All's Well! (pun intended)

We have water!!!! I’m thrilled beyond words because originally, the well pump people weren’t going to be able to come out at all yesterday. In even better news, our pump was still under warranty and it cost $500 (ouch) instead of upwards of $1200. The guys that came out weren’t at all creepy. They were very nice. A man in his forties and a young, curly-haired apprentice named Charles. They worked efficiently in the blaring heat. They were surprised and relieved that I told them to just drive around back to the pump. “You mean you don’t mind?” They were surprised. I pointed to our brittle grass and asked if it looked like we minded. Besides, they only had a pick up truck with some equipment in the back. I wondered what all the fuss was about. Once they pulled around back, they probably wondered the same thing! I get the feeling that not everyone parks the mower behind the house… under a blue tarp… like we do. I don’t think they cared. They were grateful

I stuck my head out the kitchen window to watch. They had this apparatus (I so wish that I had taken a picture of it.) that they used to pull up the pump. It was a square metal frame with three tires facing each other and, somewhere tucked in there a small mother to run the tires. The three tires gripped the pipe to pull it out. I started to laugh because it looked like something Amos’ grandpa and uncles (the Zollingers) would have rigged up. I knew Amos would have gotten a kick out of it too. So, I asked Mike “Did you make that or can you actually buy it?” He very seriously assured me that you can actually buy them and they are about four grand apiece. Who’s laughing at who?!

The kids hung around wanting to know all that they were doing. For a while, Jack and Ava made themselves a nice little spot at the end of the table by the kitchen window, which sits right next to the well. They watched comfortably from the “stands” as they ate Teddy Grahams. Mid chomp, Ava says, “That guy curls his hair.” Mike and Charles were really interesting guys. It turns out that Charles has 3 brothers and they, along with their dad, have a bluegrass band called the Stockdale Family Band. They’ve played at the Grand Ole Opry, in Nashville. I thought that was pretty cool. We talked about our kids and it turns out that Mike is a Christian. He and his wife have a desire to adopt even though they have children already. In fact, their youngest son has spina bifida occulta. SBO is the mildest form of SB and most people with it don’t even know they have it. His son does experience pain from it, unfortunately. You just never know whom you’re going to meet in the course of a day. It’s always so interesting and turned out to be a blessing.

When the work was done, Mike & Charlie packed up and shipped out. I ran around all the bathrooms and flushed toilets as fast as I could! It was something I’d looked forward to since three in the morning when I lay in bed unable to decide if I should actually use the bathroom knowing I couldn’t flush. Jack made the decision for me. He was the one whose kicking brought my attention to my bladder in the first place. I asked him if he had to pee. “Yeah.” He said sleepily. So, he went and I followed suit. “Come on!” I told myself, “People live all over the world without running water!” I reasoned with myself “but then again, those people don’t go to the bathroom in their houses either.” True that. I got over it eventually and fell back to sleep.

So, we ended the day going to Grandpa and Polly’s house for dinner. That was nice because we had no dinner plans when we’d thought there would be no water that day. Bonus! I didn’t even have to cook! When we got home, though, I felt so overwhelmed (and grumpy). The kids didn’t clean up what I asked them to. I had a pile of laundry and dishes that materialized seemingly out of thin air and I had no excuse now for not doing it! Furthermore, I didn’t want anyone in my bed kicking me in the rear all night and I made it clear that I didn’t want a repeat. I feel kinda bad now. I want to take them to a water park, but I don’t want it to look like I’ve gone soft and they’re getting away with being irresponsible. It’s gonna rain tomorrow. Though I feel like a total sucker for saying this… There’s plenty of time to clean when it’s raining! Off to the park!

Pick Up The Shovel, Dig Another Well

Yesterday morning, we woke up to absolutely no water. We’ve been through this too many times before. Thankfully, our well is not dry. However, our well pump has gone out several times during the last 5 years that we’ve lived here. It’s hard not to feel extremely discouraged when it happens. It's not that I'm surprised when things breaks all the time. We’re pretty aware of the fact the bad can and does  happen- seemingly often.

