In His image.

I have always desired, on varying levels over the years, to work with children that have special needs. This desire grew even deeper inside of me when I was pregnant with my little boy. The Doctors told us, at 13 weeks into my pregnancy, that the chances of my child having special needs were very, very high. They encouraged me to consider all of my options, including abortion. My heart is one that will only consider life, plus I am a firm believer that God does not make mistakes and that my journey through this life is in His hands completely-whatever may come, so for the remaining 25 weeks of my pregnancy, I prayed and prepared myself for a child with disabilities. We all know how this story ended, and I won't turn this blog into that story any more than I already have, as that was our journey and it's a bit...private...and painful. However, now that I am home again and have felt this desire still in place,  I have been volunteering in the Special Needs Ministry at our church to give back what little that I can, and it's been pretty great so far.

Today I was able to take part in the ministry's annual Christmas Ranch Party. When my kid and I pulled into the iron gates of the farm, I didn't know what to expect, but I had something lurking deep down in the quiet place of my heart; fear.  I was bringing my two year old with me, (alone, as my husband is in the middle of presentations at the church until tomorrow night) and he is hyper, loving, and extremely "hands-on" with all people, whether he knows you or not. This has caused him to get pushed down on more playgrounds than I can count, has brought tears of "they no play with me mommy" when he tries to interact with older children and they say those super cool I'm-5-and-better-than-you-in-my-light-up-shoes-and-yours-are-just-lame-velcro words of "ugh...baaaaabbbiiiiieessss." I hate to hover over him, and most times I don't, I let him figure out things on his own until it escalates and I have to step in to school an older child on manners and how hands are not for shoving, but today, when I parked and he ran straight for the bouncy house filled with teenagers, I panicked. These were children that would not be able to help their actions. These were children that I would have no idea how to redirect if things were to get handsy. What would I do? Would my child hurt any of them? He can be rough, and he's a wildcard at times with his crazy movements (think of a constantly dancing and jumping about creature with arms flailing like mad, usually with heavy cars in them. That's him. That's my boy.).... And so, right as I saw my child's tiny foot disappear under the tarp to let him into the bounce house, I sprinted full steam ahead, ready to drag him out. Instead....I was stopped short, as all 7 teenagers within, whom I believe were all Down's Syndrome minus perhaps 1, stopped bouncing. They sat down. They clapped for my child. They hugged him. They called him their friend. And then they all hugged some more. And I? I did my best not to cry as I sat down and just watched what I can only describe as....love...surrounded my boy.

It was the same story when I took my son on the hayride. We were with a few of the kids that are in my Sunday morning class, so they came up and sat beside my boy and I on the hay bales. They handed him hay so that he could feed the cows first, coaching him on how to hold the blades and then hugging him when the cows ate greedily from his little hands. Come to think of it, I don't think any of them fed the cows, they were too busy helping my son, clapping for him each time that he giggled and high-fiving each other every time the cows came near us.

These children that society deems as the underdogs are really the opposite-they are better than us. When I think of how God loves us unconditionally, well, honestly, I struggle with that as it's a tough concept to fully grasp, but these children get it way more than most of us ever will. We are all made in His image, but we could take a page or two from them on how to love each other well, as Christ loves us. These children are beautiful, and I am humbled tonight, in more ways than I can express.

This bear must have a cub. I get it. I have a coffee this size in my hands daily too.

Clowns. MacPherson's not into them. 

Labor'ing

Labor Day weekend + a work-free Scott = Mini vacation to Saint Petersburg Beach for a few days. I'm not mad about this.

Here's our view, and a kid checking it all out from his front row seat:

My boy and I ran up and down the beach all evening one night, his blond curls lifting up into the air and falling down around his face with every heavy toddler step he took. The attention we (fine....he) received from everyone nearby gave me all of the validation I need to now make this an official fact, not an opinion: My kid is cute. He's also faster than me, and can run almost as long as I can before tiring. Can I get an athletic scholarship say what?! Here are some calmer beach shots from the daytime, as my phone was not on me during our evening workout.

