Count Your Blessings

In church, I grew up sitting next to my mom in sacrament meeting who always cried during a particular hymn. When I was small I didn't understand why.

Now I get it.

I had a rare opportunity to be home in the middle of the day today with just Parker. The weather has turned gray & cold and autumn has arrived. Hannah even had the word "l'automne" as one of her spelling words today.

The girls ate lunch at school for the first time this year. Axelle was very excited by this prospect, and as such, was dressed with teeth and hair brushed by 7:15 this morning.

Abby was happy, and looking smart in her new winter coat.

Penelope was visibly pleased again to be playing at the garderie with her friend, "Belle".

After they were all dropped off, and Parker stopped crying (not being able to stay & play with Penel, or the other cool-looking toys or french kids), we walked half way back home to the physical therapist's office. He did great, but she worked him hard. She says we've just got to work on his balance so he can walk, walk, walk.

After that,we came home. I cleaned up from the morning rush and started cooking. I love the Fall, I love wassail and pumpkin cookies and all of the smells associated with Fall, ....and my home when I am cooking.

I started thinking about how satisfying it is to cook for my family, and prepare their clothes, make their beds after they leave for a long day, do homework with them, practice piano with them...dress them in their ballet clothes, etc, etc, etc.

And how wonderful it is to be on "this side" of the spinning vortex of chaos I feel our family has lived in since the twins were born, and especially since Parker's illness.

I can feel the momentum slowing down. I feel like the ride is about to come to a complete stop...I can feel that sometimes we are sucked back into that vortex, or perhaps maybe a smaller one... one or two or sometimes all of us, where we feel stressed, sad, scared, anxious, sick, even...

but today I think I may have actually gotten off the ride. With Parker.

We slowed down enough to step off the spinning vortex of chaos...and the fear, and trembling and sadness, and betrayal and wonder, and anger and filth and mud and everything else associated with the chaotic part of that vortex.

And It's good here. Great, even, albeit it, teary.

I was chopping and singing to Parker as he was seated in his high chair in the kitchen. I started singing, "Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your blessings see what God has done. Count your blessings, name them one by one. And it will surprise you what the Lord has done."

Of course I was humming it for minutes before I started singing it, just fine.

But as I opened my mouth to sing, the tears started flowing.

"Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear"
Count your many blessings & your doubts will fly,
And you will be singing as the days go by.

Count your blessings name them one by one.

Count your blessings, see what God has done.

Count your many blessings, NAME THEM ONE-BY-ONE."

It's easy to get caught up in the hard things and negative things in life, thinking that it's all that matters, it's all you can see when you feel sorry for yourself....but I am actually very surprised how blessed I am every single time I start counting my blessings.

Then I feel ashamed, and rightly so, for feeling hurt or angry or sad.

I am richly blessed. Parker is richly blessed.
Parker has richly blessed us.

Here are Parker's blessings this week:

He is getting over his awful head cold/ear infection, thanks to antibiotics from a few angles (mouth & ear).
He is learning how to catch a ball while standing up, leaning against a wall or couch.
He is taking 5-6 steps, mostly to me, or back to the couch.
His EEG was not perfect, but MUCH better than June's.
He is increasing his anti-epileptics as the blood levels were low, hoping to fine-tune the EEG.
He is saying a smattering of words:
"Coucou" (the french equivalent to "peek-a-boo")
Hi/Bye (not always with a B)
Thank you (sounds like "gank-ooh")
Merci (sounds like 'meh-key')
Cookie ("cah-key")
Ice Cream (sounds like "eye keem")
Drink (sounds more like "ink")
Cheese (when you pull out the camera, no less, and it sounds like "schleeee")
Outside (sounds like oww-sigh)

He dances/sways when we go to music/singing class, and says "eee-ii-oooh".
He purses his lips & says "mmmmmuah" when I ask for a kiss.
He likes to play the piano and says "grave" with his hand low when we play low notes on the keyboard.
When I pick him up, he puts his arms & legs around me for support, his muscle tone is getting significantly better.
He also pats my back when I hold him, ok, that is my blessing, but I'm putting it in. I love it.
He started saying "brrrrrm" today with the sign for car when we were playing cars. (I've never played cars before with all these girls, I actually quite like it).
He loves balls & cars, like a real boy should.
The physical therapist, and occupational therapist both said this week, "He's like a different boy. He is changing alot right now."

I'm impatient, but am looking to count my blessings this Fall and keep on keepin' on. In or out of the vortex, I have alot of counting to do. And thanks to my mom's genetics, some crying too.