The problem is that my thoughts don’t just stay in one place though. They spiral into a chain of related thoughts of cause and effect. I give myself to fear. I start to think about how we need a different floor plan for Gabriel. He isn’t going to be able to do steps very well, if at all. We’ve come up with some great remodeling ideas so we can stay here. We love the hill we live on. We feel really blessed to be a part of our community and Norwayne Schools. And, quite frankly, there’s not much land for sale out here. So, when we're faced with something else that's really expensive, it makes me want to worry about how to have to come up with who knows how much for a well pump that should have been working a lot longer than it has. If this kind of thing keeps happening then we'll never have enough to do anything! There. The endless cycle of my thoughts.

I keep thinking of the Paul Overstreet song “Dig Another Well” (Lyrics below, with lot's of punctuation missing because I did a copy/paste of the lyrics.)

“Well Ike had a blessing from the Lord up above He gave him a beautiful woman to love 
A place to live and some land to farm 
Two good legs and two good arms

 Well the devil came sneaking around one night
Decided he would do a little evil to Ike
Figured he would hit old Ike where it hurts
so he filled up all of Ike's wells with dirt

 And when Ike went out for his morning drink 
He got a dipper full of dirt and his heart did sink
 But he knew it was the devil so he said with a grin 
God blessed me once and he can do it again 
He blessed me once and he can do it again 

So when the rains don't fall and the crops all fail
And the cows ain't puttin' any milk in the pail 
Don't sit around waitin' for a check in the mail
 Just pick up the shovel and dig another well 
Pick up the shovel and dig another well 

Now me and old Ike got a lot in common
 The Lord blessed me with a beautiful woman 
He gave me a job he gave me a home
 He gave me a well to call my own

 Now when I go out for my morning drink 
And get a dipper full of dirt my heart does sink 
But I think of old Ike and I have to grin 
Cause God blessed me once and he can do it again
 He blessed me once and he can do it again 

When the rains don't fall and the crops all fail...
 Well the good book says Ike finally won
(Pick up the shovel dig another well)
 The devil got tired and he left him alone 
(Pick up the shovel dig another well)
All I know someday I'm gonna win too 
(Pick up the shovel dig another well)
 Cause the good book tells me what to do
(Pick up the shovel dig another well)
Pick up the shovel and dig another well
Pick up the shovel and dig another well
 Pick up the shovel and dig another well.”

Since there was really nothing to do at home, and since I’d been promising the kids for two days that we’d go swimming, we went swimming. I started the van. Beep. Warning. You have a flat tire said the bright orange prompt on my dash. So, I rigged up the air compressor as described by Amos. Who decided to give tools “male” and “female” parts anyway? Oh well, the important part is that we got air in the tire and had a fun afternoon.

Lucky for me, I got a little break. We took my sister Joy out for her 40^th birthday. It was a lot of fun. Just us original seven kids, and mom and dad, went to Tres Belle in Bath. The atmosphere was cozy enough. Though, it was tough to stare at the roaring fire in the oven while the hot sun hit our backs through the window. I imagined how cozy it would be to eat there in the dead of winter. Our waitress approached our table and read the specials to us. The only thing that reassured us that she was still speaking our language was that she would interject words like chicken or duck here and there. I stared intently into the near distance as if I understood and was absorbing her bilingual foodie vocabulary. Valerie asked what one of the menu items was. “That’s a noodle,” she informed us. Oh. A noodle. Duh. Not having a television has really thrown me out of the Food Network Loop. I liked Ina Garten’s approach the best. If she said it in French, she’d tell you that it just means flattened and fried. Then, she’d show you how to do it.

We got our pictures taken behind the birthday cake like we were little kids. We laughed, like we were little kids. The best part was, we didn’t fight like little kids and nobody had to take us potty. It just dawned on me that it took my mom around 30 years to take all seven of us to a fancy restaurant at one time. One thing that didn’t change was that we still picked off each other’s plates and made too much noise at the table. That’s the best part of a big family. Unfortunately, my dad doesn’t really remember us. On the way to the restaurant, he pointed to the ring on my hand and asked in Hugarian,(He doesn’t speak English that much anymore, at least not to me.) if I was married now. I looked at him and we both started to laugh. It’s sad. I don’t know if I’m numb to emtion or if I’m in denial. He always asks who we are. As we all sat at the table, he wanted to know if all us girls were sisters. He was worried about who would pay the bill. We assured him that we were taking care of it. Then, behind our backs, John Harabedian took care of it. Thanks, John.

