The Paradoxical Commandments, by Dr. Kent M. Keith

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.

Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.

Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.

Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.

Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.

Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.

Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.

Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.

Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.

Give the world the best you have anyway.

Party On

STM and I were in the living room putting together our new IKEA love seat. You gotta love a store that sells love seats in a box and whose instructions have zero words. We spent much of the long weekend re-arranging and building furniture, and getting decorated for Christmas. Our dining room is now a cute family room off the kitchen. We had it this way years ago and then got conventional and made it back into a dining room. Thing is, we don't dine.

Now the room you walk into when you enter the house is the dining room. Weird, you say? Yes. We are weird. For years I've fought the floor plan of this house and the non-conformity of my husband. Now, slowly, I'm learning to surrender. I'm lucky to have a house with so much flexibility, I tell myself. And it's true. It's the If You Give a Mouse a Cookie syndrome, as my friend, Susan would say. You know the children's book where the mouse asks for a cookie, then needs a glass of milk, and, and, and and pretty soon nothing is as it once was just because the mouse wanted a little cookie. Same thing. Moved the denim furniture into the new "family room," moved the dining room table into the old entry space, needed something for the spot in the living room from whence we stole the denim stuff. You get it.

Anyway.

Woohoo was out with friends and STM and I were spending a thrilling Saturday night putting together our new IKEA stuff and watching the Beavers get beat by Stanford. Rojo was pulling up college fight songs on YouTube and making really loud, annoying and repetitive guttural sounds in time with the bands, something he'd pretty much been doing for four days straight, but who's counting?

Phone rang. STM's mom. Her elderly and in very poor health sister had just passed away. We knew at Thanksgiving that she had gone into a Hospice and it was only a matter of days. Still. A huge loss for my MIL, as they were very close. They spoke every single Saturday morning on the phone, even though over 2,000 miles had separated them for years. Just that morning, in fact, my MIL had called and one of her niece's had put the phone up to her failing mother's ears and let my MIL talk to her. Makes me cry just thinking about it.

STM got off the phone and told Rojo and me, "Well, she died."

"I don't feel sorry for her," I said, "she's got to be in such a much better place, but I feel sorry for your mom and all the other people that loved her."

"Are you going to die?" Rojo asked me.

"Someday," I said, "when I'm very old."

"What about me, am I going to die?" he asked.

"Yes, when you are very old."

"But don't die without me, okay?" he said. "Let's die at the same time."

I instantly thought of a disturbing conversation I'd had with a woman that is the mother to a grown son with extreme disabilities. When she grows too old to take care of him, she plans to put them both in her cry and drive into the river. She can't bear the thought of him alone in the world without her.

I get it.

"So, do you promise you won't die without me?" Rojo persisted.

Obviously not being something I could promise, I tried diversion. "What about Daddy?"

"Daddy, too," he said, "and Flicka. We'll all die together. It'll be a PARTY!" he said, hands clapping, one leg kicking out in celebration, a huge smile across his dimpled cheeks.

* Photo from www.rosesuk.com

May all beings have happiness, and the causes of happiness;

May all be free from sorrow, and the causes of sorrow;

May all never be separated from the sacred happiness 

which is sorrowless;

And may all live in equanimity, without too 

much attachment and too much aversion,

And live believing in the equality of all that lives.

- Buddhist prayer

Grateful

Been thinking a lot about gratefulness as I prepare for the Thanksgiving weekend. So much to be grateful for: health, family, home, the tremendous blessing in being able to be an at home parent - all things I take for granted way too much, and even at times gripe about.

The one tremendous blessing I have, however, and do not take for granted or forget about for one single minute, is the gift of my friends. I've gotta say, I have the best friends in the whole world. I have friends that walk beside me every day, both literally and figuratively. I have friends that go to Costco and buy Rojo's favorite snacks and my favorite beer (Mirror Pond) to have on hand for when we invite ourselves over for Beer O'Clock pretty much every day. I have friends that have volunteered to work with Rojo in his class, and continue to do so year after year after year after year. I have friends that call and remind me who I am, what's important to me, where I'm headed and show me how to get there. I have friends who place the perfect dog into my life at the perfect time. I have friends that have my back, my front, my sides, and all around me. I have friends that send e-mails that make me laugh. I have friends that used to be Rojo's teachers, and are now part of the family. I have old friends, new friends, forever friends and friends that I've lost touch with, but think of fondly. I have blog friends, special need mom (and dad!) friends, and people I don't know all that well but consider firmly in my corner.

In the last two weeks the outpouring of support for Rojo and for me has been completely overwhelming, in the best possible sense of the word. Nothing is wrong with Rojo, he's his usual happy/hyper self. There has just been a lot of stress around what comes next for him in terms of school, and that's where the army of support has stepped in.

