Ohhhh, Noah.....

Remember how I've said several times that Noah is very literal and I have to be very specific with him?  Well, it seems this is my week to "school" a clinical psychologist in that very lesson....


The psychologist who finished up Noah's psychological testing last week called last night to clarify a few things with Noah.  I heard a few tidbits that sounded like, "I hear them when I'm in public," "No, not all the time," "No, they don't really tell me to do bad things."  WHAT? There is a history of schizophrenia in the family and something of this sort is a potential side effect of the Paxil he is taking, so to say I was a bit concerned would be putting it mildly.  I didn't want to break any trust between him and his doctor (we get the results in August and I'm sure if she felt it were an urgent matter, she would have told me right away), so when Noah handed the phone back to me, I didn't ask her.  I also didn't want to panic on Noah, so I let it go for a few hours, then tried to bring it up as casually as possible.  I admitted to Noah that I had overheard his conversation with Dr B and was just wondering what they had talked about.

"She asked me about the voices I hear."  Um, excuse me?  This is news to me!

Trying to remain as calm as possible (I was also driving!), I asked him if it's one voice, a lot of voices, what these voices tell him to do, when he hears them, who he thinks these voices are and a few other questions.

"Well, it's only voice and it tells me to do good things and I'm pretty sure it's God."  Okay, whew!

Still struggling to remain calm, I asked him if he explained any of that to Dr B.  "Well no, she didn't ask. She just asked if I hear voices."  Oh geez Noah, really?!

That led to a conversation about being specific with our answers, even if people don't ask specific questions.  We also talked about listening to God and our consciences and how that could be different that actually hearing voices (in psychological terms).

So today will begin with a phone call to Dr B explaining exactly what Noah meant by hearing voices.

While Noah and I still have a lot to learn, it seems that some days, we also have something to teach.

*sigh*

A Tidbit of "Normal" for Noah: Friendships

Noah doesn't make friends easily because he doesn't understand social norms.  Most of the time, he leaves social situations feeling frustrated, angry and depressed.  As his mom, it leaves me sad and disheartened.  I want my son to be surrounded by good friends and to know what it feels like to be well liked.

This past weekend, we both got to see a different side of things.  Noah went to church camp with other kids his age from our church.  He went last year and had a wonderful time.  It was a much bigger group this year, so I was a little nervous.  There was an informational meeting two weeks ago and I delighted in listening in on my son and two of his friends plan their sleeping and trip-riding arrangements. My heart sang a song of joy!  I don't think I could have been any happier when I realized these two boys, T and E, were including my son in their plans.  Noah wasn't pushing his way in and they weren't being forced to include him.  They were all conspiring together!  When Noah arrived home from camp, happy and exhausted, most of his stories included these two boys.

Tonight, while dropping Noah off at VBS at the church up the road (not our home church), we realized T was also in attendance!  Not just that, but he was happy to see Noah and even happier that he and Noah would be in the same class together (I'm not so certain their teacher felt that way at the end of the evening!)!  Personally, I wanted to hug T.  I felt a little Chihuahua-like standing there thinking, "You like my son?!  You really do?!  You like him?!  You really really do?!"  The smile on my son's face said it all: He has a friend and he was happy to see that friend.  It made all the difference in his evening.

I'm so grateful to these two young boys for showing Noah the power of friendship.  I'm grateful to them for being big enough, smart enough and wonderful enough to look beyond differences to see Noah for who he is and for being my son's friends.  I'm also grateful to their parents for raising such strong young men of good character, morals and ethics.  May they all be so blessed.

Noah: Testing, Labeling, Medicating and God's Glory

It's difficult to believe I'm the same mom I was several years ago.  Well, I suppose I'm not.  I've grown.  I've become a Mother Warrior.  I've learned that yelling and screaming don't get me what I want, that persistence does.  For all my years of battling against labels and medications, I've learned they both do have their places when used correctly, safely, by the right people and in the correct hands.  I've gone from dealing with educators telling me to have my son medicated to seeking out professional help and testing for Noah on my own.  I've gotten over my flat-out denial of Noah's differences to become an advocate for my oldest child and other children like him.  I'm over my fear of being home with my children 24/7 to become the homeschooling mom I swore I could never be.  I've educated myself and my family to the point of becoming a walking encyclopedia.  I've done research until my eyes have crossed.  I've picked the brains of others and talked their ears off to the point they avoid me.  I've put miles upon miles on my car taking Noah to one appointment or therapy after another.  These are the things you do as a mom.  Even when you are exhausted and want to give up, you don't.

