Going for a Walk with Kepler

Mom (walks into the family room): Kepler, would you like to go for a walk?

Kepler (engrossed in iPad): NO. (pause) Walk? Yes!

Granted, the park is only 1/4 mile away, but with his little legs, it's either walk AT the park, or walk TO the park. So, we rev up the engine and drive over to the park.

I wouldn't be surprised if there was at least one person at the park who was judging me for taking notes on my phone. But, what's a blogger to do?

Going for a walk with Kepler

Notice the pond

Wave to the ducks

Look for rocks to throw into lake

Realize all rocks are cemented into ground

Balance on curb, holding mom's hand

Stop at three way intersection

Choose most intrepid path

Hear crying child, show concern

Jump

Hold hands with mom

Admire the clouds

Exalt at the sound of the birds

Shuffle feet on path

Stumble and go down on one knee

Kick mean rocks that caused fall

Notice sound of dogs barking

Take detour down path to bird blind

Command mom to stay put

Allow mom to continue walking

Gleefully fling rocks into woods

Stop to peek in hollow log "Hewwo?"

Whip a stick into the woods

Joy at the dog run

Offer self up for a good licking

See a bench

Sit on a bench for one second

Run up the path all the way to the top of the hill

Express wonder and awe at sight of playground

Climb around

Express wonder and more awe at sight of friendly dog and friendly dog family

Go off trail and bushwack up the hill

Reach saturation point for enthusiasm

Explore what is in and under the leaves

A few smiles

OK we can go, can I please have a hug?

By which I mean, you can carry me back to the car, thanks.

Hugs and kisses all the way back.

Going for a walk with Kepler

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F is for Forgiveness

I'm experimenting today with a shorter blog post than normal. Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

On our way home from Australia many years ago, we stopped at Yosemite for a couple of days. I'd never been to the western US before, let alone seen the marvel that is Yosemite. We spent the evening in the Mountain Room Bar. The thing that kept us in the bar wasn't the alcohol (we were teetotalers at the time), but the soundtrack playing, Don Henley's The End of the Innocence, which had come out just a couple of years before.

Henley's song, The Heart of the Matter, resonated deeply with me. Go here to see Don sing this song.

The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again
I've been tryin' to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about...forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore
Ah...these times are so uncertain
There's a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?
(partial lyrics to The Heart of the Matter) 

I'm with Don. I think it's about ... forgiveness.

I grew up in the Christian church, so I had been hearing about forgiveness since my earliest days. I took a long, long time to recognize that without forgiveness of myself, there was no way to accept forgiveness being offered by anyone else, human or divine.

Indeed, I had wondered why I didn't "feel" forgiven when I had heard this message at least a million times. Another aha moment when I figured out that until I was willing to accept and forgive myself, I could not receive the acceptance and forgiveness of others.

The power is immense in the question, "Will you forgive me?" and the answer. "Yes." It's much more powerful to add that question to the words, "I'm sorry." (I'm sorry I am unable to remember the source where I read this information the first time. Will you forgive me for posting without attribution?)

How about you? Have you forgiven yourself? For being human, for being imperfect?

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Everybody is I

The daily process of finding today's topic, based on a letter of the alphabet, is highly enjoyable just by itself. The added benefits of daily posting, making new blogging friends, and the satisfaction of participating in a community event are just cream cheese frosting on the chocolate cake of my life.

When I was a girl riding along in the family station wagon in the backseat, I used to occupy my mind with a little game. As we drove by a home, with warm lamplight illuminating the front room, I would often glimpse a solitary person sitting, perhaps watching tv, perhaps reading, and I would be astounded once again by the thought that this solitary person had a life, with preferences, interests, dislikes, relationships, and promise. Every time, I would have this big "Aha!" moment as I connected with the truth of the bigger picture.

