Showing posts from June, 2012

Teach us to number our days...

In recent months, I have been following the blog of Emily Rapp.  Her son, Ronan, is not quite two and was born with Tay-Sachs Disease - another genetic disease that is fatal with no known cure.  On Thursday, she posted a poem that let her readers know Ronan was near death.

This morning, while reading in Psalms, one verse leapt out at me: "Psalms 90:12 - "So teach us to number our days, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom."  Emily treasures every moment with Ronan and seems to always fully embrace the knowledge that her days with him are numbered.  Sobering to think that some days we might miss the opportunity to love or live because we don't  "number our days."

It can be sad, and often is, to think that your child is slowly dying.  That knowledge also forces a parent to number the days - to be wise about the way we live and what we do with our time, and how we view the hours we spend with our family and friends.

This last week, we attended our fi…


Yesterday was Lacy's 34th birthday.  He tells everyone he is 65, or 58, or 45 depending on how he feels that day.

We had a huge party for Lacy on Friday, with family and friends in attendance.  He had a great time, and was very happy.  When we sang "Happy Birthday" to him, he grinned and rubbed his hands together.

I was remembering the spring and summer we brought Lacy home to live with us, and a song that will forever remind me of that time.

We met our son one cold afternoon in February of 1982.  He was sitting on the wooden floor, in front of a big picture window.  The sunlight on his white-blond hair created a halo around his head.  Lacy Alan was three years old.  He sat there, spinning a pair of scissors and laughing at the motion.   We sat down on a sofa fairly close to where he was playing.  When we said his name he froze, and stared at the wall.  Kenny and I didn’t make a move to get closer to him at that time, but just stayed where we were, talking briefly to hi…

"Different" In a World of "Same"

Kenny and I live in a beautiful neighborhood.  Two large parks grace our subdivision, and there are several lakes that are open to catch and release fishing.  Last night, there was an annual Father's Day campout in the oldest of the parks.  Tents were pitched among stately trees, children and fathers sat in front of campfires.  Our niece and her children pitched their tent there, too, and we sat with them until the children were asleep in the tent and the noise and music had begun to die down among the other campers.  This is a friendly place to live.  Neighbors watch out for each other, and enjoy the social events held throughout the year.

We have fairly strict rules in our subdivision, and that is part of why we like living there.  There are construction guidelines.  The houses do not all look alike, but the size and materials are similar within each phase of the development.  Trees line the streets, lawns are well-maintained, and landscaping in the front of the homes is dictate…


Life goes on all around us.  The morning sunrise is beautiful, warm spring  breezes fan my hair when I walk Lucky.  Kenny and I went on a bike ride this morning, and it made me feel like a child again - free, wind whipping my hair, flying - but because I am not a child, I was pretty tired when we got home.

Not feeling that cloud of dread over me today, as I have so many days in the last few weeks.  I woke up this morning, and began thanking God for all the blessings we have.  So many to list, but the biggest one: Thank you for my life.

I have a job I love.  I feel so alive and my mind seems so sharp when I am with my colleagues.  I am thankful for the people I work with and for.  They are the best anywhere, and so kind and caring toward me and my family.

Kenny is blessed with a job few can do, but he does it so well.  He was born to work in hospice.  He is naturally kind, a great listener, and his touch is gentle and healing.  He sees his work as an opportunity to give people good da…

A personal battle

Yesterday, I took Lacy Alan to his psychiatrist.  Kenny and I had decided that we would always both try to go to these appointments, but that wasn't possible yesterday.  So I arrived at Lacy's apartment an hour before the appointment to get him there.

He was very fatigued and could hardly open his eyes, but he was in a good mood.  I promised him a trip to Sonic after the appointment and he was happy.

Everything was going so well...I should have known it wouldn't be this easy.

On the way, Lacy began to ask if we were going to see "Doctor James" who (in Lacy's mind) is his "new" doctor.  All the other doctors he has have been arrested and put in jail - at least that is what our son believes.

Once we arrived at the appointment, "Dr. James" told Lacy to just stay in the car.  And there he stayed...calmly waiting with his hands folded in his lap...turning every few minutes to confer with Dr. James who seemed to be located right outside the ca…