"OHHHH, hey little blond girl." After this girl was spotted, I couldn't get my boy to even look in my general direction for almost an hour. UH. OH.

One of my favorites. Daddy Scott and his boy, headed out to the sandbar.

Sunset. No fish; the only things we caught were pictures. 

Saturday morning we awoke to a pretty heavy rain storm, leaving us stuck lying around being lazy. However, after the storm, this sprung up. Dang. God is good. I have a thing for rainbows-they remind me strongly of promises and new beginnings. And, they're really pretty.

The hotel had two pools to show off our fierceness in. You're welcome, guests of the Alden Suites Beach Resort.

One more sunset. 

Now, back to reality. Meaning, time to go to Publix.

Trusting

We moved back to Tampa a year ago last week, just for the record. If you collect or record records.

Last night I received a call from a girlfriend back up in NYC. This is a girl who daily encouraged me, for seven years straight, with my quest to make it as an improv performer or as a sketch writer, and for a brief period of time, as a Hand Model (don't laugh, I have great, child-like hands).  I was dreading her question. The question that I knew was on her mind but that she was footing gently around. And then, right as I was breathing in the receiver to make it sound like we had a bad connection (seriously, this trick does not work, don't be me) so that I could avoid the turn in the conversation that I saw coming at me like a freight train, she asked. "So are you still pursuing any of your dreams down in the South?" Crickets. A long, long line of crickets passed between us. I was hoping she'd hang up. She stayed on the line. "Not really" was all that I could finally say.

I'm struggling currently to even know what my dreams are. Do I still want to act? That book that I've sketched out about my time in NYC, which is currently sitting only halfway written...do I really want to finish it? Do I seriously want to go back to school to pursue a Masters in Special Education? I'm 33. I should have my life figured out. Or maybe that's just what the enemy wants me to think. Maybe he prefers my heart to be in a state of discouragement....

"Trust me" These two words. I keep hearing them. Continually. "Trust me." I hear them in my heart when I'm having a bad day, when my son is acting a fool, when the car won't start, when our search for a house of our own falls short, and when God's hand seems to have disappeared. "Trust me." My husband reminds me to have Faith. To trust that God is leading us somewhere great, he reminds me to look at what God has already done for us in just the past year alone. He's a better person than I am. Don't get me wrong, I'm excellent at being able to look back at events in my life and point them all towards God-I know full well what He can do and what He has already done. It's in the here and now, when my questions are many and my answers are few, that I struggle.  I guess that's why I have been brought to this place. To learn to trust.

So...my dreams. If I were to be 100% honest with myself, I would say that my current dream is to just be a mom while the kids are small. I want to raise my son in a home that is filled with love, books, building things and then breaking them down with fast moving tiny cars, baking, and zero deadlines on my end. I worked full time for the first 15 months of his life, and I hated being away from him, hated every second of it. When he begins school, I would love to then return to the classroom, and be focused and driven once again.  But not until that day arrives. I think I have feared saying this aloud (i still haven't..loophole since this is in writing only), because in a world filled with so many women taking over the business world, this fact made me sound, in my mind, lazy and outdated. But this is my heart. It's what I want most, and in time, God will restore my story with a way to be creative. I trust that.

 So yes, I guess I AM pursuing my dreams. The dreams have just changed, the dreamer has not.

By the way, this is what it looks like on my end when I write a blog; send me coffee: 

Tampa in May

I'm going to start this entry by going back in time to the month of July, 2010. This is when events began in our lives that would forever shape and change us. The timing for all of these events would soon line up perfectly. Some might say this would be a coincidence, but not us.

To begin: In July, Scott and I decided that it was time to makeadababy. We were not expecting it to happen so quickly, but it did. Pretty much immediately. Knowing many dear friends who are struggling with conception, I say this almost in a bittersweet way. I knew that we were among the lucky, but this was the EXACT time that was ordained for us. We now know why.

