This is a post I wrote a while back, and revised to publish.
There is something to be said about a good, strong
thunderstorm. I love them! For me, the storm gives me peace. I feel comforted
by Mother Nature when the wind picks up and the rain starts to make its way
across the field to my yard. I love watching it, anticipating the first drops
before they fall on my upturned face. The wind embraces me, sometimes gently
and comforting, and sometimes with a strength I needed but couldn’t pick up on
my own. The flash of the lightning sparks an energy in my soul. The thunder
soothes my spirit when it rolls in the distance, and it excites my spirit when
it cracks, loud and strong, just over head. The energy is just… beyond
description!
The storms in our lives, however, are only slightly like
nature’s storms. These storms do not bring peace, but pain. Our life storms
sometimes come at us with a vengeance, raging in fast and suddenly, leaving us
broken and desolate when they are finished. Sometimes they come in gradually,
giving us fair warning but not allowing us actual escape, before drowning us in
the flood and leaving us heavy with the weight of the heavy rains.
Last year, in the month of June, we had so many storms.
Beautiful storms! High winds, some hail, thunder that shook the very soul,
lightning that lit up the sky as far as the eye could see, and sheets of rain
flowing like waves across the fields. They soothed my soul. The trees did this
graceful dance, taking on a life of their own under the music of the strong
winds. The rain was like a song, comforting and calming. They were perfect
storms. Little did I know they would have to hold me over for my own storms
that would come the following month.
July was the month of my personal storms. It was also the
month when very few natural storms came to comfort me. But, they did come at
the right times, thankfully.
Some storms came in gradually, tormenting me with their
approach. I felt helpless to get out of the way, and they poured on me physical
sickness, sorrow, disappointment, pain, and rage. Others hit me suddenly and
without warning, like a tornado dropping from a clear sky, rocking my world and
leaving me completely destroyed inside.
Yes, storms are terrible. They hurt us, blow us over and
away, and soak us with their torrential rains. But the result in the clearing
is beautiful. They clear away things that are cluttering our lives, and they
cleanse us with the floods, so we can emerge from them and rise as a new
person.
They are a beautiful disaster. They are not meant to be
gentle. They hurt. They break away the things that we have carried for too
long, and they blow us over, knocking us down to crack open the hard shell we
didn’t even know was covering our soul gradually, over time. It hurts. It
really hurts to be put through a storm. Sometimes storms blow away friends and
people in our lives whom we believed were going to stand by us in even the
strongest winds.
Storms don’t define us. They refine us.
Storms are going to come. There is no way to stop them. It
is what we do with ourselves when the storm comes, and when it passes, that defines
us. Some storms will break us. I have often thought I would never repair myself
from the damage of a life-storm. But the beauty in the disaster is when we
allow the storm to blow away the rubble, wash away the dirt and grime, and
stand firm, cleansed and free.
Raise your hands and face to welcome the rain. Open your
arms for the embrace of the wind. Let the thunder shake off the crud from your
heart and soul. Bask in the energy of the lightning. And, when the storm is
over, breathe in the fresh air. If you were knocked over, stand up. If you were
still standing, take your first step. Be it good, or bad, there is just
something about a storm.
Now, the next storm that Mother Nature brings your way, take
some pictures, record some video, and feel the cleanse that the earth is
receiving. And when you have a life-storm come, you can look at those memories
of nature’s finest and hold on, because you will be as the earth when it
passes. Cleansed, refreshed, and more beautiful than ever.
One of the neat things I have failed, for years, to take notice of is special holidays throughout the year. Not the typical, highly recognized holidays… The wacky, silly, odd holidays that pop up randomly throughout each month.
April 10, for example, was National Sibling Day!
Did I celebrate this holiday? Sadly, no. I didn’t post a
bunch of pictures of myself and my siblings on social media, and I didn’t call
any of my siblings and wish them a happy holiday dedicated to us. That’s okay,
though, neither did they. Ha!
I will, however, celebrate my siblings every day we have on
this earth. We are a blessed bunch, and I am thankful every day for the three
siblings I have (and the one we never got to meet). Allow me to introduce you:
Jacob; The oldest, self-proclaimed smartest, best looking
man in the bunch. I guess I can give him that. He’s the only boy child. Served
in the military, is an amazing chef (at his own stove and grill, or anyone else’s
who will let him cook for them!), tall, quite country, and probably the most
annoying of us all. Nah, I adore him! Of all my siblings, I believe we have the
closest communication. I am 2 years younger than Jacob, and the “second set” of
children were born over 10 years later. We were kids together, teenagers
together, and we got to be the “experimental set” of kids together. (I love you
Mom)
Oh, Jacob. The secrets you and I share, and will keep until
the day we die…
Like, that one time… Ok, I’m kidding! I won’t tell!
