Fighting Special Needs Parenting Fear

Fighting Special Needs Parenting Fear

by | Oct 28, 2015 | Different Dream, Grief, Spiritual Support

Fighting Special Needs Parenting Fear

Guest blogger Rebekah Benimoff is back with a post about fighting special needs parenting fear. The kind of fear that pounces in the middle of the night and catches us unaware. In the post she shares what she’s learned about fighting special needs parenting fear so she stays strong for her children.

Fighting Special Needs Parenting Fear

Why do these things always seem to happen in the middle of the night? 

I wake at 4 am for a routine check of my son’s blood glucose levels and discover that the insulin pump stopped working four hours ago. Bleary-eyed, I muscle through drowsiness, giving a shot of insulin to bring down a blood glucose level of almost 600… and wait. I restart the pump; it kicks back into gear.

I pray and wait.  Every hour, on the hour, I check blood glucose levels and pray.

Mid morning the pump shuts down again. It’s apparent that this time the pump will not re-boot. After a conversation with the insulin pump company, a new pump is sent out. I find an older pump, stored in the pantry as a back up, and continue to check Blood Glucose levels hourly,  “correct” high BGs via syringe. Late in the afternoon, the “substitute” pump stops working…

and I panic.

I have back up “24 hour” insulin on hand, but as we have not had to actually use this type of insulin in years, I am unsure of dosage. I call the endocrinologist’s office and wait.

And wait.

Wait to see if he’ll switch over to “shot therapy” til the new pump arrives, or simply be admitted to the ER and hooked up to an IV machine. Nervous energy streams through me and I grasp at housework to burn it off… but it doesn’t help. I feed my youngest and prepare for the worst-which at this point I believe would be the trip to the ER; a long night spent seeking stability.

Fear is rampant… until I recognize the battle.

A trip to the ER is not the worst that could happen. Not my preference, but still not The Worst. For the first few years after my son’s diabetes diagnosis, I lived in fear that my precious boy would die. I tried to reason with myself, to talk myself into believing all would be OK, but fear cannot be reasoned with.

Fear must be fought.
 
When life becomes an emergency, I tend to panic first, then pray. Today I was urged to grab my Bible and pray scripture over our situation. Ephesians 1:2 reads May God the Father and the Lord Jesus the Anointed surround you with grace and peace. (The Voice Translation)

Oh, how I need peace in these moments. I pray: God, grant me peace; I ask you to calm my heart, so I will hear your voice speaking Truth. May I turn a deaf ear to the enemy and walk in YOUR plans and purposes for me- even if this includes that which I would not choose.

Words from an old Bible, binding worn ’til pages fell out, are secured to my bathroom mirror that truth might wash over me daily, granting comfort and courage when I begin to fall apart.

Psalm 91:1-5  

1He who takes refuge in the shelter of the Most High

will be safe in the shadow of the Almighty.

2 He will say to the Eternal, “My shelter, my mighty fortress,

    my God, I place all my trust in You.”

3 For He will rescue you from the snares set by your enemies…

4 Like a bird protecting its young, God will cover you with His feathers,
will protect you under His great wings;
His faithfulness will form a shield around you,
a rock-solid wall to protect you.
(The Voice Translation)

 

Prayer and God’s word form a double edged sword which slices through my fears, as I choose to take refuge. When I recognize anxiety, I raise the battle cry- “Help Me Jesus!” I find shelter, as I pour out every fear, every concern. It helps me to visualize an altar- a place to lay to rest my anxieties. I release, let go, breathe deep of the safety God’s presence provides. Then I picture God joining the battle, fighting off the enemy of my soul, speaking the truth–”This one is Safe in Me.”

I seal the alliance with powerful words of hope: “When I am afraid, I will trust in You.”

Psalm 56: 3-4
  When struck by fear,  

I let go, depending securely upon You alone. 

In God—whose word I praise—in God I place my trust.

I shall not let fear come in!

(The Voice Translation)

~Just Me, Secure in the Lover of My Soul

How Do You Fight Special Needs Parenting Fear?

