The Ginger Story

One of the jobs I had in the past that I loved was at a non-profit organization called Bridgepoint. Bridgepoint provided a wide group of services for people with disabilities. Everything from physical therapy, occupational therapy, job training, and a whole host of other things that were to help folks who had disabilities to enjoy and be a working part of society.

My role at this fabulous establishment was to write their stories. I would write, take pictures and publish them in a newsletter that went out to local residents in the area. This is how I met Ginger.

Ginger was 42 years old and had severe cerebral palsy that she had had since birth. All limbs effected. Her mother and father had taken care of Ginger all those years.

I was asked to be in the room when Ginger received her first speaking board. A speaking board is a board that is automated with pictures on it. For example if the person using the board wanted a drink there would be a picture of a glass of water and when the person pushed the picture a voice would say, "I would like a drink."

Communication, something most people take for granted. The ability to say what we want, and how we feel. Ginger had never been able to speak. In fact she had never been able to fully articulate anything to anyone with a voice. The only movement that Ginger could control was on one hand with her pointer finger. This made her a perfect candidate for a speaking board.

As I made my way down the hallway to the Speech Therapist office I wondered what it the world was this woman who had been trapped in a body that would not conform to her wishes for 42 years would want to say. Would she be angry at all those years locked in a prison of her own body? Would she be demanding? I gently knocked on the door. Kim our speech therapist opened the door and introduced me to Ginger's parents. Diane was a sweet woman with gray fuzzy hair, and thick glasses. She wore a flowered top and jeans with sneakers. She smiled and said, "Nice to meet you!" Ginger's father was seated with a John Deer hat on with bib overall's and dark glasses the kind that change color depending on whether they are outside or in. He got up shook my hand and sat back down and began to nervously fiddle with his hands. In the center of the room was a wheelchair. Pale with reddish brown hair and a smile that would light up a Christmas tree sat Ginger.

Diane spoke to Ginger and said, "Oh honey are you excited?" Ginger smiled bigger.

Kim went through some instructions on how the board operated. Then she looked at us all and said, "Don't be surprised if at first what Ginger says doesn't seem to make sense. This is all new to her and it will take time for her to learn how to maneuver this new instrument."

I found myself holding my breath. The whole room went silent. Kim placed the speaking board in Ginger's lap and asked her, Ok Ginger, here it is.

Ginger concentrated and squinted her eyes to see the board. She stuck her tongue out in concentration. Her index finger raised and hit the "I" button. The board sounded I. Ginger pulled her finger back and aimed again. The next word was "love". The board sounded love. Ginger began to cry. And with fierce determination she hit the word Mom, and quickly pulled back and hit the word Dad.

Ginger's first sentence with her speaking board. Her first words in 42 years were I love mom, and dad.

There was not a dry eye in that little room. As her mother was crying she began to say "I knew it. I knew she was in there. All those people telling me all those years that she couldn't understand. That she was dumb, but I knew I knew she was in there all along. I love you too baby."

How often do we take communication for granted? Who in your life needs to hear that they are loved? Ginger waited 42 years to say those words. We can say them but choose not to. How sad is that?

Love is a word that is over used I am told

Love is a word that is over used I am told. If it is said too often or in the same sentence with ice cream and flower's then it lessens the significance of the word, or so I am told. I would disagree.

I tell people I love them often. I remark about loving a certain flower or ice cream often. I mean it when I say I love. I don't have a lot of knowledge about many things but I do have knowledge of love.

There are so many hurting people in our world. So many who need love. I do not regret saying I love them. I ask God to give me love for people and He does, and when He does I tell people. There are people who are never told they are loved, but I pray that if that one person who needs to be told they are loved hears it from me that they believe it.

I'm not a fair weather friend either, if I say it I mean it, and when I say it I will continue to mean it. And when they ask, "Why do you say I love you so much?" I can tell them about the One who first loved me.

Sweaty, Stinky Stuff has overtaken my home.

Sweaty stinky stuff has overtaken my home. My home where I love to have nice smelling things like candles, cookies baking, and even fresh cleaning supplies smells are the ones I prefer. But nope I have a 12 and a 14 year old sons.

The oldest has his own smell. The dreaded soccer stink. I know this may sound far fetched but I think mom’s would agree, each sport has it’s own smell. Kendall’s shin guards smell like male cat urine. I was at a soccer game the other day and heard one of mom’s telling another mom that she had found the cure for the stinky shin guards, I leaned in to listen. She said, “Put them in the freezer.” Ummmmm…. Yea I don’t think I will be trying that one. The last thing I want is for my steak to taste like soccer shin guards!

Then we have the nice “gone to the lake all day” stink. This one I much prefer over the soccer stink. This one has an earthy tone to it.

Then there is the younger son’s walked home from school on an 85 degree day stink. Not as bad as soccer but worse than gone all day at the lake.

Here is the thing. I am learning to be grateful for the stinks. I have a boy healthy enough to play soccer. The memories we make at the lake I wouldn't trade for the world. And the younger son’s walked home from school in 85 degree heat stink is nice as well, because when he comes home and lays down on his bed and I take off his stinky socks and lay on his bed with him to hear all the details of his day, the stink goes away and is replaced by memories made.