When the younger set of DARLING girls came along, some of
the rules changed. And I’m totally fine with that! Why? Because everyone grows
and changes with time, and if my parents hadn’t then I would have been worried.
Leah; the little barbie doll, long legged and skinny to an
alarming size at some times, we just knew she would be the tall one of the
bunch! Well, what is it they say? “When you want to make God laugh, just tell Him
your plans.” Right?! As a mother herself, now, she stands at a whopping 5’4”,
and is still not the shortest person on the fire department in our county! That’s
right. She’s a fire fighter! And an amazing one at that! She also paints,
draws, crochets, and has quite the singing voice! OH, and her hair… blond locks
that gracefully cascade nearly to her knees. Can you imagine tucking all that
into a fireman’s helmet? Well, how about a ballcap! Because that’s what Leah is
known to wear, daily, with every strand of hair hidden from view. The shock
factor is priceless when she lets it down around people who have never seen her
hair!
Between Leah and our youngest sister, my darling mother lost
one. On Christmas day, no less. It was a sad day for us all, and one we will
not soon forget.
Joanna; the baby. The angel, youngest, spoiled (almost) rotten,
perfect child. Ok, so there’s slight sarcasm there… but only slight! We love to
pick on her for being the youngest, because we’ve heard the saying, “The parents
knew they made the perfect child when the youngest was born.” Thus, ending the
need for more children. Well, in her toddler years, Joanna was FAR from
perfect. I vividly recall the day of her birth! Standing in Mom’s room, at the far
end of the hallway in the hospital, hearing the screams of a baby coming out of
the nursery… we all sat there, looking at each other, afraid to ask, and then
the screaming child was pushed in her bassinet into the room where we were
sitting. Grandpa was the first to speak. “Well, I think we have the new family
singer here.”
Joanna was known by the dirt on her face, the bouncy curls
in her hair, and the dimpled cheeks that accommodated her always happy grins. Her
favorite thing to do was run away from our house, down to the neighbors adjacent
to us, our Godparents. We lived on a country road, so the panic that would
ensue when she vanished silently from the house was always intense! Countless
times she would be found on the lap of her godfather, riding the lawnmower, as
he brought her back, and met us on the trail beside the road.
Now, this shining star of the family has graduated Bible
College, married her dream man and has moved to Canada, where her husband is
from. The irony is not lost on our family (again, making God laugh). Joanna is
the ONE child we all believed would never leave home! She was truly the “baby”
of the bunch for years! When she said she wanted to go to college in St Paul,
MN I was shocked! She blossomed into one of the strongest people I know.
I couldn’t be prouder of the set of siblings I was blessed
to be born into in my life! We have had our ups and downs, like all families.
The ups definitely outweigh the downs! We have the most amazing parents! They
did right by us throughout our entire lives, and I know they will continue to
be our support and strength as we now go through the stages of parenting, they
went through with us.
To my brother, Jacob: Look! I wrote about you in a blog
post! You are welcome.
To my sister, Leah: You are still my hero! Now, hurry up and
have a girl, for goodness sake!
To my sister, Joanna: I still think you are crazy for moving
NORTH, of all places! Lawd Jesus! And… I’m still taller than you! Booyah!
Siblings. We love, fight, laugh, cry, hug, punch, push, and
together we have become a 4-strand cord that cannot be broken. I am so thankful
for you! Happy Sibling Day, every day!!!
April is Autism Awareness Month, and for many families it is
a month of reflection on how far we have come over the years. I, for one, know my
little family has grown by leaps and bounds!
As with all children, our children on the spectrum vary in
their milestones in life. As parents we want the best for them, in every aspect
of life. And sometimes, it’s hard to differentiate between what we want for
them and what is truly best.
When my oldest son was 9, I signed him up for baseball
thinking an organized sport would be good for him. I wanted him to have
friends, learn some focus and discipline, and get out of the house
participating in something physically active. But I wasn’t listening to him. I
was hearing everything around him and myself, but I was not LISTENING.
Now, before anyone gets all up in a tizzy, I did not force
him to join a sport. He came to me and asked, because one of his few friends
was on a team. We pressed to get him on the same team as his friend, and it was
a success!
However, as much as he wanted to be a part of the team, my
son was not thriving there. He was miserable from trying to be a good ball
player. He was exhausted from the split focus and understanding the different
plays of offense and defense. He was confused, disoriented, and yet he was
happy to just… be there, in the dugout, supporting his team.
So, by the end of the season, that’s where he spent the most
time. Was I disappointed? At first, yes. I thought he was being put “on the
bench” because he was different. I was that defensive mom. But as I saw his
happiness and joy at just being there grow, I became excited for him. And I realized
later, his coaches were more in tune with his true strengths than I was. He was
popular on the bench! He cheered his teammates on, patted them on the back,
gave and got high fives from everyone, offered to help them with their gear,
organized helmets and gloves, and just THRIVED in that dugout! It was HIS
space, and he owned it!
