A GPS Moment

A friend was telling me yesterday that God can ALWAYS take any difficult situation and turn it into good. She likened it to a GPS system that when you make a wrong turn, recalculates and gives you new directions to still get you to your destination. I loved that analogy.

This morning I had scheduled a dentist appointment for my son that would require us to leave the house at the same time the bus would normally come to pick him up for school, so I figured I could handle this and then drive him straight to school, which takes about thirty minutes and is two towns away. Mornings have improved so much over the past couple of years that, although I was stressed about getting him ready on time and not making a scene in the dentist's office, I figured it was all going to be fine.

Unfortunately he started the day irritable and on edge but I was able to get him fed and dressed and out to the driveway on time.

But the school bus was there at the end of the driveway, waiting for him! His driver and aide are two sweet ladies in their 60's with lovely Spanish accents who absolutely dote on my son. Even though I had told them on Friday that he wouldn't be riding this morning, and I had left a message with the dispatcher, they did not get the information. As I told them that my son would not be riding this morning, he started flipping his head and hitting himself in the face. Since I knew that I was never going to get him calm enough for his dentist appointment, and he always calms down quickly on the bus, I said, "On second thought, yeah, why don't you take him!" But I didn't have his seatbelt harness on and he was flailing so intensely that I just had to get him safely into the house so he could calm down. The ladies were very concerned--seeing my 5'8" son hit and yell like this is unsettling to anyone to witness--and they so kindly offered to help and brought my purse into the house for me.

I was able to brace my son's arms to protect his face without getting my face hit in the process (which is pretty impressive since he is now as tall as I am) while I walked him back into the house, and he calmed down quickly in his room while I sat at the kitchen table formulating Plan B. I phoned the dentist and cancelled the appointment and then scheduled his appointments for the next six months, all for much later in the day. Then I remembered that his backpack was all ready for school and in my car so I got him out of his room and he was really happy to ride in the car.

Whenever I have to drive the hour round trip to school instead of having that hour to myself, I'm pretty resentful. But as soon as I drove out of my neighborhood and into the undeveloped hilly areas leading up to the highway, I realized again that my son had gotten me where I needed to be. I turned on my "Praise Baby" Christian CD and started singing along. I saw the explosion of yellow wildflowers that had burst onto the scene since I had last driven on the highway. In their vibrant colors I heard each one of them singing praises to our Creator.

When I arrived at my son's school, which specializes in severely autistic kids from ten to twenty years old, right next to me in the parking lot was a 250-pound full-grown kid in the back of his dad's mini-van, lying across the third seat, refusing to get out. A female school aide was standing by and the dad was trying to figure out what to do without provoking the young man. Being deeply aware of how one wrong move can trigger a really difficult situation, I prayed for them.

My son happily got out of the car and ambled to his classroom. On the way home I decided to drive along the Pacific Coast, drink in the sight of the ocean, and count how many different colors of wildflowers I could see. Because of this "rough morning" I got to see wildflowers in several shades of yellow, orange, hot pink, white, and purple. I saw waves crashing on the Pacific coastline, smelled salty mist, felt warm air on my skin, thought about my church lessons from yesterday and what a blessing it is to have a body.

Because of Jesus Christ's atonement, He was able to heal my morning and make it a sacred communion between me and Him.

Happy Easter! He lives!

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdZViD4rxDE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-zJHgaoVa4

Indescribable

From the highest of heights to the depths of the sea
Creations revealing Your majesty
From the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring
Every creature unique in the song that it sings
All exclaiming

Chorus:
Indescribable, uncontainable, You place the stars in the sky and You know
Them by name, You are amazing God
All powerful, untamable, awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly
Proclaim, You are amazing God

Who sees lightning bolts and tells them where they should go or
Sees heavenly store houses laden in snow
Who imagined the sun and gave source to it's light
Yet conceals it to bring us the coolness of night
None can fathom

(Repeat Chorus)

Chorus 2:
Incomparable, unchangeable, You've seen the depths of my heart and You love
Me the same, You are amazing God
You are amazing God

More Significant Dates

In examining my calendars and journals I have found more significant events that happened on the same dates:

Feb. 27, 1995, twenty years ago, is the day that I started bleeding and was put on bed rest.

