“O Lord, You have heard the desire and the longing of the humble and oppressed; You will prepare and strengthen and direct their hearts, you will cause Your ears to hear, to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed, so that man, who is of the earth, may not terrify them anymore.” (Psalms 10:17, Amplified Bible)
Seven-year-old Juli smiled as the bus driver unloaded her wheelchair. Pushing her toward the house, I listened as she told me details about her school day. They focused primarily on her new best friend, Michele.
I met Michele one day while volunteering at the school. Her mannerisms were solemn and she appeared uninterested in the other children. Few words passed between us, but a perceivable longing within her spoke volumes.
Michele’s parents enforced rigid rules that hindered the girls from socializing much outside of the school setting. Juli has cerebral palsy; she is no stranger to rejection from other children and occasionally adults. This appeared to be one of those situations. My parental instinct wanted to step in, to shelter and protect my daughter, But something in Juli’s response—tenderness for her friend—prevented me from intervening.
During the summer we learned that Michele was a foster child. To our dismay she was moved into another foster setting. We were told we would never see her again. I realized how difficult the circumstances in Michele’s life had opened Juli’s eye to see Michele’s need for a friend. Motivated by this revelation, I prayed, not sure about what to do next.
From the beginning God’s hand was recognizably involved in reuniting us. I learned through Child Protective Services (CPS) that Michele was a victim of severe neglect and abuse. After a lengthy attempt to rehabilitate her biological parents, the parental rights were evoked, placing four children into the states care.
I could not understand why the door did not open right away for us to bring Michele permanently into our family. Within my heart burned a vision of taking her in. I found my “mothering nature” frustrated. The Lord led me to Habakkuk 2:3 (Amplified Bible), “For the vision is yet for an appointed time and it hastens to the end [fulfillment]; it will not deceive or disappoint. Though it tarry, wait [earnestly] for it, because it will surely come; it will not be behindhand on its appointed day.”
My initial contact with Michele was always through her case worker. Occasionally several months would pass by without any contact with her. During those periods I grew anxious with concern until I rendered the situation to God, throwing up my hands in surrender. This was the lesson He was teaching me—the process of surrendering. When I acknowledged Him as the caretaker to our relationship with Michele, the doors opened and we were united again.
Often I questioned if my efforts to influence Michele in a positive way were fruitful, especially when returning her to her foster setting after a lengthy visit. My evaluation of her progress was based upon my perspective, what I thought I should be seeing. But God’s perspective was different.
When I took my eyes off Jesus, in stepped depression and feelings of inadequacy. The Lord encouraged me to press forward, to stop limiting Him by what I saw and to exercise my faith. When I ventured too close to the point of giving up, He led me to Galatians 6:9 (Amplified Bible), “And let us not lose heart and grow weary and faint in acting nobly and doing right, for in due time and at the appointed season we shall reap, if we do not loosen and relax our courage and faint.”
After seven years of sponsoring Michelle, my husband and I became her foster parents—the first step to her adoption. Preparation for her adoption included reading her case history, The records revealed that almost immediately after her biological parents lost rights, God brought Michele into our life. So as Michele reminisces about the different people and foster settings (there were many), I remember them too.
Several years have passed since Michele became officially ours. Looking back, I understand why it was essential to trust in God’s wisdom and timing. While I perceived the years we had to wait as unproductive, God was silently preparing my husband and me to become Michele’s parents. At the same time, Michele developed bonds of attachment and trust with us. If I had forced my will upon my family, ignoring God’s preparations, the challenges we encountered after she moved in, would have torn our family apart.
Our family photo at Michele’s wedding: starting left; Juli, Erin (Chris’ wife), Chris, Michele, Eric holding Serenity, Jeff holding Trinity & me.
Instead of destruction, my family walks under a covering of blessing. We recognize the privilege God has given us. It echoes through the house while my daughters laugh, fix each other’s hair, and on occasion complain that her sister is being a is bother. It reflects through the eyes of a young woman who found herself a home—a family—but most importantly, a God Who lovers her.
MY FRIEND GOD By, Michele
A very large part of who I am, And what I can hope to be, May be found in the fact That You are here, In the lessons that You’ve taught me. You taught me to listen. You taught me to care. You taught me to laugh, to love and to share. You taught me that I’m never defeated, Until I give up and no longer try. To taught me to know that one man’s joy, Is another man’s reason to cry. You taught me that no one’s perfect— That no one always wins. And that everyone falls short sometimes And everyone sins. You taught me that You’re always here, That you care when I feel pain. You taught me that there, with every loss, Lay the seeds of a much better gain. I remember when I first reached out to You. Then I felt my torment end. I will always be grateful, always give thanks, To You… my God… my Friend.
