Dream

Hope deferred makes the heart sick,

but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.

Proverbs 13:12

Ok, so I'm cheating just a little bit. The prompt today is Dream; we're supposed to write for five minutes and then stop. My problem is, I've thought about this prompt before, in life. I don't think I'm wrong to suppose that we've all had dreams, dreams that change, dreams that are forgotten in years of living, years of making the best of, years of other priorities. We've been told to follow our dreams, to reach for our dreams, to dream big and to dream on. We've been told what we should dream, what we could dream, and how to interpret our dreams. We've wanted our dreams to come true, like fairytale wishes. All of us. Dreaming about so many things. And for many, our dreams grow and mature - they encompass more than just ourselves. They include our family, our children and spouses. They include our country. They include our world.

So this is the cheat. I've written for almost five minutes, but I also want to share. My daughter just turned 24 a month ago. I still remember how her birth and diagnosis of Down syndrome rocked my perfect world, how my hopes and dreams for my child were changed, shifted, blown away. Hope deferred... But I didn't remain heartsick - God had different plans. Following is an excerpt from a book-in-the-making about my daughter. Well, really about how raising Sierra has changed my life. The Very-Do Adventure is a description of the journey - 

The road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way,

Where many paths and errands meet. And wither then I cannot say.

J.R.R. Tolkien

I am in the office, thinking about the past 23 years. Sierra is in the other room, exercising.  I hear the music and I picture her, eyes focused on the video following the steps of an on-screen avatar. That birthday of hers is almost here and I am remembering doctor visits, therapies, early intervention, Individualized Education Plans. I reflect on decisions made, on scaffolding, on choices. There are differences between parenting a child with extra needs and a typically developing child, but the similarities outweigh those differences. Great strides have been made in quality of life, education, health, and acceptance of our differently-abled population. 

Almost twenty-three years on this very-do adventure.

I am in the office, thinking about my wishes and hopes for my girl, for the people around her, for parents and families who are new to the parenting adventure, parents and families with typical and extraordinary journeys ahead. I think big thoughts that float and glitter like giant, helium-filled mylar balloons on parade. Balloons that proclaim Universal Hopes and Dreams. I think beyond Down syndrome.

I hope that my daughter will be safe from any who want to take advantage of her. I hope she continues to search for and find purpose. I hope that others, parents, families and communities learn as much from their sons or daughters, as I have from mine. I wish them joy in the journey. 

I wish that being 'special' wasn't an automatic label based on a diagnosis. My daughter has EARNED the description of special based on her unique personality, her unique outlook, her unique actions.

I wish there weren’t disappointments in the disability, but rather celebrations in the ability. I wish, like Chris Burke, it could be called Up Syndrome.

I hope that people take time and effort to get to know my girl. I hope they take time and effort to get past the challenges of understanding her speech, past her conversation loops, her need to please, her drama moments. I hope they discover her sense of humor, her empathy, her distinctive intelligence, spirituality and joy. I hope they appreciate the journey.

