tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76872723604825446272024-03-04T23:36:40.815-08:00I'm Steele StandingKaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-59533520587580045682014-12-01T21:01:00.003-08:002014-12-01T21:01:41.749-08:00All I Want for Christmas Is...So, I'm totally copying my good friend over at <a href="http://spectrumletters.blogspot.com/">spectrumletters.blogspot.com</a> and posting a Christmas ideas list for spectrum or spectrum-ish kiddos. Heck, some of the things on this list are great for typical kids, too. Before I start, I have to give props to the people in Davy-boy's life that encouraged the purchase of most, if not all, of these items. <br />
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Team Davy. Is. The. Best.<br />
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1. These.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0OzS3sEFvsA9CzB6CGMHo1-srWe6x00pIks6JMH54-bloVxs3HtHrhh_blxLV8orHlg3ngl0OwmvKh0He0RnL0Ygrf2TbuzwqN91PnjYc4Cqu4ffYJjKnvQVMFtARUHZvrlnthR0FVM/s1600/71X1S53yiVL._SX355_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0OzS3sEFvsA9CzB6CGMHo1-srWe6x00pIks6JMH54-bloVxs3HtHrhh_blxLV8orHlg3ngl0OwmvKh0He0RnL0Ygrf2TbuzwqN91PnjYc4Cqu4ffYJjKnvQVMFtARUHZvrlnthR0FVM/s1600/71X1S53yiVL._SX355_.jpg" height="186" width="200" /></a></div>
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Holiday Eyes Glasses. We've actually had these around the house for years. A friend gave them to the Big Three when they were little and, man, did they love them. Thank goodness we hung on to them because Davy has just discovered them and... wow! All of a sudden, the chaos of a holiday gathering... well, these are giving him a connection point with people. Pretty, freakin' awesome.<br />
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Here's where you get 'em. <br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/20-pairs-Different-EXCLUSIVE-Christmas/dp/B004ATMPE6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417448164&sr=8-1&keywords=christmas+light+glasses">http://www.amazon.com/20-pairs-Different-EXCLUSIVE-Christmas/dp/B004ATMPE6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417448164&sr=8-1&keywords=christmas+light+glasses</a><br />
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Yeah, at first glance, the price tag is a bit of a shocker. But these make great little gifts. It's a no brainer around here. <br />
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2. Kinetic Sand<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJSxGRtXGtuErvYOXOoEqcGxOw5L1PBWHD5WGkP1dJDn_iQCuzf-RGsAiE_vNeSpJLSG644smiR207a-4P8I1GwKCCbxkXGouJ7_L169TO3VFMFDAQppLqPaA8luw21Urg6GHMQcfuXY/s1600/845812p_alt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJSxGRtXGtuErvYOXOoEqcGxOw5L1PBWHD5WGkP1dJDn_iQCuzf-RGsAiE_vNeSpJLSG644smiR207a-4P8I1GwKCCbxkXGouJ7_L169TO3VFMFDAQppLqPaA8luw21Urg6GHMQcfuXY/s1600/845812p_alt3.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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This stuff. Amazing. <br />
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We pull it out when the boy just can't figure out what to do with himself. And I added an old set of cookie cutters to the mix... voila! Happy place. He loves to cut out letters and shapes. Occasionally, we'll get crazy and do some animals. Oh, and I just have him use it on an old cookie sheet. Cuz, really. Who needs a $20 sandbox? <br />
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We bought ours at Brookstone. <br />
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<a href="http://www.brookstone.com/sand-by-brookstone?bkiid=main_banner_zone|hmpg|a|banner|2|sand">http://www.brookstone.com/sand-by-brookstone?bkiid=main_banner_zone|hmpg|a|banner|2|sand</a><br />
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Recently, I've seen other brands at Target and Walmart. I'm sure they're all about the same, but we really like what we purchased from Brookstone.<br />
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3. Read and Build Duplo Blocks<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCgiTP9LFFig6-768Ti5Y50xFgh5AiOBhCuqTm3XnELgZvaYrhyfxcOLI9kt5IeltxzaXeVLc1_iAc82hFMAcyBn5VvwZsgBP0TvApyOTUsXg1I4Ck9zQCGOD2LKK0zC72pjTWfAmvs8/s1600/IMG_9541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCgiTP9LFFig6-768Ti5Y50xFgh5AiOBhCuqTm3XnELgZvaYrhyfxcOLI9kt5IeltxzaXeVLc1_iAc82hFMAcyBn5VvwZsgBP0TvApyOTUsXg1I4Ck9zQCGOD2LKK0zC72pjTWfAmvs8/s1600/IMG_9541.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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So my boy doesn't really play with toys. A little bit here and there, but for the most part, the money we have spent on typical toys just hasn't paid off. <br />
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And he doesn't do Legos. They're just too darn small. He likes the IDEA of Legos, but when it comes down to the actual building of them... well, he pretty much shuts down.<br />
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Fine motor skills. Bleh.<br />
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But then we found these. <br />
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And they're awesome. <br />
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He can manipulate them. He can follow the (very simple) building instructions.<br />
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And... there's a story with each one! <br />
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A very simple story, but still!<br />
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These were the first stories he really followed. And they opened the door to his little imagination - which was tightly closed until just recently.<br />
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Huge win around here. <br />
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And yes. We bought all of them. <br />
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You can get them pretty much anywhere. Wal-Mart. Target. ToysRUs. <br />
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Or Amazon. Love me some Amazon.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/LEGO-DUPLO-6759-Busy-Farm/dp/B007Q0OKKS/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1417451877&sr=8-3&keywords=lego+read+and+build">http://www.amazon.com/LEGO-DUPLO-6759-Busy-Farm/dp/B007Q0OKKS/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1417451877&sr=8-3&keywords=lego+read+and+build</a><br />
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4. Okay, really. In the end, none of this other stuff matters without this.<br />
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This. Is. Life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1a56mR8oCttccacPKgHxwSNqQ4HZGJlwkl9mT5JKC60WUy2waaZIz3NGk0iRTYo5LvWTHr5gxSPR8daHb4KAgBVefhdGRpabPjXK2HIRY91-g6fzmfjcr7UDbzT7MpNKfwDwzqlak13k/s1600/swing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1a56mR8oCttccacPKgHxwSNqQ4HZGJlwkl9mT5JKC60WUy2waaZIz3NGk0iRTYo5LvWTHr5gxSPR8daHb4KAgBVefhdGRpabPjXK2HIRY91-g6fzmfjcr7UDbzT7MpNKfwDwzqlak13k/s1600/swing.jpg" height="200" width="181" /></a></div>
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This swing from Hearthsong has been our greatest find since we started this journey with Davy.<br />
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It hangs from the tree in our front yard. We are on it pretty much every day and usually several times a day. <br />
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Rain or shine.<br />
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It's fabulous. In fact, last week, the swivel carabiner that my step-dad bought to hang it (so it would spin, of course), snapped in two. <br />
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I freaked. <br />
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I mean, I literally freaked. I lost half the night's sleep over it. <br />
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The next morning, when I realized it was going to be a simple fix, it was as if I was born anew.<br />
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I kid you not. <br />
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Yeah, it's spendy, but it will last us for years. Seriously. <br />
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Here's a pic of my boy in his favorite spot on the planet (outside of Disney World, of course)...<br />
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How cute is he? </div>
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And here's where you can purchase the awesomeness.</div>
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<a href="http://www.hearthsong.com/Outdoor-Play-Toys/Round-and-Round-Nylon-Rope-Outdoor-Swingand153;.htm">http://www.hearthsong.com/Outdoor-Play-Toys/Round-and-Round-Nylon-Rope-Outdoor-Swingand153;.htm</a></div>
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5. Chewies. </div>
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Most of the time, when you encounter Davy-boy, you'll find a little red or blue circle dangling around his neck like a necklace (see pic above).</div>
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This, my friends, is a chewie.</div>
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And it has saved countless shirts from utter destruction.</div>
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When my boy is stressed, he chews (or licks). </div>
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And he's stressed a LOT.</div>
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So, the chewie has been a wonderful thing around here. </div>
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We never leave home without it.</div>
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We tried out a few different kinds (and spent quite a bit of money doing it) and decided these are our favorite. They may not be as "cool" or "trendy" as some of the others out there, but one thing that's great about Davy and his autism is that he DOES NOT CARE. </div>
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Works for us!</div>
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Here's where you can get them. Oh, and we like the ice cream or red dot styles for their exceptional chewiness. </div>
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<a href="http://kidcompanions.com/">http://kidcompanions.com</a></div>
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6. LED Lights</div>
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Miss Kassie gets full credit for this one.</div>
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Wait a minute. Who am I kidding? </div>
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Miss Kassie gets credit for most of the items on this list. </div>
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OT's ROCK.</div>
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Anyway, we strung up some inexpensive LED lights around the inside of the hidden-hole under Davy's bunk bed. </div>
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Voila! </div>
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A totally cool and calm space. </div>
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And the best thing about these lights is that they're remote controlled. And can be light in over a dozen different colors... or even flashing different colors.</div>
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He loves these lights.</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/SUPERNIGHT%C2%AE-Waterproof-Flexible-300leds-Changing/dp/B00ASHQQKI/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1417493559&sr=8-8&keywords=LED+lights">http://www.amazon.com/SUPERNIGHT®-Waterproof-Flexible-300leds-Changing/dp/B00ASHQQKI/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1417493559&sr=8-8&keywords=LED+lights</a></div>
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7. Suckers.</div>
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But not just any sucker.</div>
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Did you know that suckers are one of the four main food groups?</div>
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Yep.</div>
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I'm not sure my child would be functional each day without them.</div>
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No joke.</div>
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Now, I never used to be picky about suckers. </div>
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Not until my boy was going through 10-15 a day. </div>
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Again, no joke.</div>
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But then we came across these babies. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZmKsqzrv8_1D-L4nS8vGQv-CAoCagWghMDeUq2-M0q05ULROkFo_6sNDM-hK8gjeUQ2OqTHXXyZapOSrQUVPOkVuSLGG2mGbxTU8MeFenJU7uqNqgd5g7im6vr3qb98d_hpmkMEypM0/s1600/0186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZmKsqzrv8_1D-L4nS8vGQv-CAoCagWghMDeUq2-M0q05ULROkFo_6sNDM-hK8gjeUQ2OqTHXXyZapOSrQUVPOkVuSLGG2mGbxTU8MeFenJU7uqNqgd5g7im6vr3qb98d_hpmkMEypM0/s1600/0186.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a></div>
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And the heavens rejoiced.</div>
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These babies are all-natural. No artificial colors or flavors, real fruit extracts.</div>
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Good stuff, people.</div>
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I keep a bag in the van and a bag in the house. </div>
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And Mark is sent to the store REGULARLY to buy more.</div>
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You better believe a bag (or two... or three) of these will be in Davy-boy's stocking.</div>
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And he'll be thrilled.</div>
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Once again, Amazon to the rescue! (Note: You can also get them at Sprouts and Whole Foods)</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/YumEarth-Organic-Lollipops-12-3-Ounce/dp/B000X3TPHS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417494208&sr=8-1&keywords=yummy+earth+lollipops">http://www.amazon.com/YumEarth-Organic-Lollipops-12-3-Ounce/dp/B000X3TPHS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417494208&sr=8-1&keywords=yummy+earth+lollipops</a></div>
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8. Two words.</div>
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Elephant & Piggie.</div>
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Again... Miss Kassie rocks. </div>
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So, David struggles to understand that my thoughts are different than his thoughts. </div>
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That your thoughts are different than his thoughts.</div>
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That there really IS a thought different than his thought.</div>
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Enter Miss Kassie and our introduction to the world of Elephant & Piggie by Mo Willems. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4EbjqiE-kAjO6KIlnUEiNea5TUVJyPMtEOs_e9lmBy-Quc0bgtdm0OB2BUEZUpsmjxuHOVlpWPufeJjZ3U3IPN3rel1MrjlYjplsMIweIRsDnXO0hA7TdPPAa91J0gAX-oqP5HVPJes/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4EbjqiE-kAjO6KIlnUEiNea5TUVJyPMtEOs_e9lmBy-Quc0bgtdm0OB2BUEZUpsmjxuHOVlpWPufeJjZ3U3IPN3rel1MrjlYjplsMIweIRsDnXO0hA7TdPPAa91J0gAX-oqP5HVPJes/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>
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Thank you, Miss Kassie!</div>
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These books are wonderful. The characters are sweet and funny and lovable.</div>
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The scenarios are typical preschool/early elementary situations, but are presented in a way that my boy is able to understand. </div>
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And there are thought bubbles (will have to post about these later...)! These are helping Davy begin to grasp the idea that we don't all think and feel the way he does. </div>
