Oh How I Miss This Little Girl...

It's December.  I took out the big box of ornaments that years ago I had sorted into bags for each of the five children.  I decorated a Christmas tree just for Kristopher with all of the ornaments he had been given as a child.  I put my hand on the bag that held Lynda's special ornaments and I picked the bag up out of the box.  Just as quickly, I replaced it gingerly without glancing at the treasures that it held.  Some of the ornaments that are on Kris's tree are exact duplicates of the ones that are in Lynda's collection.  Many are the precious homemade treasures with sweet pictures made when she was the age she was in this picture...four years old.  There are four Christmases before Kevin was born and three more before Kristopher joined the family.  Somewhere among Lynda's ornaments is the little pipe cleaner circle that she dipped in glue and rolled in glitter.  It hung proudly on the tree for oh so many years.  I can just imagine that she looked very much like the ornament after it had been completed.  There are ornaments with pictures marking each year and handcrafted treasures from aunts and grandmothers throughout the years.  I watched a Hallmark Christmas movie this week that one of the actor's line was:  "Ornaments are memories hanging on limbs of the tree".  This is so true and everything from the smell of a newly cut tree to the carols that are being sung on the radio reminds me of Christmases past and those always included Lynda front and center.

This picture was made the first Christmas that she lived with us in 1975.  She had been our foster daughter for twelve months and we were head over heels in love with this little girl.  The beautiful tree was wired to the wall so that she couldn't pull it down on top of her and we were not opposed to having ornaments rearranged or taken off to be lined up on the floor.  Oh, to be able to go back to this time when our glass was full and life was just beginning for us with Lynda.  I don't have regrets of looking back and wishing I'd spent more time with her or loved her more or adored her more.  I just miss her.  I want to give her the new Christmas sweater I still have hanging in the closet that was supposed to have been her present for last Christmas.  I want more time.  I want more pictures.  I want more memories.  I want all of my children home for Christmas but Lynda is truly home and I can't be there...yet. 

It's strange the things that bring a parent to their knees after the death of a child.  That moment when you realize that the photographs you have tucked away in boxes and scanned into the computer are the only ones you will ever have.  There will never be a picture of the entire family together again.  You know this, of course from the beginning but it's strange that holidays seem to shove that reality right up into your face and it's a hurt that's new all over again. 

I shop for gifts in the stores and I'm immediately drawn to things that are soft and fuzzy and remind me of Lynda.  I know people in stores wonder why I see a pink fuzzy sweater, touch it and burst into tears.  There are certain parts of stores I just try not to go into and I never pass Lynda's favorite candies without touching the bags and thinking of her.  Memories are so intertwined and woven into our lives and I am thankful for them.  Sometimes like when I look at this picture of the angelic little girl, I smile when I remember the photography experience that day.  Oh, how Christmas brings so many memories back of when all of my children were little and how blessed we were as a family.

Our decorations on earth are so superficial when I imagine what heaven looks like all decked out to honor the king of creation.  I am thrilled that Lynda is celebrating with the angels and has her Daddy and grandparents, siblings and aunts and uncles to love on her.  Most of all she has Jesus who prepared a place for her and received her into paradise a little over a year ago.  Praise God for the birth of a savior.  Happy Birthday Baby Jesus.  I'm so glad you came to redeem us and that you love Lynda so much.

My Daughter Wasn't in Ferguson...She was in Magee...

Ferguson has been in the news and my heart hurts for the parents who lost a son, for the police officer who lost a career, for the business owners who have lost their livelihood, for so many who have lost things that cannot be seen.

I was not there,  I do not know exactly what happened but I do know about injustices and things that are unfair.  I did not lose my child to being in an altercation that resulted in death but I did lose my child through child abuse at the hands of adults that caused her to suffer a massive stroke, die and be revived suffering irreparable brain damage.

Did I wish that there could be justice for Lynda?  Yes, I did.  Did I feel that children with special needs had been discriminated against for years and that it didn't appear on many levels that we were making any progress in equal treatment for individuals with disabilities?  Yes!  A resounding, yes!

I understand how it feels to be disenfranchised because I experienced it with my daughter every day of her life.  I have stood before superintendents of education in a school law graduate level course and had them tell me to my face that my child did not deserve educational funding (or those like her) because they were not contributing members of society and would never be.  How these men could have the crystal ball to know that all of the "typically developing students" they spent their educational dollars on would turn out to be contributing members of society was beyond me.