Years later, while reading my favorite The Growing Up Pains of Adrian Plass, I came across this phrase,

Everybody is I

And that pretty much summed up my childhood game (which I have continued with). Everybody I meet is the "I" of his or her own life. Everybody I meet has interests, a past, relationships, favorite foods, a broken dream or ten, needs, and an entire internal landscape. To the degree that I remember that,  I am empowered to offer kindness and compassion to people I cross paths with each day.

Do you have a similar phrase, one that is meaningful to you? In what ways have you had the experience of realizing that everybody is I?

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D, of course, is for Down syndrome

Down syndrome came into my life one evening in early January, 2006.

Before that day, I was obliviously clueless, unaware of just how much I did not know, blissfully unconcerned and uninterested. Remembering that about myself reminds me that others who are not intimately connected to someone with Ds are generally not intentionally offensive, rarely anything other than unaware.

Down syndrome came into my life in the form of a eight-pound twelve-ounce boy, born at home, and very slow to breathe his first breath.

Before that day, I gave no thought to health concerns of those with Ds, no moments of consideration of what it is like to be a parent or sibling of a child with Ds. Remembering that allows me to heap compassion upon myself for all that I did not know, and heap compassion on others for all they do not know.

Down syndrome came into my life, turning the occasion of the birth of our fifth child, into a week-long hospital stay and a great crisis of acceptance. I had always thought of myself as someone who would not be a good mother to a child with special needs. And then that was me.

What is Down syndrome to me?

A quick smile.

Trampoline aficionado.

Lover of music and film.

Delays in expressive language.

A unique individual, full of potential and possibilities.

A year of doctor visits to monitor a blood condition.

A longer season of those cute language mistakes children make.

Great appreciation for electronics, especially iPads, and laptops.

Eyes that needed a surgeon's scalpel to look straight ahead together.

The attention span and interest to take pictures of anything and everything.

Noticing and remembering and celebrating which groceries are the favorites of each family member.

A preference for teeth clicking and vocalization through humming while concentrating.

A capable boy with plenty of hugs and kisses to share.

Weeks and months and years of speech therapy.

A true cuddle bunny.

Soft hands.

A precious gift.

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The More Things Change, The More They ... Change

James is a dreadlocked, young AfricanAmerican, with the clear muscle definition of someone who practices what he preaches. James is my personal trainer. I really like working with him. The area in which I trust him the most is the design and implementation of a session. The area in which I trust him the least is in remembering what I have expressed about why I want certain times of day, or certain days of the week for regular sessions.

In February of this year, I made a decision to discontinue scheduling any morning appointments for myself, be they personal training, or social, so that I could be at home while Kepler is at home. From what I read, he may be easier than most kids with Down syndrome, and is pretty calm and easygoing. It took me some time to recognize what benefit there would be for him for me to be at home in the mornings before he goes to afternoon kindergarten. 

I suppose I like (the illusion of) control as much as the next guy, and I used to think that I was in control of so much more than I really am. When Kepler was born 7 years ago, my graduate program in LIFE started, and one of the key curriculum features has been the constancy of change. This subject requires a great deal of attention and study time; the tests are frequent and unexpected; and the professor is different every day. 

I figured the graduate program featuring Kepler was as much as i could handle. But that pesky professor keeps sending me other opportunities to be flexible, adjust, and embrace change. 

I have told my personal trainer (more than once, I tell you) that my desire is to have two sessions per week, about three days apart. We have had to reschedule many appointments due to my own illness or travel, or the illness of one of my kids. But, throughout, I have consistently said that two days a week, in the afternoon, is my preference. I had to miss last Friday due to another illness, and was so looking forward to finally getting to my scheduled session today. Then, this morning at 5 am, he texted me to ask if I have any available time for a session on Thursday. Yes, I say, why? He will already be at the studio Thursday morning and would like for my session to coincide with that, which means he is canceling for today. More  boring blah, blah, blah here, ending with me saying I will see him Friday afternoon. 

He has no memory of my comments about afternoon? About Wednesdays being great days for me? About the problems with mornings? 