Read a quote the other day that said, "You'd give anything to have what you have." Sorry, can't remember who said it, but wish I'd thought of it.

It's true.

I'd give anything to have what I have, and for what I have, I am deeply grateful.

Amen.

I am at Hopeful Parents. Please join me! Thanks!

Fear Not,

What is not real, never was and never will be.

What is real, always was and cannot be destroyed.

- Bhagavad Gita

* Photo from http://oldbuddysam.blogspot.com

Darkness

Ever since we moved the clocks back, I am so aware of how many waking hours of the day are dark. It's dark when I get up. It's dark before dinner. It's dark even when it's light some days, lights are necessary during the day, headlights on the car, candles, anything to bring light to the darkness.

We are going through a time around here where there are more questions than answers, where there is a nothing-more-we-can-do feeling conflicting with a strong there-must-be-more-that-we-can-do sense. In essence, we are in a period of waiting and darkness. The path is not illuminated, yet we know it is there.

This morning I was in my converted closet/prayer room and Flicka pushed through the door and joined me.  Rojo was right behind her. It was early in the morning and I had several candles going in there. Rojo, super hyper and wound up, quickly blew out all the candles, jumped around, made a mess, then left, leaving Flicka behind. Flicka curled up in a ball close to me, but I couldn't see her at all in the pitch dark. Not even her eyes shone. Still, I knew she was there, I could sense her, even though no part of her was actually touching any part of me. There was simply a there-ness to her.

Before STM and Woohoo left for school and work, we sat down for our family prayer time. Again we were in the dark except for candles, and a little growing daylight coming through the windows. Rojo pulled his angel card-of-the-day and for the third day in a row, he pulled Expectancy.

As I struggle to believe in what I cannot see but can only feel, he does not struggle whatsoever. He has a positive expectancy. He does not need to rely on faith because there is no question in his mind that things will work out any way but good. Scratch that, he believes they will work exactly the way they are intended to, according to some divine plan that is none of his business and not his problem.

In the dark he is not in darkness. He's expectant.

Lord,
Open our eyes to see beauty,
Open our ears to hear truth,
Open our minds to seek wisdom,
Open our mouths to speak kindness,
And open our hearts to love.

Amen.

Intellectualism

You can't turn on the TV,  read the paper, or eavesdrop on a conversation for more than five minutes, without hearing the word "moron," "idiot," "stupid," "dumb," or the big offender, the R-word. Our culture allows this, one might even say, encourages it.

If you are a racist, sexist or ageist we call you on it, but disparage those with "less than normal intelligence?" Bring it! Laugh it up! Make yourself feel better while being in good company!

Did any of you happen to see "Parenthood" last Tuesday night (or any night you and your DVR called it up)? Adam, the father with a son with Asperger's, punched a guy in the nose at the grocery store, for calling his son a, oh, I can't even say it, the R-word. And the man so totally deserved it. I so appreciate what this show is trying to do to raise awareness of special needs. Although my son is "on the spectrum" and the kid on the show is "on the spectrum," too, that is pretty much all they have in common. Yet I so relate to the story line, and their family could by ours in so many ways, complete with the 16-year-old junior in high school daughter, that gets the short end of the stick every single day, pretty much. They've got the mom that is fully consumed with meeting the needs of her son, and the dad just out there trying to make a living while constantly being pulled away by yes, the all-consuming needs of the special child.

I was recently reading Mennonite in a Little Black Dress per several people's recommendation. I was liking it, even smiling on occasion, until she repeatedly used the R-word disparagingly. For. A. Laugh.

It's not funny.

Sticks and stones may break bones but it's the words that we use with each other that wound the deepest.

May we live our lives beyond separation, knowing that nations and cultures are made up of individuals. May I be as one who rethinks my life, my actions, and aligns to the glory we are all capable of. May I follow where I am spiritually guided, and embrace what is new that is of love. May love flow through me and lend my individual life and light toward a better world.

- Jacqueline T. Snyder

The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for your whole life. And the most important thing is - it must be something you cannot possibly do.

Henry Moore, 1898-1986

English Artist and Sculptor

Be Calm and Carry On

Would you please send forth a special prayer for Rojo tomorrow? Thank you!

She Who Hears the Cries of the World

This is Quan Yin (or Kuan Yin), the Buddhist goddess of compassion. Her Christian counterpart is Mary. The name Quan Yin means She Who Hears the Cries of the World.

Hears.