A graphic Juliann made of our family going to one of our “Les Misérables” performances.
For Christmas last year, my daughter, Juliann, gifted me with a ticket to go with her to see the 2005 Broadway tour of “Les Misérables.” I was thrilled! “Les Misérables” became an integral part of our family in 1987, when it first opened in NYC, at the Broadway Theater. At the time, my husband, Jeff, was in Manhattan for a business trip and happened to catch the show. Inspired he called me later that night, full of sentiment expressing how “Les Mis” had worked his emotions from laughter to tears, describing the story and the music. Then he told me that he was going to buy the soundtrack and when he returned home, we would take an evening together, just the two of us, to drive around and listen to the beautiful songs. On night, that’s exactly what we did! Driving through the neon lit buildings down the streets of Dallas and Fort Worth, we pumped up the stereo submerged in Claude-Michel Schonberg’s award-winning score. Jeff told me what was happening with each song, and as soon as we were able, he took me to NYC, so I could experience “Les Mis” for myself. For years afterward, whenever Jeff and I visited Manhattan, we took the opportunity to go see “Les Misérables.” During one of those trips, we learned about, and began to frequent, the little coffee shop across the street from the stage door of the Broadway Theater, where the cast and crew members sometimes gathered. As soon as our children were old enough, we took them to the Broadway tours that brought “Les Misérables” to our cities. When my grandson Aldon was still a tender age, I took him to see “Les Mis.”
Aldon at Bass Performance Hall
Aldon is very musical and plays the trumpet. Jeff and I take him to a Broadway show every year, but so far, to date, “Les Misérables” is his all-time favorite. The day after we saw the show, he sat with me and watched the entire anniversary DVD with the original cast. Last Friday night, after Juliann and I had spent three months savoring our anticipation to once again, see “Les Misérables,” we entered Fort Worth’s outstanding, Bass Performance Hall, and were led to our seats. I couldn’t believe it when we discovered that we were only four rows from the stage! For all of my previous productions we always sat way in the back of the theater, which does have appeal because of the visual for the special effects. But for this performance, Juli and I would be able to see the performers expressions! As the house lights dimmed and the familiar stanza to the score filled the theater, the lights behind the scrim revealed chained prisoners rowing a ship. I sat back as the scrim lifted and melted into the journey that is “Les Mis,” allowing the cast, musicians and crew, to once again, transport me to Paris in the year 1832. The cast to the 2025 tour of “Les Misérables” is led by Nick Cartell as Valjean and Nick Rehberger as Javert. Both actors gave memorable performances that rose above and beyond what “Les Mis” fans have come to expect, particularly with their powerful vocals. David T. Walker, as the innkeeper almost stole the show, as he drew the audience to him with his cleaver antics that kept us laughing and watching to see what he would do next. Adding the bird to “this and that,” made the audience roar. Equally appealing was Vicotria Huston-Elem for her portrayal of Madame Thenardier. I especially enjoyed her use of a loaf of French bread as a prop! Lindsay Heather Pearce was the most tender, heart-wrenching Fantine I have ever seen. Her portrayal of the character, her tenderness and love for Cosette and contemplative rendition of “I dreamed a dream” made Juli and me cry. Kyle Adams, as Grantaire was another actor I kept my eye on especially during “Master of the House,” and at the barricades, where he drunkenly, stays beside his mates, despite knowing that he’s going to die. I was particularly moved as he held and wept for the fallen Gavroche. Since covid, there have been a great many changes to the presentation of too many classical Broadway productions. Sadly, not all of these changes have improved the quality of the shows. One in particular is the new staging and set for “Phantom of the Opera,” which is publicized as “new and revised,” when it should really be publicized as “stripped from its original splendor due to budget cuts that have changed the set and staging and significantly damaged the audience’s experience of the show.” I walked out of that show deciding never to pay for a ticket again. Then, there are the revisions to the beloved, classical Rodger’s and Hammerstein’s musicals, where the original scripts and scores have been so altered it’s difficult to recognize the original classic that theater goers have grown to expect and love. Noteworthy is the new rendition of “Oklahoma,” where audience members in swarms left after (or before) the first act ended and the word of mouth was, whatever you do, DON’T’ take your children to it! “Les Mis” too has been restaged, the most significant change for me is the removal of the original turntable. I first noticed this when I took Aldon to the show. But even with the loss of the turntable and barricades coming together in front of our eyes, the staging to this current “Les Mis” tour, directed by the talented Laurence Conner and James Powell, is masterful! Both directors have drawn from their cast “milked” moments that actually pulled the audience further into a scene. As a result, every song and each interaction became just a bit more memorable. The audience, packing the house, seemed to agree as they hooted, whistled and hollered after every song, momentarily causing the show to stop for an elongated pause. In writing about the talented ensemble, it would be a crime not to acknowledge the troupe of talented musicians, to whom without, “Les Mis” is nothing. The reason why musical lovers flock to this production is to become immersed in the music that most of us have memorized. It is the music that carries the audience through the journey and in this current production, the beautiful voices blended with the musician’s harmonics, staged by Geoffrey Garrant, do just that. I urge you, particularly if you have never seen “Les Misérables,” go and enjoy this current production. Take the whole family, dress up, go out to dinner and make a nice evening of it. The experience is worth the price of the ticket. Come and join the crusade of theater goers who have marched and raised their glasses to the anthem, “Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men…”
2018 It’s happened to Jeff and me before! We’re going about our everyday lives, filled with restful pauses and quiet evenings, then BAM! Captain America turns our world upside down! Mind you, we anticipate these invasions with great joy, planning ahead the things we will do.