Do you battle special needs parenting fear? When does it strike? What weapons do you use to combat it? Leave a comment. To read more about Rebekah and her family visit her website at Just Me, Mama.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Rebekah Benimoff is the wife of a husband with PTSD and the mother of two young men, both of whom grew up with medical and special needs. She blogs at In the Chaos…. and In the Calm (justmemama.blogspot.com).

Author Jolene Philo

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A Gift of Grace: Paying It Forward

A Gift of Grace: Paying It Forward

by | Jun 1, 2015 | Different Dream, Grief, Spiritual Support

A Gift of Grace: Paying It Forward

Guest blogger and storyteller Scott Newport is here with the story of a gift of grace and paying it forward to honor the memory of Grace Akers, a child with special needs who recently died. You may want to grab a tissue…just in case.

A Gift of Grace: Paying It Forward

“Hey Officer, can I ask you a question?”

The day I asked that question I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and there was a magnificent sliver of a moon just outside my bedroom window. As I stepped onto our front porch, the moon stared at me as she rose above the treetops. I took a second look, hoping she might give me a nod.

It was a clear April morning here in Michigan and it was so reminding me of new life. Chirping wrens were popping like an ensemble of happy flutes. Their tune, floating like bouncing butterflies from the neighbors outstretched willow tree, made it seem like the day would surely be okay.

At ten o’clock my iPhone sent me a reminder. I had almost forgotten I had a conference call at eleven o’clock with a few people around the country who had experience working with children who have genetic conditions. I told my co-workers I had to fly and I hurried home to use the phone alongside my computer.

When I finally connected with the Region 4 Genetics Collaborative conference call, the facilitator Kristen spoke up. “Did someone else just join us?”

I replied, “Hey guys, it’s Scott from Michigan.”

I became part of the collaborative a few years back because my son Evan had a genetic condition called Noonan Syndrome. My boy lived seven happy years. He never spoke a word but his zest for life was unmistakable and his smile was like a song. Participating with this advocacy group helps me give back.

During our conference call, the group was informed that Grace, the sixteen-year-old daughter of Jennifer, one of our members had died. Jennifer works with Family Voices of Indiana and has a gift for helping other families. The first thing on the agenda was a request being passed on by Jennifer and her husband.

“Grace’s parents would love it if you would pay it forward with a Gift of Grace,” we were told. Even though I don’t know the family personally, I know their pain and had to hold back tears for the rest of the meeting.

After the conference call, I drove my white Ford work van to McDonald’s to get a Diet Coke. After I paid my $1.06, I asked the guy at the drive-through window, “How much does the police officer behind me owe?”

“It’s ah…….. $6.47.”

While the cashier stood there with a funny look on his face, I said, “Could you tell the cop I really appreciate his community service?” This was the first time I had ever paid for someone behind me in a drive-through lane. I was obviously an amateur.

As I pulled away from the restaurant I peered through my side door mirror. I was a bit puzzled by how long the cruiser stayed at the pay window—that is, until that evening when I told my daughter about the gift of grace, and what I had done at McDonald’s.

She giggled and said, “Dad, that’s how it’s supposed to work. You see, when you pay it forward at a drive-through, it’s common for that person to then pay for the car behind them.”

“You mean he was using his own money for someone else’s meal? That’s like paying it forward, right Chelsea?” I said.

“Yea Dad, that’s the hope.”

“Wow, I can’t wait to tell Grace’s family their daughters’ life has even made an impact up here in Michigan.

Before I end, I guess I should tell you the question I asked the officer I referred to at the beginning of this story but I won’t. I will tell you that when I walked up to his patrol car behind mine, he immediately reached down to his side. I guess it was for his gun or maybe a taser.

Reflecting back now, that moment reminded me how folks didn’t often know how to react to my son Evan because of his short stature and widely-spaced teeth. When out in the community, strangers would often step back and protect themselves by avoiding our family. They just didn’t know what to say. Having a child with a genetic condition brings many challenges, including isolation. I would guess that maybe Grace’s parents had similar experiences.

