there is an hour…

February 15, 2011

There is an hour, in everyday, that I greatly look forward to.

It isn’t because of where I am or the things I get to do.

I could be in Tahoe or Whistler or even the Mediterranean.

I could be skiing, sunbathing or cruising on a Harley-Davidson.

Or maybe it’s an ordinary kind of schedule I’ll keep,

with carpools, kids, cooking and laundry knee-deep.

Whatever the plans are going to involve for the day

I still look forward to my favorite hour in exactly the same way.

It’s all about you Babe! and how much comfort you bring,

I count down the hours, and all the while, my heart sings.

When will that hour come and finally be here,

when I can crash next to you and be pulled oh so near?

The peace and quiet at the end of another long day,

all made perfect by your love and your ‘sugarmouth’ ways.


I was looking for a special poem to thank the paras and teachers in cole’s classroom and I came across this one by erma bombeck.  ( I really like her writing)  it brought me to tears pretty quickly.  it’s nice to have a different perspective every once and awhile.  I get so busy just going through the motions and doing what needs to be done, I forget the bigger picture.  to even think   be reminded that God is not only aware of me, but that He is on my side and considers me worthy of the testing is so very humbling.  I hope you like this poem.  pass it on to other parents of special needs kids.

The Special Mother  

by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice,
a few by social pressure and a couple by habit.
This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of disabled children.
Did you ever wonder how these mothers are chosen?
Somehow I visualize God hovering over Earth
Selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation.
As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
“Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint, Matthew.”
“Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia.”
“Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron Saint…give her Gerard. He’s used to profanity.”
Finally he passes a name to an angel and smiles. “Give her a disabled child.”
The angel is curious. “Why this one, God? She’s so happy.”
“Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a disabled child a mother who knows no laughter?
That would be cruel.”
“But does she have the patience?” asks the angel.
“I don’t want her to have too much patience, or she’ll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off she’ll handle it.”
“I watched her today.
She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother.
You see, the child I’m going to give her has a world of its own.
She has to make it live in her world, and that’s not going to be easy.”
“But Lord, I don’t think she even believes in you.”
God smiles. “No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness.”
The angel gasps, “Selfishness? Is that a virtue?”
God nods. “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive.
Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she is to be envied.
She will never take for granted a spoken word.
She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says momma for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it.
I will permit her to see clearly the things I see–ignorance, cruelty,
prejudice–and allow her to rise above them.
She will never be alone.
I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life
Because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.”
“And what about her Patron Saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles.
“A mirror will suffice.”


so much of this poem rings true for me personally…  happy, selfish, unbelieving.  and other aspects too… I’ve seen cruelty, ignorance.. I’ve heard the miracle of ‘mama’ ( at age… 4.  4 years-old that is) I take no physical activity for granted.  I don’t know about the ‘give her a mirror’ part, but otherwise I feel this poem to be pretty accurate. 

it’s hard to think of character development as a blessing most of the time.  usually because that path lies through a valley of pain… physical, mental, spiritual.  but, now that I am well acquainted with this path, I can appreciate the growth a little more.  I’m thankful that God said, ‘give her a disabled child’.  I can’t imagine the person I would be if I was choosing my own way.


so, I didn’t actually say it, but I was thinking it.  we’re having to do some disciplining that I’d rather not do.  without disclosing too much information, let ‘s just say that my fine young man has some struggles like every other fine young man out there.  it’s so hard …   I just want to ignore it.  or even throw a fit about it and then just move on. … … … BUT… … … it’s time to let him know we are serious.  the issue is serious.  we aren’t messing around.  he’ll be sitting out of the highschool football game where the younger players all make the tunnel for the big guys to run through.  he cried when we told him.

and now…

I feel bad.  I want to cry.  I don’t want to make him sit out.  I don’t want to hold him accountable.  I don’t want to be the parents, the tough parents.  this is actually hurting me!  I want to take him to the game, give him $20 bucks and say go have some fun.  I want to just dismiss his behavior as childish, immature.  I don’t want to ‘expect more’ from him.   (sigh… sigh… sigh)  this is so hard.

and yet… I know… I have been given charge over this boy.  I am the one that must steer him in such way that when he is grown he will be a blessing and not a burden. …  dear Lord… help me.

Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.  Psalm 31:24

Train a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not turn from it.  Proverbs 22:6


April 7, 2010

“When God sends forth a little soul
To learn the ways of earth
A mothers love is waiting there
We call this miracle birth
When God call back a tiny soul
And stills a fleeting breath
A fathers love is waiting there
This too is birth, not death.”