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We're not there yet. </div>
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But we're making progress. And there's a lot to celebrate as a result!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCAqjnqRDpifyLBcrr9b6W0R5Mia-lR_tFD4jA7t-wvm-w8Y6NaYdh7zxyNh7XgTzQTLc5oWsqVnJWJ2x9IDY_l3s_hnQSdNWVT_aD0nQtGwvfWKIHBRNRWOBhNwq6Tyui_4J4Y-B2vA/s1600/elephant&piggieparty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCAqjnqRDpifyLBcrr9b6W0R5Mia-lR_tFD4jA7t-wvm-w8Y6NaYdh7zxyNh7XgTzQTLc5oWsqVnJWJ2x9IDY_l3s_hnQSdNWVT_aD0nQtGwvfWKIHBRNRWOBhNwq6Tyui_4J4Y-B2vA/s1600/elephant&piggieparty.jpg" /></a></div>
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So that about sums up our list. </div>
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There are many particulars that we could not do without that are probably specific to my boy (i.e. Coldplay LP's, map puzzles, map quiz cards, wall maps, map books, and a good, solid record player), but these are the essentials around here that I thought might be applicable to the life and ease of another kiddo or two on the spectrum (or not on the spectrum).</div>
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Happy shopping!</div>
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Oh, wait. I forgot one more thing...</div>
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This.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpps6tmLd7qSRgJ9DNLVoIuPkcwZLp1aRz8KFiSkgM9I59iq7pKQJNNg-Mwhn_DpP1wqKBjRiZdV01eOHSQ8r3z9LzkTEuNaX3_p8RcSTexdoyd68N4fW97hB91O_oD1wXVFF__ZAbzc/s1600/Relax+Riesling-500x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpps6tmLd7qSRgJ9DNLVoIuPkcwZLp1aRz8KFiSkgM9I59iq7pKQJNNg-Mwhn_DpP1wqKBjRiZdV01eOHSQ8r3z9LzkTEuNaX3_p8RcSTexdoyd68N4fW97hB91O_oD1wXVFF__ZAbzc/s1600/Relax+Riesling-500x500.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Because if Momma ain't happy...</div>
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And because then you can make this.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOnUeQjS42mWWiH9qsq2Vqgtrd6623TxD8xj0sesEpEPYAnMv6j3lFcWIuaEDBx_kbnybzbrnbFUGyoiho5bKtW-NJNHdzaMGgNWGr6YfeDn6P69FhxnqfBTiZAUGXRGiBeyByp4FqqQ/s1600/il_570xN.309509521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOnUeQjS42mWWiH9qsq2Vqgtrd6623TxD8xj0sesEpEPYAnMv6j3lFcWIuaEDBx_kbnybzbrnbFUGyoiho5bKtW-NJNHdzaMGgNWGr6YfeDn6P69FhxnqfBTiZAUGXRGiBeyByp4FqqQ/s1600/il_570xN.309509521.jpg" height="320" width="168" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!</span></div>
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Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-89856747179530985542014-11-18T19:47:00.003-08:002014-11-18T19:47:40.025-08:00How the Greek Orthodox Church Helped A Somewhat Evangelical Christian Mom Deal with Autism<div class="MsoNormal">
Things have been pretty rough lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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I mean, they’re good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therapy is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>School is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marriage is
good.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The Big Three are good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Well, kinda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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They’ve been a little frustrated with autism lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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It’s hard putting your little brother first ALL THE TIME.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s hard having to pay attention to the environment you’re
in, so that you are mindful of what may or may not rock the little guy’s
sensory boat, so to speak.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Especially when you’re thirteen.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And especially when you have a pretty dynamic personality.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And especially when your dynamic personality pushes EVERY
LITTLE autism button your little brother has.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Single.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One.</div>
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<br /></div>
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No one likes to have his or her buttons pushed.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Especially little guys with autism.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When those buttons get pushed our little guy with autism
goes into what’s known in the therapy world as “fight or flight.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Except Davy doesn’t flight.</div>
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<br /></div>
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He fights.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And it hurts.</div>
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There’s been a lot of that lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Bless him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie,
especially, just can’t seem to do anything right these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Davy’s eyes.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And what’s super hard is that he really is doing almost
everything right.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s trying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He’s listening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s
consistently making an effort to connect with Davy.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And Davy just isn’t having it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Davy is hard on everybody in the house, for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I probably get the worst of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feels safe with me, so I get a lot of his angst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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But I’m his mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can take it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Charlie shouldn’t have to.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s not fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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And we’re not quite sure what to do about it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But last week I received insight into this situation in the
most unlikely of places.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A Greek Orthodox Church.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Charlie and I attended a vespers service in a local Greek
Orthodox parish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went as a part
of our homeschool co-op world history study, and also because a close friend
recently converted to Orthodoxy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We thought it would be cool and interesting to check it out a bit.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The whole experience was fascinating and thought
provoking…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and foreign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found myself at times watching with wonder, at times
trying to understand what in the heck was going on, and at times fighting that
old enemy, boredom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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It was LONG, people.</div>
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<br /></div>
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By the end of the service, I was just so relieved that both
my teenaged boy and his buddy managed to hold it together through the whole
thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was wholly unprepared for what came next.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The priest came out again and began to share a few personal
words with the parishioners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
explained why he had chosen a particular Psalm, and how he so identified with
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then he went on to say
that all the scriptures chosen help him identify with the life and death of
Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In particular, he talked about how he had been falsely
accused as of late… and how Jesus was also falsely accused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus forgave those who accused (and
KILLED) him by saying, “Forgive them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They don’t know what they’re doing.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then it dawned on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Charlie is being falsely accused by David.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am being falsely accused by David.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We all are being falsely accused by David.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it hurts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the little guy doesn’t know what he’s doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He really doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I remember that, my compassion tank is just a little
fuller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And maybe I’m just a
little bit more like Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-68147044917422728752014-10-06T20:32:00.001-07:002014-10-06T20:34:02.771-07:00High-Functioning Autism: Why It's Hard and How the Steeles Roll With It<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">I've heard it said (and you may have, too),
"If you've seen one child with autism, you've seen one child with
autism."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The layers of meaning within that one seemingly
simple statement have hit me full force in the face multiple times since we
received David's diagnosis last spring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">I had an inkling of an idea of what life might look
like, based on the little I knew about autism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Just an inkling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Actually, I didn't have a clue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The thing is, as David has developed and adapted,
with all the therapy, strategies and supports we have worked so hard to put in
place for him in the last (almost) 18 months, his autism has, in many ways,
become more complicated and challenging. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">It's unreal how that 38 lb., 42" tall,
five-year old little boy can dictate the course of our day-to-day lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">High-functioning autism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">It’s tricky stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The descriptive “high-functioning” is deceiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s there because his IQ is in the
average to above-average range.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He’s a smart little guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the host of challenges beyond his intelligence keep us on our toes
around here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And that label “high-functioning” can be pretty
misleading.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">It leads to expectations, which lead to
disappointments, which lead to hurt and frustration, which is really hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Does Davy function at a very high level for a child
with autism?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Yes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And I am grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Is Davy able to exist and function in most typical
environments?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Yes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And I am grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">But Davy continually struggles with...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- sensory processing</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- social cues</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- gross motor and fine motor delays</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- coping skills</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- family relationships</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And these make living with autism hard for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">I don’t know how our family compares to other
families with children on the spectrum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From the various books and blogs I’ve read and the friendships I’ve made
with other moms and dads with spectrum kiddos, I think we’ve probably got it
pretty easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">But the problem with “easy”… the problem with
high-functioning autism… is that, as a parent (or a sister, or a brother, or anyone else close to the child), when
things are going well, when your child is acting “normal” (because he often
can), you tend to start second-guessing the autism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And when you start second-guessing the autism, you
get lazy concerning the autism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Your expectations of the child increase.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Your response to the child’s behavior changes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Your compassion for the child diminishes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Your sixth-sense for those little triggers that
could trip the autism BOMB is dulled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All of a sudden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">There’s an explosion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">All.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">And it hurts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">A child with high-functioning autism is STILL a
child with autism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">For us, this means that even though we often can
walk in and among our community looking quite typical, there are undercurrents
of stress, emotion, sacrifice and accommodations running through the make-up of
our family at all times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">So this is a bit of what autism looks like in the Steele
home…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- The success of any given day is usually assessed
by how well we each maneuver our interactions with David.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- Each “big” person in our house has learned to
anticipate triggers that can set David off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sudden noises are avoided AT ALL COSTS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t sit next to him or attempt to
engage with him in an activity unless he invites us in (though he often
does).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Physical touch is on his
terms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His room is sacred. Change
something at your own risk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- Structure and routine are of utmost
importance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes that’s
unrealistic in a house of teenagers, but we do our best.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- Our teenagers need us, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mark and I work hard to make time for
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most often this happens late at night when David is in bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, I’m exhausted at this time… but that’s what coffee is for, right?