I hope she experiences true, unconditional friendship. I hope she experiences Relationship (with a capital ‘R’).  Active, vibrant, caring relationship. Beyond family. 

 ~~~~~

"It is my birthday, next week. Are you scared?” 

Done exercising and back to her favorite topic, my daughter interrupts my thoughts.

“No, Sweetie, not scared,” I fold her Zumba’d body in my arms. I blink back warm tears of hope and love, turn away from the computer and focus on my soon-to-be birthday girl. “I am incredibly blessed.” 

Linking with Five-Minute Friday

Azalea Red

She is clothed with strength and dignity;

She can laugh at the days to come.

She speaks with wisdom,

and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

Proverbs 31:25-26

I found myself thinking about you as I painted my nails this morning.  The first painting of the year - a beautiful azalea red.  It reminded me of your signature color - when you would pull your bottle of nail polish out of your purse during our break.  A little bottle of not-quite-red, not-quite-pink - the perfect complement to your skin.  You would pull that little bottle out and twist it open.  The brush filled with the glorious shade - shiny and smooth.  Your concentration evident, you spread your hand and stroked each nail, as you spoke of children, learning, God, and life.  Stroked each nail lovingly, carefully, the polish clinging to the perfectly oval beds.  And your words over all - calm, comforting - wise words born of difficult experience and joy.

You spoke of raising your children, your boys-now-men, and how you had embraced your role of mother-father.  You taught them respect for women, for their elders, and you infused in them self-respect and confidence in who they were.  Who they are.  Strong.  Successful.  Compassionate.  

And it was hard.  You - who wanted to break down - could only cling to your own strength - could only pray for more strength.  No tears. Lots of prayers.  And stamina.  Alone in your room, when you whispered in the darkness Am I doing right?  When you longed to beg God for respite.  But you didn't.  Because you knew this raising of your sons, this life you were leading, was required - and you were obedient.

You, the child who had cared for your family when your own parents had to work.  You, the rebellious, defiant child - the feisty one, who wanted to tell the world what you really thought.  You made the decision to move your family across the country.  You made the decision to settle in a place without roots - because it offered a better life for your sons.  And you made it a better life for yourself.  You found work.  You spread that tough love of yours into the classroom.  Into many classrooms.  You found a church, a community.  You allowed people into your story - you allowed me into your story.

You should know how profoundly you influenced me - during those precious talks we had during our breaks together.  I saw a strong woman.  An attractive woman.  A woman who took care of herself - emotionally and physically.  I admired your sense of style.  I admired the thoughtful way you put your words together - saying the hard, necessary things kindly, purposefully.  Oh!  I wish I could learn to show your restraint - that restraint you don't think you have - that ability to not say the things that won't change a situation, the things that will just cause hurt and confusion.  I admire your wisdom.  I admire your absolute faith in God - your absolute love of Jesus.  

I am thinking about you, as I polish my nails this morning.  You should know how valuable you are - how important you are.  You polish lives, like that beautiful signature shade, of the people you meet, the children you teach, your coworkers, and your friends.  I am proud to call you friend.  I miss you.

Heavenly Father, thank you for leading me to this special friendship.  I miss my friend, and I know she's not done going through difficult times.  Continue to infuse her with your wisdom, and your strength.  Comfort her.  Today, I lift up my friend to you - let her choose joy.

Been There Done That

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again, there is nothing new under the sun.       Ecclesiastes 1:9

Kids.  Can say the darned-est things.  As best as I can remember, this dialogue took place a few years ago, after an incident at recess...

Student:  Yes, I hit him.
Teacher:  Thank you for taking responsibility for your actions.  Is there something you could have done differently?  Something more appropriate than hitting?
Student:  No, I was doing what you always tell us to do.
Teacher:  Really?  What do I always tell you to do - that involves hitting another student?
Student:  You told us we should follow the Golden Rule.
Teacher:  Yes, we talked about the Golden Rule.  I don't understand how following the Golden Rule allows you to hit another student.
Student:  The Golden Rule says we should treat others how we want to be treated.
Teacher:  That's right.  So, you hit the other student because you wanted him to hit you?
Student:  No, he hit me first.
Teacher:  I still don't understand how hitting back is following the Golden Rule...
Student:  I figure he wouldn't have hit me, unless he wanted me to hit him.  I was just doing to him what he did to me - the Golden Rule.
Teacher:  Oh.