And once again, the land beneath me shifts unexpectedly, and I decide to shift as well. First, I fall as the ground shifts, and have to reorient myself. But then I adjust to this latest illustration of the the constancy of change that is actually a pretty amazing part of life.  

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A to Z Blog Challenge: B-B-B-B-B

Long, long ago, like maybe in 1974, Sandra Boynton started drawing greeting cards which featured clever, whimsical, joyful animals, and I loved them right away. Years later, my children and I were browsing in the Cincinnati Joseph-Beth Booksellers, and I spied the cover of a book called Philadelphia Chickens which bore her trademark characters.


 
Deep in the midst of childrearing as I was, with my own chickens 9, 8, 7, and 4, I appreciated children's books at that time as much or more as the great classics of the ages.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that Philadelphia Chickens was actually a book of songs, which included a CD. Not only that, but the CD featured people like Kevin Bacon, Laura Linney, and Kevin Kline (and more!) singing clever, catchy, creative songs. Impulse buy, schmimpulse buy. This was not to be missed. It had me at hello.

When I heard Sandra was going to be coming to this very same bookseller for a guest appearance a few weeks later, I cleared the calendar to make sure it was the highest priority for us that day, night, week, month. Oh, how she did not disappoint.

Some people appreciate Beethoven. Beethoven is great, actually, but Boynton is really something special. In the 11 years that we have owned this CD, our entire family has enjoyed these joyful songs hundreds of times.

From the cows in the first song, to the philadelphia chickens (you're not gonna keep 'em down on the farm), to the pigs in Pig Island, this CD is a treasure. There's a lot of bad news out there coming at us every day, and Sandra Boynton does her part (and considerably more) to bring a joyful perspective on life. If you've never heard Philadelphia Chickens, time's a-wastin.

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A to Z Blog Challenge: AAAAAAA

I was just minding my own business at 430 this morning when a tweet sang out on my phone. I don't always wake up, but this one did wake me. From my online friend, @Cynthia__Reed: "I'm doing the April A to Z Blog Challenge 2013. Today: "A"! One down, 25 to go! http://t.co/AAexQ8xen5" plus a few hashtags.

Ooh, I thought to myself, tell me more! And in no time, I had joined the blog roll (#1780) of bloggers who are taking the challenge. Today's topic: "A."

While I lay there still MMOB, I thought of Australia, Anna-Jessie, Able, atheism, art. Later, assumptions, Alaska. My blog has been about a lot of different topics, but ultimately, most of the posts are my musings. This month will continue in that vein ... unless it changes.

That dictionary (right up there) has been with me since college. It may have been Greg's originally, but college it was. I am writing about the Actual Dictionary. Wait! Don't fall asleep yet!

Ione Skye's character in Say Anything had a large dictionary in her room. John Cusack's Lloyd Dobler sees the dictionary and is even more intimidated by her intelligence when he thumbs through the dictionary and sees notes she has made on every page, learning the words. (None of those ACT flash cards back then!) I love that scene, because I have always appreciated the dictionary.

Every entry has the word in bold, divided into syllables right there, then followed by those cool little marks to illustrate the pronunciation. And then the fascinating etymology of the word. Although i rarely, if ever, commit the etymology to memory, I always find it illuminating to see how it has made its way through several languages to its present form. And, finally, the definition(s).

You know what it doesn't have, my old dictionary that has "hackle" through "phosphate rock" separated from the binding, the one that doesn't even have an entry for "email," let alone phishing, iPad, sexting, man cave, or energy drink? About twenty five extra complications on the page (see below).

Dictionary.com does come in handy all the time. Percent of time I have my phone in my pocket: 100%. Percent of time I have my dictionary in my pocket. 0%.

The Actual dictionary is a treasure. No matter how many new-fangled words they come up with, my old dictionary fills a need. I can look up any of the newer words on my phone app (as if there is much need to look those types of things up these days when we are bombarded on every side with information), and I'll keep my dictionary as a reminder of something basic, something simple, something that still works in the original format.

I'll close with this quote by Steven Wright.

I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.

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