A Living Prayer

I recently purchased some new CD's from Amazon and was especially looking forward to the arrival of Alison Krauss and Union Station's last CD, Lonely Runs Both Ways. I have enjoyed all their other creations, and this one has been no exception. She has such a pure voice, and they are all such talented musicians. The very last song on the CD is called A Living Prayer and is written by Ron Block, one of the members of AKUS. It is such a beautiful song that if it was the only song on the CD, the purchase would have been worth every penny. I am sure you can listen to a snipet of it at Amazon.

In this world I walk alone with no place to call my home
But there's One who holds my hand
The rugged road through barren lands
The way is dark, the road is steep
But He's become my eyes to see
The strength to climb, my griefs to bear
This Savior lives inside me there

In Your love I find release
A haven from my unbelief
Take my life and let me be
A living prayer my God to thee

In these trials of life I find
Another Voice inside my mind
He comforts me and bids me live
Inside the love the Father gives

In your love I find release
A haven from my unbelief
Take my life and let me be
A living prayer my God to thee
take my life and let me be
A living prayer my God to thee

P.S. My mom's surgery was a smashing success. They took her back at 10:45 this morning and the MD was out to see us in the waiting area a hour later. She was brought to her room at 1:30 and by 4:30, PT was in there to get her up and walk her! WOW. Thanks for all the prayers going up in her behalf. I'll be going back down there in a bit with a big bouquet of flowers for her.

All prayers appreciated

Tomorrow my mom will undergo a right hip replacement. Arthritis has taken it's toll on her hip and it's been bone on bone for some time now. Any and all prayers for smooth and safe outcome would certainly be appreciated.

Being the very funny person she is about all this, last weekend when we were having a conversation about cremation, she and I were snorting over the thought that they'd open the oven some day after her cremation and there would be an artificial hip joint along with a knee joint. I told her I'd proudly put them on my mantle next to her urn. We laughed and laughed.

Lent is upon us

I can't even believe Wednesday is Ash Wednesday... it's come so fast. Wednesday is also my 44th birthday, so it's not as if I could forget. When I embraced the Anglican tradition, I also embraced trying to keep Lent in a way that would keep me mindful of God's gift of grace. For years, I would try to give something up. The premise is that if God gave his son for us, we could give up something that we would really miss in order to honor that gift and be reminded during these 40 days of his love for us. But, as I have gotten older, I find that "taking on" something seems to work better for me, and keeps me even more mindful of the reason for this season of reflection and renewal. But, for some reason, this year, I have not given it much thought until yesterday when we celebrated the final Sunday in Epiphany.

So, I thought about it yesterday, and was being nudged about That Bible I Purchased And Said I Was Going To Delve Into... ahem. I am still sort of gun shy, and so what I think I will do is to use the Forward Day by Day book for Lent which also has associated scripture reading to absorb after each meditation. I ordered to receive it by email for the very sweet price of $6 for the year! That way, I will finally crack the pages of my new Bible (OK, so I did already crack it when looking for an answer to a crossword puzzle clue) and be keeping Lent in a way that will carve out time each day to reflect on my spiritual life.

I do know this... keeping the season of Lent, and getting to Easter after so much sadness and reflection makes the celebration of his Resurrection so much more poignant and special. I highly recommend it to anyone.

Re-igniting the creativity

When I was a young child, it was somewhat apparent to my parents that their Pisces child seemed to be a dreamy, creative soul. I used to write poetry and draw a good bit, so it was natural that they fostered my learning to be creative in many ways. First it was guitar lessons, then sewing lessons, along with art lessons in oils, yet none of those persuits were to become lifelong passions. Granted, I am happy I do know how to sew enough to put in a hem and replace a button, but I could not strum one key on a guitar today, nor would I feel like anything less than a duck out of water with a paintbrush in my hand. That part of me seemed to just go by the wayside as I grew up. In college, I took up counted cross stitch and created some pretty things, but that too didn't last past graduation.

In the past 20 years, I rarely thought about how much of a spark can be ignited by creative persuits. I saw friends doing creative memories scrapbooking, and participating in all sorts of crafty endeavors, and thought it must be nice to be patient enough to sit and create something to be proud about, but none of it appealed enough to me to try it. What was I waiting for, or better yet, what was I afraid of? Last month, I blogged about the plaque I have here staring at me on my desk..."what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?" Gulp... could that be what has held me back?

When I started this blog last month, I had no idea how much joy it would give to me. Just the act of creating something that is mine, and sharing my thoughts through words has opened new vistas for me. I told another blogging friend that if not even one solitary soul reads what I write here, or views what I create, the effort would have been more than worth it. The universe always presents us with opportunities and paths to explore, but we have to be brave enough to step onto that path. I have no doubt that because of the experience of this blog, what happened to me today at church, happened for this very reason.

I love to sing at church (and in the car, and and in the bath, and in my head). I can't read a lick of music, but can easily pick up the tune to anthems and hymns and thoroughly enjoy belting them out in praise. Today I sat behind a gentleman whose life is immersed in the creation of music. For goodness sakes, his real life business is creating and building organs, he plays several instruments, and his voice is the most beautiful instrument of all. He can chant a cappella and has such a pure, wonderful tone to his voice. After the service, he stood up, turning to look directly at me and said, "Would you be interested in joining our singing group?" Gulp... me?... join the singing group at church? The one that performs every four or five weeks and presents such soul stirring anthems of praise that they raise the hairs on the back your neck and sometimes make you cry?

I immediately thought, "OK Lord, I hear you loud and clear." I smiled and said, "Chuck, I can't read a lick of music, but I'd love to because I love to sing." And down that creative new path I shall go...

Truly a part of the team

A very dear friend shared this very heartwarming story with me... thanks Mata... I blubbered all the way through it.