I experienced utter despair to find my child had been abused and that she would never live the life she had lived previously.  I was thrust into the role of providing around the clock care for a child who would forever remain a child.  Her chances of advancement had been stolen from her.  The child we knew died that day.

So while the circumstances in Ferguson are extremely different from our own situation...there are enough similarities that I stand dumbfounded at the responses of men and women in Ferguson and across the nation to burn and destroy businesses in the town of Ferguson in the name of protest for the loss of this young man.  The business owners had nothing to do with any of the events and to destroy their lives in protest makes no sense.  It makes no more sense than had my husband and I began to rally people to burn and loot businesses in Magee, Mississippi after Lynda's abuse and stroke.

Those participating in the burning and looting did so feeling it was a way to protest inequality of treatment for many years in Ferguson.  I do not know if it is true or not but it is beside the point.  I know for a fact that disabled children were and are mistreated daily.  Their families have to constantly beg for services that should be afforded them strictly because it is the right thing to do.

I don't know what the answer to bridging the gap between the white and black population in Ferguson or in our nation anymore than I know how to assure children with disabilities to receive an equal and equitable education in cities throughout our nation.  I just don't see the correlation between violence and rioting, laying down in the streets on black Friday to protest people shopping and affecting the changes that are needed.

I guess there is a level of control that we parents of children with special needs have to keep in check because if we gave into it, we could burn the cities to the ground if we allowed our hearts to rule and we might somehow be able to spin it as the "right thing to do" because no one was paying attention and a decision was made that seems to only reinforce the fact that our side is always ignored and the bad guys are never punished and things will never change.

As I've said repeatedly, I don't know the answer.  I do know that penalizing innocent people for something they had no control over whatsoever regardless of the hopelessness felt is not the answer.  It is important to affect change.  It's also important to keep our eyes firmly planted on what we are trying to accomplish in affecting that change and not let anger override reason.

I pray for Ferguson.  I still pray for those who were at Millcreek in Magee when they made choices that changed my life forever and that of my daughter.  I hope you will join with me to pray for peace in Ferguson and for God to use what is intended for evil as good.  It's the only real answer.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things...

Memories from times when Lynda was small
The pats on my back when we walked down the hall
Claps when she was happy while her favorite songs we would sing
These are a few of my favorite things.

A white haired little girl that smiled when she saw me
The smell of gingerbread cookies, cinnamon and cedar trees
The warmth and love that Lynda’s hugs would bring
These are a few of my favorite things.

My little girl in her white fur coat so soft and fuzzy
Her blue eyes sparkling and her cheeks oh so rosy
Sitting by the tree watching the lights twinkle and the joy that would bring
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the memories flood
When the tears sting
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad.

Last Night At Cracker Barrel...

Russ and I had gone to Cracker Barrel for soup last night and while we were waiting for our meal, I went out into the store area to look at the Christmas trees they were decorating.  I was standing at the front of the store by a tree when a family entered pushing their son in a wheelchair.  He appeared to be in his twenties and as soon as he was pushed through the door enough to see the trees and the lights, he began to clap.  When the rest of the family arrived after parking the car,  they were seated in the dining room adjacent to ours.

His clapping reminded me so much of Lynda.  I wanted to ask our waitress if we could move to a table in the room where he and his family were eating.  I knew I couldn't be responsible for my emotions so I stayed where I was.  When we had finished eating and Russ was about to pay the bill, I told him I had to walk into the other room and see the young man once more.  I peeped in and realized I could sit at our table where Russ had been sitting and glimpse the boy and his mother and daddy.  He was being fed (as Lynda was) and drink from a sippee cup with a built in straw.  After most bites, he clapped.  I watched and found myself wanting to know his name.  I wanted to know if he also patted his family on the back like Lynda did us.  I sat for a few minutes until the tears began to roll down my cheeks.  I didn't want to leave and I knew I couldn't form words to communicate with the family.   I retained my composure enough to walk through the restaurant to the bathroom and hide in a stall as the tears could not longer being contained.

Not all people with autism clap but Lynda and this young man shared a love of expressing their pleasure through clapping.  I felt like for a few minutes Lynda was with me.  At the same time as I had watched this boy, I wanted to go to visit her and see her clap her hands in excitement when she heard my voice.  The finality of the realization that this was not going to happen again on this side of heaven was again a punch to the gut.

I appreciate the fact that I was there when this special young man came to have dinner at Cracker Barrel.  Lynda loved the lights on the Christmas trees like he did and she clapped just for general purposes that only she deemed enjoyable and worthy of a rousing round of clapping.

Now Lynda is clapping for Jesus and I'd like to think He is joining her in joyous clapping as Lynda worships our God and Father.  I thank God for Lynda and I thank God for allowing me to be at Cracker Barrel at the same time as this young man.  He blessed my heart and reminded me that Lynda is still clapping and is happy and loved in heaven.

Gone to Dad's...

How wonderful to be adopted into the family of God with Jesus as my big brother!  It is comforting to know that Lynda has the best big brother ever who did come back for her.  Jesus picked her up and carried her back to heaven to the place that had been prepared especially for her.

My relationship with God isn't one that leaves me wondering if He hears me or knows if I'm here.  I know without a shadow of a doubt that before the beginning of time, God has been preparing a place for me and for all those who surrender their lives to Jesus.

No matter how much I miss Lynda, I never have to wonder where she is or who she's with.  I don't have any doubt that every little detail had already been completed before the angels had winged their way with Lynda to paradise.  God became man and died on the cross.  No matter how many people reject the idea as being too unlikely to be real or feel they've got life all figured out without including Jesus...He DID leave heaven to become the living sacrifice for me (and for you).  He HAS gone to prepare a place for YOU and if you believe in HIM and profess your faith in HIM, he will write your name in the book of life and will hand you the keys to a mansion built for an eternity in heaven.  He's gone to prepare it for you.

I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to know that the grave is not the end, that eternity isn't an endless experience of floating on a cloud...it is real spent with a heavenly father who loves us like a daddy and His son who became our living sacrifice and stands in the gap for us before the Father with the Holy Spirit who intercedes on our behalf.  I don't know what heaven is like down to the details because God hasn't shared that with us yet.  No use to even try because while we are still in our earthly bodies with our earthly minds, we can't grasp the magnitude of it all anyway.  All I have to know is God is good, His mercy is everlasting and His truth endures forever.

I still think of you...

Lynda will always be in my heart and it is true her memories come back to me at unlikely times.  I have found that since she died I try to keep busy but even in the middle of that "busy"...there are the triggers that open the flood gates of memories.  And there she is little and blond with that infectious laugh and the impish grin.  I want to just scoop her up and hug her.  Lay next to her as she sucks her thumb and rubs the satin on the edge of her blanket after she's just had a bath and is dressed in her footie pajamas.  How thankful I am to have those memories that allow me to remember the blessings that God gave me with Lynda.  Even more importantly, how thankful I am to know that she is in heaven with a life that has just begun for her.  How sad it is to think of those who believe life ends here with the grave. 

My heart is healing a little more each day and yet...some days it breaks again with raw sorrow as I look at a family picture and realize one of my children is gone from this earth.  It is a reality that I have to continue to explain to my heart over again and again.  I am not the first mother to lose a child and unfortunately I will not be the last.  If you have already traveled this road ahead of me you know that some days are easier than others.  You know the twists and turns and surprises around each curve that life throws along the road to acceptance that life is forever changed with the loss of a child.

My daughter had special needs and lived far longer than the doctors predicted.  Yet, we were not prepared for the sudden decline she experienced and we would never had been ready to say good-bye.  I have a promise that I hold tightly to and that is that God has Lynda securely in his care and that I will live eternally with her.  Whether that is 30 years from now or tomorrow...it is but a blink of an eye compared to eternity so I wipe my eyes and focus them on the promise of seeing Lynda soon.  I get pretty excited when I think about heaven, Jesus and the loved ones that are waiting.  Praise God for keeping His promises and for preparing a place for us with Him!!!

How talking to the bank can break your broken heart..

When Lynda died we began a memorial fund with hopes of raising money to purchase needed items for the Scott Center Child Development Center's playground.  That's where Lynda had gone to school from the time she was five until she turned twenty-two.  They needed a awning for their playground.  We had dreams of funding that project and then moving on to other programs that served children with autism.

We went to the bank the same day that we went to the funeral home to make the final arrangements for her celebration of life service and to the florist to choose the flowers.   I remember that day like it is playing in slow motion.  No matter how hard I tried, I could not shake the irony that this was the first time I had ever had an occasion to buy flowers for Lynda in all the years that she was my daughter.  It was also the only time I could open a bank account in her name.  No proms or parties.  No checking accounts like we had opened for the boys when they graduated from high school.

We chose the bank  because we had banked there when we lived in Oxford.  We knew that the bank's president would make the whole process as painless as possible and he did.  Within minutes we had the account set up without the normal fees and strings attached since it was being used for a memorial fund.  Statements came each month and for a while, I opened them and looked at them.  When the amount failed to grow, I stopped opening them and simply put them into the "Lynda Box".

I've never really understood why only the school that Russ and I teach for, NMRC where Lynda lived and a small handful of friends came to pay their respects to Lynda or to send flowers or make a donation to the memorial fund.  Who knows why some causes yield huge returns and others do not?  I have no answers and I no longer have the questions of why.  I have simply learned to accept that it is like so many other things that have occurred in Lynda's life.  It is unfair.  It is sad.  It is the part of the serenity prayer of accepting the things I cannot change.

A few days ago, I absentmindedly opened the bank statement and stared at the $5.00 "dormant account" fee that had been charged to the account.  I put the statement in my purse and today asked Russ to call the bank and explain to them that we were not supposed to have any fees like this for the account.  I expected it to be a simple clerical error.  I expected a simple resolution.  I was wrong.  As he spoke to the person, he was told that they couldn't discuss it with him because he wasn't listed on the account.  He brought the phone to me and I tried to explain to the lady at the bank that this was a memorial fund and the fees had been waived and could she please just look at the account and see if the $5.00 fee had been charged on previous months and if so, put the fees back and well...just fix it, please.  I asked her to just talk to the bank president who I learned had retired.  Was there someone else that I knew at the bank?  My mind went blank so she began to explain the "dormant fee" to me and what it was and why the account was being charged the fee.  I felt my heart begin to come up into my throat as I was trying to speak and I asked her what I needed to do to give Russ permission for her to speak to her on my behalf.  She didn't seem to hear my words although I was sure I was speaking.  She continued to try to explain to me that some fees had been waived but this was the "dormant fee" that I assured her I knew because that was what I told her was charged to the account erroneously when I first spoke to her.  I kept trying to ask what was necessary to give Russ permission to speak on my behalf and I realized she and I were on two different planets.  I was standing in front of my school after the children had left and was trying to explain to someone on the other end of the phone that this account was a memorial fund for my daughter and it was quite painful to have to discuss it which was why I wanted Russ to talk to her on my behalf.  SO I answered three security questions.  Where was my first job?  My mind could barely recall.  And on and on.  Finally I handed the phone to Russ and went back inside.  What seemed like ages passed before he came back inside and this is what he said.

The woman's only solution to our problem was to:  A-  The bank would return the seven month's "dormant account fee" money to the account if we agreed to close the account or  B-  We could keep the account and forfeit the $35 deducted from Lynda's account.  When he asked to speak to her supervisor things didn't go well.  Someone did return his call but it not to provide any other solution.  Russ asked to speak to the new bank president and was told he wasn't in but that Russ had already made one bank employee cry.  Oh, my goodness.  We are trying to explain to this woman about the fees being charged to our dead daughter's memorial fund and her insensitivity to the nature of how difficult it is to see a fourth of the fund being sucked out for this fee.   A fee that we had assumed was being waived when "all fees" were waived upon opening of the account --- which seems to have begun a month or two after the  retirement of the bank president.

I am usually pretty sensitive to other people's feelings but this one blew my mind.  The bank representative who called us back was concerned about the bank lady's feelings being hurt because Russ asked to speak to her supervisor but she had no concerns at all for the mother of the child whose name was on the memorial checking account.  This is the same bank we had had personal accounts and our business accounts for over thirty years but even without this fact, couldn't someone be compassionate about a memorial fund account that bears the name of a family's daughter?

I am reminded of a favorite saying that I have in my classroom.  "Remember that each child in your classroom is the center of someone's world".  As a teacher, I do pray that that is true for each of my children.  For me, Lynda was the center of my world.  It's not so much the money because it is not much.  It is the insult to injury that this whole problem with the bank brought about.  It is the bright light that it forced me to shine on the idea of a memorial fund in the first place.  I clung to the hope that we would be able to give back in Lynda's name and help others like her.  Now, I guess the prudent thing is to just not do what the bank suggested and let them refund the money and close the account.  I just hate to dissolve something I had prayed so hard for to keep a little bit of Lynda's legacy alive.