So, all of that probably sounds like I'm rowing in a very stable boat on extremely placid waters, right?  Hahahahaah!  Nope.  Wrong.  I'm in rough waters that even the biggest boats shouldn't be in, I've lost both oars, I'm taking on water and I think those are man-eating sharks circling my boat....  (maybe those are the IEPs and public schools I'm so afraid of?!) Most of the time I'm scared out of my mind that I'm messing up.  Actually, I'm positive that I'm messing up!  It's always been that way for me with Noah.  Motherhood has never come naturally for me.  I've succeeded at most things in life, except for motherhood.  Noah and I had difficulty bonding and I always wondered what I was doing wrong (I still do, most days) that other moms were doing so right.  Watching other moms in public with their happy babbling babies who snuggled into their Baby Bjorns while mine screamed and struggled against his, I wondered what I wasn't "getting" that other moms were.  I remember crying with him one day, telling him that I didn't know what he wanted, that I didn't know what to do for him, that I felt just as lost as he did.  To this day, for the most part, I still do.  

Noah was finally able to finish up the rest of the psychological and educational testing this week that he began back in February.  This encompassed educational testing, social-emotional testing and psychological testing.  They tested his IQ, looked for other learning disabilities (including ADD/ADHD), his social/emotional age and a variety of other things.  I'm pretty sure the doctor who did the testing had diagnosed Noah with ADD/ADHD before she even began the testing (which, in a way is slightly reassuring to me).  We're hoping to not only get more answers and solutions from this testing, but some suggestions for homeschooling and home life in general.  We're also hoping to rule out any other learning disabilities while being able to take a diagnosis of ADD/ADHD back to the Noah's developmental pediatrician in the hopes she'll be more open to some more potential solutions in that area.    It would also be nice to have something thoroughly, genuinely positive to come from this testing for Noah.  We'd like to be able to go to Noah and say, "Yes, you have AS, BUT, because of that, you have this AMAZING ability!"

I've always hated the idea of labeling my child(ren).  When I first realized Noah's differences years ago, it was easy to deny them because Shawn denied them.  I can't blame it entirely on Shawn, because if I'd been a "real" mom, a good mom, a better mom, I would have fought harder for my son.  When Shawn and I finally came to a mutual realization and agreed something needed to be done to benefit Noah, we talked a lot about whether or not a diagnosis--a label--would actually benefit him in the short and long run.  We both felt we knew what was causing Noah's differences, but we had no guidance and no clue how to help him.  Without that definitive diagnosis--that label--we were stuck.  I still don't like labels and I still think that many times they are unfairly and wrongly used.  What I've learned with Noah though, is that in the right hands, when used responsibly, they are helpful and useful.  Noah's diagnosis--his label--has explained a lot about the past 10 years.  It's helped us start over.

I've also always hated the idea of medicating my child(ren).  My experience began with my student teaching days when one of my special needs pre-k students routinely fell asleep in his lunch every day.  We had suspicions that his dad was giving him his sister's Ritalin, but we couldn't prove it; to the best of our knowledge, neither could social services.  My experience continued when Noah's kindergarten teacher called us in for a conference (yes, I know, you've heard this already) and told us to have our son medicated--not evaluated, just medicated.  She continued with her campaign throughout the school year and complaining to the principal never got us anywhere.  I've also had issues in my own life with anti-depressants and I thought maybe I had to go through that myself so I wouldn't be tempted to put my child through it. I've been anti-medication now matter how well I've seen it used.  Then I got to my breaking point.  There's only so many times you can bang your head into a wall before you realize it's not doing any good.  Noah's developmental pediatrician, who diagnosed his AS, has prescribed Paxil, an SSRI.  She started him on an incredibly low dose, telling me that most children with AS respond to that dose.  We have been keeping in touch and I've been telling her that I don't think Noah is "most children with AS."  He has not responded this low dose.  She has increased it once and he still has not responded.  I'm due to email her again and in her last email, she had agreed she would continue to increase it until we reached a 10 mg dose.  It's an incredibly slow process.  I'm still hoping she will agree to add an ADD/ADHD medication, even if it's just a trial run.  I'm not convinced the Paxil alone will help Noah.  I don't want a zombie child, I only want a child who can function, take in what I'm teaching him and then apply it.