We have a couple of really great babysitters that know and understand Davy and
have worked to build a relationship with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We budget so we can take the big kids out on a
regular basis, do special things with them, make space to give them the
undivided attention they need… and that we want to give them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- When things get tense at home (as they often do),
we give the big three permission to escape to their rooms… with no guilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s been a big adjustment for
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never liked the idea of my
kids shutting themselves away from the activity of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Davy has changed all that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- Unfortunately, the big kids often bear the brunt
of Davy’s angst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We try our best
to be a good buffer, but it doesn’t always work out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And because we are often under a good deal of stress, we can
get short with one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Repentance and forgiveness are a regular practice around here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- My big three can walk into a room and, in a
moment, assess the atmosphere and what needs to be done (or often more importantly, NOT done).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Autism has taught them this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe this skill will serve them
well in life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- Expressions of affection are invaluable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When one of us receives a hug from
David, we all celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quietly,
of course. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- The world does NOT revolve around David.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But often our home does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it’s not fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it’s not easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> But, t</span>he word “autism” actually
means “selfism.” His brain is literally locked on himself. Believe me, we are working on this. He CAN learn, but it takes time and patience. As he grows and develops, he will learn more about how to make
room in his heart and mind for others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- David and I (and sometimes Mark or another member
of the family) go to five therapy sessions a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>FIVE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are
constantly working on all the challenges that come with high-functioning autism
(for him and for us).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a sacrifice for us in many ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">- He’s worth it. So, so worth it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIhJQ7ePYLw6FhQ6RnCLUOjqB6dSvo77TcLlTlnuGJd5Ou61LRgPN9xDJH-1K8dljNesEDWeyxcZ0OVVCXSuHmsDVMi6_nyJsnUYFzVYX00v2gN-YQp6hQdZ2vNYIUNJL6KvwArRm800/s1600/DSC_0308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIhJQ7ePYLw6FhQ6RnCLUOjqB6dSvo77TcLlTlnuGJd5Ou61LRgPN9xDJH-1K8dljNesEDWeyxcZ0OVVCXSuHmsDVMi6_nyJsnUYFzVYX00v2gN-YQp6hQdZ2vNYIUNJL6KvwArRm800/s1600/DSC_0308.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 21px;">David is here because God put him here. He was GIFTED to our family. And, honestly, the "gifts" that have come into our make-up as a family since his arrival, and even more since his diagnosis of autism, make us who we are. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 21px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 21px;">And I wouldn't change a thing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-52898193712794698962014-07-19T15:38:00.002-07:002014-07-19T15:38:39.799-07:00Owning ItLately, life for me has been unrelenting. In fact, I can't really remember the last time it wasn't so.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I try to keep things in perspective. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I acknowledge that there is so much that is good and wonderful in my life. </div>
<div>
<br />
I work hard to keep from feeling sorry for myself. <br />
<br /></div>
<div>
I try to keep my heart in check when it comes to comparing myself to others, because I know that the large majority of the world suffers. Really, truly suffers.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I do not. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not in comparison anyway.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And yet here I sit.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm trying not to be overly dramatic. But...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm depleted. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I'm owning it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Owning my frustration. Owning my exhaustion. Owning my disappointment. Owning my sadness. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
I'm sad that my son has autism. I'm sad that he has to work so hard to exist in our world. I'm sad that his little heart and mind are clogged with sensory processing challenges, missed social cues, learning challenges, and so much more. I'm sad that he struggles to connect with his family, and I'm sad that it hurts their hearts when he can't. I'm frustrated by the limitations autism places on my family.<br />
<br />
I'm exhausted by the demands of our schedule. I have a minimum of SEVEN appointments to make a week. Therapy for Davy. Therapy for me. And I'm frustrated because this schedule makes it difficult for me to do all the other things I need and want to do. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm sad to be 45 years old and in constant pain. I'm frustrated by the limitations my pain places on my life. On the lives of my children and my husband.<br />
<br />
I'm sad that the above often keeps me from enjoying so much of the good that is around me all the time. <br />
<br />
<br />
I'm owning my frustration, my exhaustion, my sadness. <br />
<br />
<br />
It's scary to do this. It feels like an act of betrayal. Like I'm doing something wrong. Like I'm forgetting how good God is and how much good there is in my life.<br />
<br />
But... </div>
<div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
I've been here before. <br />
<br />
I know what it is. <br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Depression.<br />
<br />
I've tried to steel myself against it. I've tried to muster the strength to push it away.</div>
<div>
<br />
I want to be able to access all that I know God has available to me in this life, and I want my faith in God to give me what I need to rise above my circumstances. <br />
<br />
Actually, I want my faith in God to CHANGE my circumstances. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But that's not my reality. </div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
In the last few months, those tell-tale signs of depression have resurfaced. The weight on my chest. The sleep struggles. The shaking hands.<br />
<br />
<br />
A wake-up call.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm owning it.<br />
<br />
It's me recognizing that I can't do it. I can't be full of faith enough. I can't be connected to God enough.<br />
<b><br /></b>
I'm not enough. <br />
<br />
<br />
But His presence is. <br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
The Bible is full of stories of men and women in desperate circumstances whose cries for God's help are met with His intervention. His rescue.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's also full of stories of men and women in desperate circumstances whose cries for God's help are met instead with His presence. HIS PRESENCE. </div>
<div>
<br />
His presence brings comfort. His presence brings peace. His presence brings joy. His presence brings strength.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm owning my frailty. I'm owning my disappointment that my circumstances are what they are and that rescue is not likely. I'm owning the sadness that often comes over me.<br />
<br />
And owning all this is opening my heart to His presence.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>When I said, "My foot is slipping," Your love, O Lord, supported me. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Psalm 94:18-19</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Rescue would be nice. <br />
<br />
But His presence is better. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-77111229784591096272014-06-08T09:45:00.000-07:002014-06-08T09:45:04.598-07:00Exceedingly AbundantlyA light touch on my hand. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A whisper. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A small, warm body crawling into my bed and nestling deep into me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Laying there in silence, just enjoying each other's presence and the comfort that comes from that kind of close connection.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then... a caress. He placed his hand on my face and literally stroked it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tears. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The ten minutes or so that we lay there together this morning filled my heart to overflowing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The mutual nature of the moment lifted the cloud that often lies over my heart in regard to Davy... and blew it away.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My little boy has come so far. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's hard to explain what it's like to raise a child with autism. It's hard to help others understand the kind of patience, restraint, focus, and selflessness that parenting him requires. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We stay pretty near a state of total exhaustion at all times.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But this child, this wonderfully complicated child, has deepened us in a way that no other life experience could. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And the rewards, when they come, are worth more. They mean more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't mean to diminish the significant moments that come with raising our other three (neuro-typical) kiddos. Those are incredibly meaningful and life-changing. Being mom to them is one of the greatest joys of my life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I have many beautiful memories of cuddling with each of them in bed. So many.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With Davy, I now have one. Its value is beyond measure.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When we first received Davy's diagnosis, my mom began praying Ephesians 3:20-21 over him. I have prayed it, too. But my mom prays with faith and expectation. My prayers are more like cries from the depths of my heart. Sometimes they're even wordless cries.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He hears both. I know He does. He hears me and forms into words what I cannot - making my prayers more than I can ask or think. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then does exceedingly abundantly more. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-75489618778017999552014-02-02T18:05:00.000-08:002014-02-02T18:05:44.584-08:00Some People are Worth Melting ForHave you seen Frozen? <br />
<br />
If you haven't... stop reading and go. Now.<br />
<br />
If you have, then please tell me you loved it. If you didn't, that's okay. <br />
<br />
But I don't think we can be friends anymore. <br />
<br />
My favorite moment in the movie is when Olaf and Anna are back in the castle, and Anna is dying as she slowly freezes to death. Olaf is trying to help her and lights a fire in the fireplace to get her warm.<br />
<br />
Oh, and Olaf is a snowman. <br />
<br />
Which makes this act more than just kind. <br />
<br />
It's selfless and sacrificial.<br />
<br />
Anna tries to stop him. She knows he'll melt. <br />
<br />
And this little snowman, who before now seems to be oblivious to his vulnerability, responds with...<br />
<br />
"It's okay. Some people are worth melting for."<br />
<br />
So beautiful. So profound.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, Davy and I watched an episode of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood together (I love that show). This particular one was all about what makes you special. The lesson was clear. You are special because you are you... not because of what you can do. <br />
<br />
At the end of the episode, Davy said, "I want to be special. When will I be special?"<br />
<br />
Oh, Davy. <br />
<br />
My friend shared this scripture with me the other day, and I've been meditating on it ever since:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and the parts that we think are less honorable </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>we treat with special honor.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I Corinthians 12:22-23</div>
<br />
When I found out I was pregnant with Davy, I did a lot of griping. <br />
<br />
A lot.<br />
<br />