I hope now that that cop may have a different view of a stranger just walking up to him in the midst of a drive-through line. I know it may be kind of a stretch but maybe, just maybe, the gift of grace was working then too.

gift of Grace Susan Akers Grace Susan Akers (May 6, 1998 to April 12, 2015)

Passing Along the Gift of Grace

In memory of Grace Susan Akers, I encourage you to pay a gift of grace forward sometime this week.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Scott Newport is a carpenter who has a vision for unwanted, damaged wood. His finds are treasures to his soul. Each discovery he makes unfolds into a beautiful piece of furniture for which he finds a home, usually with a child or caregiver of a child with special needs. He writes about the life lessons he learns from his 3 children, especially from Evan who died in November of 2009 after 7 years of joyful life. To access all of Scott’s guest posts, click on the magnifying glass at the top of the page and type “Scott Newport” in the search box.

Author Jolene Philo

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May Again: Memories of the Good, the Bad, and the Lovely

May Again: Memories of the Good, the Bad, and the Lovely

by | May 28, 2015 | Different Dream, Grief, Spiritual Support

May Again: Memories of the Good, the Bad, and the Lovely

It’s May again, my favorite month. Filled with birthdays, spring flowers blooming, cornfields awash in new life, turning the countryside in our state a most delicious green.

May is also my least favorite month. Filled with wrenching separations, fading lilac blossoms and tulip petals blowing in the wind, not to be seen for 12 more long months.

May, for me, is a tangled mess of memories.
Some of them very good.
Some of them very, very bad.
Some of them lovely enough to take my breath away.

The good…

The good memories are so very good.

May 11, my father’s birthday, was a day of celebration and rejoicing at our house. Dad acted like a kid on every birthday, demanding the biggest piece of cake and an extra scoop of ice cream. Oohing and aahing over the same presents we gave him every year–Aqua Velva aftershave and Kentucky Club pipe tobacco–as if they were the most marvelous gifts in the world. Dad had a way of making his children feel very, very good.

Our son, our firstborn child, came into this world on May 23, 1982. I can still close my eyes and see his tiny perfection the first time I held him. A head full of dark hair, a head round as a pumpkin, wide-set eyes, a long upper lip just like my father’s, his rosebud mouth, and his daddy’s jawline and chin. I can see my husband’s smiling face and feel the joy we shared was good. So very good.

To read the rest of this post, visit the Not Alone blog at specialneedsparenting.net.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Jolene Philo is the author of the Different Dream series for parents of kids with special needs. She speaks at parenting and special needs conferences around the country. She’s also the creator and host of the Different Dream website. Sharing Love Abundantly With Special Needs Families: The 5 Love Languages® for Parents Raising Children with Disabilities, which she co-authored with Dr. Gary Chapman, was released in August of 2019 and is available at local bookstores, their bookstore website, and at Amazon.

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Special Needs Aftermath: Joy Amidst the Sorrow

Special Needs Aftermath: Joy Amidst the Sorrow

by | Dec 11, 2014 | Different Dream, Grief, Spiritual Support

Special Needs Aftermath: Joy Amidst the Sorrow

The special needs aftermath of birth and diagnosis is the subject of guest blogger Brittany Miller‘s post today. She describes how she and her family came to terms with their third daughter’s special needs diagnosis, how they eventually found joy in in their sorrow.

Special Needs Aftermath: Joy Amidst Sorrow

After months of waiting, she is finally here. The beautiful little bundle of pink bliss I carried for 9 months is now in my arms and she is wonderful. Pregnancy has a way of seeming like one long drawn out party. Everyone is excited for you, admittedly you may get little spoiled and so many want to know about what is going on in that little party in your tummy. Sure there are times of discomfort, even sickness. Yet it passes and you do not care, because enduring this means a little life is coming.

Then birth happens, and the hectic blur of the aftermath; happy tears, family visits, introducing baby to her siblings, doctor and nurse check ins and monitoring, and then at night when the world is fast asleep, you finally have a moment alone with this little person you love so much and have dreamed of for the past year. She is here, she is beautiful. Life seems perfect.