This is my mom in the video with a sampling of our daily chaos, at the Wild Animal Park in San Diego this summer. She tolerates our chaos well, and maybe even enjoys it! She's signing the ASL sign for Elephant. She & Penelope manage to do it well. Abby was explaining her stamp map to me. Good thing I got it on video. Hannah just got home and asked me how come she is not in the video.

Ode to Barb

EVERYONE NEEDS AN AUNT LIKE MINE.
This is her with PJ in Versailles the week he had his cochlear implant surgery. It was May 2009.

Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Barb. You like her already, don't you? Barb is such a likeable-type name.

She and I have similar tastes in fabrics and candles and pictures, and we have similar thoughts on cherishing babies and what seems to me alot of other things. She's just a really good mom and aunt, and sweet & loving & I've never seen her lose her temper & I remember distinctly seeing her children jumping all over her when they were small, and she never yelled at them to stop. She has spent her whole life serving her family. She loves them implicitly. Like my mother, she has been a perfect role model for me as a human being in society, a friend, a mother, and wife.

Plus she's really good at shopping. I mean to say not that she spends alot of money, but she REALLY cares about buying the RIGHT gift, is thoughtful and (almost!) always right on the mark. She ALSO spends hours and hours making beautiful keepsakes with photos and designs AND she just knows what people like. That is a gift in itself.

When I was little, I remember she sent the most beautiful teeny jewelery box to me for my 5th birthday. She claims she didn't know that there were pierced earrings as part of the design, but I secretly forever loved her for it, because somehow in my 5 year old persuasion, I convinced my mom to pierce my ears that week...

When I was 14 she gave me a jean jacket with the funkiest, coolest paint all over it, no doubt made by a budding new artist. I still smile when I see it, even though by now, I may have outgrown the chili pepper and cow designs on it.

She bought my whole family telephones one year for Christmas. We all had very unique & fun & interesting styles. It was perfect. My brother & I were teens, and we each HAD TO HAVE our own phone in our own room! But she usually did not buy the same gift for everyone.

Her gift is always my favorite to open. I usually save it for the last at Christmastime. When I was younger & the gifts would arrive in the mail, I would open it weeks before Christmas, look at it, love it, sometimes try it on, then wrap it back up so no one knew what I had done! No one except my mom, cuz she did the same thing with me....us,giggling all the way through.

When Axelle was about 2, she asked John what he'd like for his birthday. He said, "NO more diapers". Wouldn't you know, the next thing we knew, she sent three very special, very motivating books on "potty time" for our little one (and us!).

When Parker was sick, she had recently had hip surgery, then flew out to be with us and help with the girls while PJ had his cochlear implant surgery. She was no doubt hurting and uncomfortable, but never said a word, she lovingly & patiently spoonfed him his medicines in his little 10 month-old mouth, smiling & talking & loving all the way through.

And one of her favorite things to do (or she's really good at faking!) is read to little children. MY little children. She will happily sit for hours and read & talk about things & show them pictures.

This summer, she came to California for my dad's birthday where I showed her Parker's little backpack that keeps his battery pack for his implant, that it had been stretched & torn & tied up & hand sewn (poorly) again & again by me. Wouldn't you know that within days of her departure, we had a package in the mail from her. With not only one new backpack, but 2! In adorable fabrics (unlike the lame one we had before), as well as 2 collared shirts (I always put him in collared shirts to clip his implant on) with 2 very cool pockets already integrated into the backside. She knows what kind of fabrics I would choose, she knows what kind of shirts I would buy for my son. She made them quickly & efficiently with love.

She calls them "PJ's POCKETS". I love them. I love her.

Everyone needs an aunt like her. Or a GREAT AUNT like her.
Thank you, Barb. I love you!

Thank you for loving my kids, for loving my husband, for teaching me and showing me how to love by your example!

Back to Reality

We transitioned into Parisian life without too many hiccups this week. The girls started school and Penelope LOVES going to the garderie.

Parker was underscheduled to me, and it was refreshing (actually focusing in the girls), yet unsettling (seemingly inefficient).
He had only 3 appointments, and lots of free time to practice his walking and throwing balls. So here's the low-down:

GARCHES:
Appointment scheduled for EEG Friday, the 17th. We'll see how that goes. It could be my least favorite thing in the world (but I had a root canal this summer and THAT is my new least favorite torture). We'll meet with our beloved Dr Q afterwards to show off PJ's new abilities since last seen in June.

NEURO:
We were scheduled to see Dr K at Necker the day BEFORE we got back from vacation (opps!). Luckily she is taking us on her lunch hour (she always does that for us) so we can get into see her after the next EEG reports. She is always a downer, so I'm not that looking forward to it.