First of all, I was pushing 40. <br />
<br />
Second, I was on the verge of major back surgery.<br />
<br />
Third, after several years of trying for #4, we had finally settled our hearts and decided we were done.<br />
<br />
We passed on all the maternity clothes, the baby clothes, the baby toys. <br />
<br />
Done.<br />
<br />
So, the news left me reeling a bit. <br />
<br />
And grumbling.<br />
<br />
And I guess one day, God had had enough. <br />
<br />
It's not that often that I feel the Lord speak to me. Like... really speak to me.<br />
<br />
But on this particular day, I believe He did.<br />
<br />
This is what I heard...<br />
<br />
"Stop it. This child is a GIFT." <br />
<br />
Okay, then. <br />
<br />
Got it.<br />
<br />
So I settled in for the hard part - the pregnancy - and began anticipating our "do over." I saw this baby as a chance for Mark and me to do it "all" one more time. <br />
<br />
And I embraced it.<br />
<br />
And Davy was born.<br />
<br />
And he was a gift.<br />
<br />
And it was hard. <br />
<br />
And it was unpredictable.<br />
<br />
And it was exhausting.<br />
<br />
And he was worth it.<br />
<br />
And it STILL is hard.<br />
<br />
And it STILL is unpredictable.<br />
<br />
And it STILL is exhausting.<br />
<br />
And he STILL is worth it.<br />
<br />
So, Davy? <br />
<br />
Are you special?<br />
<br />
You are indispensable. <br />
<br />
You are a gift. <br />
<br />
You are worth melting for.<br />
<br />
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<br />Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-19251796071034664332014-01-15T20:10:00.000-08:002014-01-15T20:10:05.369-08:00The MeltdownI'm not a stranger to dark and oppressive. <br />
<br />
In fact, I'm kind of an old pro when it comes to dealing with these two nemeses. <br />
<br />
I know how to pray.<br />
<br />
I know who to call.<br />
<br />
I know what to do.<br />
<br />
But lately I find myself faced with a new oppressor. <br />
<br />
And this one has me stumped.<br />
<br />
The irrational screams. The flailing arms and legs. The defiant and angry outbursts.<br />
<br />
They leave me feeling completely and totally wrecked.<br />
<br />
How do you respond to the little boy who is at once both the culprit and the victim?<br />
<br />
What do you say when he is unable to listen?<br />
<br />
What do you do when he is so consumed by the meltdown that everything you do just makes it worse?<br />
<br />
The momma tiger in me wants to beat down the tormentor, but the base, broken part of me just wants to crawl into a corner and hide. <br />
<br />
And neither are options.<br />
<br />
I can't beat down this tormentor. He isn't likely to go away.<br />
<br />
I can't hide away. My little boy needs me fully present.<br />
<br />
This beautiful little person needs me to stick by him. <br />
<br />
To pray for him.<br />
<br />
To seek answers for him.<br />
<br />
To fight for him.<br />
<br />
To hope for him.<br />
<br />
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<br />Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-71613988248069502762014-01-01T13:05:00.000-08:002014-01-01T13:05:35.712-08:00That MomI've become "that mom."<br />
<br />
The one that gets the look from random strangers in restaurants.<br />
<br />
In grocery stores.<br />
<br />
At the park.<br />
<br />
The one that is helpless to do anything about her child's behavior.<br />
<br />
The one that doesn't know where to begin to explain what is really going on.<br />
<br />
Why her child is screaming and completely out of control.<br />
<br />
Why her child just pushed another child when that child accidentally (and barely) brushed against his shoulder.<br />
<br />
Why her child is cowering in the middle of the gas station - screaming and plugging his ears with his fingers.<br />
<br />
Those looks cut right through me.<br />
<br />
But not because the judging hurts me.<br />
<br />
What hurts is knowing that I was once the one giving the looks. <br />
<br />
I was the judge. <br />
<br />
And I was so wrong. <br />
<br />
Now when I come across the path of that mom I feel a surge of compassion. <br />
<br />
A sense of solidarity.<br />
<br />
I want to reach out and hug that mom. Tell her I understand. <br />
<br />
And I want to repent. <br />
<br />
Being "that mom" has made me a better person.<br />
Because it's made me turn to "that ONE."<br />
<br />
The ONE who sees "that mom" and "that child" and reaches out His arms to us.<br />
And loves us. <br />
<br />
And then "This Mom" is forgiven and changed. <br />
<br />
And new. Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-47320187548825237552014-01-01T10:45:00.000-08:002014-01-01T10:45:28.516-08:00My, How We've ChangedIt's been nine months since we received Davy's diagnosis of autism. <br />
<br />
Nine very eventful months.<br />
<br />
So much change.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mark and I have changed.</div>
<br />
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<br />
<br />
We approach life differently now. Our choices are always framed with "how will Davy do?".<br />
<br />
We spend money differently.<br />
<br />
We plan outings differently.<br />
<br />
We judge less.<br />
<br />
We stay home more.<br />
<br />
We are way more intentional.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our Big Three have changed.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
They are more compassionate.<br />
<br />
They are more patient.<br />
<br />
They can assess the atmosphere of the room and, more often than not, they respond accordingly. <br />
<br />
They are learning with us and are so willing to grow and change with us.<br />
<br />
I'm so proud of them.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
And Davy has changed.</div>
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Oh, how he's changed.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Nine months ago he could barely put two and three words together in a sentence. <br />
<br />
Now he talks constantly.<br />
<br />
Nine months ago he lived in a bubble he had created for himself.<br />
<br />
Now he lives in and among us.<br />
<br />
It's messy. And it's hard. And it's beautiful.<br />
<br />
And I'm so proud of him.<br />
<br />
Here's a list I've been working on. It's a list of all the little (BIG) ways our little guy has changed.<br />
<br />
- Talks. REALLY talks. Intelligently and with reason.<br />
<br />
- Lets me comfort him when he's hurt. Lets me hold him close while he snuggles in to me. This just started in the last few weeks... and I love it. <br />
<br />
- Plays with toys. Not a lot, but some. And definitely more and more.<br />
<br />
- Pretends. This is just starting and is HUGE.<br />
<br />
- Hugs us. Not often. But some. Those hugs are priceless.<br />
<br />
- Kisses me. The big, wet, slobbery baby kisses. Better late than never, people!<br />
<br />
- Uses WORDS to express needs. It's not always clear, but we're getting there.<br />
<br />
- Shows empathy. When Charlie was in the hospital and then came home still so sick, Davy expressed a level of compassion and concern for him that surprised us all. This gives us so much hope!<br />
<br />
- He laughs. A lot. He's really trying to engage in the joking and kidding around that is pretty constant around here. <br />
<br />
- Practically... he's learning to dress himself. And he's cooperating more with this process. He's learning to brush his teeth and tolerating this more. He's tolerating the hairbrush more. He eats tiny bites of carrots. He can use a fork. He's getting better at using a spoon. He uses the bathroom (mostly) independently. <br />
<br />
There are more changes. Many just sparks of change. But these sparks fan flames of hope in our hearts.<br />
<br />
We are grateful. Hopeful. <br />
<br />
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And embracing change. </div>
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<br />Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-18191717264765676822013-06-05T12:51:00.000-07:002013-06-05T12:51:02.214-07:00Puzzle PiecesOur little Davy-boy turned four on Saturday.<br />
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<br />
<br />
We are celebrating this week (Birthday celebrations Steele-Style usually last about a week) with my homemade chocolate cake, lots of Thomas the Train, Finding Nemo, and six glorious days on the beach. <br />
<br />
It's pretty wonderful. <br />
<br />
And it feels appropriate to be here this week. For this event. <br />
<br />
Davy was and is such a gift to us. <br />
<br />
We like to call him our "do-over". Our "bonus baby". <br />
<br />
I tell him every single day that he is my treasure.<br />
<br />
But our journey with him has been a struggle in many ways. <br />
<br />
He's always marched to the beat of a different drum, if you will. <br />
<br />
With an obsession with Coldplay, an uncanny ability to recognize music (and connect songs to artists), a struggle to connect with others, a frustrating speech and reasoning delay (and a host of other unique qualities), he has given us clues from early infancy that he is unique. <br />
<br />
Not typical.<br />
<br />
Special.<br />
<br />
A living, breathing puzzle.<br />
<br />
We've tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together - spent countless hours sorting them, organizing them, discussing them... in order to make sense of them. <br />
<br />
But it hasn't been working.<br />
<br />
Then, in January, we received a phone call from the director of Davy's preschool asking us to come in for a meeting. <br />
<br />
The day of that meeting was a bad day. That was the day we realized we needed help. <br />
<br />
He needed help.<br />
<br />
David is autistic. <br />
<br />
We've suspected this for a long time now - had other professionals suggest it as a possibility. <br />
<br />
But now it's staring us in the face. <br />
<br />
Now we see that the puzzle has 1000 pieces. A mosaic. In 3D.<br />
<br />
It's daunting. This puzzle is going to take a lot of time and effort to put together. <br />
<br />
But we're confident the end result will be beautiful. <br />
<br />
And, really, aren't we all puzzling in our own way? <br />
<br />
And God, the Master Designer of all puzzles, I know, will help us sort the pieces of Davy's little mind and put this puzzle together.<br />
<br />
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<br />Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-33625663543610207812013-03-10T20:42:00.000-07:002013-03-10T20:42:04.148-07:00UndertowMy dad was a traveling salesman for a while. It made for unpredictable income, but it also provided a few opportunities for family getaways. <br />
<br />
When I was about eight, we were able to go with him to Florida and spent a day on the beach. This day stands out as a great day overall in my stack of childhood memories. I hadn't seen Jaws yet, so my fear of sharks was not yet overblown (But is there such a thing as an overblown fear of sharks? I don't think so.), and I didn't know about jellyfish, stingrays, or coral reefs. I was fearless in the ocean. To me, it was just a giant swimming pool.<br />
<br />
And I loved it.<br />
<br />
My baby brother and I built sandcastles.<br />
<br />
We hunted for seashells. <br />
<br />
And played in the waves. <br />
<br />
It was pretty awesome.<br />
<br />
And there were no shark attacks.<br />
<br />
Turns out, though, unbeknownst to me there was another enemy in the water. <br />
<br />
And I discovered it that day.<br />
<br />
Dad and I were out a bit from shore. I was playing and splashing and having a jolly good time when, without warning, my legs were whipped out from under me and I went under the water. <br />
<br />
Now, I was a relatively strong swimmer (for an eight year old) and I could handle myself in the water pretty well. <br />
<br />
And yet every time I tried to right myself, something sucked me back down. <br />
<br />
Over and over again. <br />
<br />
In reality, this experience probably lasted about five seconds. Maybe ten. <br />
<br />
But it felt like time was standing still. I was terrified. <br />
<br />
Suddenly, a hand reached down into the water, grabbed me, righted me and pulled me, sputtering and choking, back onto my feet. <br />
<br />
My dad's hand. In the midst of my fear, I had completely forgotten he was there. <br />
<br />
That in that moment I was not beyond his reach. <br />
<br />
I know that the metaphor here is pretty obvious. But I needed obvious today. <br />
<br />
Today, caught in the undertow of chronic pain and feeling tossed and turned by it, time for me stood still and fear set in. It was difficult to right myself. Pain sucked me down and despair kept me spinning. And even though I've become a relatively strong swimmer in this sea of pain, I found myself unable to get my head above water. <br />
<br />
And then it happened. <br />
<br />
A hand reached down and pulled me up. Reminded me He was there. <br />
<br />
That I was not beyond His reach.<br />
<br />
That I would not drown.<br />
<br />
I'm grateful that His arm is long enough to reach me. <br />
<br />
That He has the strength to rescue me from the undertow. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-19812882962735743812012-08-27T20:11:00.000-07:002012-08-27T20:11:50.262-07:00Favorite Birthday GiftsToday, in honor of my 43rd (yikes!) birthday, I am back on blogger and doing my best to write a COMPLETE entry.<br />
<br />