We went back to mom’s house. We sang Happy Birthday and Joy blew out the candles on her cakes. (Yes, cakes plural.) Later, I took a nice long shower at mom’s house and enjoyed things like flushing the toilet and drinking out of a glass. Then, I came home to my excited kids. Turns out that Amos got to be super-dad while I was gone and built an enclosure for Shelly. We went to bed, exhausted. I woke up at 3am because Jack likes to sleep with his feet facing our heads. He kept kicking me in the backside. Then, I lay awake thinking about how I hope I don’t have to use the bathroom, which in turn made me have to pee. It reminded me of when I was 16 visiting family in Romania. Only I didn’t have to leave the house to use the restroom and get flown at by scared chickens and barked at by a protective German Shepherd. This was a much more peaceful experience and washing my hands with bottled water wasn’t all that bad.

The only great thing about Ava waking me up at six this morning because she couldn’t get the Berenstein Bears to start in the DVD player was that she fell back to sleep in my bed. I am enjoying the quietness of the house while all the kids sleep… just some birds chirping outside. Think it’s time to open God’s word and “dig another well” for today. 'He blessed me once, He can do it again.'

The Price Is Right

The other morning Jack runs in the house more excited than I’ve ever seen him. “Shelly laid eggs! Shelly laid eggs!!!” Shelly is our painted turtle. So, I went outside to look and sure enough, Shelly did lay eggs. We read about what to do with turtle eggs and made a nest. Meanwhile, Jack was jumping up and down in the kitchen like a contestant from “The Price is Right.” You know, when Bob Barker parts the curtain and says “A NEW CAR!!!” Jack was listing everyone that he was going to call in rapid succession “Mamma, Joanne, Grandma, Jon….” The list went on. “See Mommy! I told you shelly was a girl and that she was pregnant!” What’d ya know. He was right. He’s probably right about her age too. I love that these kids have such curious and adventurous minds. Andrea is the researcher of the bunch, because she can read the best. Jack is more determined to read than ever so that he can do the same. Ava wants to start “doing her homework” so she can learn to read because she wants to cook like Andrea does.

Andrea was baking zucchini bread yesterday when all the egg-citement started. (That was so cheesy, but Jack loves using the word “egg” to start words like ‘excellent’ and ‘expert’.) Andrea stopped what she was doing to research painted turtle habitats and egg laying habits. We made a safe nest for our little hatchlings and there they shall stay for the next 10 or so weeks in our nice warm garage (not to exceed 92 degrees Fahrenheit).  The kids were worried about the baby turtles so they prayed for them before bed.

Gabriel laid a few little ‘eggs’ of his own… in the bathtub. Of course, we actually get excited when he does that. Before his bath he said he wanted to sit on the potty. He kept saying pee. The minute I set him on the toilet, he started a stream. It trickled to a stop and I asked if he had to go more. He did it again and this time left a little surprise with it. I don’t even want to get excited because it makes me so happy when something ‘normal’ happens so rarely that when it stops, it makes me so sad. I know he can’t potty train like other kids, but it felt so good that he did it. I wish I could learn to just take it for what it is and not set my expectations so high that the disappointment is unbearable later. When I cathed him after his bath I didn’t get enough to even warrant an overnight cath. That was great. This morning he became really upset (he has been lately) over being cathed. Again, I barely got anything out of it. We’ll just take it a small step at a time.

Gabriel came home from physical therapy yesterday with rave reviews! Ever since he got a new walker that he hates a little less than his last one, he is taking more steps on his own. I was thrilled to see him walk down my driveway BY HIMSELF! The trick might be to get Karen Rickey to live at our house because when she goes home so does the magic that motivates him. He showed off for his dad a little bit. He tells us he’s “done” and that is final. Karen said he drives the electric wheelchair by himself. I haven’t seen it yet. It sounds cute, but I don’t really know how it will feel to see him in a wheelchair for real. I’m afraid.

When Gabriel was a baby, I’d look up kids with spina bifida on Youtube. You know, just to see how they walk when they do walk. I would cry so hard that that’s what Gabriel would someday look like if he could even do that much. Now that we’re there, I realize what a huge accomplishment it is and we’re the parents that clap like winning contestants on a game show. I’m not kidding. We jump and cheer and clap like we just won the grand prize. And we mean it. So, if Gabriel ever does a bridge in front of you, it’s because he’s expecting you to clap. He is trying to make your day. He loves to make people smile and laugh and he’s good at it.