Embracing the smallness

I took this photo on a trip to Florida a couple of years ago. Any time I am near a beach, it is sacred time to me to be able to be up early enough to absorb the silence surrounding a sunrise. As I walked down towards the beach with my coffee and camera, I breathed in the salty smell, heard the crashing of the waves on the sand, and embraced my smallness. I noticed a man beside the lifeguard stand, with his arms crossed, gaze intent on the sea and the rising sun, and felt a kinship with him and many others who were soaking in the beginning of a new day. Just pausing to realize how little we are in the grand scheme of things makes me feel even more surrounded by grace. We go through our lives feeling so smug and with the illusion of being in control, yet each day is such a gift. Each day is such an opportunity to be better, to do more, to live more fully. As big as it all seems, we are never alone...

Compassionate trooper

On our way to school each morning, we have to get onto the interstate for a few miles before we exit to continue on back roads to Sam's school. This particular stretch of road is known for increased speeds, and as such, for the past few mornings there has been heavy radar by the GSP, and we've seen people pulled over for speeding during our commute. Yesterday morning however, I saw something that just warmed my heart. As we entered the roadway, we saw the flashing blue lights ahead on the right shoulder, and Sam said, "Uh-oh, someone was caught speeding." As we approached the patrol car, I was able to see a small Toyota Corolla in front of it, and beside the car was a girl, probably all of 16 or 17, with slouched shoulders, and her hand to her face, fully in tears. In that split second I deduced that most probably she was mortified and scared that she'd been caught doing probably well over 80mph, and was wondering what on earth she'd tell her parents. As we passed, I noticed the tropper standing to her left, lean in towards her, and then unexpectedly put his arm around her shoulder, as he bent towards her face. I imagined that he was probably saying to her, "Sweetheart, I know you are upset, but I'd not be doing my job if I didn't let you know that you risk your life and others when you are speeding like that. I want you to grow up to be somebody." He could have been a hard ass and yelled at her sternly to make her feel even worse, but he was probably a dad with a kid her age, and decided compassion would make a heavier impression. I hope she was able to learn something, and that her keys weren't taken away for too long.

Better results

(photo from Cheekwood Botanical Gardens... a lovely place to visit if you are ever in Nashville)

When I returned to work on Tuesday, it was with pride and happiness that I held out Sam's picture in his new glasses for my co-worker to see. Her response? A very distracted, "What?" As in, "SO...what?" Mind you, she knew the reason I had to be off on Monday was to take Sam to the eye doctor and how I was feeling about not even realizing that he was nearsided. With a curt "what?" I was smacked in the face with the feeling of being dismissed, of being told "what's going on in your world matters not to me dearie." I did not wait for her to question again, but rather just briefly filled her in on how his eye exam went and that he did indeed need glasses as I put the photo away. Inside, I was hurt and seething, as this is typically how she deals with feeling stressed. She uses her words and intonation to let those know who she feels caused these feelings that they are not important to her. We discussed our patients, made our assignment, and I left the office, fully intending to avoid her for the remainder of the day. I was wounded, and when wounded, I retreat.

As my day went on, in my mind I thought of all sorts of ways I was going to confront her about her rudeness and what I could say to make her feel as badly as she made me feel. I did not see her the rest of the day. But that night, while in my warm tub (my thinking time), I thought about my eariler blog regarding my conflict with another co-worker, and something finally clicked inside me. And, I prayed. We are not called to meet hurt with hurt, and stinging comments with our own stinging comments. I was letting this have power over me by taking it personally. In Don Miguel Ruiz's "The Four Agreements," one of the agreements is not to take anything personally, for when we do, we are making it all about us, when things rarely are just about us. What about her? What was going on in her world to make her respond inappropriately like that? Was she feeling very stressed that she was there Monday by herself and she had a really bad day? How could I meet her with compassion and understanding and not respond to the hurt?

So, yesterday I held my holding cross and prayed all the way into work. I walked into our office, and after we said our good mornings, I said, "So, how are things in your world? Yesterday, you seemed really sad and stressed." It was as if a dry eraser went across a full board of hurtful words. She turned to me and immediately started talking about things going on in her life, and her entire attitude was one of friendship and thankfulness. Inwardly, I smiled and thanked God for letting me put my own hurt aside and see her as someone who needs to be met with compassion and understanding, not as someone who is intentionally trying to hurt me. She asked me how Sam was doing with his glasses, and I knew that she knew I had forgiven her for being insensitive. A better result indeed...

From the Schafer Autism Report... Spot On

Ten Things Every Autistic Child Wishes You Knew

1. I am first and foremost a child. There is more to me than a one
word description like "autistic." I know you know this. Why would you not?
So, do not be concerned about calling me autistic even if others say it is
wrong. It makes no difference to me if you say I am an autistic child or a
child with autism. What you do about me is far more important than what you
say about me, anyway. Please pay attention to my real problems and not ones
made up by some adults. I already have enough problems as it is. There is no
need to make up ones to add on.

If I have autism, then I am disabled by it. Saying that famous or
unusual people like Einstein, or Mozart, or Van Gogh were autistic says
autism is not a disability. Those people were not disabled. I am. You do not
help me by pretending or telling others that I am not disabled, even if that
makes you feel better. I am dependent on the public's support. Telling
people that I am not disabled, only "just different", threatens my care.
Please take autism seriously so others will, too.

2. My sensory perceptions are disordered. Sensory integration may be
the most difficult aspect of autism to understand, but it is arguably the
most critical. It his means that the ordinary sights, sounds, smells,
tastes and touches of everyday that you may not even notice can be downright
painful for me. The very environment in which I have to live often seems
hostile. I may appear withdrawn or belligerent to you but I am really just
trying to defend myself. Here is why a "simple" trip to the grocery store
may be hell for me:

My hearing may be hyper-acute. Dozens of people are talking at once.
The loudspeaker booms today's special. Musak whines from the sound system.
Cash registers beep and cough, a coffee grinder is chugging. The meat
cutter screeches, babies wail, carts creak, the fluorescent lighting hums.
My brain can't filter all the input and I'm in overload!
My sense of smell may be highly sensitive. The fish at the meat
counter isn't quite fresh, the guy standing next to us hasn't showered
today, the deli is handing out sausage samples, the baby in line ahead of us
has a poopy diaper, they're mopping up pickles on aisle 3 with ammonia..I
can't sort it all out. I am dangerously nauseated.