It's my birthday gift to me.<br />
<br />
It's been difficult for me to get back here because, honestly, I don't know what to say.<br />
<br />
I'm better.<br />
<br />
But I still hurt every day.<br />
<br />
I have a long way to go and I don't really want to talk about it. <br />
<br />
Not today, anyway.<br />
<br />
Today I am 43.<br />
<br />
43.<br />
<br />
How'd that happen?<br />
<br />
I thought I'd share some of my favorite birthday gifts over the years. Fun for me, and I need fun. <br />
<br />
(Note: these are not listed in any particular order. Don't want to hurt anyone's feelings...)<br />
<br />
- When I turned 8, my parents gave me a simple, but beautiful birthstone ring. I loved it. And I still love it. You'll see it sometimes on my one of my pinkie fingers. It's super special to me for many reasons.<br />
<br />
- When I turned 25, exactly one week from our wedding day, Mark presented me with a new NIV Study Bible... with my new name engraved on the front. I still use it. And it still makes me smile.<br />
<br />
- Last year Molly and Ronna gave me an uber cool To Kill a Mockingbird t-shirt. Love, love, love it! And I love that they know how much I love that book. And I love that there even is such a thing as a To Kill a Mockingbird t-shirt. <br />
<br />
- For my 40th birthday, just three months after our little David was born, Mark and the children gave me a Willow Tree collection of figures to represent each one of us in our family. I love it. And I love that Morgan, Jackson and Charlie chose the figures. It's a centerpiece in our family room.<br />
<br />
- In the summer of '05, I miscarried our fourth baby (yes, Davy-boy is #5). It was a devastating loss that so many women suffer and I was wholly unprepared for the aftermath of grief. For my birthday the next month, my precious sister-in-law, Ann, gave me a simple, but beautiful heart necklace from James Avery to represent our baby in heaven. I wear this necklace ALL THE TIME. It is so very special to me.<br />
<br />
- Last summer, the kids and I dropped by Mark's office one day to have lunch with him and, like we always do, we popped by "Uncle Jeff's" office to say hi. As we stood there talking, I noticed he had a series of Van Gogh paintings scrolling on his computer screen and I admired all of them, but one in particular. A couple of months later, on my birthday, he surprised me with an oil painting replica of that painting, beautifully framed. Wow. Just wow.<br />
<br />
- Several years ago, in the midst of a difficult season in my life, Mark and my friends put their heads together to plan a special day where the main gift was TIME. Time with people I love. And time to breathe a bit with those people. The day began with a massage, then I was surprised every couple of hours when one person would drop me off to be with the next person. The day was filled with pedicures, yummy food, shopping, coffee, more yummy food and then a party! What a day. I will cherish it always.<br />
<br />
The truth is, these are just a few examples. Mark is an amazing gift-giver... extravagant, really. He's taught me so much about giving and receiving gifts. <br />
<br />
I was never that good at either. I gave with hesitation (not from stinginess, but with doubt that my gift would be special enough), and I received with a sense of guilt because I just knew the money could or should be spent another, better way. <br />
<br />
Now, though there are still these hovering tendencies to sort through at times, I have learned the value of a gift. Not the monetary value, but the value that comes when someone who loves you expresses that love in a thoughtful, meaningful way. <br />
<br />
And through this, I am drawn even more to the One who is the best gift-giver of all. Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-79439502749739999232012-05-27T11:58:00.001-07:002012-05-27T11:58:12.234-07:00Hemmed InLast year I purchased Jackson a new pair of (kind of pricey) Boy Scout pants. I bought them with room to grow (again, kind of pricey), which meant that I needed to have them hemmed up by a tailor. <br />
<br />
I wish I sewed, but alas, I must pay to have someone else do these tasks. <br />
<br />
I specifically asked the tailor to make sure to hem up the entire excess, so we could let them out as Jackson grew. A couple of days later I went to pick up the pants. Studying the hem job, I was alarmed because the hem was super small - like maybe an inch! <br />
<br />
When I called her attention to it, she explained that she had folded up all the excess material into that tiny hem. "It looks nicer that way," she said. She was right. Somehow she managed to squeeze all that extra material into a one-inch wide space. Amazing. <br />
<br />
And this is why I pay her the big bucks.<br />
<br />
*******<br />
<br />
I feel squeezed into a one-inch wide space right now.<br />
<br />
For the better part of six months I have been unable to drive. I can't go to church, to restaurants, to the movies, to my kids' special events, to the grocery store... and the list just goes on and on.<br />
<br />
I spend most of every day either in bed or in an anti-gravity chair (THANK YOU, Matt and Emily!!). <br />
<br />
Surrounding me are two tv trays and a small table. <br />
<br />
They are cluttered with...<br />
<br />
My Bible & Bible study materials<br />
<br />
Novel(s) I am reading (there's usually at least three I'm dabbling in)<br />
<br />
My wallet (for online shopping and reimbursing friends for various shopping errands they have run for me - THANK YOU, FRIENDS!!)<br />
<br />
A package of Boogie Wipes and a box of Kleenex (for wiping noses-one mommy job I can't seem to pass off to said friends)<br />
<br />
Four remote controls (yes, I said FOUR)<br />
<br />
Games magazines (for the rare moments the drug fog lifts and I can work puzzles)<br />
<br />
Notepads and pens (if I don't write it down the very SECOND I think of it.... it's gone)<br />
<br />
Coffee mug (no explanation necessary)<br />
<br />
And various other items I feel need to be within my reach.<br />
<br />
**It's a good thing I love my house and the people in it.**<br />
<br />
Even so, last week I decided to feel sorry for myself and threw a pretty classic pity party.<br />
<br />
It happens. <br />
<br />
I'm not claustrophobic, but I began to feel closed in. My large living room, with its vaulted ceilings and many windows that allow natural light to flood in each morning, became narrow and oppressive.<br />
Despair of ever feeling good again set in as I realized that I have become, in essence, a "shut-in." <br />
<br />
I'm sure this sounds a bit melodramatic, but c'mon... six months is a long time, people. <br />
<br />
And though I am DEFINITELY better, the end of this journey is most definitely not in sight. I've got a long way to go. A lot more days in this chair.<br />
<br />
That's my reality. <br />
<br />
And this truly settled on me last week. Sooooo....<br />
<br />
I consumed at least 3 pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream (Triple Caramel Chunk is my new fav, but Phish Food will always have my heart.). Dipped Hershey's dark chocolate bars into a jar of peanut butter every single day. And lost myself in the world of Ashley Judd as Becca Winstone on ABC's Missing. <br />
<br />
To name a few.<br />
<br />
And then, after a good, cleansing ugly cry... I heard that still, small Voice.<br />
<br />
<i>I have hemmed you in.</i><br />
<br />
And the picture of Jackson's Boy Scout pants popped into my mind's eye. All that material, packed into that small space... just waiting to be released as Jackson grows. <br />
<br />
<i>I have hemmed you in.</i><br />
<br />
I don't know what He's doing. But for some reason, in this time, in this place, with these children and this amazing husband that I love, He has me hemmed in. He has narrowed my spaces, eliminated almost every external distraction and forced me to be here... in this small place.<br />
<br />
Trusting Him that this tiny measure of space is packed with potential. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You hem me in -- behind and before;</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You have laid your hand upon me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Such knowledge is too</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>wonderful for me,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>too lofty for me to attain.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Psalm 139:5</div>Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-82112461492426936292012-05-20T09:34:00.000-07:002012-05-20T09:34:36.741-07:00Random Thoughts...I haven't blogged in forever.<br />
<br />
It's hard to blog when it's hard to put a coherent thought together.<br />
<br />
With the exception of 3 doctor's appointments and a ride through the Chick-Fil-A drive thru, I haven't been out of my house or out of a hospital in over four weeks.<br />
<br />
Morphine makes me crazy.<br />
<br />
My husband is amazing.<br />
<br />
So are my children.<br />
<br />
And my friends.<br />
<br />
And my church.<br />
<br />
And my mom.<br />
<br />
And my step-dad.<br />
<br />
I am having more good days than bad days... FINALLY!<br />
<br />
Today isn't a good day, but it isn't really a bad day either. <br />
<br />
I'm okay with an in-between day.<br />
<br />
It's way better than a bad day.<br />
<br />
I'm still on a LOT of medication. <br />
<br />
Can you tell?<br />
<br />
I've forgotten what I am really like. <br />
<br />
I'm looking forward to re-discovering me.<br />
<br />
I am COMPLETELY sure that God is near me. <br />
<br />
He's all around me. Beneath me. Before Me. <br />
<br />
Thankful.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-85542765434713025902012-01-05T13:36:00.000-08:002012-01-05T13:36:51.062-08:00The RideTomorrow marks five weeks since my surgery. It's been quite a ride. <br />
<br />
I was told by my doc that it would be a roller coaster ride; but the thing is, roller coasters are fun. <br />
<br />
This is so not fun.<br />
<br />
Well, actually, there is one roller coaster ride that might come close to this experience. <br />
<br />
Ever been to Disney World? <br />
<br />
The Steele Family LOVES Disney World. Mark and I have been three times since we were married and would go more often if it weren't so darn expensive. The first time we went was before we had children. It was great because we could go at our own pace and got to ride pretty much everything. <br />
<br />
I LOVE all the roller coasters. Space Mountain, Thunder Mountain, Expedition Everest. <br />
<br />
All of them...except for one.<br />
<br />
The Rock 'n' Roller Coaster at MGM Studios is a NIGHTMARE.<br />
<br />
This coaster blasts off and whips around in the dark doing twists and turns for what seems like an eternity. And the worst part is that you have speakers up against both ears BLASTING Aerosmith at full volume the entire time.<br />
<br />
Aerosmith isn't the problem here. <br />
<br />
The problem is that your senses are being hit at once at the maximum possible level and it's just completely overwhelming.<br />
<br />
And I hated it.<br />
<br />
And that's pretty close to recovering from back surgery.<br />
<br />
I knew I was facing weeks of rest and healing. I knew there would be pain involved. <br />
<br />
I just didn't realize the intensity would be so overwhelming.<br />
<br />
So all consuming.<br />
<br />
I had this long list of things I thought I would be able to do during recovery.<br />
<br />
1. Read several books.<br />
2. Finish the Bible study I never finished in the fall.<br />
3. Catch up on my daily Bible reading (I don't dare tell you how far behind I am now).<br />
4. Finish David's Christmas stocking.<br />
5. Finish the certification process I've been working on since the fall for the writing curriculum I teach.<br />
6. Spend quality time with my children.<br />
7. Watch Friday Night Lights.<br />
8. Redesign my blog and blog more.<br />
9. Work on David's baby album.<br />
10. Have some deep, revelatory God moments.<br />
<br />
None of these have happened. <br />
<br />
The "ride" is so all consuming that I can't seem to focus on anything for any length of time. <br />
<br />
I know there's an expectation that God is using this time to teach me new and life-changing lessons, but I have to be honest and say that although I do believe these will come... they aren't happening yet.<br />
<br />
I'm too foggy. Too distracted by pain and what it takes to get through the day to really be able to connect with God in a deep and meaningful way.<br />
<br />
It's kinda discouraging at this point.<br />
<br />
But I'm still on this ride and it isn't going to stop for some time.<br />
<br />
So....<br />
<br />
I keep throwing out short, simple prayers for strength, for grace, for patience, for hope. And I keep a list of those in my life that I care about next to me so that I can throw out prayers for their needs (and for a moment get my mind off mine). <br />
<br />
And as I twist and turn with the loops of this roller coaster, prayers (no matter how simple they are) remind me of how loved I am. By so many.<br />
<br />
But more importantly, by the Father God.<br />
<br />