Until Noah is able to grasp things better (ie, until we see better results with the medication(s)), we've temporarily given up on OT and social skills therapy.  The good news is that Noah's social skills counselor feels as though he really was taking in what she was teaching him.  She was seeing positive results in the therapeutic setting.  We both agree the problem comes when his brain gets ahead of him in real-life situations.  He gets too excited, he gets ramped up, his brain is going 500 mph, but he still can't think fast enough to put two and two together to remember the skills he's acquired and use them.  I'm still searching for a speech therapist within easy driving distance; the closest ones our insurance company pays for are an hour away.  The good news there is I work with 2 retired speech pathologists at the center, so they've both tentatively diagnosed him for me and have been giving me free pointers on how I can help him at home.  We are sticking with the therapeutic horseback riding even if it puts us in the poor house (!), but so far, it's the only area we've seen results.  His instructor continues to be amazing and knows how to finesse him (another Noah Whisperer). Noah loves the horses and the horses seem to love him; his instructor and side walkers seem to enjoy him as well.  With this new session, he's been able to trail rides, tack his own horse, pick the shoes, brush his horse and lead his horse to and from the corral.  We are all so proud of Noah and his newest responsibilities!  The smile on his face the entire time he rides is worth everything we are doing to make his lessons possible.  Noah is learning, paying attention, making genuine efforts to do well, focusing and following directions well.  He's doing well with the lessons and making remarkable progress.

After a lot of crying, fence-riding and praying, we finally realized that homeschooling Noah next year is the best decision.  It's not the easiest decision, but since when is the right decision the easy one?  At one point we were honestly leaning towards sending him back to public school.  Shawn is worried about my physical and emotional health; he was concerned about how often he was coming home to find me banging my head against the wall (you think I'm kidding...).  I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep this up.  Noah's attitude some days is more than I can handle; that on top of his extra needs can be a lot to put up with.  In the end, I could not reconcile sending him back to the school I fought so hard to get him out of.  I could not give up on my son after only one semester of homeschooling--and only a semester of not doing it the way we had originally planned, at that.  We've signed him up for the online homeschooling program we like and had originally planned to use this fall and I'm hoping that will provide the structure we both need to make this work.

Somehow this is all falling into place because God wants it to.  Horseback riding is working out because it was given to us by God.  Riding is usually cancelled due to rain; for some reason, it has never rained on Mondays (Noah's riding days).  Homeschooling wouldn't still be the answer if it weren't what God wants for Noah.  I don't think medication, testing, diagnoses, everything that we are doing for Noah would be the answers if they weren't from God.  I still believe--I still know--He is in this.  Because of how Noah came into this world, I believe God has big plans for our son. I have to believe the Asperger's is part of that plan.   For a long time, I blamed myself, wondering what wrong I had committed that was so awful that Noah deserved this.  When I got sick, my guilt got worse:  Not only did Noah have his own difficulties (whatever they were), but now he also had a sick mom who couldn't care for him properly.  Our pastor showed us John 9:1-5 this week when Shawn and I told him this.  "As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.  His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"  "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.  As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me.  Night is coming, when no one can work.  While I am in the world, I am the light of the world."  Substitute blindness with Asperger's, and I have my answer:  my sins did not cause Noah's AS and somehow, yes, it will be used for God's glory.

Frustrated and Frazzled....

...Seems to be my theme of late....

And I'm letting it run me ragged.  I met with my rheumatologist today.  Actually, she ran into my head, legs first.  I'd taken my wedding rings off to put lotion on my hands while I was waiting to see her and when she came into the exam room, I was on the floor frantically searching for my wedding band.  When she asked what I was doing, I told her, holding up my engagement ring with my left hand, to show her that I had that one, but could not find my wedding band.  She pointing to my ring finger, where my wedding band safely sat.  Because I'd never taken it off.