About a month ago, I dreamt that I was comforting a mother who had just given birth to a baby with spina bifida. It was the worst kind, too. I couldn’t comfort her. There was nothing I could say. I just put my arm around her shoulders as she stared at her baby and cried. All I could say was, I know it hurts. I can’t tell you that it will get better, but you’ll see that it will in some ways. Maybe the dream just represented my current-self comforting my old-self back when he was born. I don’t know what it means, but I know that in some ways, it has gotten a little bit better. We’ll take every ‘little bit better’ that we can and count it a miracle and a blessing.

Solid Rock

Gabriel’s birthday was nice. He got lots of attention and cake. We lit and relit the candles several times because he got such a kick out of blowing out the candles. He would yell “moke” (smoke) every time he blew them out. Ava helped him with his Reese Cup ice cream cake from Dairy Queen. I didn’t even notice how much she was helping him until she handed me the empty plate and said, “Gabriel’s all done with his cake, but I kind of ate it all.”

He swam in the pool with his uncle “Nonny” (Jonny) and got to hike through the woods in a carrier on Aunt Julie’s put Gabriel in a carrier and walked through the woods like that. I didn’t know if she knew how heavy 33 pounds is but I’m sure she’ll never forget what a third of one hundred pounds feels like ever again!

When we drove home that evening, it was like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I just felt a tired ache, but not the absolute grief of the memories. It was a lot like turning a page. I’m just trying to focus on the fact that two years later, we’re not sitting in a dark, depressing hospital all summer long. For that, I’m thankful. Sometimes, I wonder how we made it through.

Amos was working for Smucker’s at the time, plus we ran our roll off container business ourselves (still do) with the help of some awesome help. Thankfully, Smucker’s was wonderful and made it very easy for Amos to take off for the FMLA (Family Medical Leave of Absence). We would take turns sitting in the Reinberger Center at Akron Children’s Hospital, taking calls and scheduling deliveries. We’d go home every so often to take care of bookwork and to shower and sleep in our own beds. Visitors would come and go. It was a needed distraction from all that was going on.

We almost forgot about Amos’ poison ivy. He had such a bad patch of it on his knee. It became infected and was such a disgusting mess that he couldn’t even bend his leg. He finally went to the ER, which was just around the corner, and they put him on 2 antibiotics. It was ugly, though he never complained about it. He was too busy trying desperately to care for me and for Gabriel’s needs. He would receive visitors when I couldn’t. I couldn’t smile or answer questions or be comforted, so I just hid in another part of the hospital. I felt like people were coming to see the baby with the big scar. Like he was part of some exhibit. I didn’t want people looking at him or talking about how mangled his back looked.

It was in the hospital that I realized that this is the time in life that makes it clear just how much God provided the right husband for me. I didn’t say perfect, I said the right one for me. There have been so many times that I got angry at Amos because he’s the type that is actually able to live for the moment while I was trying to live five years down the road when Gabriel realizes that he’s different from other kids and wears a diaper to kindergarten. I thought Amos was really just in denial and refused to see the reality. Every so often, Amos’ tears over Gabriel, tells me that he understands. We both need a little perspective from each other.

Suddenly, Bible verses like Matthew 6:34 actually applied to our lives, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” When you have food, clothing, shelter and a healthy family, you tend use that verse for petty things, or at least we did.

As a kid in Sunday school I used to watch a little green blinking light, as we would sing together songs like “My Hope Is Built On Nothing Less” by Edward Mote 1797-1874. In Sunday school, we sang because we liked to, and because it passed the time until lunch, which was when the light stopped blinking. The meaning of that song is much greater now. It goes like this…

1. My hope is built on nothing less
 Than Jesus' blood and righteousness; 
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
 But wholly lean on Jesus' name.
 On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; 
All other ground is sinking sand.

2. When darkness veils His lovely face, 
I rest on His unchanging grace;
 In every high and stormy gale
 My anchor holds within the veil.
 On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
 All other ground is sinking sand.

3. His oath, His covenant, and blood
 Support me in the whelming flood;
 When every earthly prop gives way,
 He then is all my Hope and Stay.
 On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; 
All other ground is sinking sand.

4. When He shall come with trumpet sound,
 Oh, may I then in Him be found,
 Clothed in His righteousness alone, Faultless to stand before the throne!
 On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; 
All other ground is sinking sand.