My son is 13 now, and over the past several years I have gained
so much more understanding of him as a child on the spectrum and as a person.
He has individuality like none other!
He can mimic sounds and voices with accuracy, to the point
that I will walk through my house wondering where the strange, new animal is
hiding, or who left the TV or game on in the front room. The entire house would
be vacant of everyone but Titus sitting on the couch, watching a video with his
headphones on, mimicking the sounds he is hearing through the device.
He loves to create things. Titus can go into the yard and
find a few sticks and random pieces of wood or plastic, and within a few
minutes he has created a structure, sign, weapon, shield, or any random device
he has pictured in his mind. I’m fairly certain if we lived in a place where
snow fell half the year, my yard would be full of igloos, forts, battlegrounds,
bridges, and anything you can think of, created with ice and snow!
While he loves to do things on his own, Titus is a “people
person” at heart. I know many children on the spectrum are not fond of being
touched or hugged, but Titus thrives on the calm voice, comforting hug, and his
favorite, a pat on the shoulder for a job, well done. He thrives on words of
affirmation, supportive feedback, and enthusiastic praise. And he is more than
deserving of all the above! He has grown by leaps and bounds, and I have grown
because of him.
Titus is my “Gentle Giant.” He was a big baby at birth. Born
at 10lb, 9oz and over 22 inches long, Titus had people talking before he cried
the first time. Today, he is over 5ft, 7in, wears a Men’s size 12 shoe, and has
the demeanor of a boy whose love is for his mother, his family, and his
friends. And friends… he has plenty! Everywhere he goes, Titus is loved. And he
loves gently but fiercely in return. He would give anyone anything, and they
need not even ask! His perception of the world around him is deep and given the
right opportunity he will tell you his thoughts… all of them.
My son is on the spectrum. He is special, and different, and
worth his weight in pure gold. I am beyond blessed to be called his mother!
One of my favorite times of year is fast approaching, and I
can’t be more excited!
SPRING!
It’s a time of growing and new life. All the Winter Blues
fly out of the house through my open windows and doors, and the fresh, warm air
drifts in. And pollen… lots and lots of pollen!
One of the best things about spring at my house is the
flower gardens. My great-grandmother planted and tended these gardens for
decades. Every time I turn around, I find a new flower or plant I have yet to
identify.
I will admit, I’m not the “green thumb” of the family, and I
am so thankful my grandmother lives next-door! She comes over and looks at the
new blooms every few days, and we talk about how she used to tend these plants
with her mother. There are times she doesn’t know much about some of the
mystery flowers that pop up, but we enjoy the adventure of discovering their
names and origins together.
Last year, we attempted a vegetable garden. Oh. My. Word! I
love my grandma, DEARLY, but she has some serious ambitions for gardening!! Our
plot was half a football field in size! It was a glorious attempt, with lots of
sweat, tears, aches and pains, and colorful sunburns!! But, with the mid-season
drought, the garden suffered. Produce was minimal.
This year, I am quite pregnant with my twin “dragon eggs”
and will not be able to make the same gardening attempt. I think it’s for the
better, though, because last year’s garden flopped so badly, I swore I would
never plant a vegetable again! Ha! Anyone who knows me, knows that is not going
to happen!
I think I will still attempt a small garden, though. The
boys and I enjoy the planting season, and they get excited watching things pop
out of the ground. I love seeing things grow, and nothing beats fresh tomatoes
from the vine! Even if I must enjoy them from a hospital bed after delivering two
wee ones, I will have my fresh vegetables!
My lack of green thumb isn’t the only destroyer of my lovely
plants. Mr. Beagleswurth, the stray beagle who adopted us as his family last
summer, has deemed it necessary to dig holes in the ground and in my pots of
lemongrass to make beds for himself in random places. This spring will be an
adventure of planting new things, training Mr. Beagleswurth to maintain his
sleeping space on the blankets he chewed on all winter, and finding ways to
keep my precious plants alive… safe from his paws and my lack of gardening
skills.
My ambitions for a garden will be nothing like my grandma’s,
but I do look forward to the challenge. And what a challenge it shall be! Can
you imagine, being super pregnant with twins, bending over plants and dirt,
planting, watering, weeding, and picking? Ha, ha! It will be an adventure!
I have looked forward to spring ever since the first, cold
night of winter, and it is finally here! Soon, I will be in my favorite spot on
the front porch, sipping coffee or a cool drink, watching the birds in the
flower gardens, and basking in the peace.
Don’t forget to take a moment for you! Sit in a place you
love. A place that gives you peace, and tranquility. Enjoy the sunshine, or the
spring storms! Spring is a season of life, for so much more than the flowers!
Bask in it! I know I will!
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