NEHBM of being heard. Sometimes I think that's half the reason I write - to be heard. I'm sure one of my life lessons is to come to terms with this, as it was and is still the case that I live with those that have tremendous difficulty listening/hearing/processing/paying attention. Discerning what it is I need and want to say, and how much of that really needs to be "heard" by anyone other than me, is something I'm still very much in the process of.

If you are looking for music that reassures you that there is a higher power out there that is hearing you, I recommend this CD, She Carries Me. It's meditative. It's soothing. It's healing. It's lulling. It's reassuring.

Light the Marys. Invoke Quan Yin. Put the music on repeat and let it wash over you. You are heard. You are heard. You are heard. Amen.

Little Taste of Heaven

There are few things I love more on this planet than a Starbucks eggnog latte. Go ahead, say what you want about Starbucks. Say what you want about non-organic. Say what you want about fat, sugar and calories. Yap it up. Nothing will come between me and my 2-month-a-year addiction.

They started serving them on November 1st, just so you know. Don't let the lack of "WE HAVE EGGNOG!" signs slow you down one tiny bit.

A Page from His Book

Eckart Tolle says that worrying is useless, but pretends to be important. Most of what we have running through our minds at any given moment is repetitive and not helpful. The solution, of course, is to quiet the mind and be in the moment - in stillness.

For those of us raised with the don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today mentality, being in stillness feels like a big waste of time. The effort to be still and present is huge when the To Do list won't shut up, and when given a few minutes to gather oneself, feels like the perfect opportunity to not be, but to do.

When I am able to quiet myself through prayer, meditation, walking, even ironing or folding clothes, emptying the dishwasher, something mindless and repetitive, there is an undeniable peace that is right there for the taking if only I will allow myself to take it.

Why does giving up worrying feel like giving up? Control. I know that Mary is in full control of things, sees and knows things I can't begin to know, but I feel positively compelled to keep offering her tidbits of advice and a whole bunch of Don't Forgets.

Rojo tells me every single day now that he is not going to college and in fact, the minute he's done with high school he's getting married and having his five sons. He is not going to work. His work will be raising his boys. He will hear of nothing else. It's one thing when your three-year-old tells you he wants to grow up and be an astronaut. That's cute. That's appropriate. That's even possible. It's another thing when your 14-year-old child with some big ass special needs tells you his one and only dream is to be a father. It's heartbreaking.

And while it's true that he constantly surprises me and is able to do things now I thought we'd never live to see the day he could do, there is a fine line between being hopeful and denial. Between trusting and being naive. Between believing in miracles and being realistic.

I think, for me, the task at hand is to walk that fine line with my eyes toward all possibility, and my mind not on worry, but on being with what is. Gentle, hopeful, peaceful awareness.

And what is ain't all bad. While it's true he still can't tie his shoes or brush his own teeth, the boy is surrounded by angels. He is happy. One might go so far as to say blissful. He has his moments of anxiety and stress, but they pass quickly. He has full confidence that his mother and father are working everything out for him. He falls asleep quickly and rests all night knowing when he wakes up his every need will be provided for. There will always be enough. He shall not want for anything. He will be safe. He will be happy. He will be loved.

Now it is time for me to believe the same about my own Father and Mother.

Top 2 Things to Do Today

1) VOTE!

2) Buy Edie Carey's new CD here. It is IT on a STICK!

Awakening

Since the day I admitted you didn't have to go to college to be a dad, Rojo has reminded us frequently that he is not going then. This weekend he told STM, "Dad, I'm not going to college. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not going to college."

"That's okay," STM said, "you don't have to go to college.

"But you want Woohoo to go to college, don't you want me to go to college?"

"Well, you can go to college if you want to, but you don't have to," STM reassured.

"But if Woohoo has to go, why don't I have to go?" he pushed.

"Because school is really hard for you," STM said.

Rojo smiled and seemed satisfied with this answer.

Friday after our last Halloween Carnival, I brought home my banana-clad boy and he said, "Mom, high school is going to make me sad."

"Sad? Because you will miss this school?"

"Sad because of all the work. It's going to be hard."

"What if I get you help? I will make sure you have helpers."

"My same helpers I have now?"

"No, probably different helpers, but people that will really make sure the work isn't too hard."

"But will there be a Resource Room?"

"I'm working on that, Honey, I'm working on that."

"I really need a Resource Room."

Later STM and I were comparing our two conversations and I said they were pretty much flattening me. "Really? I think they're great," he said. "They show that he's got a growing awareness. He's maturing. He's understanding himself. That's good, right?"

Right.

I guess.

Stillness and Knowing

I'm out of my mind with anxiety over Rojo's high school placement for next year. My rational, spiritual, intuitive side says, "All will be well. There is not a lot left you have control over. Trust. He always comes out on top and he will again. There are angels all around him and a greater good is being created all the time."