Wait, what seems different about her? Why is her right eye not opening? Her left eye is, and no, doctors, it is not because she is tired or swollen from birth. I have had children, I know what newborns are like. And nursing is not catching on, she seems confused or distressed. The nurse and lactation consultant keep reassuring me that eventually my little baby will catch on but a premonition in my mother heart knows something is different about this child. Well mother’s intuition is real, and a week later I find myself in a pediatric ophthalmologist’s hearing words like”

microphthalmia,
blindness,
possible implant,
neuro,
loss of function.

Not the joyful news we wanted to celebrate. Then six weeks later in the midst of the Christmas season, seizures begin.

ER,
children’s hospital,
new dreaded diagnosis,
lots of tears,
and praying for acceptance.

All of this seems like a bad dream, and somehow we try and look for the sunlight amidst weeks and weeks of rain. A new life is here, not just a new baby girl, but a new life

of doctor’s appointments,
every specialist under the sun,
medications,
seizures,
more seizures,
missed milestones,

not to mention taking care of my other children and trying to explain why our world has been turned upside down. Everything seems ruined but at the same time this little girl is so sweet and wonderful that everything seems more special. It is a hard, difficult time but among this stress there is also glimmers of hope. This special child had changed everything, and we all have to adapt.

How do you talk to your children, especially young children, when the trials of life come up? None of us go unchastised. We all have difficult tribulations that come in many forms, and we all have to find a way to deal with them without confusing our children or instilling fear. How do we talk to them, and still maintain their childhood innocence and sense of security? As a mother of three girls, and one child with special needs and a life-threatening diagnosis, this is what I have learned.

Special Needs Aftermath Lesson One

Be honest. In a world where adults shoo real feelings and conversations under the table, keep it real. Your children trust you, look up to you, and times like these find it scary or uncertain. Of course you do not need to give them every grown up detail, but it is okay to let them know that things are not perfect right now, and that it may be hard but we are hopeful. I have always shared with my girls the truth, in an age appropriate way. They need to know that our family can withstand some trials, and that we are all in this together, happy or sad.

Special Needs Aftermath Lesson Two

Show them love and security. When life’s trials hit, we need to make sure the little ones in our charge know that they are still loved, even when the hardships are not about them. It is so easy for us to have tunnel vision and focus on the loved one needing the support right now, that we may unknowingly neglect the siblings on the sidelines. No matter how exhausting those early days of epilepsy and exhaustion were, I made myself take time to spend a few “unmedical” moments throughout my day with my older two. They needed that mommy time and our children all need a sense of normalcy when family life just isn’t.

Special Needs Aftermath Lesson Three

Let them see you cry. Mommies are people, with feelings, with limits, and a maturity is born when we let our children inside our shell, into our hearts. Obviously I am not suggesting we traumatize or kids, but it is okay to let them see that we are grieving, we are sad. We are human, have emotions, and need to release them. Make sure your kids see happy and sad tears. I know they are in there.

Special Needs Aftermath Lesson Four

Maintain joy. We all will have times where our limits our maxed out, where it seems like the sun will never shine again, and our hearts just cannot take any more beating. But life has a way of working out, even when sad times happen. We can look back and know that we are greater, better for what we have gone through. We mothers have pretty good track records for getting through bad days. It is vital that we make sure to still celebrate life, have fun, and do normal things with our children. It would be unfair of them otherwise and going through the motions of typical family life has a way of healing, helping us deal with hard things. In the five years as my little Brooke’s mom, we have had so many fun happy family memories. We sneak them in during doctor’s appointments and hospital stays, but more importantly WE DO IT. And you know what, my broken heart from those early newborn days is healed. Together, along with my children and husband, we have overcome the aftermath and now we are stronger together.

We can talk to our children about life’s sorrows. We can find a way to relate to them, show them we are human, and teach them how to deal with sadness. Thankfully, the storms do pass, or we adapt to the turbulent times, and we can still have a happy life and childhood for all of our children. It is possible, I know it and I am thankful my girls are learning a little maturity along the way.

