that’s where my little heart is, all angry and
frustrated about the slowness of the transition. And I’m vulnerable with a
capital V. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When Satan tries to tell me that this is my fault because I’m
a failure. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This little “I’m a failure” bubble followed me around for at
least a week. Subtle at first, but the more I listened to it the more I heard
it. I’m a failure at moving. I’m a failure at special needs parenting. I’m a
failure at… fill in the blank with your own topic, because I fail at
everything. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which sounds funny to you, because you aren’t the one who
was vulnerable. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So this is the storm that’s raging in my head and I refuse
to tell anyone about it and I’m just trying to breathe in and out (because I
obviously am not a failure at breathing) and I go out to mow the grass.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And can’t get the
mower to start. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And the world's biggest liar whispers in my ear: <em>See I told you that you
were a failure. You can’t even mow. Just sit down and accept your failure.</em> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cut to the image of the girl crumpled up on the driveway
this close to admitting defeat. This close to believing a life crippling lie
once and for all. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When truth whispers. “Wait! Wait! One. More. Just try one
more time.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So with a face soaked in tears, and a heart full of doubt, I
give the stupid thing one more yank (pulling a muscle in my shoulder, thank you
very much). </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And the mower starts. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These are the things that only happen in the movies. Am I
right?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let’s just sit a spell and let the glory settle. The stupid
mower started. But only after I chose to listen to the Truth. Even though I
thought it was a really dumb idea. And I sort of only did it so that I could
call the Truth a Lie. No joke. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I have a strained muscle in my shoulder. Not because I
yanked too hard on that stupid mower, but because I had an arm wrestling match
with Satan. And I won. Which is a bit predictable when you think about it. But it
didn’t seem like it at the time. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So then, what can I say, besides let my perfectly mowed lawn
stand as a tribute to the Truth. Every time you drive past it (this week
because surely I’ll just have to mow it again before too much longer) you’ll
praise your God because He started that mower when I wanted to quit. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And each time the failure chatter starts again I just go
stand in my yard. In that little spot where my arm wrestling match took place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I look at the grass. It’s a nice spot, really,
right up by the road. You should come stand there sometimes too. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-37428673282528152372014-09-01T14:28:00.000-07:002014-09-01T14:28:00.495-07:00Jesus is in the boxes
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re talking about transition these days. We’re elbow deep
in cardboard boxes, eager to find our way to the next house that God has for
our family. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But the reality of this move is that it’s not so much about
having more space as it is about having the guts to laugh at the uncertainty of
it all. It’s easy to believe in God when things are going good. When people
leave awesomely encouraging feedback about my cute kitchen (that’s sadly in the
wrong part of town for their family). </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But what happens when the chips are down. When no one is
coming to see what we’re selling. When the timeline isn’t going according to
plan and I probably won’t be done with the transition in order to start school
in the new house. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The house that has our names written all over it, but
someone else is probably going to snatch up before we can put an offer on it
because no one will buy the house we’re in. And it would be stupid to try to
own both, even for a tiny little while.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then I have the worst day ever and my special boy is a
complete monster and someone asks if they can have a showing in an hour and a
half. And then those stupid last minute people don’t even write an offer. Probably
because my house is a hot dirty mess. Just like I am. For real people. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is where Jesus really is. Where Jesus really wanted me
to go. Where I’m gritty and dirty and raw. And fed up with the senselessness of
it because this house isn’t really that bad. And whose idea was this anyway. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where I still choose to believe that this is all a part of
the plan. Even though I feel like I’m either crazy or brilliant because I
continue to cling to a plan that’s so insane that I’m not even sure I can pull
it off. But frankly I’m just a bit too defiant to give in just yet. Because God
does funny stuff like this all the time.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When God leads you well past your breaking point just so you
can laugh at what a wimp you were on the other side of that barrier. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And He shows you that all of this really has nothing to do
with the house anyway. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That is where Jesus is. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And it makes me wonder why we pray for God to make things
easy. When things are so much more interesting out where Jesus is. The stories
are so much more fun to read out here. And way more fun to write for that
matter. Because if you’re going to go through the insanity, you might as well
come through it with an interesting story to tell on the other side, am I right
about that?</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-76469283269943902452014-08-22T15:53:00.000-07:002014-08-22T15:53:08.428-07:00New digs
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We did a little redecorating around here. Did you notice?
