Say It

I remember when I couldn’t say it without choking up. I couldn’t get it out without the heat rising inside of me... I couldn’t say it without feeling like I might crack wide open and my guts would fall out on the floor.

Maybe if she had been born with no heart complications, maybe if she had nursed from the start like a champ, maybe if I had been able to take her straight home to her beautiful nursery.

Maybe if someone had captured gorgeous pictures of her in fancy baby girl lace, instead of decked out in wounds, wires, and tubes...

Maybe if I could have convinced myself that she was a Rockstar, that she would be the One to break the mold, that she was going to be different... that she was more special than special. Maybe if all my friends and family had played along...

Maybe then I could have said it without shaking,

"My baby has Down syndrome."

But none of that matters anymore, because I can say it now. I can say it with ferocity. I can say it with dignity. I can say it with love.

But most importantly, I can say it with indifference.

In Today's Mail

Dear Mrs. Easter Bunny,

You’re so beautiful and sweet and smart. Your tail is the fluffiest tail I’ve ever seen, and I can tell looking at you that you really do love me, even when we fight. Your hair looks fantastic, even when you’ve just gotten out of bed. You don’t need makeup, you’re covering the most beautiful face under it.

And of course, your amazing cooking. You’re so creative with your food, your scrapbooking, it’s great. And I really do appreciate all the time you spend with and for me. Thank you, Easter bunny. You have given me more than candy could ever give me (but candy would still be nice).

Easter wish list
Gift card to the artist store, mp3 player, JellyBelly Jelly Beans, fancy leggings, Bic mechanical pencil, G2 07 pen, rubber bands, orange Cadbury eggs, and paper.

Love, TK.

(Lol, I love my teenager.)

Blood Brothers

As a kid there were a handful of times that I cut my palm and smushed it against a friend’s matching wound to seal our alliance. Only the coolest, most trusted buddies became my blood brothers this way. Then the Eighties brought aids to light and my sanguinary relationship building came to a halt.

I had all but forgotten about that ritual until the other day when a blogger I know only through our various online relationships made an extraordinary promise to me. She pledged to make a modern-day blood sacrifice that will be added to my own personal sacrifices to accomplish something that will be life-changing.

We are blog sisters, friends, mothers, advocates, and educators walking down the same road of life together. Her son and my youngest daughter brought us together in this exclusive, invitation-only club. She knows certain private details of my life that are written on my heart because she has read them off her own. She recognizes my pain, and feels my pride. She dreams my dreams and wakes from my nightmares.

One simple genetic hiccup has given me a new sister, and she is worthy of a bloody high-five.

I’m Supposed to Save Who?

In many ways my church is evangelical... we want to go out and save as many people as possible. We want to show people the way to God, encourage them to take next steps, and train them to become mature followers of Christ. We want to grow the body of Christ... to make more and better disciples.

Why? Just so they can fill our seats at weekend services? So they can tithe ten percent to support God’s work? So they can be Godly examples to others? So they’ll know the “right” way to vote when it comes to abortion?

I’m doing my part. I work for the church. I tithe as I should. I am involved in a bible study and I pray for my unchurched friends... Wanna see?

Dear God, I pray for my friend so-and-so, that she will come to know and love you. I pray that she will be saved and come to church. I pray that she will become like me... that she will write blog posts about you, that she will model your love in her marriage, that she will sing in the choir and volunteer in the Sunday school nursery. All this, Lord, so that she can become Christ-like, like me and then pray for her friends to become Christ-like, like her. Amen.

Lately His replies are way off topic... “Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” Psalm 82: 3-4

What?!!

Come on God, you’re not serious... are you? You want me to go rescue afflicted, destitute orphans? Don’t you think me working for you, me tithing my ten, me leading a bible study, and praying for those in need is enough? Sheesh. Can’t I just pray that somebody else takes up that cross?

And the King answered me, “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me... Truly, I say to you, as you do to one of the least of these my brothers, you do to me.”
Mat 25:34-40



p.s. Oh Mel-an-ie, La la la la la...I’m not listening to you.

"Will God call you to lead a Bible Study while He calls others to adopt orphans? No. As long as there are orphans in the world, we are ALL called, because these children deserve to have a family and a chance at life; they need to know God loves them. If every Christian family in the United States adopted only one orphan, we wouldn't have an orphan crisis around the world, and many Christian families have room for one more child in their homes. I firmly believe EVERY believer is called to care for orphans unless you are aged out of the system, are financially limited or have a physical condition that prohibits you from adopting.....and in those cases, you can still help raise money to assist others in adoption.

Some of my words may be tough to digest, but I am sickened by the prejudice against the orphans.....especially the orphans with Special Needs. For goodness sake, they are children. They are children. They are children. They are children. We cannot turn our heads and pretend it is not our problem."

Ok, seriously Melanie, I am listening. In fact, the whole "Will God call you to lead a Bible Study while He calls others to adopt orphans?" line is what inspired this post.

Man Feet

My son the Gecko is my first born child. I tend to baby the Gecko a bit... on school mornings I dress him either while he is still half asleep snuggled in his bed, or while he is at the kitchen table enjoying his breakfast. It is a ballet dance between us as he automatically presents an arm or foot just as I am slipping on a sleeve or pant leg.

Yesterday morning, a morning that pretended to be like any other, he swung his foot up to hook the oncoming sock... and I saw it. I caught his foot in one hand and left the sock dangling in the other as I gawked at it. It was a man foot. There were strong tendons fanning out with little dips between them. The toes were individually shaped with the first and middle ones grown longer than the big one. There were indents in the sides of them where they lay tightly against each other when he walks or runs. And there was a faint hint of stinky.

Before I could stop it, out flew an astonished, “Oh my goodness your toes!” Peanut butter and honey toast froze midway to his mouth and he looked down at me with concern. I recovered quickly and made up a little myth about how having your first and middle toes be longer than your big toe meant you are brilliant. I showed him the evidence of his genius and then tugged the sock over it and moved along to the other foot.

It too showed no trace of my baby boy’s scrumptious feet. No longer was it plumped up and covered in silky soft skin, topped off with perfect piggies... one the size of a small grape, the others like tiny treats in a row from biggest to smallest.

Those infant boy feet that I had sung to, feigned eating, massaged with lotion, and squashed against my nose to sniff up the sweetness of babyhood were gone, replaced by man feet. I had made it just fine through his first crew cut, his first day of kindergarten, and the loss of his first tooth but this... this was different.

I knew the second I saw that man foot it was a harbinger. It gave me a vision of something I was not ready to see. One day those man feet will walk out my front door and the boy will not return.