Because I am visually oriented (see more on this below), this may be
my first sense to become overstimulated. The fluorescent light is not only
too bright, it buzzes and hums. The room seems to pulsate and it hurts my
eyes. The pulsating light bounces off everything and distorts what I am
seeing -- the space seems to be constantly changing. There's glare from
windows, too many items for me to be able to focus (I may compensate with
"tunnel vision"), moving fans on the ceiling, so many bodies in constant
motion. All this affects my vestibular and proprioceptive senses, and now I
can't even tell where my body is in space.

3. Please remember to distinguish between won't (I choose not to) and
can't (I am not able to).
Receptive and expressive language and vocabulary can be major
challenges for me. It isn't that I don't listen to instructions. It's that
I can't understand you. When you call to me from across the room, this is
what I hear: "*&^%$#@, Billy. #$%^*&^%$&*..." Instead, come speak directly
to me in plain words: "Please put your book in your desk, Billy. It's time
to go to lunch." This tells me what you want me to do and what is going to
happen next. Now it is much easier for me to comply.

4. I am a concrete thinker. This means I interpret language
literally. For example, to me it could mean that I think about concrete. It
could also mean that I am made of concrete. It's very confusing for me when
you say, "Hold your horses, cowboy!" when what you really mean is "Please
stop running." Don't tell me something is a "piece of cake" when there is
no dessert in sight and what you really mean is "this will be easy for you
to do." When you say "It's pouring cats and dogs," I see pets coming out of
a pitcher. Please just tell me "It's raining very hard."

You may use the word "like" or "as" to help me learn to compare, but
do not exaggerate. If something is described "as cold as ice", it should
really be that cold. Pick words carefully. "High as a kite" is not the
same "high" as in being drunk, yet the expression is used to compare the
two. "I play the shoe horn" is not funny to me. It is confusing. It is
difficult to understand expressions that play on the different meanings of
the same word. Idioms, puns, nuances, double entendres, inference,
metaphors, allusions, hyperbole or exaggeration, sarcasm and much of other
people's humor are lost on me. I have a sense of humor. I find different
things funny.

5. Please be patient with my limited vocabulary. It's hard for me
to tell you what I need when I don't know the words to describe my feelings.
I may be hungry, frustrated, frightened or confused but right now those
words are beyond my ability to express. Be alert for body language,
withdrawal, agitation or other signs that something is wrong.

Or, there's a flip side to this: I may sound like a "little
professor" or movie star, rattling off words or whole scripts well beyond my
developmental age. These are messages I have memorized from the world
around me to compensate for my language deficits because I know I am
expected to respond when spoken to. They may come from books, TV, the
speech of other people. It is called "echolalia." I don't necessarily
understand the context or the terminology I'm using. I just know that it
gets me off the hook for coming up with a reply.

6. Because language is so difficult for me, I am visually oriented.
Please show me how to do something rather than just telling me. And please
be prepared to show me many times. Lots of consistent repetition helps me
learn. Speech and language therapists and behavior specialists knowledgeable
about autism can provide a range of learning aids tailored for me. Contact
my local school district or disability agency to help you find them.

7. Please focus and build on what I can do rather than what I can't
do. Like any other human, I can't learn in an environment where I'm
constantly made to feel that I'm not good enough. The autism needs fixing,
not me. Trying anything new when I am almost sure to be met with criticism,
however "constructive," becomes something to be avoided. Look for my
strengths and you will find them. There is more than one "right" way to do
most things.

8. Please help me with social interactions. It may look like I don't
want to play with the other kids on the playground, but sometimes it's just
that I simply do not know how to start a conversation or enter a play
situation. If you can encourage other children to invite me to join them at
kickball or shooting baskets, it may be that I'm delighted to be included.

I do best in structured play activities that have a clear beginning
and end. I don't know how to "read" facial expressions, body language or
the emotions of others, so I appreciate ongoing coaching in proper social
responses. For example, if I laugh when Emily falls off the slide, it's not
that I think it's funny. It's that I don't know the proper response. Teach
me to say "Are you OK?"

9. Try to identify what triggers my meltdowns. Meltdowns, blow-ups,
tantrums or whatever you want to call them are even more horrid for me than
they are for you. They occur because one or more of my senses has gone into
overload. If you can figure out why my meltdowns occur, they can be
prevented. Keep a log noting times, settings, people, activities. A
pattern may emerge.
Try to remember that all behavior is a form of communication. It
tells you, when my words cannot, how I perceive something that is happening
in my environment. It is my situation and my autism that needs to be fixed,
not me.
Parents, keep in mind as well: persistent behavior may have an
underlying medical cause. Food allergies and sensitivities, sleep disorders
and gastrointestinal problems can all have profound effects on behavior.

10. If you are a family member, please love me unconditionally.
Banish thoughts like, "If he would just.." and "Why can't she..." You did
not fulfill every last expectation your parents had for you and you wouldn't
like being constantly reminded of it. I did not choose to have autism. But
remember that it is happening to me, not you. Without your support, my
chances of successful, self-reliant adulthood are slim. With your support
and guidance, the possibilities are broader than you might think. I promise
you - I am worth it.
And finally, three words: Patience. Patience. Patience. Understand
my autism is a disability. Autism the disability is not some wonderful
gift. It cripples. It confuses me when you say my suffering is a good thing
I should like. But autism is treatable and I may be able overcome being
disabled.

All God's creatures?