All the stuff that blogger would let me change has been changed. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was sort of sick of the last design. I put it together
when we were adopting. When I was trying to figure out what I really wanted to
do with this blog. When we made the gentle shift from being a blog that was
only read by people I knew, to a blog that was read by a broader audience. When
I realized that many people were touched by our adoption story, and those
people were coming to hear more about the crazy things that God was doing with
our family. People who didn’t know my entire life story, and frankly didn’t
care what we did with our Saturday mornings. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I feel myself shifting again, not back towards the “look
at my breakfast” blog (heaven help me) but to acknowledge that people who have
read my fiction might stop here. And I’d like to welcome them.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So if you’re on facebook I put together a newly decorated fan
page to talk about all my stories, and all the stuff that passes through my
brain that relates to my life as a writer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And… </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If it makes it easier to remember, I made myself easier to
search for by adding a static page. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://elissa-peterson.blogspot.com/">elissa-peterson.blogspot.com</a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s a tab on that page that’ll bring you here, but if
there’s a way to get from here to there I haven’t figured that part out yet. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-88409640028260221072014-08-18T14:23:00.000-07:002014-08-18T14:23:00.469-07:00Finding God in the transition
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So we’re in a bit of a transition around here. We put our
house on the market last May and have been on the moving tidal wave ever since.
Up down, up down, down a bit more, crash. Pick yourself up and repeat the cycle
all over again. Eye roll. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There have been so many beautifully sweet lessons during
this time I can’t begin to remember them all. But over the next few weeks I
have a handful of moving inspired posts to share, I hope you’ll find a healthy
take away from my troubles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or at least
find the humor in this big fat cardboard box headache. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So the main reason we’re moving is that we’re a family of 6
living in 1300 square feet of cute little house. Did you catch that LITTLE part
of that discription? </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jory and I have been avoiding this conversation for years, tried
to make it work for years. We like small. Small is efficient. And easy to keep
clean. And find things. Minimal living. That’s us. We’re happy with less. Really.
</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But this year homeschooling 3 students on my side of the
master bedroom – an area that’s about 6 x 8. Computers, textbooks, chairs,
desks, and people. Use your imagination. Eye roll. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We did it, it worked. But it was horrible. The kind of horrible
that makes you take a real look at life and say is this worth it<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">?</i> What is my priority here, educating
the kids or making the house work for just a bit longer?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sounds a bit silly when I say it out loud. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would I put my house above my children?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But the whole transition to a new house thing has really
been so much more personal than simply saying “we’re moving because our house
is small”. If that’s the only reason I had for the transition, then I probably
would have given up a long time ago. Not sure the process is worth it just to
get more space. Not for me anyway. This house isn’t that bad. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So stick with me over the next few days as we unpack all the
stories and take aways from the move across town that I’m affectionately
calling “it’s not because my house is too small”.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-1501211688056151692014-08-11T06:00:00.000-07:002014-08-11T06:00:08.895-07:00DissidentSo things have been a bit quiet around here this year. It's not you, I swear, it's me. <br />
<br />
You've heard it before. I know. <br />
<br />
But my little word lovin heart has been pulled in so many different directions that it's unreal. <br />
<br />
So most of my facebook people know that I've taken this spring to finish the book that I started about 18 months ago. A book that I say I wrote for my oldest son, but really I was just playing. Watching a story unfold beneath my eye lids and putting into words what I saw, all while praying that I actually made sense. <br />
<br />
If you're a writer you know what I'm talking about. If not. Uh... Sorry? Writing fiction does weird things to your head. No joke. <br />
<br />
But my story is done! Done I tell you. Until I find an editor to shred it to pieces that is. Over the next few weeks I thought maybe I'd talk a bit about this crazy adventure I've been on. But for now, here's the synopsis of the story I wrote. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Tobias's world is turned upside
down when Shiloh shows up on his family farm. She has come seeking shelter
after her home was attacked and destroyed by a roaming mob of Underlanders,
leaving her alone and afraid. </em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>When the mob catches up with her,
they are both forced to leave Tobias's family and flee to the relative safety
of the New Haven Academy in search of someone who can help them find safety
with other members of the Favored tribe. </em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>But life at the academy is far from