Sometimes Cap morphs into the Hulk, filling our house with roars and grunts, Hulk smashing the furniture and floors. Last summer, he was the Flash, running through the house at top speed, slicing his hands in the air.
This Avenger Invasion is fueled by his father’s intense love for the Marvel characters, particularly, Iron Man. His grandfather, Jeff, joined in the fun by downloading an app for his cell phone, which allows Jarvis, from the Iron Man movies, to inform him when he gets a call.
Jeff & Aldon, ready to ride the bike trails
My husband outfits our Avenger, Aldon, with grandpa and grandson matching outfits that they wear when hitting the bike trails. They go on long rides, last summer accumulating over 200 miles! Together they stop at restaurants along the trail for a cool drink and rest.
Aldon, informed me last fall that he was tired of getting only Avenger toys for Christmas and would like Santa (yes, he still believes) to include a few Star Wars toys. So, we bought him a BB-8 bike helmet, along with Star Wars knee and elbow pads. The pads he no longer wants to wear.
Currently, Aldon sleeps in a Spider-man tent bed when he visits our house, which is during all his school breaks and summer vacation (Aldon lives in Mississippi). I secured pockets that attach to the rail of his bed, so he can stash his flashlight, Minion & Avenger toys and a thermos of water because he gets thirsty at night. For all his tough boy habits, he has a bunny nightlight, because he grew up with it in his Texas room and still finds it comforting. When he wakes up in the morning, he crawls in bed with me to cuddle. I hold him tight, putting up with his “morning breath” because I know these tender, little boy moments are numbered. He’s growing up so fast.
Aldon with my horse, Dude
Aldon loves my horses and has been fearless around them from the time he could focus his eyes. He also loves to ride.
Every summer, since he was a little sprout, I take him to Six Flags Over Texas. We eat brisket nachos covered with cheese, cotton candy, and ride our favorite roller coaster, The Texas Giant, over and over. He also loves driving the Antique Cars and prefers that I sit in the back seat.
As we walk through the amusement park fond memories of all the years that Jeff and I bought season tickets for our children come to mind. I know the arrangement of the park well. Not much has changed with the layout since my kids were young. Some of the rides and stores are new and different. It’s such a joy to tell Aldon, “Your dad loved this ride too when he was a little boy.”
Shopping at Lowes.
Yesterday we worked in the garden. I took him with me to Lowe’s to purchase plants. He loves to dig in the soil. That afternoon we took a break to take the golf cart, Rodeo, to the stables to brush and turn out the horses. While we were brushing them, I was told that my future held a rousing game of Candy Land. He claims that he’ll win, but I replied, “I don’t think so!”
Later this afternoon, I’ll take him to swim at the YMCA while his grandpa plays racquetball with a friend. On our way home will pick up carryout for dinner. In two days, we’ll send him home back to Mississippi. He much prefers taking a plane versus enduring the ten-hour car ride (one way) it takes for me to pick him up in Mississippi.
As soon as our Avenger leaves to go back to Mississippi, our house will settle. But my heart will ache because my love for him is so strong. I’ll busy myself, wiping away the dust, washing floors and fingerprints, scrubbing his bathroom clean and packing up most of his toys. I always leave one or two still out, because it makes me feel close to him.