"Now will you please listen to me???" I begged.  "This is an every day occurrence.  An EVERY HOUR occurrence.  I am losing my mind."  I gave her the rundown of every symptom I've had in the last 6 months (again), even the ones that don't fit my current diagnoses (again), asking her to once again consider something else (again).  She simply reiterated that I should make an appointment with the hospital center in the next state, an additional two hours away because she doesn't know what else to do for me anymore (again).  (When I again explained several reasons why it's really not an option, starting with child care, she made my husband taking the day off from work to go with me and the boys to this hospital for the day sound like a walk in the park.  Sure, would she like to come with us, the two year old temperamental, tired toddler and the ten year old with Asperger's and possible ADD/ADHD for the day while I battle fatigue and other assorted issues, my husband deals with traffic and we both deal with the kids?  Geez Louise, woman!)   Sooooo, that's it?  I just drove an hour and a half in anxiety-producing traffic for five minutes of head-patting and "Go see someone else"?  Just to humor myself (and her, I suppose), when I got home, I called the specialty clinic at this hospital center when I got home to try to make an appointment.  Years of experience trying to do this sort of thing have taught me it would not be worth my time.  I was not disappointed.  The secretary informed me that, as a potential new patient, they would not deal with me, only my doctors.  My doctors would have to submit all of my records, biopsies, films and relevant lab work, along with referrals.  Once the clinic has received all of my records, reviewed them, and only if the clinic doctors deem me a good potential patient, I'll receive word from the clinic.  Nice touch, huh?  So, not to continue to be a drama queen, but what am I supposed to do if they decide I won't be a good candidate?  And that leads to the next question....  My rheumatologist has been pushing this hospital center (one of the best in the country, THE best this part of the East Coast) for several months, so why didn't she already know about this protocol?  At this point, I can't trust her to return a phone call in the same week, so how am I supposed to trust her to make a referral and get all of my records to this clinic?  At one point in time, this doctor was the best; she is one of the top rated in the state I live in.  She was my diagnosing physician.  When I was first diagnosed and saw no hope, she saw it for me.  She danced around the exam room with me when I told her I was finally pregnant with Avery.  So, what happened to the good doctor routine?  Today, I walked out of her office without even saying goodbye, without even acknowledging her.  I couldn't because I was crying too hard.  I don't think I will go back, but I don't know where else to go.

Honestly, I'm ready to give up and throw it all in.  I'm ready to stop seeing doctors, stop taking meds and just see what happens.  A huge part of me is resisting the hospital center in large part because I just don't want to take the chance of going through this whole rigamarole just to be turned down and have to go through it all over again.  I've been through two other hospital centers already:  One research hospital laughed at me and told me to stop wasting their time.  Another well known university hospital took one look at all of my bruises and called in social services, thinking my husband was abusing me.  I know the doctor thought he was just doing his job properly, but if you know my husband and his family's history, that is not only laughable, but an amazing insult to Shawn and his mother's memory.  I had told the doctor as much throughout his questioning; having him call in social services was another case in my long history of not having doctors listen to me and take me seriously.

A huge part of me is just done with all of this.  I want to be done with this.  I need to be done with this.  What "being done with this" means though, I don't know.  A final diagnosis that makes sense, a treatment that works and a doctor who listens?  Moving on with my life?  I'm a mom and a wife.  I don't have time for this nonsense.   I'm tired of banging my head against the same brick wall and getting nowhere, but I'm afraid to take the next step because I can't be certain it will be better than the last one.  And I'm also afraid because I honestly just don't know what the next step is.

Half Empty

I've always seen my Starbucks cup as half empty. I'm a pessimist by nature.  In case you haven't figured that out already.   Always have been, and unless I'm struck by lightning, I probably always will be.  I hate to say it's the way God made me because I don't think He would make someone this way, so for the sake of argument, we'll just say I'm obnoxiously hard-wired like this.

In the beginning of my diagnoses 10 years ago, I cried, "WHY ME?" a lot.  Chaplain L likes to tell newcomers how I introduced myself as "I'm dying" to the support group.  I didn't even tell them my name that first week.  According to everything I'd read about my disease, I was dying.  She tells this story to give hope, because here I am ten glorious years later, having received a major spiritual healing, living a life I was told I would never live out.  I laugh and smile with her, knowing my Jesus cup is more than overflowing.  I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Jesus, if it weren't for God, if it weren't for this spiritual life I am leading.  I will never understand or comprehend why I was the one who was chosen for this healing, but I do know that I have to do it justice, even though most days I fail miserably.