the safe haven they were seeking. Insane professors with bizarre teaching
tactics and overly protective monitors both threaten the thin veneer of safety
they thought they had found when they entered the academy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If that wasn’t enough, Shiloh and Tobias must keep
their cool in the face of bullying and deep seated discrimination. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of these factors work together to divide both
students and staff, distracting them from the work the Overseer has for them.</em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Tobias and his friends must learn
the skills necessary to take care of themselves and recognize the almighty
Overseer's guidance. They must figure out who they can trust to help them find
their way before the unthinkable occurs.</em></span></div>
<br />
Sound good? I can't wait for you to read it. <br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-21308237388944359642014-07-14T18:18:00.003-07:002014-07-14T18:18:45.717-07:0012 years old
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Alex</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So 12 years snuck up on me. 12 years means 7<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
grade. Junior high. Eek. A big adjustment that every family goes through. It
doesn’t affect us the way it affects your non-homeschooled friends, but it
still affects us. And by us I mean ME. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So 12. There are a few things I want to remember about you
as you approach this milestone. The first thing, sort of a long story, but one
that is so telling of your personality this summer. So I’ma tell it anyway</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I snapped at you last week when your swimming coach had her
hands full and you were completely oblivious. Which, don’t get me wrong, is
totally normal for someone your age to not notice. But you notice these things.
You always see it when someone else needs a hand and spring forward to save the
day without any prompting from anyone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which is why I had to laugh at myself for getting mad at you
at the pool that afternoon. Sorry bout that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And for the record, when I pointed out the problem you did
jump up and ask Coach Kelly what you could do. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The second thing I want to remember about you from this year
isn’t exactly summer related. It’s school. I try really hard to emphasis the
joy of learning and not the glorify the fact that you’re a bit of an
overachiever. I’m a bit of a stickler about not comparing ourselves to other
learners. It’s never a good idea to think that you’re better at something than
someone else. Which is why I like that you’re in a class of 1. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year
with school we did something new. In August I handed you an entire years worth
of curriculum and said “do it.” And that was all you needed as far as
direction. You set your own pacing schedule, and organized all your own
documents. You planned and organized the whole stinking thing without a bit of
help from me. Which is so awesome. But the part of this story that surprised
even me is how driven you were to keep yourself on track. Not only did you
finish the entire years curriculum a month early, but you dug in and completed
some of next year’s curriculum just for fun. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And yes, I did have to tell you to cool it more than once
when you wanted to work on your lessons and I needed you elsewhere. Sorry bout
that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So to my just turned 12 year old boy. You rock. We love you.
You’re fun to have around. And it thrills my heart that you seek out your dad
and me for advice and companionship. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But you give the worst massages ever. EVER. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yeah. You know what I’m talking about. Stinker. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mom</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-30256803093949613992014-06-03T09:56:00.001-07:002014-06-03T09:56:15.218-07:00The big D (disabled, that is)
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we adopted two years ago we thought we were taking on a
(mostly) healthy seven year old, who was only a bit vertically challenged. As
in, he might look like a five year old, but his behavior and cognitive function
were mostly on target for his age range, if you give him a bit of extra leeway
to account for his traumatic social history. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last two years have been a humbling process as we have
been handed diagnosis after diagnosis telling us what was evident right after
we took custody. That our little guy wasn’t nearly as healthy or mentally
stable as the Russian paperwork made him sound. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’d think it would get easier after a spell, that you’d
develop a thicker skin each time you accept a new name for a set of personality
quirks; a label that helps professionals know how to approach your child. A
special set of words that opens doors to extra assistance because your kid is
qualified. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But it doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Each one comes like a swift kick in the gut. A chink in your
armor. And the latest one isn’t any different. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our paperwork is back, the board of disabilities has taken
my son into their database. My son is officially disabled. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Disabled. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is so easy to park myself on that word. To feel
overwhelmed by its implications. To be not quite ready to call myself the
parent of a disabled child (even though I embraced the roll a long time ago).