For three years now, I’ve driven passed this tree without giving it a second thought. Then one winter when it was freezing cold, when all the tree branches were bare, this tree caught my attention for the first time. I began to notice this tree in relation to the scattering of other trees growing around it. Curious, and with this article in mind, I parked my car and got out for a closer look.
I discovered that all though this tree is “different” in appearance compared to the majority of tree’s growing in this park, it is also perfectly healthy. In addition, it’s a fruitful contributor. It produces oxygen and provides homes for wildlife. It’s also pretty to look at. In fact, based upon the condition of some of the other trees growing around it, this tree is a top performer.
It’s lower branches are gnarled and growing close to the ground. One even extends along the ground for several feet. This tree doesn’t have the physical form we’re used to seeing. It’s different. It’s unique, yet despite looking different, this tree performs the same tasks all trees were created to perform and its doing its job well.
This tree has determination to survive! This is what drew me to it in the first place. Minus its spread of lovely leaves, I can see its struggle. I hear its story!
During the sapling stages of its life something bent this tree over, pressing it down. But instead of succumbing it the pressure, it continued to grow, becoming stronger and stronger. Eventually its branches became so thick and strong, it could sustain the weight of adults and children. While sitting on one of its low branches, I feel the desire to explore, thinking how much fun this tree would be to climb.
I’ve seen others sitting on the lower branches too. Enjoying a shady rest from the scalding Texas heat. Sometimes they pause long enough to eat a snack, evidenced by the discarded, plastic cup seen in one of the pictures. Frankly, this gnarled, odd-looking tree seems to be everyone’s favorite because of its accessibility, the comfort it provides, its strength, and uniqueness. This tree reminds me of my daughter, Juliann.
If you’re reading this article… I thank you! I’m also guessing that most-likely you are a mom to a special needs child. Simply because I have been told by many medical professionals that 99% of the children they see are accompanied by their moms. But that was over twenty years ago, so, if you’re a dad, I thank you even more, for the reason stated above and ask that you not be offended if it seems like I’m only addressing women. I’m not. It’s only because my story is delivered from a woman’s perspective.
Juliann, Andy & Chris in 1985
As I began writing about my life and motherhood, a sudden flood of memories laced with lessons I learned, inundated my brain. Lessons, that years ago I felt strong inclinations to share with other parents who might be facing similar circumstances as mine. My children’s needs ranged from physically handicapped, to gifted, with both of my boys having extreme ADD with hyperactivity.
My husband and I were also adoptive, foster parents, which opened our eyes to the effects of physical and emotional abuse in children and adults. In addition, I personally, have struggled my whole life with ADHD and Dyslexia.
My hope and purpose in writing this story is to offer as much encouragement as I can to other parents facing similar circumstances. To impress upon you that you are notalone in raising your special child! You are not alone in your emotions, your inner, unspoken thoughts, your isolation and the immensity of your load! Let me address your unspoken thought first…
Years ago, a counselor told me that feelings are just that—only feelings! They are neither good nor bad, it’s what you do with your feelings (how you act upon them) that matters. In a nutshell, you are not a bad person or parent because of the way you feel. And if you’re just beginning your journey down this road called special needs and can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel… I’m here to tell you, that light is there!
Juli with my husband Jeff
When I was first struck with the realization my child had significant physical differences, I felt as if I had crossed an invisible line, into an unknown world that was extremely frightening. No one else in my life was raising a child with special needs. I quickly learned that my friends and family members couldn’t begin to comprehend what I was facing.
Overwhelmed, and alone, I felt as if I was standing at the bottom of a huge mountain staring up at the top. I knew I had to climb to the summit but seriously questioned my abilities to so. Two conflicting emotions tormented me. One, I loved my baby with all of my heart. The second, and real zinger; I absolutely didn’t want to face raising a child that with special needs and a future that was unknown. In the beginning, I wished the years away, wanting to be instantly transported to the summit of that mountain. That place where all of the questions and unknowns were revealed.
My journey began with a seriously complicated pregnancy only two months after my second son, Andrew, was born. My complications resulted in an early amniocentesis, which revealed that my baby was a little girl. My husband and I were thrilled! We had our daughter and we named her Juliann (Juli). I continued to have complications throughout the pregnancy which climaxed two months before Juli’s approximate birth date. I was hospitalized, which was very difficult because I had two little boys at home. Finally, two months before Juli’s due date, she was delivered.