Right before I went into labor, Scott's father went into the hospital. (Jim DeVore was diagnosed with Wegener's disease back in 2003. For information on this, you can check out this site: Information on Wegeners.) Jim has occasional Wegeners flareups which have recently required more hospital visits and was in the hospital for several weeks prior to our due date. This meant that neither he nor Scott's mother were able to fly up to NYC for Mac's birth.

Scott's mother Linda posted on Facebook about it saying: "I love April. My roses and lilies are blooming, and days are breezy, sunny, and beautiful, punctuated by wonderful thunderstorms. And after a hospitalized March of sepsis, emergency splenectomy, VTach, and defibrillator, Jim is home to enjoy April with me."

Because of this, we decided that once our son was born and given the clearance to fly, we would head down to Tampa to show him off properly and introduce him to his grandparents DeVore and the rest of our family who love him so much. We got the OK from the baby Dr. and away we went with our 6 1/2 week-old baby on a plane. He flew like a pro. If only we all could have a giant comfy lap to sleep on for our plane rides....

Let it be said that we have never traveled to Tampa in May. We usually visit for Christmas only. The sole reason for our visit was to show off our new baby boy. Our plan was to stay for two weeks and then head back to New York to begin our search for a new apartment (we are moving in a couple of weeks to a bigger place with a little more space for playing and crawling.)

Our two weeks in Florida was spent almost entirely with our families. We usually try to spend time with as many of our friends as we can when we are in Florida, but this time, neither one of us had any desire to do so. We saw almost everyone that we loved at once during MacPherson's Tampa baby shower at the DeVore's home, and it was wonderful.

The remaining days were solely spent with Buckmasters or DeVores. The final event is a rather simple one, but it would have the most effect on this story. Two nights before we were scheduled to leave, we went out to an evening movie with my brother David and his wife Kallie. They live in Lakeland which is about a 45min drive from N. Tampa where Scott's parents live. Because of this, on the evening of May the 27th, we did not get home until late and therefore were later in getting MacPherson to bed.

In Tampa we had usually gone to sleep around 9pm. This evening, God needed us awake at a later time. Around 11:15pm, as I was rocking our son to sleep and feeding him one last time, we noticed a light come on in the hallway. Some time later we noticed the light still on so Scott decided to get up to get us a drink and turn off the light, and that's when he discovered his father who had had a stroke in his home office in the next room. For me the world seemed to stand still. Scott woke up his mother and tended to his father. 911 was immediately called while they stayed with him assessing his condition.

Throughout the night at the hospital his body grew weaker and weaker and he suffered a massive heart attack. This would be the end of his life here on earth. All those years of dangerous, risky, harmful and necessary medicines to treat this rare disease had taken their toll. As he lay breathing his lasts, the entire family was there, even his 87 year old mother Janet. Shortly after, James Antrim DeVore Jr. entered into the gates of Heaven.

So many small details which seemed insignificant at the time all lead up to one much larger, God-drawn picture. Jim DeVore was suffering. We all knew his time was going to come sooner rather than later. If we had to have picked a time for his pain to end, it would've been in a situation such as this, when all of his sons could be present and when help would be called in the moment it occurred. We try not to even let our minds comprehend what would have happened to Jim had Scott not immediately been by his side. That would have been a horrible evening of waiting and pain and suffering for Jim, and an unthinkable morning for his wife Linda and the family. God knew. God is good. He was faithful to all involved. He made it easy for a faithful humble servant man to come home to his great reward.

I leave you with an encouragement, or at least I hope to: On Jim's office door hangs a plaque containing part of a verse from the book of Isaiah in the Bible. It simply reads "The Lord will guide thee continually." The verse goes on to read "he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your bones. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."  Today, Jim's bones  have been strengthened. He will never know pain again. His heavenly body will never fail him as his earthly one had for so many years here on earth.

My sweet friends, remember that even when you do not see His hand, it's there. Guiding you even in the most mundane bits of life. You may not believe but he is still there, waiting, watching, loving you. He has a perfect plan for us all. And I am thankful.