Some days though, it's just too much.  Being a full time mom, homeschooling, being "sick," all the decisions I have to make.  The pain creeps back in, the illnesses.  My doctors don't have answers, don't return my calls.  They tell me to stay on the same dosages, to keep doing what I'm doing, even though I keep getting sicker.  The testing Noah still needs.  The answers we still don't have for either of us.  The deficits, the frustrations.  I can't ride him about everything and he seems to forget most things.  No matter what I try to put into practice, it doesn't seem to work.  My patience and understanding run out, then my energy runs low.  It gets tiresome.  Some days I'm tempted to put him back in public school and it makes me feel like such a failure.  I have nothing that is my own, no time to myself.  I can't be everything to everyone.  I can't handle everyone relying on me, needing me.  I know God is in this, but I'm not able to step back to look at the bigger picture and figure out where He is.  My overflowing Jesus cup creeps back down to half empty.  I want to give up, throw my hands up and just walk away.  But I can't, because I'm the mom.  This is my Woe of Motherhood.

These past few weeks, these past few days especially, my cup has completely run dry.  I don't have anything to give at all to anyone.  I can't even give to my family.  The other day I couldn't even shower.  I've even called in sick to "work," my only true safe place.  I'm afraid to answer the phone because I don't want to answer the "how are you" question.  I can't hug or be hugged because it's just too much right now.  I don't want to go anywhere because I don't want to take the chance I might run into someone I know.  I know all the signs of grieving and loss. I am overwhelmed by them. I am also overwhelmed by guilt:  Guilt for grieving so much over the loss of a child who is not my own to grieve.  What right do I have to feel as I do?  I know all the signs of my illnesses.  I am overwhelmed by them as well.  I am overwhelmed by my day-to-day tasks, even the simple ones.  I know and understand everything I'm going through, all the steps and feelings.  It doesn't make any of it any easier.  In some ways it makes it more difficult; I want to rebel against what I know and what I'm feeling.  I want to wallow in my physical and emotional pain, but the life I have created for us doesn't allow for that kind of "slow down" time.  Raising a ten year old with extra needs and a toddler doesn't allow for that.  I am angry and I want to lash out.  This is what rock bottom feels like.  I've been here before and I didn't like it then, either.  It's a dangerous place to be.  I'm hurting and I just want to curl up in a ball in my bed until this has passed.  But I know it doesn't work that way.  Like the children's book, Going on a Bear Hunt, I can't go under it or over it, I have to go through it.

I tell myself I'm not running from God, but in reality, that's exactly what I'm doing.  I tell myself I'm not angry at Him, but I'm sure that is exactly who I'm angry at.  This is the time I need to run TO Him though, this is when I need Him to refill my cup to overflowing.

The Dress

Today was A's funeral.  I've been to funerals before, but this was by far the most difficult one I've ever been to.  Watching parents have to say goodbye to their child is just not what we deem fair in life.  Overall (as far as funerals go), it was a beautiful ceremony honoring A's life.  We were given the chance to talk about her and one person, a former teen from our youth group, captured her essence perfectly.  I laughed at some of the stories told, cried through a few more and managed to hold it together as I told mine.  A gave me two beautiful spiritual gifts, one during the service and one after, which I will forever hold dear.  Both were things I have been praying about and one is of great comfort to me.

A few days ago I looked through my closet trying to decide what to wear.  Oddly enough, this was of great concern for me.  I wanted to look nice and look "right" for my girl.  Two years ago I bought a dress that wasn't quite "me," but I loved it, so it came home with me anyway.  It has been hidden in the back of my closet for several different reasons.  When we bought it, I was too pregnant to wear it.  Then last year, I was too fat to wear it.  Then I've been too shy to wear it.   It's a little on the gothic side, very feminine and very pretty.  It is also very "A."  When I pulled it out of my closet, Shawn said, "That's the one!  It's not typical funeral garb, but A would have LOVED it, you know she would have.  She probably would have even tried to steal it right off you!"  I knew he was right, so the decision was made.