And I remember that He's got me buckled in tight.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-91848353584178324202011-12-22T10:32:00.000-08:002011-12-22T10:32:44.257-08:00My "Must Reads" List - Not Necessarily a Top Ten and Not Necessarily in a Particular Order<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That would take too much brain power - and I'm running low on that these days.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I've had a few people asking for book recommendations and since I've got a little (read - a LOT) of time on my hands, I thought I'd put a little "Must Read" book list together. Please note: I am on a LOT of pain medication so my brain is pretty fuzzy these days. I guarantee you I will leave books out - I just hope I end up spelling everything correctly. :)</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Disclaimer: Right now I am giving the Twilight series a go. It is mindless, poorly written and I would NEVER personally recommend them to anyone. But I'm having fun reading them.. :)</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">1. <em>Unbroken</em> by Laura Hillenbrand. Mark bought me this book for Christmas last year and I put it on a shelf and forgot about it. Then, Molly told me about this amazing book she was devouring and said that I MUST read it and when I mentioned it to Mark he kindly reminded me that he had given it to me LAST YEAR. Oops. It's fantastic, people. A true story about a WW2 airman whose plane went down over the Pacific Ocean. He floated on a raft (with no supplies) for close to 50 days and when he finally reached land, he was captured by the Japanese. READ THIS BOOK.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">2. <em>To Kill A Mockingbird</em> by Harper Lee. Favorite book of all time. You've probably all read it, but if you haven't don't want another minute. Get it. Read it. </div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">3. <em>The Hunger Games</em> Trilogy by Suzanne Collins. This is teen fiction, but it's way more than that. It's a statement on society. And it's fun. And it's GREAT discussion material.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">4. <em>Run</em> by Ann Patchett. I have read this book twice in the last couple of years. I think it's a beautiful story. It's set in Boston and it's about family, grief and loss, hope and the power love has to heal.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">5. <em>Watership Down</em> by Richard Adams. This is fantasy and is SOOOOO good. I discovered this book in 9th grade. It's full of adventure and is just a smart book. </div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">6. <em>A Tree Grows in Brooklyn</em> by Betty Smith. Depression era (I think - can't remember) story about a girl living in poverty, coming of age, love and family. One of my favorites ever.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">7. Anything by Charles Dickens. I love him. So much. (except for Bleak House... it's appropriately titled)</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">8. <em>The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society </em>by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. OMG - how I LOVED this book!!! Couldn't put it down. Post WW2 story about a British island (occupied by the Nazis) that is very much removed from all that is going on after the war - and how a writer from London comes to be there - and what happens when those two worlds collide. Love it, love it, love it.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">9. <em>Gone With the Wind</em> by Margaret Mitchell. Do I really need to explain why this is a MUST READ? Seriously. If you've never read it, put it on your bucket list.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">10. <em>Uncle Tom's Cabin</em> by Harriet Beecher Stowe. Beautiful. Sad. IMPORTANT. Read it.</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">This is a start, friends. You've probably read all these. Most of them have been around for ages. And yes, I'm old school. I'm not much for pop fiction. More of a classics kind of girl. But these are all wonderful. If you want more suggestions, I'm just a Facebook message away. :)</div>Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-47051480550695075562011-12-15T16:49:00.000-08:002011-12-15T16:49:06.392-08:00Friends in Low PlacesThis recovery journey is HARD. I thought I was prepared. I did so much reading online and in books about what to expect after a surgery like this one and I really thought I understood what I was getting into.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
Not a clue. <br />
<br />
And what has been most surprising to me is how completely dependent I have had to be in absolutely every area of my life.<br />
<br />
For the first eight or nine days I couldn't do anything on my own. <br />
<br />
Not. One. Thing.<br />
<br />
Now I'm able to do a little bit without help and it's so liberating!!!<br />
<br />
I am one of the most independent people on the planet.<br />
<br />
Not kidding.<br />
<br />
So this dependence has been a bit of a drag. <br />
<br />
But at the same time, I am experiencing love in a whole new way. <br />
<br />
Mark has been so gentle. So patient. So kind. He has taken over so many of my daily tasks as well as taken care of the majority of my daily needs - all with a grace and strength that astounds me. In the hospital, as he was helping me with some laborious and painful task, Mark looked me in the eyes and said, "I can totally do this for you in your old age." It was a beautiful, beautiful moment. And I was so humbled by his sincerity. And I realized just how much he loves me.<br />
<br />
My mom has prepared food, helped me shower, made lunches for my children, helped my children with school work/homework, cleaned out my refrigerator and my pantry, done laundry... and on and on and on. And she's done it with a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. She's been tireless. I'm amazed.<br />
<br />
My friends....WOW.<br />
<br />
Here's a list of just some of the things they have done:<br />
<br />
1. Arrived at the hospital the day of my surgery at 6:15AM and stayed there until I was settled comfortably in my room after surgery - which was somewhere around 4:00PM (I was a little out of it at the time). They brought coffee, lunch, dinner. Kept me company when Mark went home to shower and see the children.<br />
<br />
2. Didn't laugh at me or tease me when I found out, much to my dismay, that I was going home with a walker. (Well, most of my friends didn't laugh or tease...) <br />
<br />
3. Went to the Relax the Back store and bought me a bed wedge to make my long days in bed more comfortable... and wouldn't let me pay for it.<br />
<br />
4. Brought me cookies. Lots and LOTS of cookies.<br />
<br />
5. Went to Sam's for me.<br />
<br />
6. Went to the grocery store for me MULTIPLE TIMES.<br />
<br />
7. Did my Christmas shopping. Wrapped my Christmas presents.<br />
<br />
8. Picked up my daughter's contacts at the eye clinic.<br />
<br />
9. Put together a spreadsheet and organized help for me in my house every single day until Mark is off for Christmas. <br />
<br />
10. Picked up my big boys for play dates.<br />
<br />
11. Took my baby boy on fun outings.<br />
<br />
12. Brought me a bag full of movies, candy and trail mix so that I would never lack for entertainment.<br />
<br />
13. Made me homemade Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Divine.<br />
<br />
14. Brought my family a meal. Or more than one meal!<br />
<br />
15. Picked my daughter up from rehearsal EVERY SINGLE DAY and brought her home.<br />
<br />
16. Took a half a day shift or a day long shift here at the house... cleaning, preparing food, taking care of children, changing poopy diapers, baking banana bread and muffins for me. <br />
<br />
17. Spent time with me talking, crying, laughing, beating me at cards, and encouraging me to keep the faith on the hardest of days.<br />
<br />
18. Chatted with me on Facebook, sent me prayers and words of encouragement online that lifted my spirits.<br />
<br />
19. Cracked jokes with me via text, Facebook or email - that made me laugh OUT LOUD and we all know that laughter is the best medicine.<br />
<br />
20. Brought me lattes and Cherry Limeades.<br />
<br />
Really, I could go on and on. I am so humbled and grateful.<br />
<br />
I am in a low place right now, but I'm not there alone. And all of these expressions of love during this time remind me that God is near to me. <br />
<br />
And I'm so thankful for that.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-54268236140850914852011-12-08T10:19:00.000-08:002011-12-08T10:19:54.558-08:00I'm Being WatchedSo it's probably going to be more like a "Two Year Bible Reading Plan." <br />
<br />
At this rate, I'm thinking I'll feel pretty good if I can read through the Bible in a decade.<br />
<br />
I may even need to change the name of my blog from "I'm Steele Standing" to "I'm Steele Sitting."<br />
<br />
I'm not doing much standing these days. <br />
<br />
Finally had that back surgery I've been avoiding all these years. <br />
<br />
Good times. <br />
<br />
I am now pretty much totally dependent on others for absolutely everything. <br />
<br />
Like I said... good times.<br />
<br />
I know there is much to be learned during this season. I'm up for learning it. But the truth is, right now I'm so hopped up on pain medications and so overwhelmed by even the smallest of tasks, that digging into the spiritual applications of what I'm going through is pretty much out of the question.<br />
<br />
I'm just trying to get through each day with some semblance of dignity and grace.<br />
<br />
I know I'm being watched.<br />
<br />
My children are watching and learning from me - about suffering, about pain, about the limitations that eventually come our way and how to deal with them, about letting go. <br />
<br />
I hope and pray that I can show them how to hope in the midst of struggle. <br />
<br />
I hope and pray that God will make Himself more known to all of us through this season.<br />
<br />
And I look forward to standing again soon.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-58900450511775575692011-11-10T15:00:00.000-08:002011-11-10T15:00:47.978-08:00A Little BehindTEN days. <br />
<br />
It was bound to happen, right? <br />
<br />
I'm ten days behind. <br />
<br />
The Type A in me (which is a solid 95%) is so ashamed. <br />
<br />
I never wanted this daily Bible reading to become another item on my list to check off, but here I am, very much out of sorts because those little "checks" aren't happening.<br />
<br />
Guess this is why I should be reading my Bible. <br />
<br />
I think I have some good excuses, though.<br />
<br />
I homeschool.<br />
<br />
My daughter's high school homework load has been astronomical and has kept us both up late on many a night this last month.<br />
<br />
It takes a significant amount (but not more than is prescribed, mind you... not even as much as is prescribed - thought you'd want to know that) of pain medication for me to function at a reasonable level these days - and unfortunately, a big side effect of the med is a good deal of brain fogginess. Hard to concentrate.<br />
<br />
I did a little traveling. :)<br />
<br />
Mark and I took a 6 day getaway to New York City last week. <br />
<br />
It was glorious.<br />
<br />
We have dreamed of and planned for this trip for many, many years. In fact, the trip was scheduled for the fall of 2008 - when we unexpectedly found we were EXPECTING and so getting through another pregnancy became the focal point of our lives.<br />
<br />
So three years later, we finally got to take our trip.<br />
<br />
It was everything we hoped and prayed it would be.<br />
<br />
The weather was perfect. <br />
<br />
The city was fascinating.<br />
<br />
The shows were wonderful.<br />
<br />
The man I was with is the love of my life.<br />
<br />
We had time together like we haven't had in YEARS. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUa2187yiRr7Ruqp0XNkSwQU5VDz8ORWGENbPYW6Yu0by2P5Xz_93kuQYgNmpv5cJ7kzMyGOmR_J_iRGrLSGp6_VZqE0AW3HaKI-C9bmWl0UN65cUH_HV5BHCOB9jCrzGYAhUaGCmhrw/s1600/IMG_1449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUa2187yiRr7Ruqp0XNkSwQU5VDz8ORWGENbPYW6Yu0by2P5Xz_93kuQYgNmpv5cJ7kzMyGOmR_J_iRGrLSGp6_VZqE0AW3HaKI-C9bmWl0UN65cUH_HV5BHCOB9jCrzGYAhUaGCmhrw/s320/IMG_1449.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Liberty Island</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiRyYl7ceZdCRARrFmJKnVjahQDREstBHH2HRFJ2CK953-1AhYKiQk2YK9_A7DCfhGnZ1PhD2DEem5MM8buwVBvLykjuf3wKW5u2M0OZITcRQWN_Aw2j4EynYxo2_4cJ7qW_84OdVhVAk/s1600/IMG_3130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiRyYl7ceZdCRARrFmJKnVjahQDREstBHH2HRFJ2CK953-1AhYKiQk2YK9_A7DCfhGnZ1PhD2DEem5MM8buwVBvLykjuf3wKW5u2M0OZITcRQWN_Aw2j4EynYxo2_4cJ7qW_84OdVhVAk/s320/IMG_3130.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Top of the Rock</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcqS9eSDYCX1asFpqTkpZhJDpwcVRO15aSu1nqS0lsQSvozcJmM8pMaoiglAe65LO9DKvT5FJTdBGI1PP5al94jYhuT0W_xSGqvPpy7O1P4fwV70D4ZgZwaTzQ5ZA-rgyG4zxkh0698c/s1600/IMG_3238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcqS9eSDYCX1asFpqTkpZhJDpwcVRO15aSu1nqS0lsQSvozcJmM8pMaoiglAe65LO9DKvT5FJTdBGI1PP5al94jYhuT0W_xSGqvPpy7O1P4fwV70D4ZgZwaTzQ5ZA-rgyG4zxkh0698c/s320/IMG_3238.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">American Museum of National History</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauKY6bH2FITrTev7JprXh7XE_N9o9wE5OuW3NoyHkMplQ8Tp02kQCKRqevTLlQQGN-2R6XQse0qvYVfYWUTknb4HoCeR5CFXnIX_nzDFcElGcELT6_gZJyRNt_HJGAdFJz17Q9Hg_u80/s1600/IMG_3228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauKY6bH2FITrTev7JprXh7XE_N9o9wE5OuW3NoyHkMplQ8Tp02kQCKRqevTLlQQGN-2R6XQse0qvYVfYWUTknb4HoCeR5CFXnIX_nzDFcElGcELT6_gZJyRNt_HJGAdFJz17Q9Hg_u80/s320/IMG_3228.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Central Park</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was time well spent and I think God was smiling on us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So what if I'm a little behind, right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-48647025897694002972011-10-16T15:08:00.000-07:002011-10-16T15:08:38.135-07:00Surprised by Love<div>I'm stuck in Numbers. I mean really stuck. I think I'm now 6 days behind in my daily reading. It was bound to happen, right? I'm a busy lady. Four kids, homeschooling, and so on and so forth...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Plus, my pain medication makes me sleep like a baby... right through my alarm clock. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Numbers and post-narcotic fog aren't a great combination.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'll catch up.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It'll take a few cups of coffee, but I'll catch up.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm sure there's gold to find in Numbers. Just gotta dig for it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm continuing to pursue gratitude in my day to day struggle with pain and the "shaking" that comes with it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Today, Mark comes to mind.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I fell in love with Mark in a moment. Literally.</div><div><br />