To be emotionally blinded by a label that doesn’t change my child in the
slightest bit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And how weird it is that the only thing that this emotionally
charged label really changes is how my son’s needs impact our finances. How
many services that used to cost us money will now be provided free of charge
because he owns a different word. A word that makes him qualified for
government assistance. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Disabled. Such a bittersweet word. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-85355543378612163262014-05-29T07:49:00.000-07:002014-05-29T07:49:18.699-07:00I think I'll sing anyway
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, we’re moving. Or at least we’re trying to move. You know
how that goes. The highs and lows of negotiating with people who may or may not
be trying to do what’s honorable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mix that with a whole lot of helplessness<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>while you wait on imperfect people. It’s
pretty much a powder keg of stress and emotion. Especially the first time you
do it. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of those things that makes me wonder if moving a mile up
the road to a bigger house as an act of obedience is really what God wants or if
I’m just plain crazy because this house really isn’t that bad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So here I am in my not-so-happy little powder keg using all
the stuff God has taught me about keeping my head every time the inevitable
disaster hits. And I’m mostly fine. Not caring about the hills and valleys, not
caring about how people respond, only caring about my own obedience. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then yesterday we got a triple whammy of losing a contract
on this house, losing a sure bet on another house, and a septic guy telling me
I need to spend $500 to put ugly markers all over my yard – right in a high
traffic area where people are going to trip on them. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yeah. It was a good day. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eye roll. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So my head and my heart had a little disagreement. It
sounded something like this. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heart: wahhhhhhhh!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Head: Stop being a crybaby. You’re fine. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heart: Did you hear me? I said WAHHH!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Head: I think it’s time to sing. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heart: I don’t like singing. I only like crying. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Head: La la la. I can’t hear you. I’m singing. You should
try it. You’ll feel better. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ok, so the illustration was a bit on the comical side. But I
hope you can hear what I’m saying. My head and my heart are not always on the
same page. My head knows the truth, logic and reason. My heart only knows emotion
-happy or sad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there are so many
times that my crybaby heart ruins my day because it will just not listen to the
voice of reason. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So yesterday when I was driving around, tired of listening
to my crybaby heart that wouldn’t shut up I decided to sing. Out loud. Louder
than my heart was crying. I totally pulled the “la, la, la, I can’t hear you”
card on myself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And it totally worked. My heart tried to shout over the
singing for a while, until it realized it wasn’t doing any good because my
brain was too busy trying to remember what words were next in the song to
listen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And finally it gave up and
started singing too. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-38784415569708585482014-04-24T16:03:00.002-07:002014-04-24T16:05:57.956-07:00Standardized testing. It's like, whatever. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s testing season. Even though most of my children are
homeschooled, they still take the same statewide assessments that all Ohio
children take. So the last two months have seen a lot of practicing, reviewing
and stressing about filling in tiny little circles. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have one cracker jack learner who picks up whatever you
throw at him without even trying. Completely independent, needs nothing from me
as a teacher. That kid could pass the test with one arm tied behind his back,
hopping up and down, and blindfolded.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But then I have two beautiful students who are absolutely
miserable at math. Two girls who think “who needs to add when you can read. Or
write. Or create something from raw materials.” Bless their hearts, they’re
just like their Mama, who had a good reason for marrying an accountant. Love
you babe. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway. High stakes testing on a subject we dislike. And a
Mama who struggles with having a good attitude towards curriculum that teaches
differently than she learned, and doesn’t always make sense the first time she
reads it.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yep. Stress.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know standardized tests are a hot topic. I know curriculum
standards are a hot topic. I am one of the quiet few who does think that
standard curriculum and evaluations are a good thing. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even as the parent of a special kid who will never be able
to pass standardized tests, I still think my other children should strive for
the same mark as every other kid in America. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So no, this isn’t going to turn into one more Common Core
bashing post. Because if I don’t like the way the lesson is presented I do have
the right, as the teacher, to tell my students to nod and smile politely and
then completely throw the entire lesson out the window and do what makes sense.
(Which I think I’ve done once or twice).</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because that’s the beauty of homeschooling for one thing.