~ Brit

How Do You Find Joy in the Special Needs Aftermath?

What have you learned in your own personal special needs aftermath? Where do you find joy amidst the sorrow? You’re invited to share your experience in the comment box.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Brittany Miller is mom to three daughters: Audrey, Brooke, and Juliette. Brooke was diagnosed with Aicardi Syndrome when she was five weeks old.

Author Jolene Philo

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Special Needs Answers to “How Are You?”

Special Needs Answers to “How Are You?”

by | Sep 24, 2014 | Different Dream, Grief, Spiritual Support

Special Needs Answers to “How Are You?”

Photo Credit: stock photos at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Guest blogger Maggi Gale knows that responding to pleasantries like “How are you?” can be a minefield for parents of kids with special needs. In today’s post, she offers advice to friends who glibly ask that question, among others, of parents dealing with a child’s special needs diagnosis.

The Special Needs Answers

“How are you?”

“Fine thanks, and you?”

“Fine!”

How I hated those superficial run-ins at the supermarket.

Hidden Special Needs Answers

Do you really want to know how I am?

Scared. Will my daughter ever come out of this cycle of sickness, brief recovery, followed by more sickness?

Tired. I lie down exhausted, tense, waiting for the night cough. And it comes. I long for rest as a thirsty person longs for a drink of cool water.

Confused. My head feels as fuzzy as the insides of a cushion. I cannot start a thought and follow it through to completion without losing my thread.

Insightful Special Needs Answers

And you? How are you, behind that smile?

Worried. That I might open up, and you won’t have the right answers. Don’t worry–there aren’t any.

Uncomfortable. Because you don’t know my territory. You don’t need to–no one expects it of you.

Busy. That’s okay–really. But if that’s the case next time, greet me with “Hello” rather than “How are you?” My answers to that question are not for you.

Sacrificial Special Needs Answers

During this time in my life, I was given a friend who would ask me how I was doing, and could handle my answers. She was faithful in calling me. And if I wasn’t doing well, she would just call again the following day. If she thought my view of life was sometimes distorted, she wasn’t afraid to tell me, but mostly, she just listened. She was prepared to walk with me through this bewildering journey, for as long as it took. Her friendship and listening ear gave me so much courage.

How could another young mum be so sensitive to my pain ? By God’s grace, of course, but also through her own tragedy. She had lost a toddler son through a horrific accident. She could have drowned in grief and self pity after that accident. But instead, through her own suffering, she became more sensitive to the hurts of others.

God, grant that through our own suffering, we too might become more sensitive to the pain of others. May we become listening, faithful friends to those around us. And may we ask “How are you?” ready to hear the answer, whatever it might be.

What Are Your Special Needs Answers?

How do you handle situations like the one Maggi describes? Who has been willing to listen to your real answer? We’d love to hear you story in the comment box.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Maggi is a wife and mother of two daughters. She is a primary school teacher, having worked in Africa for 14 years before moving to the Middle East. Her passions are her animals and art. Her youngest daughter was born with tracheoesophageal fistula (TEF). This birth condition was to be the start of an arduous journey, impacting the whole family for several years. Through writing, she hopes to turn her experiences into encouragement for others on similar paths.

Author Jolene Philo

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Siblings and Special Needs: Windows to the Heart

Siblings and Special Needs: Windows to the Heart

by | Sep 17, 2014 | Different Dream, Grief, Spiritual Support

Siblings and Special Needs: Windows to the Heart

 Noah holding a picture of him and his little brother Evan.

Today it’s my pleasure to welcome guest blogger Scott Newport back to Different Dream. He’s here to talk about the work he continues to do on behalf of families raising kids with special needs. In this post, he describes the positive effect his son Evan’s short life had on his brother, Noah, many years after Evan, who lived with Noonan’s Syndrome, went home to Jesus.

Windows
By Scott Newport, proud dad

We had been transferred from the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) to a little four bed ward for sick children whose life depended on a breathing machine. Our family had lived in the hospital for eleven months and we were one step closer to taking Evan home where he would be able to die in the arms of those closest to him.