After raising my two boys, Chris and Andy who had just turned one, I immediately suspected that something was very wrong with Juli’s physical development which was severely delayed. Almost a year after she was born the diagnosis came—cerebral palsy. My head swam the moment I heard the words. In an instant I was propelled, for the rest of my life, into this world labeled handicapped. There was no way to escape, no way to determine the extent of Juli’s disability nor whether or not her cognitive skills were affected. She was a little bundle of mystery and the love of my heart.
Still, I did not want to raise a physically handicapped child! I can say that now but was deeply ashamed of this secret, inner truth that I never shared with anyone for several decades.
Interestingly enough, daughter’s physical differences opened my eyes to how prejudice a person I really was. As a child, growing up in the latter years of segregation I never understood social prejudice. I was also submerged in the arts, my family a collection of professional artists, musicians, my mom an award-winning singer and actor, dad a television and radio broadcaster, all within Cleveland, Ohio where I am from. My artistic family and my own endeavors as a child actress and ballerina had also taught me to not to judge someone else’s lifestyle. But the moment the word handicapped was attached to my life! I ashamed to say, that was a different story!
Juli with my horse TJ
Accepting my new state of being did not happen overnight. It was a process of multiple steps that continued throughout Juliann’s childhood. The beginning step was the hardest regarding acceptance that Juli needs would be different. My submission began while holding her tiny body close, kissing her infant hands, singing her songs, realizing I would do anything to keep my baby safe. Her needs took dominance over mine, and even though I didn’t want to manage cerebral palsy, I knew that I would do anything I had to for my daughter.
Immediately following Juliann’s diagnosis, she had further testing to give us a better understanding of her specific, physical needs. These tests became my second step. For the next twenty years Juli and I would have multiple doctor appointments, tests, surgery, equipment purchases, the first being form adjusting highchairs, walkers, wheelchairs, scooters and standers to stretch her hamstring muscles, as well as weekly occupational and physical therapy sessions. Just before she turned two, Juli had to wear glasses and an eye patch. It broke my heart, making her do this. Not just because she hated them, but because I hated covering up her adorable face. However, this treatment turned out to be excellent! By the time Juli was in the fourth grade she didn’t need to wear glasses at all.
At five years old Juli underwent a serious operation called a Dorsal Rhizotomy, which resulted in the severing over half the nerves in her lower body. Lifelong complications have resulted from that surgery, leaving me riddled with guilt wondering if I had made the right decision, despite an extensive team of physicians at Dallas Medical Center telling me this was her best option. We were part of an experiment, and I have since learned that the procedure is no longer done.
Throughout most of her childhood, Juli wore braces that wrapped around her feet supporting her legs, running up to her knees. As she grew, we had to have new braces regularly made. When she turned twelve, I supported her decision not to wear them anymore and to stop using the stander, which she hated. Next came the purchase of her first, motorized wheelchair, which meant purchasing a van with a wheelchair lift.
Before going forward, let me just say, that with each new step regarding Juliann’s development and physical needs, I went through a process or cycle of emotions. Here’s an example of what I mean, using the purchase of our first van with a wheelchair lift.
For some reason buying that van was, for me, the straw that broke the camel’s back. I hated it! It was a bulky huge vehicle and driving it frightened me. In fact, Chris named it Europe, because of its size. But the van was a necessary piece of equipment need for our entire family—for Juli.
Here’s the example of the process I went through: 1. Knowing that the van is necessary 2. Angry that the van is necessary 3. Purchasing the van 4. Angry that I absolutely had to learn how to drive the van 5. Mastering my driving skills (although Juli and her brothers endured (and still endure) bumps over curbs and the denting of quite a few handicapped signs when I park the van. 6. Acceptance (and may I add that we are getting ready to purchase our 3rd van!)
Whether it was the need for glasses, braces, surgery, medications, walkers, ect., I went through this cycle. Sometimes several times over a span of several years, before finally reaching acceptance. I’ve learned that this cycle is similar to the cycle a person experiences when dealing with grief; you experience, Denial—Isolation—Anger—Depression—Acceptance.
Juli’s physical and occupational therapist at her elementary school connected me with the most caring, heartfelt people, who not only encouraged her, but came to love her. These people were an essential source of support and information for me. They made my journey less frightening and steered me in the right direction, sometimes urging me to take action for events (such as SSI benefits) that would take place years in advance.
When Julu left the nurturing care of elementary school, to enter a far more demanding environment of middle school, she wasn’t prepared for the necessity of independence. Also, she had a difficult time connecting with special education staff. I took her out of the “heat,” and homeschooled her.