And for another, we as a family chose not to define ourselves by state tests,
or just about any other set of results that assesses the work of our hands. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We work hard. We learn what we can. We put our best work
out. But once it’s out of our hands we stop caring. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are children of God. Not people who can (or can’t) pass
tests. We care about improving our character. Not impressing people who live
far away. Or close by for that matter. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So on our last day of testing we’ll nod and smile because
someone somewhere cares about the list of numbers and statistics our tests
produced. And then we’ll go back to developing the things that really matter to
us. Character. Creativity. Community. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And we’ll say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">take
that OAA</i>. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-37455715377546960372014-03-18T18:32:00.002-07:002014-03-18T18:32:28.092-07:00(nearly) wordless wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3CWXS15hjXCEFR82XLIjTsm1HueTquUVFnj1C4QvRCuC0uyNfqXQDpRvfrRaqkmeNy3JwYx7JtdUzNNmVOXmsmDejhyWb4Fddj1XGDMIM-5nA9NgIxsb-vTl248ZCTeEJIz7Maw/s1600/ice+floe+(38).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3CWXS15hjXCEFR82XLIjTsm1HueTquUVFnj1C4QvRCuC0uyNfqXQDpRvfrRaqkmeNy3JwYx7JtdUzNNmVOXmsmDejhyWb4Fddj1XGDMIM-5nA9NgIxsb-vTl248ZCTeEJIz7Maw/s1600/ice+floe+(38).JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
frozen Marblehead</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...................................................................... <br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
got a great photo for (nearly) wordless
Wednesday to to share with us? Post a link so we can all see it! </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-23273236657006518852014-03-16T19:42:00.000-07:002014-03-16T19:42:33.850-07:00Dear Max: Year 10
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Max</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s finally come and gone. The day you’ve been looking
forward to, dreaming of, and talking about for 364 days. That’s right. Yesterday
was the best day on your calendar. Your birthday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of us enjoy birthday week, but you’d
really prefer if we celebrated birthday <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">year</i>.
As in it’s your birthday <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every single day
of the year</i>. Which amuses me to no extent. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Birthdays are such a big deal in your little world. Like who
needs Christmas, Disneyland or summer vacation when you can just have a
birthday. Or tell someone else happy birthday. The yucky parts of your past
make it so hard for you to remember even the most basic lessons your teachers
teach you at school, but you never forget someone’s birthday. Ever. You cherish
each person’s special day like it was your own. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which also amuses me to no extent. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So this year on your birthday I can tell you what your first
mama told me about the day you were born. You came at 3:50 AM, and you were a
tiny little guy. It’s not much information, but it’s more than I knew about
your special day last year. Maybe someday we will have more details about that
cold winter night in northern Russia when you were so tiny and sweet in your
first mom’s arms. But for now we’ll use our imagination. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Happy birthday to my favorite outside playin-diving board
jumpin-lego enthusiast-chatterbox of a boy. Hope your special day lived up to