So by now, everyone knows about my passion for feeding and enjoying the birds. But, alas, I have apparently been added to the She Who Has Great Seed and Keeps Full Feeders telegraph for all starlings in our area. Now, mind you, I don't care if a few come by and eat the dropped seeds on the ground, but why do they have to then invite 100 of their closest friends to come as well? I only have one feeder that is even big enough for them to light on, but the boogers find a way to be bloomin' acrobats and they will literally hang almost upside down flapping their wings on my small tube feeders to get some seed, as this limber starling demonstrates. They run off all the smaller birds and empty my feeders in record time. I was putting out suet for my yellow bellied sapsucker, and these bozos started eating an entire cake of suet in less than two days! Sigh... I know they are God's creatures too, but I guess I'll have to go purchase some safflower seed (or get a bird seed loan from Suntrust) to use in my feeders for a bit and see if they move on to better grazing territory.

I still hate Delilah, but I can see!!

I just couldn't resist... Here's Sam in his new Converse YIKES glasses. From the moment he put them on, he was like a kid in a candy store. He read signs along the road all the way home. He's still mad about Delilah, but he's so happy to be able to see!

YIKES!

"Converse All-Star is all about cutting-edge designs expressly for a youthful generation of consumers seeking unique, trend-setting products at moderate price points. Students, rock 'n rollers, extreme sports enthusiasts all are ideal candidates for Converse All-Star".

Well, we're back home from Sam's eye exam, and he did so much better than I thought he would, however, the hard part started when we departed from the doctor's office and he was left to cope with his distorted vision from the dilation. This is a child whose entire existence is so visually based, so you can imagine how disturbing it is to him that he can't see anything. All the way home, he kept wailing that he went to see the doctor and went blind and was now "handicapped." I tried not to laugh at his histrionics, but even with my continued reassurance that in a few hours his vision would return to normal, he was not convinced. I explained that the drops dilated his pupils so that the doctor could examine his eyes, but that they would wear off and his vision would be fine. As he wailed, he kept saying he didn't like Delilah at all. I was initially confused and asked him who Delilah was, but then realized that is what he heard when I said dilated! God love him...

Of course, when we got home, he wanted to turn all the lights on and see the TV. Whew.... I finally convinced him to lay down on mom and dad's bed, close his eyes, and listen to some story CD's with his headphones on while his vision got better. Not being in his head, I can't imagine how this must feel to him when he depends so much on visual input to figure out his world.

By Dr. M's exam, we do have moderate congenital myopia and astigmatism, so the glasses will make a huge difference in how he sees the world. The staff was so very patient with him, and allowed me to put in the drops, which he did not like, but recovered from nicely once we screamed a bit. After we left, we went by the optical place to take his prescription to them, and I paid for two pairs of the Converse YIKES frames shown above. They will be ready later today, and I can't wait to see his reaction when he puts them on and can see correctly for the first time in goodness knows how long. I've promised him lunch at his favorite place, Red Lobster, as a treat for doing so well. As long as they keep those cheddar biscuits coming, the trauma will have been worth the reward.

Brave bluebird

I have a small window feeder in my kitchen where I can stand at the sink and enjoy the birds who are brave enough to fly in for a treat. I mostly see house finches, and every now and again a goldfinch will come in, but most other birds spook too easily, especially when I am standing there washing up dishes. So imagine my surprise yesterday when one of my bluebirds flew in, which I thought was so brave of him since he can clearly see the Mad Bluebird suncatcher which hangs just beside the feeder! He was rewarded with a nice feast of sunflower hearts.

The TUGS of Bigg City Port

Because I don't have much to offer today other than wondering where that truck came from that felt like it ran over my head yesterday, I am sharing one of Sam's drawings of the TUGS. This sweet group of tug boats who live in Bigg City Port were created before Thomas the Tank Engine by friends of Britt Allcroft, but never gained much popularity, and so never made it outside the UK, or past one season of shows. Sam found them on-line, and loves them every bit as much as Thomas and Friends.

Now, I need to muster the strength to shower and go to the grocery store today, as we are out of food, and the last time I sent DH to grocery shop, he came home proudly with a 5lb jar of peanut butter.

Just waiting on the prescription

Well, poo! It started out with a scratchy throat Thursday evening, which went away on Friday, but I woke up this morning clogged and full of head cold. I had just thought to myself this past week, after Sam came down with a cold last weekend, that it's the first time any of us has been sick all winter, and so of course, I jinxed myself. I started some Zicam on Thursday, but I have not been very diligent about using it as often as I could have. So, I get what I get. Thankfully, I don't have to be back at work until Tuesday, so maybe it will all be behind me then.

I am off on Monday as I was able to get Sam an appointment with Dr. M, a hopefully very patient opthamologist, who I also saw last year for an eye exam, and liked very much. When I called their office, they told me their first afternoon appointment would be in April, so I asked for the first available, which thankfully is on Monday at 8:15am. Sam is out for President's Day that day so he won't miss school, which is nice. I told the scheduler about Sam's autism and she acted as if that was no problem at all, which made me think that they have been there and done that. I do hope that is the case. He's never had an eye exam, or eye drops for that matter, so I am so hoping it won't be traumatic for him.

My sister had the brilliant suggestion to go ahead and take him by the optical place to let him try on some frames, so that on Monday all we'll have to do is drop off the anticipated prescription to them. So, on Thursday after school we went to check out some cool teenage boy frames. The man there was very kind and patient, and led us to the back where they had some really spiffy Converse frames. Who knew Converse made anything other than sneakers? I wore the white high tops for basketball in middle school. He tried on several pairs, and the ones we thought looked the best were a steel blue/gray which complimented his face shape and accentuated his eye color. So we went with those. As we left the store, I asked him if he was sure he liked the ones we picked out, and he said, "I like the star on them." I had to think a second, and then realized that he meant the plastic sticker on the lower edge of left lens with the Converse star logo. I explained to him that it would peel off so it was not in his line of vision, and would not remain on the lens. That's just how his concrete brain works. He sees what he sees, and things are as they are seen, period. So, we'll go on Monday and get the results of our eye exam and get our Converse glasses all fixed up. Any prayers for a smooth exam and good experience for Sam would be mightily appreciated.

