Nine Years

It was 9 years ago tomorrow: March 28, 1999 at 4:20 a.m.

I had been at the hospital with Diego's mother during a difficult and lengthy labor. As he walked out of the hospital room at 3:45 a.m., the doctor warned that it would be a long night and advised me to try to get some sleep. The nurse had to call him back to the hospital almost immediately when Diego decided he was going to arrive with or without medical supervision. At barely 5 pounds and nearly 3 weeks premature, Diego was born with a double knot in his umbilical cord; he was severely deprived of oxygen.

I feel blessed to have witnessed Diego's birth early that Palm Sunday morning. I admit, I was in love with him the moment our eyes met.

Little did I realize Joe and I would be further blessed to call him our son 3 1/2 years later.

Diego continues to be a blessing on my life, every day. He makes me smile, laugh, cry, and I am tremendously proud of him.

I used to ask God the "Why" question in regard to not being able to have "our own" children. I didn't think I'd have an answer this side of heaven.

I now know why... Diego. I wouldn't be his mom if I'd been able to have biological children. I wouldn't be raising this special little boy. I would not have known the sweetness of the touch of his precious little hands. My neck would not know the strength of his hug. I would miss the way he curls up on my lap to snuggle, even if he never had. How I would ache to hear his voice call out, "I love you, Mommy."

Diego is my precious, damaged angel. But I am so very grateful that his birth mother chose to give him life; if she hadn't there would be a Diego-sized hole in the hearts of all who know him.

So, Happy Ninth Birthday, my little love; I thank God for lending you to me!

Are You Kidding?

Friday, March 21 was Crossroads' Annual Flashlight Egg Hunt. Everything was set... except for the weather. Early in the week, the weather man promised balmy 47 degree temps by Friday. Somewhere along the middle of the week he changed his mind and gave a most ugly prediction of a winter storm to begin around noon Friday and ending sometime in the middle of the night.

(May I just say I'm SO over snow! After all, Christmas was nearly 3 months ago!)

Of course, God, in His infinite wisdom and most keen sense of humor caused the snow to start falling in downtown Adrian around 11:30 a.m.; it continued steadily throughout the afternoon. At 4 p.m. (set-up time), there was about 3 inches of fresh snow covering the ground. (Did I already say I'm over snow?!)

Crossroaders showed up, bundled in their winter garb, set-up, and waited for kids to arrive to hunt eggs... in the snow. Honestly, I felt like I was in a snow globe all night. But it was well worth the blustery temps, gusting winds, and oftentimes, blinding snow. The smiles on the cold faces of the little ones who gathered snow-covered eggs were worth every minute spent standing in that storm.

I am over snow (have I mentioned that?) but never will be over the lives touched and blessed by such an event. Way to go Crossroaders! I'm sure God was smiling at us... probably even having a good laugh!

What Happened To Your Eyes?

Diego brought a red ribbon home from school today. Now, usually the color red is a bad thing; it means stop, there was negative behavior that needed to be addressed more than 2 times during the school day.

Today however, the color red stands for something very good! The ribbon has this written on it: #1 Meijer In Partnership With Lenawee County Schools Student of the Month

Written in Diego's daily report was, "Great Morning! Diego was selected Student of the Month from the entire Second Grade. Yea!"

My heart swelled with pride, my eyes filled with tears as I hugged Diego and told him how proud I am of his hard work and effort. He had no idea he was working toward this incredible award. He said simply that he was, "Doing all his work, listening to the teacher, and following directions"; that's why he received the red ribbon.

He looked at me and asked, "Mom, what happened to your eyes?"

And yet another lesson, the one about a mother's tears of joy.

Which Land?

I received word that my step-grandmother lost her battle with cancer last Friday; she was 88 years old.
There were a lot of thoughts that passed through my head after I learned she had died. We weren't as close as some grandparents and grandchildren but that's okay, before ending a phone conversation or visit she would say, "I love you," and I knew she meant it.

My younger sister and I made the trip to Bad Axe for the visitation and funeral. During the funeral the pastor said something that has been on my mind since he spoke the words.

He was telling a story (not sure if it's true) about an elderly preacher who was writing his memoirs through a scribe. The preacher couldn't quite find the words to say as he lay dying so the scribe wrote: "I leave the land of the living to step into eternity." When the words were read to the preacher, he told the scribe they were not correct. He said, "Tell people I am leaving the land of the dying to step into the land of the living."

Those words, to me, are profound especially as Easter approaches. Christ came to earth to save the dying of which I am one. He died in my place so I don't have to die. He was buried and rose from the grave. He ascended to Heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. He did all of this so that one day when I leave the land of the dying I too will step into the land of eternal life.

God's love amazes me!

Time Change

Along with Diego's FAS comes the inevitable issue with the Spring and Fall time changes.

It's difficult enough for nearly everyone I know to deal with the loss of that hour, but that hour might as well be days lost for Diego.

To a child with no real concept of time, the hour seems to disappear into a foggy tunnel of disorientation and confusion... and of course, we missed the digital clock on the DVD player when changing all the other clocks in the house!

Diego's argument that it was still light outside was, well... correct. But that digital clock glowing the wrong time was really hard to confront. It felt like 6:30, looked like 6:30, it was 6:30 the night before (if you know Diego, you get that), so it must be 6:30.

Poor kid, he thought he was going to bed an hour early... and he was! Or was he?

What Kind of Customer Are You (Am I)?

Lately I've been the recipient of poor customer service at just about every public place I've visited.

Good (or poor) customer service is a pet peeve of mine. I've had years of customer service experience, either providing it or receiving it. I even had to provide good customer service when I worked in the jail with inmates!

I was going to blog about the poor customer service I'd received at the grocery store and the rude girl behind the counter at a sandwich shop, oh, and there was the person who ignored me at the gas station while I stood in the freezing temperatures to pay him. And then it occurred to me... customer service is 50/50... 50% provider, 50% recipient. Now, I know that's neither an earth-shattering nor an original fact. Interesting though, huh?

So I had to ask myself if I had been the kind of customer I would enjoy serving. Probably not. How about you?