Homeschooling was something I had been thinking about doing for about four years, but didn’t have the nerve! But honestly, the experience in most ways was wonderful. The only drawback was I lost my social life because my mornings were immersed in the kids’ education; my afternoons booked driving them around to their specific activities; music lessons, sport practices and games; computer and speech classes, and theater productions my son Andy was in. And I found myself falling into an exhausted heap in the evenings.
Within a matter of two months after I pulled Juli from the public school, one by one the boys asked me to homeschool them too! Thankfully, the resources I needed were easily accessible. My children didn’t miss out on any activities or interaction with other kids their age. Lessons that I couldn’t teach such as advanced math concepts and chemistry; the kids learned through video programs that I purchased. Today there’s a rich supply of available homeschooling programs online.
When it was time for Juliann to enter high school, she and Andy both asked to be mainstreamed back into our public school system. (Chris had graduated from homeschooling and joined the Air Force as a Mandarin Chinese linguist.) During Juliann’s senior year, she spent her afternoons at a collage close to our home, working on a degree in graphic design. By the time she graduated from high school, making the dean’s and honor roll lists, she knew the college campus well.
Juli’s high school photo. She wanted them taken at home with our horse Roo. I put molasses on her arm so Roo would keep his head near her.
At this point Juli was handling herself on her own. She graduated from her associates degree and moved to live independently in Dallas to pursue a Batchelor of Arts degree, also in graphic design. She maintained her honor roll, dean’s list status with both degrees. Yet, to our shock, even with an outstanding portfolio and honorary status, job hunting and social discrimination met all of us head on.
Juli & me at her graduation from The Art Institute of Dallas
The most prominent issue was when Jeff drove her to a place for an interview and there were no entrances for a wheelchair. We discovered that potential employers were drawn to her stellar website and portfolio, however, and there’s no other way to say it—they were repulsed by the wheelchair. The moment they set eyes on Juli, even though she was well presented, and came with stellar recommendations, they changed their minds about hiring her.
The worst instance, that still make me upset, was the company that actually hired her based on her work. They asked Juli to get a drug test, then come to the office so she could meet her new coworkers. I drove Juli to the facility they recommended for the test. She looked beautiful, happiness and joy radiating from her face. Both of us were very excited as I drove her to the office, dropped the wheelchair ramp on the van, and sent her on her way, feeling great joy at the fulfillment of so many of Juli’s accomplishments.
However, moments later, Juli swiftly returned to the van. Red faced and on the edge of tears, she told me to quickly load her and get the hell away from that business.
What happened; as she entered the business, she was greeted by shocked faces. The men and woman didn’t realize that they had hired a woman in a wheelchair. Instantly they huddled in a corner, talking about Juli, glancing her way. Juli knew that they were talking about her and felt immediate shame. Finally, one of them walked up to Juli and told her there had been a grave mistake and they couldn’t hire her after all.
A recent photo (fall 2024) of Juli meeting my currant mount, Fly Guy
I sat in the van seething, fighting the strong desire to go into this place and slap American Disability Act in their face. Juli beseeched me not too. Understanding her need to get away from those people, I drove away. Sometimes you simply have to walk in forgiveness.
Now that Juliann is an adult, my husband, Chris and I are constantly on call, concerned about her safety. Three times Juli was hit by a car, as she was crossing a busy Dallas street to access the train station home. Amazingly, by the grace of God, she was unharmed, however, her wheelchair was totaled. One woman didn’t see her, ran a red light and send both Juli and her chair to the ground.
Occasionally her wheelchair breaks down! Leaving her stranded in Dallas (as well as defenseless). There are also the times when she’s waiting for the train, and a creepy person is too close. She calls us, and one of us stays of the phone with her until she’s safely on the train heading home. Home and my husband and I are an hour away from Dallas.
Then there was the time when she was on her way to school, and at the train station, a homeless man tried to pull her from her wheelchair, stating he was going to throw her in the street and kill her. But that’s a story for another time.
Jeff and I gave her advice and watched her positively worked with the Dallas DART system to control the homeless people, and drug addicts living in elevators that she and some of her coworkers must access every day. The process took several months. Jeff and I supported her at a meeting with the DART council, to thank them for the changes they worked earnestly to fix. This all happened in the wake of Covid 19.