If you’re not in the middle of a storm, you will be. Get on The Rock that is Jesus Christ. He is our only rescue.

Custom Made

My dad escaped from his war torn homeland in 1957. We never had a butter dish because it looked like a coffin and he only ever watched fire works from home. Amazing what triggers traumatic memories.

Gabriel is two today. I am desperately trying to get excited. On any of my kids’ birthdays, I think back to the day they were born. Who I thought they looked like right away and how soft they were and what it felt like to snuggle with them. I had that for about thirty seconds with Gabriel. My first words to him were “Oh, hi dad.” He looked just like my dad. He was such a big guy with a head full of hair. Finally! One of my kids has Bako hair!

And then the hammer dropped. It wasn’t until later that I realized that my OB pretended not to know what was going on. I thought it was odd that he wasn’t on call yet came flying in the room when it was time to push. He knew exactly how my baby should be handled on the outside but yet pretended to not have the foggiest as to what was going on. “Just a little skin defect.” That’s what he called it. If only it were that.

From that moment on, our lives unraveled. Life felt surreal and nightmarish. Our little boy was quickly taken away in an isolette. To add insult to injury, I couldn’t even recover in the maternity ward. No, instead I got to go to the really sick mom’s hallway where I listened to a woman vomit her guts out every 30 minutes or so. I lay there in a daze waiting to hear about Gabriel. Amos went over to Children’s to be with him. I called Amos… he was on his way back to me. I asked what it was, still naively thinking that it might just be a little skin defect. I knew something was wrong when he wouldn’t tell me on the phone.

He came into the room after what felt like a hellish eternity. He started using latin words that made no sense. He showed me a piece of paper and we clumsily sounded out “Myelomeningocele.” That’s Spina Bifida in its worst form. I fell apart. Amos stayed pretty solid. It’s like the phone call when someone tells you that a close family member died. Shock. Disbelief.

When I could feel my legs again, we went to the NICU where I got to look at Gabriel through glass. Ironically, that was a vision I had during labor. I didn’t know what it meant. Mid contraction I saw my face in a reflection as I looked at my baby. It was weird. Then again, I had a lot of weird stuff like that happen.

The year before, I had a dream that a doctor was holding a handful of boys. As it turns out, all my sisters in law who gave birth that summer had boys. I remember thinking to myself “Why was a surgeon holding my baby?” I also dreamt that Gabriel had blue eyes and brown hair. And I told my sister in law Vanessa all my dreams so I didn’t sound crazy… you know, just in case. After I cleaned and got Gabriel’s room ready, a panicked thought stabbed through my heart. What if something’s wrong and we have to look at this room?! I would pray and ask God to take away my irrational fears. It happened again on the way to the hospital. In my mind, I kept hearing “I’m not punishing you.” I didn’t know what it meant! I kept asking God to take away my fears. As Amos drove along I’d ask him “what if something goes wrong?” “What if I die.”

How ironic that during my labor Amos asked if we should name him Job. “NO THANKS!” I was already on edge and I didn’t want any of Job’s suffering thank you very much. We had already picked the name Gabriel, but I had second thoughts about it. You know how you say something over and over again and then get sick of it. So, the nurses gave me a baby name book that included a Bible verses underneath each name. I turned to Gabriel to see the verse underneath. It was Joshua 1:9 …”Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” At first, it creeped me out because I already felt a sinking feeling. After he was born, and learned all that was wrong, we knew that was the name for him.

Back to the NICU… I got to see Gabriel face to face. I said “Hi, buddy.” He turned his little head toward me immediately. He knew who I was. During surgeries when he wasn’t allowed to eat, I couldn’t get too close because when he smelled me or heard me, he would get too worked up. He was so close and a million miles away. The next morning Pastor Dan came and we prayed with the surgeon before he closed Gabriel’s spine. Hours later, they brought Gabriel back with a railroad track up his back. I fell apart. I watched the nurses measure his head every three hours and we measured his pee and we measured his food.

His head grew. Though we hoped that he wouldn’t have to have a shunt, he did. Trauma. They shaved his beautiful hair in two large patches and off to surgery, again. It took longer than expected and I began to panic. Dr. Hudgins came out. The part of surgery where they put the tubing that goes from his brain and drains into his peritoneal cavity didn’t go so well. Due to the taut skin on his belly from the back closure, the bowels were pushed closer to the surface and therefore, were nicked during surgery. That only meant more recovery and more surgery. Weeks of beeping monitors and emotional lows followed. I loved Gabriel and yet just knew he was going to die. I went through rejection. I wanted him but I didn’t want this wretched diagnosis. I didn’t want to get attached to someone who was going to leave.