Flower rescue

My sissy, being the smart person she is, made the effort to rescue these post-Valentine's Day flowers so they could be enjoyed as they were intended to be... at half-price (well, probably the normal price)! Methinks that it would be a lovely idea to make a holiday on Feb. 16 as National Flower Rescue Day.

Deep, hot, searing pain

I went back to see Dr. B and the gang on Wednesday to finally get my permanent crowns. Just as hubby said, the gal took a pair of what looked like pliers to get the temporary ones off, and boy howdy, when she took the covering off the upper one, and the air hit it, I thought I was going to come out of the chair. She then said, "Oh, so that one's a bit sensitive?" Uh... yeah. So she then tried to rinse it with the water thingy....oy, oy, oy. No go. "Hmmm... we'll have to numb that one it seems," said she who finally got it. So she put the Q-tip with the numbing medication on my gum above the nub and even that was killing me with the throbbing ache it caused because it was cold. As I sat there waiting for the pain to subside, I could not help but think of James Frey once again as I came to the realization that there is no way in hell he underwent a root canal with no numbing. It made for riveting reading, for sure, but I also realized that his rationalization for his not being able to get any "anesthesia" was because he was going into rehab, however, novocaine only numbs at the source and I can't imagine any dentist who wants to keep his license inflicting that sort of pain on anyone when it's just not necessary. So I sat there waiting for this pain to go away and became even more disappointed in him and his more-fiction-than-fact memoir. They got the permanent crowns on, but I still have some achy throbbing which I am hoping will go away, and I still have some cold sensitivity as well on that upper tooth. We shall see...

I spoke with their office about the Zoom Whitening, and the deal is that you take home some treatment trays to use every two or three weeks for a couple of hours which keeps the teeth their pretty new pearly white. Their office manager became my hero when he told me that he drinks a pot of coffee a day, but as long as he does the touch up trays, his smile remains white. Also, the time for avoiding dark beverages according to them is 24 hours. That I can do! So I scheduled myself an appointment, and can't wait to see how it goes. A brighter smile... a nice gift to myself for my 44th birthday!

Patience and faith

I am currently thoroughly enjoying "Traveling Mercies" by Anne Lamott. I had never read any of her books, but had heard so much about them, that I knew they would be something I would find humorous and spirited, and she has not disappointed me in the least bit. I have literally laughed out loud in many places as she describes her irreverent faith life. It takes guts to be so honest, and yet what she shares resonates with so many of us because we too are so imperfect and so in need of constant reassurance that God is in control.

One of my very favorite quotes from the book is in the chapter entitled Hearthcake, when she is relating to finding out that her son (his name is Sam, by the way, and so I keep envisioning my Sam) may have leukemia. She is waiting, and rather impatiently, for the lab results to come back, and she has already been bartering with God heavily. She declares that "patience is when God--or something--makes the now a little roomier." How perfectly phrased that is... for it's only when we can let his light in, and allow some of the worry to seep out of us that there is room to breathe. There is more room in the now because we know that we are not in control. Oh, how we love to be in control. Makes me think of the old joke... Know how to make God laugh? Tell him your plans.

Giving in to the vice

Well, being the silly goose I am, I tried to scale back my caffeine intake way too quickly, and spent yesterday with generalized lethargy, aches, and just an overall sense of feeling blah. I kept wanting to fall asleep every time I sat down. I read more information on more web sites and came to the conclusion that if I can hold it to only three cups a day, that is considered much more healthy, and so I will keep and embrace my vice of loving coffee and what it does for my brain and well being, brighter teeth be damned.

I have transformed my life in so many ways over the past six years. Currently, each day I drink 8-10 glasses of water, I eat a diet high in whole grains, vegetables, fruits, and lean meats, and have not touched sweets since the year 2000. I am walking 14 miles a week on the treadmill, and even have been wine-less since Christmas trying to cut back on the calories a bit and lose the poundage I've found over the past years. So, guess I'll just have mediocre colored teeth and be able to stay awake. The taste and smell of coffee and what the caffeine does for me brings me absolute joy, so this is one vice I will just embrace.

Sobering facts

Last night as we were watching something on CNN, a PSA came on from Apathy Is Lethal and so I visited the website and soaked in some of these stunning facts:

• More than 14 million children worldwide have been orphaned because of AIDS. That's the equivalent of every child under five in America with no one to watch over them.
• Nearly six million children have been killed by AIDS. That number is more than every child in every grade school and high school in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington, Miami and Atlanta combined.

Wow... sort of puts things into perspective, doesn't it? Apathy is indeed lethal. Pretty much sums it up.

Happy Valentine's Day, and God Bless Anna

The first week of middle school for Sam last year, I was stunned to learn that there was not one child in his sixth grade class who had been with him in elementary school. There were supposed to be plans to make sure at least one child in there knew him, was familiar with him, and could be his peer buddy, but poor planning resulted in chaos. But, alas, an angel named Anna stepped up to the plate. She became the mother hen and made sure Sam was on task, had his correct books, etc. She just really liked him as a person. Her mother would tell me that Sam had done as much, or more, for Anna as I felt Anna had done for Sam.

With a new middle school this year, Anna was no longer zoned for our school, and unless she was going to have her parents bring her each day (she rode the bus), she had to go to the new middle school. We were sad of course, but she had to go where she could get transportation. She has made an effort to keep in touch with us through this year, and calls to check on Sam and to ask him how he's doing. It matters not to her that his answers to her are monosyllabic and short. She thinks of him as her friend and accepts him as he is.

So, I was not surprised when she called a couple of weeks ago to tell me that their school is doing a Valentine's Day fundraiser where you can send "care packages" to people with fun stickers, pencils, etc. and wanted to know if it would be OK for her to send one to Sam at his school. I told her I am sure he'd be thrilled. She made me promise not to tell him it was coming, so he'd be surprised. God does indeed have angels here on earth. Happy Valentine's Day Anna... you are an angel.