 

Wegener's

Kidney failure is the ailment du mois. Last month it was pulmonary issues, or was it heart related? No one can seem to figure it out.

This is how it goes with Wegeners Disease or Wegener's Granulomatosis

A description:
Wegener's is a rare, potentially life-threatening form of inflammation of the blood vessels, called vasculitis.
This inflammation damages the walls of small- and medium-sized arteries and veins. The damage interferes with normal blood supply to nearby tissues, causing tissue in many parts of the body to be injured and destroyed.
Three areas in the body are affected most commonly — the upper airways (including the sinuses, trachea and nose), lungs and kidneys. Kidney damage affects 80% of those with Wegener's, but in many cases, this damage is mild and does not cause any symptoms. In about 20% of people with kidney damage from Wegener's, however, the damage is severe enough to cause symptoms of kidney failure caused by an inflammation of the kidneys. Less predictably, Wegener's granulomatosis involves other organs, including the eyes, ears, skin, joints, heart and nerves.
Although the exact cause of the inflamed blood vessels of Wegener's granulomatosis is unknown, research suggests an autoimmune disorder, an illness in which the body's immune defenses mistakenly attack the body's own cells and tissues. In Wegener's granulomatosis, this misdirected immune attack is aimed at the blood vessels, triggering inflammation and damage.
Wegener's granulomatosis is rare, affecting only 11 in every 1 million people each year in the United States. Although it has been reported in people of all races and age groups, it typically affects middle-aged Caucasians, usually beginning at about age 40 to 50. It is slightly more common in men.

So here it is. This is what he deals with on a daily basis. Whether it be incredibly painful joints that even Vicodin can't relieve or sleepless nights from the pain or regular hospital visits because of "flareups" or failing organs, these are the breaks.

This is the time in your life when you are forced to think about relationships, the future, the past, and the possibilities. The reasons for suffering are unknown to us but planned by the Almighty God. Is it a test? Is it punishment? No. It is simply part of a greater plan. One that started ages ago and has a victorious ending. So, that sounds great and all but what about my father today? What about my mother who loves him? Am I selfish to ask for his recovery because it's what I want?

"God please forget what you had in store and just help him. This is what I think is best and you should do it".

Or rather,

"God I know you know what you're doing. You allowed this to happen. You created pain so that there can be joy and darkness so that there can be light. I give you glory God, no matter what happens. I have given my life my future and everything involved to you. Use it."

Faith can move mountains right? Can my faith cure this disease? Can I have so much faith that God will hear me and reward my faith by curing this disease?

Yes.

Please pray with me that My dad, Jim DeVore, will be healed and able to live his life normally. Pray for a simple and effective treatment. Pray for the doctors minds. Pray that God will show them something new about this disease. Pray for my mom who is by his side as they wonder what will happen.

Thanks,
Scott

Old Language, Still New

Via Origins Church, NYC:

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Be Thou my Wisdom, Thou my true Word
I ever with Thee, Thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, I thy true son
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one
Dwell in me
Dwell so richly in me
Be Thou my battle-shield, sword for my fight,
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower.
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power
Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance now and always
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart
High King of heaven, my Treasure Thou art.
Dwell in me
Dwell so richly in me

Faith like a child

Today while walking my class to their favorite home away from home, the gym, one of my boys saw a sign being held by a homeless man stating "God isn't real, give to me and not the church." My boy looked confused, but I didn't think anything of it, because he is naturally a deep thinker type with odd facial expressions, until we crossed the street and he reached out to take my hand. He says to me: "Mrs. DeVore, that guy is SOOO wrong, and do you know how I know?" "How" I asked, holding my breath for the answer, because really, with 7 year olds, you never really know...."because, the Bible is thousands of pages long, and who would waist their time writing that much stuff if it wasn't even true?!" His face was one of pure horror and shock combined. I thought for a minute and then all I could say to this 7 year old with wide eyes was, "good point love, good point."