“Kids like Evan usually don’t live past the age of two,” was the agreed diagnosis by the staff.

Siblings and Special Needs: A Window into the Past

Noah, Evan’s big brother had just turned five and the University of Michigan’s C. S. Mott Children’s Hospital was kind enough to let us celebrate his birthday in the family resource center on the top floor. Since we had graduated from the PICU we were able to see some of the other sick but somewhat stable kids up and moving about.

“Hey, guys my name is Mike. Is it okay if I come in?”

Mike looked to be about seven years old and a nurse was toting him around the 5th floor. He was pretty much bandaged from head to toe on the right side and we learned later his mom was in jail for pouring scolding water all over him. For some unknown reason he wanted to visit our particular ward that day. The room was neatly packed with four kids on ventilators, two nurses, one respiratory therapist, and four matching machines pulsing to the sound of life.

Mike seemed to know his way around and the staff was trying to fill in as his only family. I could tell he had been there awhile and seemed to be a seasoned veteran.

Within a few days we got used to Mike stopping by and soon discovered Noah and I could go to his room and take him for a lap around the floor in his wheel chair that is, after we stood by and coached him during daily bandage change. I guess we were his reward if he could get through the excoriating pain of having the encrusted gauze ripped form his tender skin.

Noah seemed to really like Mike, often challenging him to a race. I would push Mike and Noah would run like crazy. We would start at the busy nurse’s station. Noah would take off to the right, and Mike and I would go to the left. The fifth floor was lined with rooms in the shape of a square. Who ever tagged the desk first was the winner. It’s kind of funny as I think back now because many times we never finished the race. You see, many of Evan’s doctors would see Noah running and would often stop him for a high five and a little chat.

One day I sat with Evan in my arms, making sure I was carful not to pull any wire or hoses from his body. I watched through the door as Mike and Noah exchanged jokes out in the hall. In that moment it was like looking through a special window. The window allowed me to take a peak what the future may look like for Noah. Noah would surely be a great big brother and no matter how sick or disabled someone may be I was confident he would protect them and honor them as any other human being.

Siblings and Special Needs: A Window into the Present

This past year Noah finished the eighth grade and is now fourteen years old. About a month ago we received a letter in the mail about a community Rising Star Award. At the banquet we discovered he was nominated by his eighth grade English teacher. The award was for local children overcoming adversity. Noah said later on the ride home, “I guess I got this because of Evan.” Penni and I both nodded.

The following week at the middle school graduation, his name was called again for the Royal Oak Middle School Caring Award. The principle said. “Noah is always willing to help the other kids around him and often heard saying, ‘One day I will be a doctor and will find a cure for the disease that took my brother three years ago.’”

At the graduation while sitting back that special window opened again, just like when I watched him and Mike all those years ago. I couldn’t be prouder of Noah. Even though the pain of losing a son and a brother will never go away I am comforted by knowing Evan’s life did matter and Noah is the proof of that.

Siblings and Special Needs: A Window into the Heart

Just this last week C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital had their first ever Sibling Award ceremony inspired by the story above. And as you may have guessed it is called The Windows Award.  The tag line is “Viewing siblings through the framework of our Mott kids.” I made three windows for the occasion and a photographer took pictures with the kids looking through the frames.

This was just another way to remind me Evan’s life did and still does have meaning; an inspiration I need and something for all the brothers and sisters like Noah to help keep them succeeding even with in the most difficult times of their young lives.

Siblings and Special Needs Shout Out

Want to brag about the siblings of your child with special needs? Now’s your chance to leave a shout out in the comments box. I can’t wait to hear about your kids!

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Scott Newport is a carpenter who has a vision for unwanted, damaged wood. His finds are treasures to his soul. Each discovery he makes unfolds into a beautiful piece of furniture for which he finds a home, usually with a child or caregiver of a child with special needs. He writes about the life lessons he learns from his 3 children, especially from Evan who died in November of 2009 after 7 years of joyful life. To access all of Scott’s guest posts, click on the magnifying glass at the top of the page and type “Scott Newport” in the search box.

Author Jolene Philo

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