Today, Juliann is 39 years old. She eventually found a wonderful job with Bank of American and after almost ten years still works with the outstanding company. Home for her is now close to ours. The drawback is she travels has to travel an hour commute (both ways) to get to work in Dallas. She is happy and although Bank of America didn’t hire her for graphic design, they have learned about of her talent in graphic design. Just before covid, Juli was given an artist’s computer and special cubby hole where she can work on graphic projects the company has been giving her.
Juli did the graphic work
As I look back upon my children’s upbringing, there are so many things I would like to have done differently. But I have to remind myself, that, at the time… I did the very best I could, with the abilities I was given and the tools that I possessed. That’s all any of us can do really, our best.As parents, especially women, we need to remember to take care of ourselves, the same way we take care of our children! A little fact that gets brushed under the carpet while juggling our family and work life (I also worked while raising my kids). An important lesson that I learned was that I couldn’t give to my family what I myself didn’t have to give. In other words, if I didn’t have patience when handling my kids, my kids in turn were impatient.
In Texas, the foster care system understands the importance of this need for rest. So much so, that they pay for parents to take short, overnight respites away from their house and children. I understand that leaving for the night isn’t an option for some people, finances and childcare being the main reasons. Still, everyone needs a break, especially if your raising children with special needs. Find the time and make it a priority. Search the internet for creative ideas. Most importantly, learn to discipline yourself concerning these times! Meaning don’t talk about or mull over in your mind, your children’s issues. This time is for you and your partner! Remember, even Jesus sought moments of solitude and rest.
Just a few days before December 2004, Juli and I went on a mother & daughter outing. Part of our day included dropping by a jewelry store to get her Grandmother Kissell’s wedding ring restored. While we were there, I made a comment about an exquisite diamond and emerald necklace I saw. To my utter amazement, Juli bought it for me!
Sometimes in the disappointment of an unexpected tragedy, a miracle is birthed. Such was the case with Alexandra’s wedding, which took place several years ago. The wedding was set within the lush Botanical Gardens, in Dallas, Texas. Buses pulled in front of the atrium dropping off my husband and I along with many other guests, two hundred in total. All of them relatives and friends who had traveled from all over the United States and Canada to attend the event.
But as we entered the reception hall, we were shocked to see a stark, bare room, unembellished and quickly learned that the caterer had assumed the wrong date, leaving Alexandra, her husband Mark, and all of the guests without a party. A very troubled Father-of-the-Bride paced the floor in desperation.
Instantly, concerned guests congregated together and organized into committees. Cell phones buzzed as we searched for the quickest, most accessible restaurants and food stores where supplies could be purchased. Alexandra, Mark and their parents were instructed to concentrate only on the actual wedding and to leave the reception to us.
As the wedding ceremony drew near, three groups set out in pursuit of the supplies we needed to quickly create a Cinderella reception. One group of men focused on purchasing drinks, while another tracked down dozens of pizza parlors. A group of women, including me, dressed in our evening gowns and high heels, invaded a nearby grocery store. We literally emptied shelves full tablecloths, paper plates, cups, napkins, plastic utensils, tea candles and bag after bag of assorted chips and other snacks, tossing them into our carts.
We arrived back at the reception hall carrying our wares and unloading them on a table. Immediately the other guests flocked around the table to help. Several women ripped the plastic from the paper tablecloths and began covering the tables. Several others established an area to the side of the room for drinks and snacks. Fortunately, the florist had arrived delivering the flower and arrangements were set on every table, along with candles they had brought. In less than a half hour, while the wedding party posed for pictures in the garden, oblivious to the flurry of activity taking place in the reception hall, the room looked as if a fairy godmother had transformed it.
Someone noticed that we needed more ice. So, my friends and I, now heady with glee, went back to the grocery store. We called ourselves, “the fifteen minute wedding planners.” When we returned with a carload of Styrofoam coolers and several bags of ice, we discovered that the men had also set out for the same purchase. An orchestra had arrived. They were seated at the head of a dance floor, instruments tuned and ready in their hands. I ran up to the balcony where I could overlook the whole scene. Marveling that within the past hour, every single one of Alex and Marks guests pitched in out of love, sharing heartbreak over the caterer’s mistake, and together as a unified team reversed the tragedy into the most amazing wedding I have ever experienced.
From the balcony I watched the bride and groom with their wedding party enter the reception hall. Expecting a gloomy scene, they were stunned when their eyes beheld a beautiful room full of ecstatic guests and dazzling tables. The congregation of guests applauded the Bride and Groom as the orchestra serenaded them into each other’s arms. Shortly afterward, the appetizing smell of pizza drifted through the room and if you can imagine, there were enough pies for over two hundred people to have their fill with plenty of leftovers.