There will be a time when my home won’t smell of boys anymore. They will be grown and gone and I bet I will long for the stinky days.

Diving board life

My life is like a kid jumping off a diving board right now. It is exciting, exhilarating, scary, and fun. I have multiple projects going on. They are all great things. I am coordinating a women's retreat, helping with a group of middle school girls, organizing a prayer team, being a soccer mom, and lots of daily stuff that everyone does.

When I take my boys to the pool that has a diving board at first they are a little timid about climbing the ladder, walking out on the board, and then taking the first step off the board into the water far, far below. Then their head pops up out of that water and they are running to get back up that ladder and do it again. That's how I feel. I just had my first successful team meeting for the women's retreat which will happen in 9 weeks, and today I am getting back on the board to plan for a Middle School Girls night at my house on Sunday. It's exciting, and fun and I pray I don't belly flop, but if I do I'll just do the same thing I tell my boys, "Ouch I bet that hurt, you okay? Alright well get back up there and do a Pencil this time!"

Jack

Jack and I are going to church camp together this coming weekend. This is my first time to go to one of my own kid's camps and serve as a leader. I am excited to do this with him. Jack and I have had a good summer together. Lots of good conversation  Lots of laughter. Lots of getting to know him and who he is becoming. And I must say I like him. He is a pleasure to get to know. 

Jack is my shy guy. He smiles a lot and when surrounded by people you may not even notice him at all. But if you stop in that crowd and take a look at the young man with reddish, brownish hair, freckles, and pretty blue eyes you would see a young man with a willingness to help a stranger, listen well to whoever is in charge, and you may see a little mischievous grin if he is plotting to prank someone.

He is a thinker. There have been many times when Jack and I were talking and I would ask him a question and he would say, "I'm not sure I'll have to think about it." And I would wonder if that was just a blanket answer but then a day or sometimes it's even been a week later he has come back to me and said, "Mom remember when you asked... well I have thought about it and here is what I think..." 

Jack is a ham. This is something that only people who really know Jack will find out about him. He LOVES to laugh, and play jokes on people. He loves to hear, watch, and experience comedy on many levels. He gets the giggles and if he finds something he thinks is hilarious he will replay it or say it, over and over and over again, until his older brother says, "Ok Jack it was funny the first time, now it's just over." 

Jack is an awesome helper with younger kids, and they ADORE him. I have noticed several people calling Jack their "Best Friend" Jack never corrects them or ignores them. He will smile and shyly look down. He can be very humble. I love that about him. All the little cousin's in the family love Jack and include him in their nightly prayers. He will play with them for hours at family get together's and is usually exhausted by the end but you never hear him complain.

I love knowing my kids. It is an intentional act and I'm not always good at it, but when those connections happen it is sweet. Sweet indeed!

Tears and Laughter

It has been awhile since I have written. Maybe you are thinking I haven’t written because I haven’t had anything to laugh or cry about. This would not be true. I have laughed and cried a lot in the last month.

I laughed when my son Jack had this look of horror on his face when he realized there was a vegetable on his plate. I mean seriously the kid looked like the plate had suddenly grown three heads and was calling him names like “Veggie hater”.

I laughed when I ran in the rain with no umbrella squealing like a little sissy girl.

I laughed when my friend Marilyn told me about walking the halls of the hospital after having surgery only to find out she had forgotten to double gown, so she was mooning people! I laughed pretty hard at that one!!

I cried. I cried when my friend lost her 18 year old son suddenly to death. I cried a lot. I am still crying.

I laughed at the funeral when someone told a funny story about her son eating Hershey Bar’s when he was little and getting caught.

Tears, and laughter, sometimes go hand in hand.

Marilyn, my mommie mentor

Today my sweet friend Marilyn is having heart surgery. I will never forget meeting her. I was in a Mom's Group at our church. I was new to the church and the area, did not have any friends yet. In walks this tall older woman who seemed to command the room. Oh and when she prayed! She prayed with such confidence!

One day after having gone to Mom's group for several weeks I notice Marilyn seemed to be following me as I went to pick up the boys from the nursery. I have my hands full and she offers to help. Then we got to talking  and she sweetly smiled at me and said the oddest thing. She said, "I am going to pursue you." I didn't quite know what to say to that so I didn't say anything. When my hubby got home later that evening I said, "Guess what honey? I am being pursued!" He didn't laugh. I thought it was funny. When I told him who it was then he laughed.

Pursue me she did. Not in a weird stalker kind of way, but rather in a loving friend, motherly mentor kind of way. We would meet for lunch, or coffee and just talk. She would give advice about the raising of boys. I would listen. She would pray and I would be in awe. She loved me when I needed to be loved.

She is a strong woman. She lives in Florida now but every time she makes a trip this way we always carve out time for each other. This last time she said, "Denise I am ready to go. If I die during this surgery it will be okay." I did not say a word because I knew if I spoke I'd cry. Yesterday she said to me, "My theme for today is I Surrender All." I quickly said, That is not my theme for today Marilyn, I am not ready to surrender you!

As I write this my sweet mommie mentor is having her surgery on a heart that is full of Jesus. If you are the praying type, I sure would appreciate a prayer being put up for my friend.