Something to snicker about

Here in Georgia, there is a diversity of landscape. We have beautiful mountains here in the north, and marshy areas with sandy soil in the south, but the one thing you don't see that often is snowfall of any significance. (OK, so we won't count the blizzard of 1993, which left us incapacitated for weeks). But, oh, how we love to pretend and dream. While the northeast is now digging out from under two plus feet of real honest-to-goodness snow, we here had another chance to pretend this past weekend. The lower edge of that same storm system sneaked by just close enough to give us a light dusting of snow, as seen from my kitchen window Sunday morning. But, for goodness sakes, don't call it a dusting aloud, for the local TV channels had "Stormtrack Teams" assembled all over town and on the surrounding mountains, I kid you not, gleefully measuring the melting half inch of slush. They were oohing and aaahing at each and every flake that fell, and gave grim reports of low supplies of bread and milk at the grocery store as everyone scrambled to "be prepared" for the storm. Why do people rush out to get bread and milk, anyway? You'd have thought a nuclear holocaust was upon us. This happens every winter, and must be especially humorous to the newest member of the ABC affiliate here who is from Maine, where I am sure she has seen some doozy storms in her life. We just sigh as we watch them lead with stories of potential inch wide patches of ice on the sides of the road, and laugh as the reporters pretend they can make snow angels in slush. Only in the South, only in the South....

Caffeine conundrum

Recently, hubby asked me what I might like for my upcoming birthday. I had been thinking that it would be nice to brighten my smile a bit, as with a history of braces as a kid causing discoloration, and age sneaking up on me, these choppers aren't exactly pearly white any longer. I was intrigued by the results people seem to get instantaneously with the Zoom Whitening System, done in many dental offices these days (including Dr. B's office, who double crowned me two weeks ago... and just where are those permanents, by the way?). I am not a patient person in terms of using those over the counter strips which may or may not give you any whitening at all, and I have tried the overnight trays you wear, which only made my gums sore, and really did not seem to work either. So, I went to a web site to read about the Zoom procedure, and it all seemed easy until I read this part, "For the next 48 hours after the procedure, dark staining substances should be avoided." Yep, number one on The List was coffee. Holy massive headache Batman! Just reading that made me anxious which got me to thinking.

I never used to even like coffee, but several years ago, I began to find that there was indeed a difference between so-so coffee and really good coffee. Add a little Splenda and it was quite satisfying. I only really drank it in the morning, and only one cup. That was then, you know... before the caffeine demons took hold of me. I say I only drink "a cup" in the morning, and an afternoon "cup" of Hazelnut at work, but let's be honest, shall we? Above is my new favorite coffee cup from Marjolein Bastin. I just measured, and my "cup" holds almost 18 ounces... ahem. The "cup" at work is 20 ounces, which brings my grand total to 38 ounces of coffee daily when I am working. Let's see... I know math isn't my strong point, but that's almost five cups per day. No wonder the thought of going an entire 48 hours without any makes me nervous just pondering it! If there is 150mg of caffeine in an 8oz. cup, I am consuming almost 750mg daily. The recommended intake is no more than 400-450mg. Maybe it's time to wean myself a bit and this birthday gift would be a great reason? I don't particularly like the thought of being addicted to something (other than Grey's Anatomy) and so maybe my knee jerk horrified reaction to 48 hours of no coffee is proof that it's time for a change.

Cardinal beauty

Although her partner has that stunning red coloration, I think that she is sometimes even more striking with that neon orange beak and feathers. She was enjoying some seed the other day, and I caught a glimpse of her from my kitchen window.

Learning something new every day

When I picked Sam up from school on Wednesday, one of his parapros asked me if he'd had a vision screening recently. She said they've noticed that he is squinting to see things written on the overhead or on the dry erase board and gets frustrated trying to write things down from the board. I could not remember the last time he'd had a vision screening so I told her it was fine with me for her to take him to see the school nurse for a check. On Thursday she took him to see Nurse Laura and they put him on the 20' line in front of the vision chart. She said with each eye covered, he kept leaning forward to try and read the chart and failed miserably. Once the screening was done, they had him walk up to the chart, just to be sure he understood it, and he was able to read each line just fine.

I had no idea he was nearsided and wondered how long this has been going on. I started thinking about how he'll turn the color and brightness settings to the max on the TV, and how he'll be right in front of the DVD screen on his DVD player, but attributed that to his needing more sensory input visually. Funny how it's easy to attribute everything to the autism. I mean, we have so many odd and quirky things, why not, right? Now, I feel like the person who finally feels the brick being hurled at her head... Duh!

As we drove home with the folded paper documenting the failed vision test between us, I told him, "Sam, we'll have to go see the eye doctor, and you're probably going to need glasses sweetie," to which he replied without a beat, "But mom, I'll look positively goofy!" Leave it to his brain to pull out dialogue, in a perfect Jan Brady-ish inflection no less, from an episode of The Brady Bunch where Jan reluctantly gets glasses. I told him that glasses are cool and make you look even smarter. I told him that he'd have something in common with his cousin, who for all the world looks like a young Harry Potter, and we all know how cool Harry Potter is. Now, we'll have to find the pediatric opthamologist in our area with über patience and kindness. I am curious to see how this will improve his quality of life and decrease his frustration. Nothing is ever as it seems... lesson learned.

Happy Birthday Daddy

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BEST DADDY IN THE WORLD!
In honor of my dad's birthday today, I thought I'd share this afternoon visitor I had yesterday. Even though I have some seed and nut mix in a bluebird feeder, this particular bird can't figure out how to get to it, and so he was tettering on my small perch feeder trying his best to get some seed. To be kind, I put some on the deck railing for him, and he came right back to feast and sit still for this photo.