I received several compliments on the dress today, most of them centering around how much A would have liked it.  Her mom, my friend, commented on how much her daughter would have loved it and appreciated that I wore it for her. There were many jokes about how she would have tried to take it from me, how she would have been too thin for it, and many others to said they would have offered to to help her have it fitted!  I'm glad I wore the dress.  It seemed to help the day flow.  It helped me with my day, it helped me through the a difficult day.  I don't know if I will ever be able to wear it again, but it will forever be A's dress to me now.  Whenever I look at it in my closet, I will think of her and remember her with love.  Maybe I will be able to wear it and as I do, remember A and the fun times, remember her smile and her passionate love for life.  And maybe someday, there will be someone else who will remind me of A who will bear the honor of having the dress passed down to her.


Sweetie, I miss you so much.  I know you're okay now, I know you are with Jesus.  But I just miss you so much.   I love you always.  Thank you for everything you taught me about living life to its fullest.  Most of all, thank you for loving my sons as your brothers and for allowing me to love you as my daughter.


Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." (NIV)

Youth Group

I started out as a preschool teacher by trade.  I love working with children, so working with younger children seemed to make the most sense to me.  After Noah was born and I realized I needed to do something outside of Momhood that did not involve children Noah's age, a dear friend whispered in my ear about the youth group in our church.  TEENS????  *GULP*   I was raised Catholic, but was new to this church (outside of Catholicism), so I was considered a new Christian and knew nothing of listening to God, hearing His call, spiritual gifts or anything of the sort.  Instead, I thought, “Sure!  Sounds like it could be fun... I think…..”  Several of my friends were also leaders and I was certain that one way or another, I would have fun.

I’ve always been sort of intimidated by older kids though, so this was a new, frightening experience for me.  But, as I said, I’ve always loved working with kids, so I wanted to give it my best try.  One morning I woke up and realized I didn't just love working with kids, I loved working with these kids.  I was having fun!  I couldn’t wait to help plan the next sermon or event, I couldn’t wait to get to the next youth night, I couldn’t wait to see the kids again.  Not only did I love working with these kids, I loved them.  I still do.  I realized that I was even beginning to love them as my own.  And as I loved them as my own, I would have protected them with my life.  There are those special two or three who worked their way even further into my heart than the rest; they had me completely wrapped around their little fingers and they knew it (and they still do….). 

In the end, I learned that working with teens wasn’t really where God wanted me (I learned that whole spiritual gifts and listening to God "thing"...  not to make lightly of any of it, though), but I still love these kids, which is why this past week has been so difficult for me.  It also leads me to the point of my post….

Gossip, Rumors and Speculation…

I’ve heard numerous stories this past week, including the one the state police have given the parents of the teens involved in the car accident.  My point is that no one really knows the truth of what happened; only the kids who were in the car and God do.  I’ve heard gossip, rumors and speculation and honestly, I'm sick of it.  It hurts me and some of it has made me physically ill.  If it hurts me as a family friend, an honorary mama, and former youth leader of these beautiful teens, I can’t imagine what it’s done to the families.  I’m tired of the finger-pointing, of people saying, “See?  Don’t do that.”  These are “my” kids and I don’t want “my” kids being used examples.  I know lessons must be learned, but not this time; please, just let them be.  Go to church, go to school, go somewhere else: Learn your lessons there, teach your children there.  Don't use someone else's tragedy to teach and learn your lessons.  Don’t use the daughters and sons of mourning parents to teach and learn your lessons.

My best advice is this:  If you hear gossip, rumors or speculation in any situation, allow it to fall on deaf ears.  If you have the truth, set the person straight, give the facts, ask that he/she set the next person straight, then walk away.  If you don’t have the facts, please don’t add to the speculation.  Ask the person to not perpetuate the gossip, then change the subject.  If you need to talk about what happened, but can't trust the person you are with, don't share the details with that person. Find someone you can trust and ask them to keep everything you say confidential. Remember that the person who is being gossiped about is someone’s daughter, son, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, mom or dad.  He or she is important to and loved by someone.  Please keep in mind how you would feel if someone spread gossip about your family member, even if it's not being done intentionally or with malintent.  