Feb. 27, 2002, seven years later, my youngest son, who we adopted a little over a year later, was born.

March 8, 1995, twenty years ago, was when I was hospitalized for the high risk pregnancy.

March 8, 2003, eight years later, my children met their soon-to-be brother and his birth family for the first time and the sight of the three of them adoring him confirmed for his birth parents that we were the right family for him. This was also the scene of the bravest thing I have ever said. Birthmom proposed that we gradually transition the baby into our home with regular visits over a period of months. I said, "No, I can't do that. If I am going to be his mother, I want that to start as soon as possible."

I Didn't Want To Go To Jazzercise

Not wanting to go to Jazzercise is no big news. I never want to go to Jazzercise. I don't like to exercise and I don't like to leave my house, especially in the morning, especially when my son is at school and my husband is at work. It is ninety minutes out of my morning when you count driving time, and by the time I get home it's 11:00 and practically noon and the day is half over! That morning time alone in my house is so precious to me.

But I'm always glad I went. Once I get there and get my spot and my earplugs are in (that's a must!) I do enjoy moving to music, seeing old and new friends there, and knowing that I'm doing something really good for my body. I feel like exercise is "church" for my body, and I even get some nice inspirations while I'm jumping around. I've gotten organized enough to have my exercise clothes ready the night before and it's gotten to be enough of a habit that it's not such an emotional effort to make myself go.

But this morning..... Oh, it was such a beautiful, warm, sunny morning and the birds were chirping and I had lots of projects that I really wanted to work on, and not leave my house. I knew that it would take only the tiniest thing to divert me from going. But I made myself fill up my water bottle and get in the car. It was a tremendous effort. As I started driving I prayed that I would want to go more. I turned on my soothing Christian music CD that my dear friend, Tiffany, had given me, and I started to cry a little about how much I did not want to leave my house and how it was not an unrighteous desire to want to stay in my house and maybe I was *supposed* to stay home?.....

About halfway to the Jazzercise studio, as I was driving past Home Depot, I suddenly noticed a familiar figure walking heavily along the sidewalk, carrying a backpack and a guitar in a padded case. I thought, "That looks just like A. from church. He must be walking to school. He lives on the other side of town. He is so late for school and he is still a long way away. Maybe I should stop and offer him a ride?"

I pondered the practicality of this but something told me it was the right thing to do. I was not in the right lane but at a stop light I made a quick decision. I waited for the other cars in the right lane to pass, then I changed lanes, turned the corner, pulled over to the side of the road with my blinkers on, and waited. It seemed to take a long time for A. to catch up to me (I had pulled over as soon as I could, considering the heavy traffic) and I wondered if it really was A., and if it wasn't, what was this person going to think of me, and would I still offer him a ride if it wasn't the kid I thought I knew??

He eventually turned the corner, caught up to me, and I called to him through the window. I've only talked to him a couple of times but he recognized me when I told him I was from church. He was so happy that I stopped! He said, "You saved me!" I asked him if he normally got a ride to seminary from a ward member, and he said yes, but today was a late-start day and he had missed two different city buses.

There are two high schools that serve our town and one is near the coast where there is a wide variety of income levels, and the other is more inland and in a pretty affluent area. A. did not make the lottery to get into the high-demand limited-space coastal school, so he has to go to the suburban school. This can be a real problem when it's so far away, you are the oldest of four kids of a single mom and one of the kids has serious medical issues.

I told him that I sympathized with what a long walk he had, and that I used to miss the bus all the time when I was growing up in New England and would often end up trying to ride my bike to school in the snow. He was so fascinated! "You grew up on the East Coast? Wow, that must have been a lot harder that what I have to do." He's such a smart kid and so interested in things and other people. I told him that I was on my way to Jazzercise when I spotted him. He asked me, "What's Jazzercise?" and I told him and told him I go with our Bishop's wife and it's so awesome because she's healthy now and can go. He said how much he loves their family and he said, "Our Bishop is Superman! He's always helping people!"