</div><div>One minute I was expressing my love to the Father and the next moment I found myself head over heels in love with a man I hardly knew.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We were in Juarez, Mexico, co-leading a missions team of teenagers from my church in Colorado Springs. Mark had been hired to lead the trip and I was paired with him as the female leader. </div><div><br />
</div><div>In retrospect, I think it was a set-up.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Regardless, this guy with long, curly black hair and a huge personality seemed to me to be out of my league so I turned off any initial "stirrings" and focused on the job at hand.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I tend to do that.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Turn my heart off. </div><div><br />
</div><div>God usually has to turn it back on for me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Our first night in Juarez we gathered the team in the upstairs room of the orphanage for a time of worship. It was a sweet time of singing and sharing. As I led the team in "Oh God, You Are My God" I was overcome with gratitude for all that God had done and was doing in my life so I stopped singing. The team followed my lead and the room became very quiet. After a minute or so of silence, Mark began singing the song once again.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In that moment, as I was completely focused on my love for God... a thought came to me - out of nowhere.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"I can't live without this person."</div><div><br />
</div><div>I think I gasped. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Audibly.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I know I cried.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Love was ignited and I was completely overwhelmed by it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And then, true to form, I chose to despair.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"How could a guy like Mark ever love ME? God, why would you do this? He's NEVER going to feel the same way!" <br />
<br />
"He lives in TULSA! That's in OKLAHOMA!"<br />
<br />
I spent night after night during that week in Juarez tossing and turning. <br />
<br />
I lost 5 pounds. (didn't mind that part so much)<br />
<br />
Little did I know that God was doing something in Mark as well.<br />
<br />
The day after I had my "moment," Mark was back in the upstairs room with the team leading them in morning devotions. I wasn't there because one of the teen girls had somehow locked herself in the bathroom and I was stuck trying to communicate with one of the NON-ENGLISH SPEAKING orphanage custodians as we tried to keep her calm and get her out. Good times.<br />
<br />
As Mark led the kids in their quiet time, he sensed the Lord speaking to him and saying, "Remember all those things you have asked me for in a wife?" <br />
<br />
"Ummm, yeah. Where did this come from?" (This is what he told me later he said in reply)<br />
<br />
And the Lord said, "Well, they're all in Kaysie."<br />
<br />
Now, the difference between what God was doing in Mark and what God was doing in me is pretty important here.<br />
<br />
I had actually had initial thoughts of my own before my "moment." Mark had not. His God moment was his FIRST moment of any kind as far as I was concerned.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In retrospect, I think God spent that week stirring Mark's heart towards me, while teaching me to trust Him.<br />
<br />
I wonder why He insists on constantly teaching me lessons on TRUST?<br />
<br />
By the end of the week, with some help from a couple of friends playing matchmaker, we had some idea of the mutuality of our feelings (though we never discussed it) and a spark of hope had ignited in my heart.<br />
<br />
I remember such a sense of wonder in it all. <br />
<br />
I remember being amazed that this guy would like me - maybe even LOVE me.<br />
<br />
I was surprised when I knew for sure that he did. <br />
<br />
And grateful.<br />
<br />
Three weeks later we were engaged. <br />
<br />
Yep. When you know, you know.<br />
<br />
Seventeen years later I still find myself surprised by Mark's love for me.<br />
<br />
I'm selfish, perfectionistic, controlling, distrustful, pessimistic... broken.<br />
<br />
He loves me anyway.<br />
<br />
It surprises me still today.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-20339649775342103402011-10-06T15:46:00.000-07:002011-10-16T21:26:50.112-07:00I Remember When...Still plugging away at the Old Testament. Halfway through Numbers now and it's definitely more interesting than Leviticus. I've read the Old Testament several times before, but this time, as I read, I'm reminded of something Mark noticed when he read through the Bible several years ago. <br />
<br />
God wants us to remember.<br />
<br />
So many times, throughout the stories of the Old Testament, the Israelites would be led to stop where they were, build an altar or a monument of some sort, and take time to say thanks to God for whatever He had done for them in that place. <br />
<br />
They marked the place where it happened.<br />
<br />
This way, whenever they came across that spot again (or whenever someone else traveled by), they would remember (or learn about) what God had done there.<br />
<br />
Surely these markers of remembrance (or "remembrance stones" as I've heard them called before) helped them when times got tough. <br />
<br />
I've lost count of the times when people, who were/are much wiser than me, have told me that gratitude is one of the greatest weapons I have when in battle against Fear, Anxiety, Depression and countless other enemies of my soul.<br />
<br />
It's true.<br />
<br />
When I spend time reflecting on a moment in time when I KNOW God met a need or desire, or comforted and carried me through a crisis, my heart is calmed and the places within me that are shaking are steadied.<br />
<br />
This is a good time for me to be doing that. <br />
<br />
Today I am remembering a Christmas when I was about 11 years old. I know... Christmas - and it's only October. <br />
<br />
But I've got Christmas on my mind.<br />
<br />
Anyway, this particular Christmas things weren't going too well with my family. Money was tight. Actually, there just wasn't any money. My mom was struggling to find ways to keep us fed and my dad... well, he was struggling. As Christmas approached it was pretty clear that without a miracle that day would be like any other day in our house. <br />
<br />
My mom begin to encourage my brother and me to pray.<br />
<br />
Now, I'll tell you I don't really remember praying. I remember my mom praying. In fact, I have strong memories of getting up every morning for school to find my mom had been up for hours, with her Bible and a prayer notebook. I knew what she was doing. I knew how desperate things were. <br />
<br />
I was already pretty cynical and pessimistic at 11. It seemed safer to me to keep my requests to myself. <br />
<br />
I do remember telling my mom that I wished I had just $25 to use for Christmas shopping. <br />
<br />
It's important that you know that as a general rule, we didn't talk about our situation with others. I'm sure word got around. It wasn't a very big town. But we didn't do the talking.<br />
<br />
This was true that Christmas. My mom prayed. That was pretty much it.<br />
<br />
So, about 2 weeks before Christmas my mom received a phone call. A man in our church had decided he wanted to give a handful of children $25 for Christmas shopping. My brother and I were two of them. <br />
<br />
Cool, huh?<br />
<br />
I was thrilled. I'll never forget the day we got to go shopping. We felt rich. I bought my mom a pair of earrings. Patton bought dad a tobacco pouch.<br />
<br />
But that's not the significant part of this story.<br />
<br />
Besides shopping money, there was ONE THING I really, REALLY wanted for Christmas. <br />
<br />
And I didn't tell anyone.<br />
<br />
I didn't pray for it either. <br />
<br />
Too risky.<br />
<br />
I just kept it quiet and tried to prepare myself for the disappointment that I knew would come on Christmas morning.<br />
<br />
Christmas morning came. I woke early. Patton and I were notorious for waking at the crack of dawn on Christmas day. I walked toward the living room, and there... kneeling before our Christmas tree, with her Bible open on the floor at her knees, was my mom. She was crying.<br />
<br />
But she wasn't crying tears of sorrow or disappointment.<br />
<br />
She was crying tears of thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
And she was surrounded by gifts. There were many, many packages under the tree. <br />
<br />
Really, it seemed like magic to my eleven year-old mind.<br />
<br />
Until we began opening presents.<br />
<br />
There, in the midst of it all, was the ONE THING I really wanted.<br />
<br />
It's going to sound silly when I tell you what it was. In fact, it doesn't really even matter what it was. <br />
<br />
What matters is that He knew.<br />
<br />
And in that moment, I knew... He loved me. He knew me. He SAW me.<br />
<br />
It marked me. And today as I tell the story, I remember. <br />
<br />
And I'm grateful.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-37637973324177977152011-09-29T16:21:00.000-07:002011-09-29T16:21:30.501-07:00Leviticus and DreadLeviticus. Wow. One million rules to follow and another million rules about what to do if you don't. <br />
<br />
Yep. Let's just say that I'm not popping out of bed every morning excited to read my Bible. <br />
<br />
There's a sense of dread accompanying my daily reading these days. I could probably push past it and, with a little study, find some real gems in this particular book. For instance, I'm sure the picture of the scapegoat (a literal goat) that once a year took the collective sins of the Israelites upon itself and was released into the desert to wander until it died would resonate deeply within me if I took the time to meditate on it. Probably not gonna happen.<br />
<br />
So there's a sense of dread to the reading.<br />
<br />
I just want to get through it.<br />
<br />
Be done with it. <br />
<br />
I'm really looking forward to Joshua.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I went to my Bible study on David. We've been at this particular study now for several weeks and I'm loving it. <br />
<br />
I love Beth Moore. She has a way of getting to the heart of things. I respect her because it's obvious she studies hard, follows God hard and has experienced "hard."<br />
<br />
Not often, but occasionally, it feels as if she's talking directly to me. Yesterday that was my experience. <br />
<br />
She identified for me the "something" I've been battling these last few months that I had yet to put my finger on.<br />
<br />
Dread. <br />
<br />
I have been asking God to do something for me for ten years now. And I'm realizing He's got something else in mind. Something I dread.<br />
<br />
Beth put it this way, "You are begging for God to do X - and He's determined to do Y."<br />
<br />
I've always hated algebra.<br />
<br />
Spent many hours wrestling with those nasty little variables.<br />
<br />
Beth reminded me yesterday that Jesus understands this feeling of dread. He experienced dread in the Garden of Gethsemane. <br />
<br />
Dread unlike anything I could ever imagine.<br />
<br />
But here's the key - and this is what struck me from Beth's teaching - Jesus knew what was coming for like YEARS before it actually happened. And he was still able to walk with confidence and purpose - free from the dread of what was to come. <br />
<br />
He wasn't paralyzed by it.<br />
<br />