Sixteen years ago today

Sixteen years ago today, I woke up to the sound of rainfall. It had not rained in days, mind you, but chose this particular day to provide us with a gullywasher. Any other day would have been fine, but DH and I were scheduled to say our "I do's" at a beautiful river park later in the afternoon. I remember pondering that just maybe the rain would let up, but as we went to pick up our marriage license, it continued to pour.

Instead of being out over the water on a beautiful pier, we were relegated to the indoor pavilion just adjacent to a snack shop. As we prepared to become husband and wife, we could hear the sound of crickets as the snack shop also sold bait for fishing. No matter... we looked into one another's eyes, laughed at the sound of the pouring rain on the roof, and said we'd have and hold one another until death did us part. We then took a limo ride around the city and polished off a bottle of Brut Champagne. Since we had an hour to kill, we decided to take a trip up to where DH had asked me, only three short months before, to become his wife. As we ascended to the top of a mountain, the fog was thick, but we had to get out just long enough for our driver, Henry, to snap a photo. Nothing would dampen the warmth we felt that day. The wonder, the giddiness, the I-can't-believe-we're-actually-married euphoria.

Years later, we would shake our heads in wonderment that we actually became engaged only three short months after we met, and then only three months later, got married. What were we thinking? Thank goodness the kind man who married us told us that rain was good luck, and that everyone he'd married on a rainy day was still hitched. That, and some hard work has brought us to this day. We've weathered so much together, and our love is so much deeper than it ever could have been that rainy day 16 years ago.

As I was cleaning yesterday, the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find our local florist holding a very beautiful vase of long stemmed yellow roses from the man who has become my rock, my safety net, my truest friend, in every sense of the word. Happy Anniversary sweetie. I can't imagine having done it with anyone else.

Embarrassing, but true...

Just to prove how non-mechanically my mind works... I was finishing up cleaning a bit ago, and was using my Swiffer Wet Jet to clean my floor. I had noticed today that as I pressed the button, the cleaning solution was barely coming out. I thought my bottle of solution was low, and so I changed it out. Still, each time I pressed the button, a smaller and smaller stream would emerge from the front of the cleaning pad. Hmmm... so I reseated the cleaning solution, and tried again. Still, nothing. Great, I thought, just when I was almost done with my floors, my Wet Jet had to bite the dust, and I would need to purchase a new one. I've had this one for probably two years now, and have never had any problems with it. Not to be dissuaded, I decided to try and smack it on the floor once to see if I could make it work. When I did, a plastic case fell off the back of it... to reveal... um... four AA batteries? They are the original ones from when I purchased the blame thing. I'll bet the house on the end of the block could hear me howling with laughter as I went to the kitchen to replace the batteries, and find that the sucker is now throwing out a stream of cleaner far enough to clean the entire floor in three or four "Swiffs." Oh, how I amuse myself!

Facing conflict

Several weeks ago, I had an encounter with a co-worker from another department which hurt my feelings and left me feeling confused as I thought we were friends. He was probably having a bad day, and really did not even know the full import of his comments to me, but since that time, I have avoided him and have not gone out of my way to converse with him in any detail. I suppose I kept waiting for him to come to me and ask if everything was OK, and apologize, as I am sure I seemed upset with him, but he didn't. That is the "old me" responding... the remnants of the person who avoided conflict at all costs. The one who would just go into the corner to lick her wounds and then turn to food for comfort. I don't like that gal very much.

Nevertheless, I thought I had just let it go, until yesterday when his supervisor saw me in the hall, and asked if she could speak to me. She said, "Are you upset with L about something? He mentioned at lunch that you are not speaking to him any longer." I was surprised at the vehemence of my response to her. I poured out the incident to her and told her that yes indeed, I was upset and hurt, and had been waiting for him to apologize. She agreed that his comments and actions were inappropriate, but as I talked with her, I began to fully realize that I had been wrong to hold all this in for so long. I should have taken him aside into a private room and resolved this entire episode instead of letting it seethe inside me for the past weeks. I told her that much, and decided that I would indeed do this when I next saw him.

Later in the day, my co-worker in our department called to say that L had left a message on our answering machine for me to call him. He left his department extension, his pager, and his cell phone number. I called him last night, and he apologized profusely. He did not even remember the incident I was so upset about, and just as I thought, he was having a really hard day, and never meant for me to be the object of his frustration. He told me that he holds me in such high esteem and had been really upset that I had been avoiding him for the past weeks. I apologized as well that I had not done the appropriate thing by taking him aside to confront this unpleasantness between us. In a five minute span, I was able to let it all go. The anger and hurt evaporated completely. I spent way too much time being hurt for no good reason. It's just in my nature to avoid conflict, but each incident like this helps me to see that the universe does indeed keep presenting opportunities for improvement.

Getting my mojo back

It occurred to me the other day that I had emotionally thrown in the towel. I had given up. I had decided that I just didn't care any longer. Sam would learn what he learned and I was tired of fighting about it. Tired of the constant struggle. Tired of all the focus always being on everything he's not. He, and other kids with special needs, are under the microscope when they are a part of the "normal" world. Everything he did in class behaviorally seemed to be cataloged as "a problem." Literally, I was feeling defeated and broken.

That is, until I had someone who has known my child for all of 90 days look at me and offer up his oh-so-insightful-opinion that my child would never be anything other than a dependent soul and might need to be considered for a self-contained classroom. I suppose I need to thank him really, for he brought back floods of memories of a child who would not respond to his name, a child who had horrible tantrums at the least frustration, a child who never called me mom, a child who was literally locked into his own little universe and had slipped away from us ten years ago. I can't describe to anyone the fight I fought to reclaim my child in an intensive two year behavioral intervention program we did all on our own at home, with me as the lead therapist. What emerged was a happy, calm, connected little person who started living in the world with the rest of us, to the extent that he could. No.... no one can take that away from me, and no one, but no one will ever be allowed to decide what his future has in store for him. The sky is the limit. We made it through the really rough part... he deserves all my love and advocacy to get to the next level in his life, and boy do I have my mojo back. As Kathy Bates famously yelled in Fried Green Tomatoes, "TAWANDA!"