One Proud Mama: Noah's Baptism

Several weeks ago, Noah made the very adult decision to be baptized.  He went through the four week class with our church's awesome Children's Ministry leader, Miss Melissa (if you can't tell, Shawn and I adore her), did the homework, made the commitment and he was ready.  Shawn and I talked with him about the seriousness of his commitment and felt that Noah was ready for this.  We were so excited for our son and so proud!  My mom flew down from Maine for the big day and Noah invited his Cub Scout leader (one of his second mamas; I call her The Noah Whisperer), who is also a good family friend.  It was a special day for our son and all of his special, important people were there.

First though, we had to buy the swim trunks for Noah's special day.  I started out a month before the big day, just in case we ran into a hitch.  Most times, a shopping trip with a specific agenda can lead to a meltdown for Noah if we don't find what he needs at the first store.  Many times, he'll settle for what he really doesn't want, or try to talk me into something smaller, bigger or different just so he can leave the first store with something.  As we drove to Target, I said a prayer, "Please God, let us find appropriate swim trunks.  Please do this for Noah."  As we walked into Target, I explained to Noah that we had plenty of time to try other stores and that he shouldn't get his hopes up, just in case we didn't find the right thing right away.  I told him I wanted his special day to be as perfect as possible, right down to his swim trunks and swim shirt, so I was willing to search to the ends of the earth until we found them!  In the boys' section, all I could see were swim trunks with pirate motifs for miles.  I thought, "Come on God, work with me here!"  Thank goodness pirates weren't what Noah saw!  He zeroed in on the perfect pair immediately:  a blue pair with a Diary of a Wimpy Kid motif that had the phrase, "I'm pretty much one of the best people I know."  "MOM!  I FOUND THEM!  THEY'RE PERFECT!"  Once I had calmed Noah down and smiled reassuringly at all the people staring at us, I smiled at my more-than-happy son and assured him that yes, they absolutely were the perfect pair of swim trunks for his baptism.  Thank you God, for answered prayers!!!

The morning of Noah's baptism, we had a meeting before church so the children being baptized would understand what would happen and how it would happen.  Pastor Nick, our associate pastor, also wanted to go over a few things with the children about who should be baptized, why and how.  Pastor Dick, our executive pastor, and Miss Melissa, along with the families of the children and the adults being baptized, also sat in on the class.  Shawn and I were so proud of Noah as he answered questions, helped read the Bible passages and asked good questions.  He was having fun (everyone was; our church is very child and family oriented, so this session was good for the children) and being a good little boy, but was really taking this seriously!  The only silly question he asked was if he could be baptized by cannonball....  Only Noah!  At one point, Pastor Dick looked over at Noah and asked, "How old is that kid?!" because of the answers he was giving.  Pastor Nick went over what he and Pastor Dick would be asking, what the reply should be and then said if anyone had a testimony to give, they could.  Noah quickly raised his hand and said he had one.  Shawn and I shot each quizzical looks, both of us making the mental note to corner Noah and have him run his testimony by us (which we did).  We learned the hard way at a Cub Scout meeting several years ago that if you give Noah the floor, he will run the show.

After church, we moved to a pool at a church family's home for the baptisms. Noah felt it was his duty to cheer everyone on (thank goodness everyone knows Noah and is understanding....).  When it was his turn, the look on his face told us how cold the water was!  I can't remember a recent time when I've been so proud of my son.  My son declared Jesus Christ his Lord and Savior and just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.  He did give his testimony, which also brought tears to my eyes.  Noah said that when he was 5 he decided he wanted to be a Christian and worship God like his mom and dad.  I'm not sure I ever really knew that.  Very unlike Noah, he actually kept it relatively short and sweet, but very much like Noah, he used long phrases and big words!

Noah grinned and giggled on the entire car ride home.  At one point, he exclaimed, "Well, the easy part is over!  Now begins the hard part of living the walk!"  Part of me rejoiced, knowing that he truly does understand his commitment, the other part of me was a little sad because I fear that Noah now thinks his childhood is over, due to his literal thinking.

Noah, I hope you know how proud Daddy and I are of you.  We love you so much and we know that you will always do your best to honor God and your promise to Him.  You make us happy and bring us so much joy.  We hope you know how much God loves you and how proud He is of you.  May your light always shine.

Why?

Some things aren't meant for our own understanding, yet we question them anyway.