Then one day, Dr. Hull came for a visit. He gave me a book on Spina as he explained that Gabriel might not ever move his legs. He is a kind man and he tried to be as gentle as he could. I thought it was funny that as he told us all of this that Gabriel picked up his legs and began to kick. Not a strong angry newborn kick, but you couldn’t deny movement.

I read somewhere that you will see improvement for two years after birth and then, that’s pretty much what you’ve got. I think that’s why this birthday is so tough. I dreamed of him peeing and pooping on his own and learning how to walk. There goes that dream. So this summer, when you’re potty training your kids, I get that it’s frustrating. I’ve been there, so I understand how maddening it can be. Please, don’t complain about it to me. I would give anything to clean up pee puddles and streaky undies. One thing that this journey has taught me is how ungrateful I’ve been in the past. It’s brought to my attention to how stupid we sound when we complain about stuff that isn’t a problem to begin with. I'd take it all back in a heart beat. I miss having a toddler that gets in as much trouble as Ava did.

I’ve also learned that it’s not true what people say about God not giving you more than you can handle. That’s not true. He handles what He gives you. We have to trust him to handle it- not an easy thing to do! Hey, I’ve told people this same thing in the past too, and it’s simply not true.  “God knew you could handle it.” That’s what people tell me and I think, really? No one told me!

Gabriel gets to go to the bigger Sunday school class at church today. He’s a smart kid. I’m glad they didn’t just leave him in the nursery. I’m glad they’re giving him a chance to be a two-year-old kid regardless of the fact that he isn’t like all the other two-year-old kids. I’m glad that they’re willing to carry him everywhere he needs to go. It reminds me of the lame man trying to get to the pool of Siloam. He told Jesus that everyone else rushes to the pool before him when the waters bubble up. Jesus healed him.

I got really angry with God when I read about healing. I tried to read the book of John over and over again with some friends from church. I always stalled out in the middle. I got so angry with God until I realized that the point of Jesus’ healing wasn’t so much the healing as it was glorifying the Father. He didn’t heal everyone when He was alive here. Suffering didn’t cease when He walked the earth. True, He performed many miracles, but it wasn’t about the miracles themselves, He was showing the world that He was God in the flesh. He was laying a foundation for generations to come. I can thank now God for healing the lepers and the fevers and the blind and deaf and lame. Sometimes I get a little ticked. I can’t lie about that. It’s just that my perspective needs to be readjusted periodically. Like, everyday.

No matter what our culture tells us, we’re not here to make a comfortable salary and live in at least 3,000 square feet of luxury. We aren’t here to produce perfect kids that are the best at everything they do. We aren’t here to accomplish great things for ourselves. We aren’t here to “find out who we really are.” We ARE here to choose whom we shall serve. We are here to choose the right thing during the hardest of times. We are here to choose life or death. We are here to choose God or Satan. That’s taboo. How primitive you might think that sounds. If so, then Satan’s done a great job fooling you. God tells his people that we’ll look like fools to the world. If I look like a fool for saying that, then fine. God is using me, and He is glorified and that is His will for my life.

The last thirty seconds of joy that I remember were based on shallow expectations of motherhood. My expectations had at some point become my idol. My kids were going to be everything that I wasn’t and have everything that I didn’t. As it turns out, I’m learning a lot more from them than they are from me. They love their brother and make him a part of everything. They pull him in the little red wagon everywhere they go. Gabriel is a part of their adventures and their prayers. Even at mealtime just before, “Amen” whoever is praying always asks God to help Gabriel “poop and pee and walk and run.”

We've labeled those with birth defects "special needs" kids. What if they aren’t the ones with the special needs. I think it's the rest of us that have the "special needs." Maybe we’re broken and God is using these experiences to mend our broken expectations and perspectives and to learn that compassion is an action and not a feeling.

I try to remember that the most valuable materials in life go through a real beating to become what they are in the finished state. Diamonds are rough and gold is dirty, so it takes a master's hand to make them shine.

Happy Birthday to our custom made boy. We love you.