In fact, he didn't allow Himself to experience dread until the night of His arrest - in the Garden of Gethsemane. That night He fell on His face before God and poured His heart out - His anguish and dread over what was to come and His fear of it. He even asked God to take it away.<br />
<br />
He asked God for X - but God was set on doing Y.<br />
<br />
It's safe to assume that Jesus knew before He fell to His knees and succumbed to the anguish in His heart that God wasn't going to give Him what He asked for. God had something else in mind. But Jesus cried out for it anyway.<br />
<br />
Seems like the act of begging for release - for something different than what is in front of you - is understood by Jesus. Acceptable to Him. Acceptable to God. It didn't offend God when Jesus allowed dread to overwhelm him to the point of terrible anguish and prayers for release. It wasn't sin. <br />
<br />
But there comes a point when the begging has to stop and you have to move forward. I've had a hard time getting to that place.<br />
<br />
I HAVE BEEN PARALYZED BY DREAD.<br />
<br />
The difference between Jesus' experience with dread and my experience with dread is significant to me because it's making me ask if at my core I continue to struggle with trust. <br />
<br />
Jesus trusted God implicitly and that trust allowed Him to pour His heart out to God, then settle it and move forward - without the answer He had hoped for. He understood that God's will had to do with a higher purpose... and He found hope in that.<br />
<br />
But I've had so much dread in my heart, there hasn't really been any room for hope. <br />
<br />
I know better. <br />
<br />
God's will for me may not be easy, but I can trust that He loves me, sees me and will be with me. I can hope that He will make something beautiful and purposeful out of the pain of my journey.<br />
<br />
I'm going to try to move out from under the power of dread and into the freedom that comes with hope and trust. And I'm praying... expecting... that He will meet me there.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-5196888540120490922011-09-19T09:30:00.000-07:002011-09-19T09:30:58.660-07:00SvenI'm currently in the middle of Exodus and the (let's be honest) EXHAUSTINGLY detailed descriptions of the building of the tabernacle. <br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
I know many, many people find the tabernacle fascinating. Me, not so much.<br />
<br />
Though when you think about the fact that these were ancient people... nomads... doing this detailed artisan work in the middle of a campground - well, that is pretty amazing. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm pretty much just getting through this section of Exodus. Glad I have my Beth Moore "David" bible study to work on. So, so good.<br />
<br />
On another note, some of you have asked so I thought I'd post a little update on my back - and use my blog as a way to process where I am with this right now.<br />
<br />
Ten years ago I was told I needed spinal fusion surgery for a herniated disc. I said no way (Hello... I had THREE babies at the time) and began trying other ways to get better.<br />
<br />
Chiro - FAIL<br />
<br />
Exercise - FAIL<br />
<br />
Inversion Table - FAIL<br />
<br />
Pain medications - FAIL<br />
<br />
Massage - FAIL (but feels great trying!)<br />
<br />
Yoga - FAIL<br />
<br />
Physical Therapy - FAIL (has helped, but unfortunately it doesn't change my condition)<br />
<br />
Spinal injections - FAIL (well, has helped some but again, condition is the same)<br />
<br />
Decompression Therapy - FAIL<br />
<br />
Prayer - ???? (jury's still out on this one)<br />
<br />
Yep, I've pretty much tried it all and quite honestly, if there's anything else out there to try... I'm not up for it.<br />
<br />
So, after ten years of struggle (and another little surprise baby boy) I find myself with a back that is now unstable. I have several degenerative discs (most of us do and it's not always a big deal - but for me it is) and likely fractures in my lower spine with a condition called spondylolisthesis. This means surgery. And not just any surgery. Spinal fusion surgery. A TWO LEVEL Spinal Fusion surgery. The very surgery I have worked to avoid all these years.<br />
<br />
When the surgeon made this clear to me a few weeks ago, I felt my old "friend" Anxiety/Depression creeping back into my life.<br />
<br />
I like to call him Sven.<br />
<br />
It's been a difficult few weeks with Sven hanging around. Makes being a busy mom of four rather challenging.<br />
<br />
To top it all off, I woke up a few weeks ago in the early hours of the morning to find both of my legs numb and heavy. <br />
<br />
Um, that's terrifying.<br />
<br />
My left leg came back to life right away, but I have struggled over the last five weeks to regain the strength/feeling in my right leg. This last round of injections has definitely helped, but the leg continues to give me trouble.<br />
<br />
I have hoped that I can put this surgery off another few years so that little David can be in school and protected from the trauma/drama of Mommy being out of commission for several weeks (more likely, several months). Plus, it'll be easier for me to recover if I don't have the pressure of caring for a toddler. <br />
<br />
We'll see how the leg fares and hope for the best.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, Sven's not so welcome presence has become more and more of a burden. <br />
<br />
I've thought (and been told by docs) that anxiety/depression is to be expected after years of chronic pain and with the disappointing news that I've gotten worse and not better. <br />
<br />
But even with the help of an anti-depressant, I've continued to struggle and have wondered why. <br />
<br />
Then, this weekend - in a Facebook conversation with one of my AMAZING physical therapists - I was hit with a truth that struck the core of me. <br />
<br />
She said (among other things), "I just hope you aren't looking at (this) surgery as failure..."<br />
<br />
This message came through on my phone as I was pushing my grocery cart through Wal-Mart. And all of a sudden... tears. <br />
<br />
Those of you who really know me know tears are rare. <br />
<br />
And these tears took me by surprise.<br />
<br />
She was right. <br />
<br />
I did (DO) see this surgery as failure. A personal failure.<br />
<br />
I feel like I have been unable to get better and so have failed my children - my husband.<br />
<br />
Wow. How broken is that?<br />
<br />
Once again, I am faced with my core struggles.<br />
<br />
Control. Perfectionism. Self-sufficiency.<br />
<br />
I have believed that I could fix this. I SHOULD fix this.<br />
<br />
Isn't it amazing how the belief systems that I created as the co-dependent child of an alcoholic continue to haunt me in my adult life? <br />
<br />
I have been through countless hours of counseling and recovery. <br />
<br />
I have read books. I have grieved. I have "let go."<br />
<br />
And here, in the middle of a completely separate issue, Sven rears his ugly, but very familiar head and catches me off-guard.<br />
<br />
Kinda like that monthly cycle that you always know is coming and yet you always find yourself "surprised" when it shows up (sorry, guys - just couldn't think of a better comparison).<br />
<br />
At 42, there's still that kid in me that decided it was her job to fix things at home. Make sure everyone was okay. Keep dad at bay.<br />
<br />
Now, the truth is that kid is a MUCH smaller part of me. I'm grateful for that.<br />
<br />
But I'm hoping for more. And I believe more is possible. I know God sees me and understands me. I trust that He will continue to work in me. <br />
<br />
I also believe that as He works, Sven's visits will come less frequently and have less of an impact on me.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I'm thankful for the insight of those around me that help me recognize the things I miss on this journey. Thanks, Maegan. <br />
<br />
I'm going to process this new revelation as I walk through what's next with my back. <br />
<br />
Be intentional about reminding myself I have no control here (something that is VERY difficult for me to do).<br />
<br />
Accept this journey as part of God's plan for me - even though I don't understand it. I really do trust that He will bring something good out of it. Not just for me. For my children. For my husband. Maybe for others as well.<br />
<br />
And I hope, as I walk through it, Sven will let go and move on. <br />
<br />
I've had enough of him.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-65691288842894484852011-09-16T05:41:00.000-07:002011-09-16T05:42:49.760-07:00Darkness That Can Be FeltJust finished reading the Great Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. I never get tired of that story. The boys have been reading it as well and it's been great discussion material. We've been wanting to watch The Prince of Egypt this week, but so far it's been too busy around here for a movie. Maybe this weekend. <br />
<br />
One of the things that struck me with this reading was "The Plague of Darkness." I noticed that when the Lord instructed Moses to stretch out his hand so that darkness would spread over Egypt, he called it, "... darkness that can be felt."<br />
<br />
Now, as a child I was never really afraid of the dark. I mean, I had a pretty wild imagination and I remember being afraid of crocodiles under my bed and giant spiders on my wall... but quite honestly, I had bigger fish to fry as a kid. The dark wasn't too big of a deal. <br />
<br />
But I see now that this was a different kind of dark. <br />
<br />
You could FEEL it.<br />
<br />
It was a physical darkness, yes. But if you could feel it, then it must have been darkness that was so deep and heavy the effect was also emotional and spiritual.<br />
<br />
And yes, I'm afraid of that kind of dark.<br />
<br />
It's the kind of dark that can crush you. Fear settles in on you and despair is quick to follow.<br />
<br />
You cry out but the darkness is like a vacuum and you're sure no one can hear you.<br />
<br />
I know that kind of darkness. I've experienced it. And so I can understand how this particular plague would've driven the Egyptians to a place of complete and total despair.<br />
<br />
I wish we could get an aerial view of Egypt at this moment in time.<br />
<br />
I can imagine what it might look like. <br />
<br />
Complete and total darkness with the exception of one small area. <br />
<br />
The Israelite camp.<br />
<br />
There - there was light. And hope. <br />
<br />
It was right next to them so don't you think that if the Egyptians could've seen it, they would have run to it?<br />
<br />
I would have.<br />
<br />
In the midst of my own seasons of darkness, I have found myself searching for light to penetrate the heavy, suffocating dark.<br />
<br />
And in every circumstance, it has always been right next to me. I just had to run to it.<br />
<br />
Jesus.<br />
<br />
He is the light.<br />
<br />
He is MY light. <br />
<br />
I still experience darkness. <br />
<br />
We live in a broken world and we are broken people so darkness will come.<br />
<br />
But His light always dispels the darkness.<br />
<br />
EVERY TIME I RUN TO HIM.Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7687272360482544627.post-74223223941168629002011-09-08T20:05:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:05:49.749-07:00Moses and MeSo, three weeks later and my Daily Bible Reading continues to inspire me to rise early each morning and have at least a semblance of a quiet time before the kids begin to stir. It's only about 30 minutes, but it's pretty much all mine and I cherish it.<br />
<br />
The chronological approach has been interesting. I'm in Exodus now and I love that what I'm reading corresponds with what Charlie is doing in our church's Bible Blast program each week. I don't think that will last long, as the kids skip a LOT of the "who begat who" and so on and so forth in order to move through the main stories over the course of a school year. But for now, it's been a good thing. <br />
<br />
This weekend we're hoping to have a movie night and watch The Prince of Egypt. We've all seen it before, but it's been quite a while and I love this movie. <br />
<br />
I find Moses' persistence when face to face with God amusing. He is determined to convince God that he's not really the best man for the job. <br />
<br />
God.<br />
<br />
The Creator of all things.<br />
<br />
The Holy One of Israel.<br />
<br />
The Big Guy.<br />
<br />
The Bible goes so far as to say that God burns with anger against Moses and at one point, He even moves in to KILL Moses, but Zipporah (Moses' wife) is able to obtain mercy on Moses' behalf and God backs off (the way she does is this well, a little wacky and far beyond the realm of what's considered "okay" these days - you'll have to read that for yourself).<br />
<br />
Crazy stuff.<br />
<br />
But I do that.<br />
<br />
Argue with God, I mean.<br />
<br />
God, you want me to homeschool? Are you kidding?!!!<br />
<br />
God, you're giving me another baby? Are you CRAZY?!!!<br />
<br />
God, you want me to say what? Give THAT?!!<br />
<br />
I wish I second-guessed God less often. I don't know that it causes Him to burn with anger towards me, but I can imagine that it hurts His heart. <br />
<br />
The funny thing is - like Moses, I don't so much doubt God as I doubt myself. <br />
<br />
Maybe they're one and the same?Kaysie Steelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04577245890095232960noreply@blogger.com0