An Angel with the book of life wrote down my baby’s birth, and whispered as she closed the book, “too beautiful for earth”


“A Thousand Words Can’t Bring You Back,
I Know Because I Tried
And Neither Can a Million Tears
I Know Because I Cried”


I thought of you and closed my eyes,
And prayed to God today.
I asked what makes a Mother,
And I know I heard him say:
A mother has a baby,
This we know is true.
But, God, can you be a mother,
When your baby’s not with you?
Yes, you can he replied,
With confidence in his voice.
I give many women babies,
When they leave is not thier choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for a day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But theres no need to stay.
I just don’t understand this God,
I want my baby here.
He took a breath and cleared his throat,
And then I saw a tear.
I wish that I could show you,
What your child is doing today,
If you could see your child smile,
With other children who say:
We go to earth and learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
I feel so lucky to have a mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My mommy set me free.
I miss my mommy oh so much,
But I visit her each day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow’s where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
“Mommy don’t be sad today, I’m your baby and I’m here.”
So you see my dear sweet one,
Your children are Ok.
Your babies are here in My home,
They’ll be at heavens gate for you.
So now you see what makes a mother.
It’s the feeling in your heart.
It’s the love you had so much of,
Right from the very start.
Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother,
until their time is done.
They’ll be up here with Me one day,
And you’ll know that you’re the best one!


just some poesm I came across.  maybe they’ll comfort others in some way.  I know sometimes they are kind of corny, but there always seems to be one line that gets me.  this time it was

I just don’t understand this God,

 I want my baby here. 

 He took a breath and cleared his throat,

And then I saw a tear.


it still sucks…

April 5, 2010

it still sucks,         I’ll tell you why.

I always wince when babies cry.

to say it doesn’t,         cut as deep,

would be an outright, bold faced lie.

I also seem,         to always stand,

behind the pregnant lady.

I want to scream,         “you just don’t know!”

“I’ve held  that unborn baby!”

I sit in church,         and big fat tears,

fall steady from my eyes.

The pastor’s speaking,          but in my head

I’m only asking, “WHY?!”

just last night,         on the news,

I saw more than just 1 piece

of parents doing,         hideous things,

their own  child means the least.

yet here we sit,         on our couch,

with empty, aching arms.

we actually want,          a child to love,

and keep safe from all harms.

so here I am,         at the end,

of another damn hard day.

my head is splitting.         I am so tired.

I’d like to run away.

help me Lord!         I’m broken here!

don’t You understand?

I need Your help,         I can’t go on,

I’m sinking in the sand…

I love you…

February 14, 2010

you love me when you hold me tight,

when you tuck me in and turn off the lights.

you love me when you bring me flowers,

when you listen to me talk for hours.

you love me when you start my bath,

when you whisper things that make me laugh.

you love me when you play our song,

when you pull me close and dance along.

you love me when you bring home chipotle for two,

and because you love me…


happy birthday baby…

January 3, 2010

happy birthday baby, I wish that you were here.

I’d help you blow 1 candle out and sing and clap and cheer.

I imagine your pudgy legs and how you’d rub your eyes…

a tired face and ‘I want my mom!’ coming thru your sighs.

I miss the scent a home can have when filled with a baby boy… … …

but somehow

this deep sorrow…

has also brought deep joy.

I know a calming peace that I can not understand.

it quenches my deepest longings like streams thru dry parched land.

I’ll be with you someday… although I don’t know when.

I’ll hold you tight, and kiss goodnight, your warm sweet baby skin.

we’ll be together always. and dance and laugh and sing.

there in the very presence of Christ… our Lord and King.


You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. … Psalm 30:11-12

oh sweet snowflake…

January 1, 2010

oh sweet snowflake

how I waited for you…

hoping and praying

since way back in june.

I waited thru summer

and then autumn too.

the months seemed so long

yet the days were so few.

and then in an instant

 you were actually mine. 

 I could hold you and touch you,

God’s perfect design.

Although you were tiny

no detail was missed.

I gave you my love

with 1 simple kiss.

then you were gone…

back to where you came from.

the Heavens above,

God’s glorious kingdom.

I still love you snowflake,

and I’ll see you again…

when this life is over

and a new one begins.


Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.  I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God himself is with men, and he will live with them and be their God.  He will wipe every tear from there eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

Revelation 21:1-4

the weaver

January 18, 2009

My life is but a weaving

Between my Lord and me,

I cannot choose the colors

He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow,

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I , the underside.

Not ’till the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Shall God unroll the canvas

And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the Weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern he has planned.


Author Unknown