I asked him about the guitar and his face lit up! He told me that he plays four instruments! By then we were in front of the school, and although he was a little late, he insisted on showing me videos of him playing the guitar and drums. He's really good! I told him that all three of my older children are musicians and two are in bands. I told him that we need to have a ward talent show and he needs to be in it. I could completely relate to him because I spent years hearing the sound of drums and guitars coming from my older son's room. He loved telling me about his music and having me appreciate it!

I said, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but do you have lunch or money for lunch?" He said, "No, but my seminary teacher makes me a bag lunch every day!" I pressed, "But you didn't have seminary today, right?" He affirmed that and graciously accepted lunch money. But I think he was more grateful for the attention.

I have two genius friends, young moms who have created successful lives in spite of very difficult childhoods. I can see my young friend in twenty years or even five or ten years thriving under the nurturing that our church family is giving him. I am so grateful to the gospel for allowing me to know a person like him who otherwise I might never have crossed paths with in a meaningful way. This young man needed mothering today and I needed someone to mother. With tears in my eyes, I drove back towards the main road, in awe at the workings of the Spirit that would send me to this boy's aid. I could still have gone to part of Jazzercise, but it doesn't take much to talk me out of it. I came home and wrote this instead. ;)

Twenty Years of Blessings

My baby girl will turn twenty this month and as I contemplated what to get her for her birthday, I suddenly recalled with a rush of emotion that twenty years ago this week I was put on bedrest at thirty weeks of pregnancy due to heavy bleeding from placenta previa. Twenty years ago this week I was fighting for my life and that of my baby girl. Twenty years ago this week, having recently moved across the country away from family and friends, I was rushed to the hospital, having made quick arrangements for the care of my two younger children. I'm so thankful for the neighborhood and church friends who rescued our new little family.

I am so grateful that I still live in the same town and as I drove to a dentist appointment on Monday, past the house we were renting at the time I was put on bedrest, tears filled my eyes as I sent prayers and assurances to the Me of twenty years ago: "Things are going to be O.K. Your baby girl will live and thrive and you will make eternal friends as they come to your aid both at home with your children and to you in the hospital. Your being in the hospital will also be the means of blessing those you need your influence."

One of those who was blessed by serving me was my faithful visiting teacher. We didn't know each other well yet but she sprang into action as soon as she heard of my need, and in our first phone conversation from the hospital she revealed to me that she was having fertility issues. In subsequent visits and conversations I was able to reassure her and steer her towards a more helpful doctor. Twenty years later, she is now the mother of four beautiful daughters.

As I felt the power of the events of twenty years ago, I had a strong desire to find out the exact dates that everything happened, and was delighted to find that I had kept all my calendars in a binder including notes on who had taken the kids or brought dinner, when I was admitted to the hospital, etc. I started posting these recollections on facebook, tagging facebook friends who are mentioned in the notes. I am so grateful for these eternal friendships and the technology that helps us to keep them alive and growing.

Another great treasure was uncovered when I opened these calendar pages: I had jotted notes in the margins of funny things the kids had said or done! I had completely forgotten about all these things and they are priceless jewels to me. I went through and read every single one, and I'm going to transcribe them, send the document to my kids, and also post it on our familysearch.org account.

I really, really miss my three older kids who are out of the house. I am so grateful I have one still at home and that he likes lie on the couch with his head on my lap while I crochet, all 5'6" 140 pounds of him. But I obsess about how much I miss the others. So imagine my delight when I found this time capsule of their sweet and funny words scribbled on my 1995 calendar. When I read their words I can hear their little voices in my head.

I also kept a record of things I had sewn and read, so would feel a sense of having "accomplished something" on those busy days. Those notes are marginally interesting but the greatest treasure is those experiences and memories of my children. I am so grateful to have been raised by parents and a church that valued family history, and keeping records, no matter how quickly scribbled. I am grateful that these past twenty years, so packed full of blessings, HAPPENED. They happened and I will always treasure them and nothing can take that away from me. And, to quote my friend Val who is farther along in this journey than I am (and whose daughter, a mother herself now, took care of my little kids when I was in the hospital), "There are many joys ahead."

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"To believe in God is to know that all the rules will be fair, and that there will be wonderful surprises." --Ugo Betti