Real conversation.  Real student.  I remember being a little bit impressed by the child's unique interpretation of Do unto others... Impressed and horrified.  This child was twisting what I had always considered to be a moral standard.  Twisting it into justification for violence.  I flashed forward a few years in the child's life and could only imagine what other actions he'd try to justify by manipulating the words of moral standards.  Or laws.  My brain literally exploded into snapshots like a music video - current images alongside historical images - made movie-vivid, 3-D real - genocide, slavery, rape, violence, violence, violence....

There's a science activity that's really powerful for teaching kids about erosion.  They set up a mixture of sand and clay in a flat, plastic tray.  Kind of like building a miniature topographic map.  Instructions call for a 'cliff' - usually about a third of the way up the tray.  Sometimes the kids get to put 'buildings' on the map, or get to design land features.  Then they get to make it flood.  This is the best part.  The water comes from a cup, suspended above the tray, with a hole for the water to pour through.  The size of the hole determines the speed of the flow.  And the water does some amazing things to those little topographies.  It creates floodplains, and streams; it carves canyons, and deposits deltas.  The kids are mesmerized by how quickly the changes occur, by how forceful the water can be.   

But it starts off small.  And it's only water.  Soft, pliable, flexible water.  Soothing, comforting, refreshing water.  One drop at a time.  The drops gather.  Speed, intensity, volume.  And they become a force to be reckoned with - a force that can move mountains.  Literally.

So it is with our actions.  It only takes a small excuse to open the door to bigger and more.  It only takes a little manipulation, a little justification to twist something good into something evil.  To explode into violence.  

I was surprised to see this in Proverbs today.  My student, years ago, wasn't being original in his manipulation of the Golden Rule.   He was doing exactly what mankind has been doing for thousands of years - starting small.  King Solomon, that wise old King, called it.  Been there.  Done that.

Do not say, "I'll do to him as he has done to me; I'll pay that man back for what he did."  

Proverbs 24:29 

Storytime

Maybe it's just a by-product of age, but I seem to spend a lot of time thinking about the stories behind the stories.  Like this saying - apparently there's some regret about growing older...?

I picture a multi-generational family gathering, maybe an outdoor picnic, with lots of color in motion and good food on a long picnic table...old and young together... Perhaps the regret is in the loss of youthful vigor and energy, perhaps it's in some kind of fading visual acuity.  Maybe the regret is because of diet restrictions...But that doesn't seem to completely use up that word regret - What if the regret of growing older is looking back at missed opportunity in a life lived.  What if it's reflecting on choices - good or bad - and the consequences of those choices.  See... I don't know because I'm missing the story.

Years ago, right after I graduated from high school, I had the opportunity to spend a year in Brazil as an exchange student.  I was seventeen.  Fitting into another family in a different culture was difficult.  I felt isolated - language was more of a barrier than I had anticipated.  Personality doesn't translate very well without words.  So I wrote.  A lot.  For the first four months.  Looking back, it's almost amusing to read.  Drama.  Drama.  Drama.  Almost amusing.  But not quite, because I remember how absolutely lost I felt...

I kept a journal.  I wrote poems.  I wrote lists.  I wrote letters.   I wrote these little one-sentence statements from who-knows-what part of my seventeen-year-old brain.  Like I was full of wisdom...

• Love your enemies - they will no longer exist.
• If everyone made love instead of war, they would be too busy taking care of babies to fight.
• Love is understanding.  Understand love and you'll love to understand everything.
• Self-confidence is selfishness made right.
• Isn't it funny how people always talk about what they did, and don't realize that what they're doing is what is important?

Oh, there are more - they're just too familiar to all of those other one-liners that are so prevalent on Pinterest, and Facebook...  So there I was, feeling isolated and alone,  spouting out the wisdom of the ages... statements that have been said in some way or another for thousands of years.  Without the stories behind them to give them substance.  To make them believable.  To make them creditable.

Like Proverbs.  I'm having a difficult time reading through Proverbs this week.  Even though I realize that King Solomon definitely had a whole lot more life experience than a 17-year old girl from the 20th century, I'm missing the stories.  Proverb after proverb.  Some seem repetitive; I guess he felt the need to get the message across.  Some seem like they don't even go together, written like analogies that don't match.  Some are just plain obvious.  So obvious, it makes me even more curious to know the story - 

So, for now, I read Proverbs.  For later, I study.  I search for the stories.  By the sheer density of the material,  I might be busy for awhile...  Hmm...there's certainly no time for regretting growing older - I'm looking forward to satisfying this story-curiosity of mine - I guess I've kind of come full circle in age - It's storytime.