ORL:(Oto-Rhino-Laryngology or EARS)
I woke up this morning to Parker already wearing his cochlear implant, but in a new fashion. John had placed it around his ear (as it should be worn), and I actually didn't hate it. This is good news. Great news, actually. It was too big and too mechanical on his little head before. Now I'm just wondering if we should grow out his hair to cover that chic flashing red light. His CI (cochlear implant) has been short-circuiting all summer and I have been exchanging emails with customer service to see if we can rectify the problem. We have also (again) lost the habit of wearing his hearing aid (HA) on his non-implanted ear since he tends to get ear infections on that side. It also makes alot of swamp noises when airflow is obstructed around it (by carseat, stroller, or just him putting his head up against a couch, or the floor). It also frequently ends up in PJ's mouth or thrown into a toybox and the internal part often goes missing, so sometimes we opt out of wearing it (not good patients, but doing our best). This summer I got brave and just used a little bit of super glue to attach the pieces and it has worked like a charm, until after church today when I saw Parker chewing on something in his carseat. It was his hearing aid. Humph.

SPEECH THERAPY:
For the moment, PJ will do one session/week at home organized through the deaf school CEOP. He did surprisingly well Friday. He was quiet, concentrated, and even repeated sounds like "grave" with a low hand motion while playing some low notes on the piano. In english he is now consistently saying "HI" (even sometimes without any hearing aids first thing in the morning), and "OUT" when he wants to get out of the high chair. When I put him in the stroller he does the sign and says, "OUTSIDE". We need to speak more to him, and give him more time to communicate back. When the girls are around, there is alot of background noise & he seems to go more quiet.

PHYSICAL THERAPY:
The physical therapist saw Parker once this week and was very pleased by the increased strength in his back muscles. She said now she can start doing different exercises regarding that. She said she notes no change in his leg strength, and that swimming would be great for him. We will plan on swimming once/week with him to see if we can make his legs stronger at home.

BALANCE:
He seems to be getting more confident to let go of objects & take a few steps towards us. It's scary since he is usually flailing arms & legs and takes no more than 5-10 steps before crashing into our arms or the sofa or whatever. He grabs our hands & tries to walk, pushing a baby stroller or walker or kicking a ball nearly all day long. He loves it.

NEUROSURGERY:
No plans to meet with them for 6 months when we'll do a control CT scan to check the shunt. I'm just always putting that on the back burner thinking if he has serious neuro changes or vomiting, we can do another shunt repair. Its seems frighteningly black and white at this point, whereas neuro or speech/language seems alot more ambiguous and difficult to assess or project.

DEAF SCHOOL:
Apparently there is another little boy Parker's age with the same vestibular problems, as well as 2 little girls in the same age range. Since there are two, they may be willing to make their own class with special seats equipped to keep these balance-challenged boys from falling while learning. They are expecting that the girls are more advanced at the moment, and will likely keep them in a separate class from the boys with the hopes that at some time during this school year, they may be able to combine these 4 little ones into one class. I have to admit, I cried a little when they told me over the phone. I was not expecting this "a la rentrée" (beginning of the school year). They will even arrange for transportation for Parker to and from school eventually.

La rentrée in Paris is a rebirth of sorts. I love to see the cheese shops and boulangeries reopening after summer break. I love to feel the excitement in the air of the children in their new schools and classes. Everyone is happier and nicer, still tanned with a spring in their steps. I like to think of la rentrée as a new start and a new chance. So, here we go again! Back to reality. The rat race is back on. Wish us luck.

Everything Will Be OK

No Storms=No Rainbows

Last year when we went to Kauai (Thank you John & Barb! I could die very happily in your Kauai home), every day for weeks I remember seeing rainbows. We saw alot of them.

In Kauai, it rains alot. Maybe even daily, sometimes multiple times per day. But the rain usually doesn't last long. Often you see surfers just sitting in the rain on their longboards, taking a moment alone at sea, with their heads down. Others just chat with friends, while rain trickles down their faces. They are confident the storm will pass. They have a surety us non-locals do not possess. They know the storm will pass. Usually it is quickly. Sometimes it is just a drizzle, sometimes it's a downpour, but it passes. They know that soon they will be paddling or riding or kayaking again in the sun. They just have to wait out the storm...and be patient.


Last year we were sitting in a restaurant in Kauai, our five chickens amongst us, our heads still spinning from the previous Paris Winter, and God's Will thrown onto us...and I noticed some thick-skinned, old, smiling locals near us. One wore a shirt that simply read: "No storms, No Rainbows".


It spoke to me: the grown girl who passed through a wicked storm, who as a child drew every picture with a rainbow for years. I remember wishing on about my 7th birthday for pink hair and rainbow eyes. I loved rainbows, I still do. Now maybe for different reasons. But last year there were rainbows cheering us along each storm we passed through. This year I only saw one.