I totally, totally know that and believe that, and honor that.

However, between the hours of Midnight and 6 AM that side of me is nowhere to be found and the anxious, doubting, controlling, freaking out part of me is in full swing and it takes me all day to recover from being with "her" all night.

STM pointed out that when he gets over-stressed he shuts down and when I get over-stressed I fire up. I'm so over-stressed now I'm firing in all directions, totally without a plan, just frantic, nervous, unproductive and pointless firings. Suddenly every home furnishing is on my last nerve. Windows that have been without a treatment for seven years must have one this minute, art must suddenly be framed or reframed. I have to be DOING something, right? I can't just sit here and leave it all up to GOD, can I?

Driving is another time I really like to get myself worked up. Lately I have noticed an abundance of reassuring signs just as I'm deep into the What Ifs. A bumper sticker. A rainbow. A sign on a building.

In my daughter's high school there is my favorite Bible verse stenciled above the chapel doors. "Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)

I know the call for me is to stop with the doing and be with the knowing.

God is good all the time, and all the time, God is good.

Amen.

Top 10 Things I Did Yesterday

10. Spent a very hyper morning with Rojo before he went to school

9. Met with a man that works with ASD teens to discuss possibility of working with Rojo

8. Went to FedEx Office (formerly Kinkos) and made copies of all Rojo's IEP stuff, to give to Rojo's new Resource Room teacher

7. Picked Rojo up at noon since this is a week of half days for conferences

6. Went to conference # 1 for Rojo

5. Went to conference #2 for Rojo

4. Went to conference #3 for Rojo

3. Came home and entertained Rojo until time to make dinner

2. Made dinner with Rojo "entertaining" me the whole time

1. Went to bed and dreamed/obsessed/planned for Rojo all night in my sleep

Nightmare

Had a dream that I was in the backseat of a car my friend was driving. She had her five-year-old daughter in the passenger's seat and the three of us were going to some mysterious place to me, but known to the two of them. This friend has two older children, and up until that moment I believed that was the full extent of her children: three.

We drive through underground gates and passage ways, tunnels and alleys and suddenly she's standing outside the car with a tiny baby in her arms. I see her trying to manage the five-year-old and the baby and offer to hold the baby for her. She dramatically pulls the baby to her closer and shifts away from me saying, "You can go home and read about babies if you want to know more about them!"

I then proceed to tell her that no one has ever in my life uttered more hurtful words, and I storm off determined to find my own way home, but alas, am hopelessly lost in a maze of darkness and spend the rest of the dream struggling to find her again, as she is my only way out.

Pretty sure those aren't the most hurtful words I've ever in my life heard, and now when I type this the whole dream sounds comical, but at the time it felt like a nightmare.

Trying to decide what are the dark and twisty parts of me. What is the baby part of me? The five-year-old part? The punitive part? The withholding and hurtful part? The pulling away and lashing out part? The lost part? The part that just wants to hold the baby?

* photo from i1.trekearth.com/photo

Inside Wall

Well, it's done, the Sisters house closed and STM went over there this past weekend to pack up and haul back everything that he wasn't able to give away. There was nothing of value in the home. Isn't that interesting that I was so attached to all the stuff that is nearly impossible to give away?

Now the garage is full of stuff I am trying to find the proper home for, and as a last resort, hauling to the dump. We did bring home the couch and love seat that were there. We got the set used for $100 years ago, and have beat them up pretty well since. A couple over-the-counter slip covers are doing the trick, though, and now they are in our basement which is actually turning into the family room I've always wanted it to be, instead of the room at the bottom of the steps with all the *&^% in it.

As with all room makeovers, what you do to one, spills over to the next. Now I want to haul the piano from the main floor and put it in the new family room. I've never liked where it was placed when we moved, but I have kept it there all these years because that was the only main floor inside wall for it.

It was all about getting a piano I don't like, in the perfect spot for it and not for us. I inherited the piano when my dad died. He never played it. Not once. He acquired it when one of his tenants moved out and didn't take it. It's not my style. It's got emotional baggage. It's big and heavy and takes up a lot of prime real estate on the main floor. But there it's stayed, without question, for seven years.

Finally dawned on me that since I paid nothing for it, don't like it, and am only keeping it around for Rojo to bang on, it does not need, or in fact deserve inside wall status.

You'll be happy to know that the STM is working on getting a few friends over here, a couple of boards on casters, and hauling that hand-me-down-me-down-me-down piano's ass to the basement and the bad wall it deserves.


* Photo from www.clipartguide.com