all the dreams that you had. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love, </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mom</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-36822284493836249492014-03-13T17:09:00.001-07:002014-03-13T17:10:17.099-07:00Inch 84 - We don't hate you. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
For our 15th snow day of 2014 we chose to not be angry.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim4eQB9ph_8yl0i7XuEUjIQhUKr9BwYq2IhvV0DIJPA_V5T9KvAULlNY9mLb_jlYCUbXSJkUglD6ik_UZo7Cq3ZO8lXpcfAu_-P8m3yy0jHCPMQsEoJA12kPHDkWvQTYrrZA-ZqA/s1600/ice+floe+(12).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim4eQB9ph_8yl0i7XuEUjIQhUKr9BwYq2IhvV0DIJPA_V5T9KvAULlNY9mLb_jlYCUbXSJkUglD6ik_UZo7Cq3ZO8lXpcfAu_-P8m3yy0jHCPMQsEoJA12kPHDkWvQTYrrZA-ZqA/s1600/ice+floe+(12).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Some of us did not panic because our schedule was disrupted (again).</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-lOW02ppKF5rxI-vnRthZ8lqIHnAH16XukLOszrRMxJLGKNA3Yafd03hLMUj_TTo4kyuePiuiBOdBvvfob-o419sqfiVDmN8W_bzzEDaYMHbey_QxyBpPsq4Jp8S1keyV1MGhg/s1600/ice+floe+(23).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA-lOW02ppKF5rxI-vnRthZ8lqIHnAH16XukLOszrRMxJLGKNA3Yafd03hLMUj_TTo4kyuePiuiBOdBvvfob-o419sqfiVDmN8W_bzzEDaYMHbey_QxyBpPsq4Jp8S1keyV1MGhg/s1600/ice+floe+(23).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We did not bulk as our 84th inch of snow fell out of the sky, and the temperature dipped below zero (again).</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1Uv0ZahxCcR8qBVtzeWCxh5zidnO9L_JJk-yarpKcEiN4Kzm68erqj0V7H1FpSc4HUGz39OPuKLm3nqDmnpApku7nz4BGNNvYAOJrvJ1EOhc7gbUYiLBjllAOutwgq4QXeypdA/s1600/ice+floe+(31).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1Uv0ZahxCcR8qBVtzeWCxh5zidnO9L_JJk-yarpKcEiN4Kzm68erqj0V7H1FpSc4HUGz39OPuKLm3nqDmnpApku7nz4BGNNvYAOJrvJ1EOhc7gbUYiLBjllAOutwgq4QXeypdA/s1600/ice+floe+(31).JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We took ourselves out to see the ice floes on Lake Erie,</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcarww4cRTAb3-DRg4fGF3QrMmVyzl46TsSw6dS4Ojh6CRhwjIbu73vuibXsyi-sGo9n3GNIP7rCpF1297RlxBWDdpG1m5jsbxZ3bL9BQqTredPS665TNr3HKDhjb8nvza9JsqPg/s1600/ice+floe+(43).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcarww4cRTAb3-DRg4fGF3QrMmVyzl46TsSw6dS4Ojh6CRhwjIbu73vuibXsyi-sGo9n3GNIP7rCpF1297RlxBWDdpG1m5jsbxZ3bL9BQqTredPS665TNr3HKDhjb8nvza9JsqPg/s1600/ice+floe+(43).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and checked out the cool phenomenon known as blue ice, which is common in arctic glaciers, but rather rare in the great lakes region (and is rather hard to photograph in broad daylight).</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjbwW3WuZrMvOH_PCWf8Or1WF2s0HtqIz2UkvyfGmNZ6mrcH3DNIInvanSCztGFnhG6M3mmgWVMs4VgXqzKnNuf1gXFjiibHS3hwlE1UFni2uCbLAu809gnULs7lcL3VxrLxZ4A/s1600/ice+floe+(18).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjbwW3WuZrMvOH_PCWf8Or1WF2s0HtqIz2UkvyfGmNZ6mrcH3DNIInvanSCztGFnhG6M3mmgWVMs4VgXqzKnNuf1gXFjiibHS3hwlE1UFni2uCbLAu809gnULs7lcL3VxrLxZ4A/s1600/ice+floe+(18).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And we decided that inch 84 wasn't so bad after all. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12153707.post-25623424030853009932014-03-11T19:33:00.001-07:002014-03-11T19:33:46.846-07:00(nearly) wordless wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyVFxG6J2FIy_pRM6_ipruIhojoWu-nxeN3AJq7C9JdQZ34LWoSB1pyO7mhH1Jy18u_GTrjvVn7E5WESRWbL1rWDPNUUaClzNjp88CWiki0QWP4omMtiJ1ok5DjscSxtTXpAGnw/s1600/snow..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyVFxG6J2FIy_pRM6_ipruIhojoWu-nxeN3AJq7C9JdQZ34LWoSB1pyO7mhH1Jy18u_GTrjvVn7E5WESRWbL1rWDPNUUaClzNjp88CWiki0QWP4omMtiJ1ok5DjscSxtTXpAGnw/s1600/snow..jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just. Not. Fair. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
...................................................................... </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
got a great photo for (nearly) wordless
Wednesday to to share with us? Post a link so we can all see it!
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02899842023938875120noreply@blogger.com2