Surprising disappointment

Now, I am not one of those celebrity obsessed people. I hear in passing what is going on in the lives of the rich and beautiful on CNN or whatever news I am watching, but I do not regularly read People or Us Magazine to get the very latest scoop. But, I will say that the hook up of Sheryl Crow, whose music I love, and Lance Armstrong made me smile. Maybe because for once there was a relationship where she was 10 years older than him (and just a few weeks older than me), or maybe because when you'd see the two together, it seemed so grounded and real. In interviews with him before the Tour, he was so awed and appreciative of the fact that she'd literally taken a two year break to support him in winning his 6th and 7th record breaking Tour de France. He gushed about how she was just "a normal girl from Missouri" and that he loved that about her. She, in turn, was so grateful that he had come along and restored her faith in finding true love, after some very unpleasant relationships in her past. She had thought she'd never marry, and yet, there in Paris, he asked, and she was ready to start her life with the man of her dreams. Except now, the race was over and he proudly told everyone he would be supporting her as she went on tour to promote one of her best CD's ever, Wildflower, written by her about her newfound love.

We watched his face swell with pride at the Rose Bowl as she sang the National Anthem only a few short weeks ago. And yet, just this weekend, they announced they are splitting up. HUH? What the heck happened in three short weeks to bring such an abrupt end to a years long relationship? Was it not worth trying to salvage? Is celebrity just a curse where real relationships are concerned? It just made me sad to hear it. Sadder still, that now she has to start her national/worldwide tour to promote "Wildflower" and painfully sing all the songs she wrote about her new love and happiness over and over again. Come on guys! Give it a chance! Work it out!

Eastern Meadowlark

Yesterday afternoon, I saw a group of three Eastern Meadowlarks come to visit the ground below my feeders. I had never seen one prior to moving here seven years ago, but this development sits on what literally used to be a cow pasture, so there are many of them. When I first saw them my sister was visiting, and we initially thought they were grouse or quail until we got out the binoculars and saw the vivid yellow color. This from a web site: "The song of the Eastern Meadowlark is a whistling see-you-see-yer or putting words to it would sound like "spring is here" which they sing while perched on a fence post, tree, pole or on the ground. They utter harsh alarming notes to proclaim their territory." They bob along the ground finding seed and insects to eat. This was taken from my kitchen window when the light was fading, but you can see what magnificent looking birds they are. When the birds spook and scatter, this beauty simply hunkers down into the grass, hiding it's breast, and literally disappears into the ground.

News to warm my heart...

Congratulations to Anne and Ken... two very special souls. May you always feel fully embraced by the same warmth and happiness which your friendship has given to me. I am so very happy for you both!

Best Ideas Since Sliced Bread

This was the title of a page in USA Today yesterday. Seems an organization called SEIU (Service Employees International Union) had a contest for people to submit common sense ideas on how we can strengthen our economy and improve the day to day lives of working families. They received over 22,000 submissions, and listed in this ad the winner and two runners-up. The idea submitted by Filippo Menczer of Bloomington, Indiana caught my eye... "Tie Minimum Wage To Cost of Living." My parents and I had lunch on Wednesday, and we were discussing this very issue. I was telling them about the Just Neighbors program we are currently doing at church, and we had discussion about how to ensure that people could live in our country making minimum wage.

This is what Filippo had to offer: "Many American working poor earn minimum wage. As cost of living increases, the purchasing power of minimum wage goes down, and a political fight becomes necessary to raise the minimum wage every few years (or, many as in the current case). This is unfair. A minimum should be a minimum in terms of purchasing power, not in inflation bound dollars. The solution is simple: tie the minimum wage to the Cost of Living index. This is fair, helps the neediest families, and saves Americans from a useless political fight."

Other common sense ideas can be found at Since Sliced Bread

Ah, the goldfinch...

This three tube thistle feeder will accommodate 24 birds, and since the goldfinch just love thistle, I am often treated to the entire feeder full of these lovely birdies. In the fall/winter, they become this rather drab olive green/yellow, but in the spring, as mating season approaches, the males molt into this bright, vibrant canary yellow. What a sight that is, when they are all lined up on my feeder.

Secret euphoria

I have a confession to make. You know how they say that people are typically language or science based? I have always known and embraced that I adore words and the written language, but I seriously can't tell you how far it is to my mailbox (in feet, inches, meters, or any type of measurement) as my brain just does not work that way. This knowledge is further enforced by my secret euphoria. I simply adore office supply stores. I went into Office Depot today, and just walking through the door made me feel happy and giddy! Mind you, I knew what I needed, but also knew that I would find myself meandering around each aisle, absorbing all the wonderful papers, pens, neat gadgets, and things I knew I would find I so needed to experience. Weeeee.... just the smell in there makes me happy. Sort of like walking in Barnes and Noble... ummmmm... that word, paper, and coffee aroma all meshed together. Is there anything better?

(As a funny aside, I once had been enjoying a cuppa coffee when Sam came to tell me something, and then leaned in to smell my breath. He said, "Mom, your breath smells like Barnes and Noble." A boy after my own heart!)

Back to Office Depot. I also am a pen snob, and found what I think is the best pen on the planet in there years ago, which brings infinite joy to my daily world. I write on probably 7-10 charts each day, and can't tell you how much I have enjoyed the Pilot G2 Rollerball 0.5mm Black Pen. A clickable rollerball! Joy and rapture! I purchase them by the dozens. There have been copycats since Pilot introduced this pen, but simply none compare in my book. DH prefers the 0.7mm, but I like a extra fine line myownself. I surely should have added that to my list of things that bring me joy.

So, the rest of the masses may be shopping for shoes and pocketbooks (just how many of those does one need?), but you'll find me in Office Depot oohing and aahing at the latest cool file folders, post-it notes, and fun gadgets which make life so much easier.