The little town I live in has been hit by a tragedy and it has rocked my own world personally.  Five teenagers were in a car accident and only two of them survived.  Two of the teens in the accident were/are children of one of my best friends.  My friend lost one of her daughters and is keeping vigil at her son's bedside in a trauma unit.  I can't even begin to make sense of any of this.  I keep hoping I will wake up and find out this was just a horrible nightmare, or just some stupid, rotten mistake.  I know I'm not the only one.

I have loved these two children, and their little sister, as my own, for many years now.  Their mom, my friend, loves my boys as her own.  She was instrumental in saving my life and leading me back to God, back to Jesus and back to the church when I did not want to be led or saved.  I love this woman with all my heart and it kills me to see the pain she is in right now.  Her ex-husband (a wonderful man) is also very important to me and it pains me to see him go through this, too.   The two oldest children have always treated Noah as a little brother; they never treated him differently for his differences.  There were times I wanted to wring D's neck for what he was teaching Noah (!), but I love him for loving my son.  I love this whole family with my whole heart.

Shawn and I talked to Noah, explaining to him that A is now in heaven and D is in the care of good doctors and that we need to pray.  We told him as much of the truth as he can understand.  Noah isn't sure what to do.  He loves both of these kids as older siblings.  D is always busy getting into "trouble" with me for the things he was teaching Noah.  A looked after Noah (and he often drove her nuts, as any good little brother would do!) when we attended the same church and Bible studies.  For several years, their home was our second home.  I can rationalize my grandfather's death for Noah (he was 90, had a good, long full life), but this, I just can't even begin explain to myself, so how I can I make it make sense for my ten year old?  Noah wants to see D and we've promised him that we'll take him, but right now is just not the right time, so we're having him make a big poster and I'm passing hugs instead.  We've been praying as a family and I've been seeing friends from my old church to pray with them and plan support for the families involved.  This isn't how I wanted to get back in touch with them or with the kids I worked with in the youth group, but this is unfortunately how it is happening.

I feel such a profound sense of loss right now that I don't even know where to begin.  If I feel this way, I can't imagine how the parents must feel.  I don't want to imagine how the parents must feel.  I've been on auto-pilot since getting the call and I'm grateful that my mom is here visiting to help me with the boys and that I can rely on Shawn to be the husband I need him to be.  Even in the midst of this, I am so blessed.  The grief comes in waves.  At times it still feels very surreal and I wonder when I'll wake up from this terrible nightmare.  It helps that I was able to see D the night it happened;  Shawn and I ran to be with our friends, spending the night in the ER and then the TICU waiting room.  I was able to hold D's hand, kiss him, talk to him, tell him how much I love him that first night.   Shawn is going to take me back to see him tomorrow.

A was such a beautiful young lady.  She had a beautiful singing voice and was great with kids.  She especially loved the little ones; I remember the way she looked at Avery as she cradled him when he was a newborn.  She was a year out of high school. The reality that I will never again be bowled over by one of her run-and-jump hugs as she comes out of nowhere hasn't quite sunk in yet.  A was a petite, tiny little girl, but she always managed to knock me off my feet!  I'm finding it difficult to talk about her in the past tense.  It just isn't computing.  A had a good heart and a loving way about her.    D is a goofball, but is also kindhearted and has a loving way (but in more of a boy way!).  This is how their parents have raised them.  D towers over me and finds it amusing to use my shoulder or my head as an elbow rest. He used to do anything for a ride in my jeep and he loved to play tricks on me.  One time I got in my jeep and he'd pushed every single button for stability control and whatever else you have to push for rock climbing or mud bogging.  I had such a time figuring out how to undo what he had done!  Another night, after youth, his mom couldn't find him, but we knew he was somewhere to be found eventually.  I needed to get home to Noah (this was pre-Avery), so I headed home.  Sure enough, 1/4 mile down the road, D popped up in my back seat, "Hi, Miss Amy!!"  I handed my phone back to him, said, "Call your mom and tell her she'll find you at home."  *sigh*  He knows my house is a safe place to show up unannounced and that I will always feed him when he does show up, hug him, listen to him and turn him back around on the correct path.

Please, if you are the praying kind, pray for these families and the many, many people who have been affected by the deaths of these three teens and the injuries of the two boys.  Please pray for the continued improvement in the health of J and D.  Thank you.

Psalm 62:5-8, "Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.  My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my might rock, my refuge.  Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge."