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.