It was glorious and spanned the entire bay in front of us. We thought ourselves lucky to spot it, at 6 am our first morning after arriving. As with most rainbows, it didn't last long enough.


So with two months away from our crazy Paris schedule, I've had alot more time to reflect.

And all I can think of is: "What have ye learned from this?" What do I take from this? Any more storms ahead for us? Peej? Or just very few rainbows on the horizon, and lots of overcast, gray skies?

It's a reflective priviledge. That's the reward after the storm. It's God's way of telling you He's still there, still mindful of you.



It's bizarre to nearly completely detach our tethers to Paris, fly half way around the planet, with little or no talk of neurologists, CT scans, seizures, vestibules, he's not walking yet, physical therapy, deaf schools..and let the wind take our parachute far, far, far away from that place...and the stress and running it entails. And land in safety for awhile. And laugh and play and pretend like everything is ok, and grab onto the hope that "Everything Will Be OK"....someday, someday.

As the girls grow older, each time they fall and skin a knee, or someone says something hurtful, I realize all they really want is for us to hold them for as long as they need, and for us to tell them, "Everything will be ok."

The older I get the more I realize it's all I want, too. I want my husband to wrap me in his big, strong arms and tell me everything will be ok. I want him to wipe away my tears, fears, and take away my pain.

But he doesn't. And he won't. Maybe it's because he is not sure everything will be ok anymore. And I hate it.

When?
When will it be made right again?

I'm not asking "Why?" anymore, I feel I know the answer to that question.

Now I'm asking "When?"

Hannah about a week ago asked with very pure intent, "When will it be, Mama?"...I knew before I asked for clarification what she was getting at as she eyed Parker with her knowing eyes. I could feel a loving husband and father's gaze on both of us as I responded, "When will WHAT be, Hannah?"

"WHEN WILL PARKER BE HEALED? WHEN WILL HE HEAR AGAIN?"

I couldn't respond. I turned my head, but not before a very mature 6 yr old saw tears in my eyes. I wept. At her question. At her perfect faith. At her love, naivete.

At the fact that she sees my hope to carry on, cheer him on. Maybe she sees it, feels it, hears it in me. For that, I am grateful. Maybe that is why she fully expects him to get "better" and "be healed" whereas I feel most people are just assuming he won't.

John gracefully stepped in to take me out of that spotlight.

His response was simple and beautiful, "When Jesus comes again." (of course)

Then the girls said almost in unison, "Well...when is that?!"

We don't know, now, do we?

It's funny, the faith of a child, isn't it?
Axelle has heard us pray and been asked to pray for very specific things for Parker since she was 4 years old. Rather than echo our prayers to "PLEASE bless Parker to walk, talk, run, and hear", she starts her prayer with "THANK YOU that Parker can walk, talk, run and hear."

We don't correct her. She is right. (But not when we started 18 months ago...) He is walking (with a walker, or holding our hands), talking (3 or 4 important words like "cookie" and "ice cream"), running (when he gets really excited still while holding your hand, and hear (it is very clear that he hears with his implant, what his brain interprets those sounds to be is yet to be determined by consistent language).

Beginning of summer left us in a panic with bad EEG news, and we packed up our bags headed for 8 weeks of familial bliss mixed with some good 'ol Americana. We did lots of swimming, saw tons of cousins, Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, Grandad (turned 70!), Aunts, Uncles, and dear friends who caught our parachute, and took us in. A great photo shoot later (thanks, Sandi), a few choice visits to Jamba Juice and Target, a very real answer to sincere prayer, one very-way-too-near-drowning, and we pack up our chute for the next jump back to Paris.

What have I learned these past months?

That God hears and answers prayers
That miracles still happen everyday
That even when we think He is not, God is very mindful of us
That sometimes we must learn that we are not calling the shots here in life
That loving friends and family can likely help you get through anything
That in order to understand heavenly things, we have to pass through earthly trials
That everyone's trials are different, but each one is real, significant, and difficult for them
That I can't receive revelation when I am "noisy" inside or outside
That I go crazy if I don't sleep enough
That life is not what I expected it to be
That stress ages you
That to seek the Spirit as your companion, you must pray always, AND read your scriptures-every single day
That having a strong support group is alot, but your burdens are often your very own to carry...
That life is for learning hard lessons as well as smelling the flowers along the way
That the Lord works in mysterious ways, often through others to accomplish His tasks
That some things in life you've got to do alone, even if others offer to help. Things like prayer, pleading, and finding your own salvation

What have ye learned?
When?
When do you think the next storm will come? Are you chinning up? Cursing? Or dancing in the rain? Do you see a rainbow?

Everything Will Be OK. I still believe that. Maybe it's a different ok than I expected, but When?