The mix-up with the caterer was indeed a tragedy. One that Alexandra’s mothers still finds difficult to talk about. Memories bring back that moment of pain that comes with unfulfilled expectations. Yet the guests, who dearly love this family, will always remember how desperation united them with the ability to reverse the pain of calamity.
Alexandra and Mark will face challenges in their lives, as every married couple do, but the difference is that they know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that their family and friends will always be available to help and support them in their times of need. In the ugly face of disappointment, hope pierced through the darkness, encircling them with love.
We have a tradition in our family that when someone we love leaves our home after visiting, we bestow upon them what we call, a Traditional Carlos. A Carlos is nothing more than a wave that is maintained until the car of our guest(s) has driven out of our sight. This tradition was established back in the 1970’s by Jeff’s brother, David.
The “Carlos” became part of our family in New York City where David lived. A good friend of his, named Carlos, established it. When it was time for David to go home after visiting, Carlos walked outside with David and waved. He sustained the wave as David walked down the sidewalk and disappeared down a stairway leading to the underground Subway. This was how Carlos honored his guests, his way of expressing how important his friend was to him. David passed this lovely tradition onto our family; in turn, Jeff and I passed it onto our family.
Christopher on the day he graduated from bootcamp
The passage for years has taught me that the joy and anticipation of waiting for a loved one to arrive, far surpasses that moment when you kiss them goodbye. This knowledge tenderized my heart when my son Chris left the safe embrace of our home, to join the Air Force. I learned the lesson a new when my son Andy joined the Navy. Today, that same ache fills my heart whenever Andy’s son Aldon leaves. At the moment my heart is tender because we just sent him back to Mississippi. And as my husband drove down the drive onto a winding road, I waved a Carlos, until our car to disappeared from my sight.
Retreating into my house, I sought my computer, where I could be alone with my thoughts and the pain throbbing in my heart. Too fresh is the memory of my grandson’s embrace. I still smell traces of his cologne. My house is full of reminders of him, little gifts he has given me throughout his visit; notes he’s written. Now it’s time to be grateful too his sweet mom and dad, who so freely entrust him into our care. He must be released, like his dad, aunt and uncle before him.
Andy & me at his graduation from bootcamp
Strange are the mysteries of life as they unfold… In my youth, I learned to mold myself into a parent, changing my focus from me to my children. Then one day my children transitioned into adults, and I sought after the Grace to release them into the world. All the time, hoping that I had performed my job well enough for them to fly on their own. Fly they have!
I’m carried back to the first Christmas Chris was home, after serving in the Air Force. This was before 911 struck and we were able to join our loved ones at the airline gates. Jeff, Grandpa Kissell and I went to see Chris off. Once Chris boarded the plane and was out of sight, I saw tears come to Grandpa Kissell’s eyes. His outward display of emotion embarrassed him, but his words echoed my own thoughts, “He’s the first!”
When Aldon left our house this morning, he didn’t know that his Uncle Chris was waiting for him at the airport, to surprise him. Nor did he know that, Chris was planning to fly back to Mississippi with him, to surprise his daddy (Andy). They’re on the plane right now…
Aldon at the stables with our barn cat, Bob
This summer, as a family we have gorged ourselves on laughter, good food and outings. Aldon and I rode my horse Dude and went to Six Flags twice. I took him swimming and he rode bikes almost every night with his grandpa Jeff. We celebrated the 4th of July, his birthday and Grandma and Grandpa Kissell moving to Texas to live with us. Always, when we gather together as a family, we reminisce over the past, reliving fond memories while discarding the bumpy roads that came our way. We hold each other close, clinging just a little bit tighter. How painful that moment is when you kiss a loved one goodbye. The pain is strong, because the love is strong. It is in that moment of departure when your love is the most exposed.
This morning, while giving my grandson a Carlos, I felt a swirl of these emotions. After retreating inside the house, I let my tears flow. Oh, how the well of emotion tugged at my heart! Yet, there was stillness in the moment. Comforting stillness… And in that stillness, I saw the gift I was given… It hovered over me, as well as within. The moment I acknowledged the gift; it seemed to swell and radiate a soothing light. I grasped it with the hands of faith, holding it close to my heart so the light could fill my soul.
Another memory!
I’ll hang on to this one for a while and let it continue to tenderize my heart, before placing it in my treasure trove of other fragments of time. Marveling, how one little boy can completely melt my heart…
