Top Ten Things to Be Thankful For this Tuesday

Top Ten Things to Be Thankful For this Tuesday

Since the beginning of November, many Facebook friends have been doing the 30 days of gratitude thing. Somehow, I missed the memo about when to begin. So today, I’m playing catch up with this top 10 list of things (in no particular order) I’m thankful for this Tuesday.

  1. My husband Hiram, also known as the man of steel, who is patient, kind, forgiving, and faithful.
  2. My children, their spouses, and our little grandson.
  3. I can walk.
  4. The freedom we enjoy in this country.
  5. Micro-back surgeries and the amazingly skilled surgeons who perform them.
  6. My mother’s years of wise management of her finances. Because of them, her needs can be met for the rest of her life.
  7. My dad’s 38 year struggle with multiple sclerosis. Because of him, I am grateful for each day of good health.
  8. Hiram’s good job, caring co-workers, and excellent benefits.
  9. Every day, I get to do what I love–write and speak and use my imagination.
  10. Looking back at over a half-century of life, and seeing God’s hand guiding all of it.

How about you? Do you need to catch up on the 30 days of gratitude thing? Leave your top ten in the comment box.

Teachers Who Loves Our Kids with Special Needs, We Thank You

Teachers Who Loves Our Kids with Special Needs, We Thank You

Teachers Who Loves Our Kids with Special Needs, We Thank You

Teachers play an important role in the lives of our children. Even so, it’s sometimes easy to take them for granted. However this story about how Stephanie Ballard thanked her son’s teachers shows how our acts of gratitude can touch the hearts of the professionals who love our kids at school.

Teachers in Room 16, Thank You!

by Stephanie Ballard

Sending your child off to school for the first time can be a daunting task for any parent. I can clearly remember walking my oldest son Colin through the elementary doors for the first time and thinking, “Is he really ready to start school?” “What if he needs me?” Colin adjusted by the end of the week and I questioned why I had even worried.

Teachers Rise to the Challenge

The real challenge for me would come seven years later when it was time to send my youngest son, Braeden to kindergarten. You see Braeden is my special needs child. He was born with a severe heart defect called hypoplastic left heart syndrome, and he has undergone three open heart surgeries. He was also diagnosed with Kabuki Syndrome, which leads to a laundry list of other medical and developmental challenges. I had learned through the years exactly what signs and symptoms might warrant concern when it came to Braeden’s fragile little heart, and now I would have to entrust someone else to be just as diligent.

Teachers Thank You

Braeden was nervous about starting school initially, but in no time he was bringing home artwork, progress reports, and a contagious smile. Not only did my precocious little boy adore going to school, he was making enormous gains in his development. Braeden was able to spend two unforgettable years in Ms. Megan’s classroom before graduating. I proudly watched him don a a tiny cap and gown last May as he received a certificate of achievement. As the end of the school year drew closer, I began searching for an appropriate gift that might show Braeden’s teacher and classroom aides know just how much I appreciated their love and dedication to my son.

A candle? No.
Flowers maybe? Not exactly what I had in mind.

It finally occurred to me that it has been the hand written cards of acknowledgment that have always meant the most to me. I decided to write a poem of gratitude for the wonderful people who made room 16 a place of love, encouragement and growth. We have been blessed to have the most wonderful teachers, therapists, aides and respite workers come into our lives in the last few years… and as the mother of a special needs child, it has made all the difference.

Room 16

One day you took my child’s hand,
And led him down the hall,
I watched him go uncertainly,
To me, he still seemed small.
The backpack seemed to weigh him down,
His feet moved…slow…unsteady.
I knew this would be good for him,
But wondered…”Is he ready?”
And then he brought a picture home,

Scribbles of yellow and gray,
He smiled as he whispered,
“I made this at my school today.”
One day he cut with scissors,
And stacked four blocks with care,
He walked up the steps unassisted,
He remembered to share.
One day he kicked the ball himself,
Despite endless commotions,
He ate his snack without your help,
And learned about emotions.
One day he smiled back at you,
As if to say, “I’m known,”
And it became apparent,
Just how much he has grown.
You have made a difference…
By planting countless seeds,
Your gentle words remind me,
To embrace my child’s needs.
One day you saw my child’s strengths,
Through every struggle and strife,
One day you grasped my child’s hand,
And then…you changed a life.

Teachers, We Thank You!

Okay, sorry about neglecting to issue a tissue warning! Now you can understand why Braeden’s teacher had the poem framed and hung it in Room 16. As a former teacher, I know many teachers are thankful for Stephanie’s poem, too.

How about you? How did you say thank you and melt the heart of your child’s teacher? Leave a comment. And check out Stephanie’s blog, www.BraedensHeartJourney.com.

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Stephanie Ballard is the mother of two sons, her youngest son, Braeden, was born with Kabuki Syndrome and congenital heart defects. Her oldest son, Colin is in the military. She enjoys writing poetry and life lessons about her journey in life.

Author Jolene Philo

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The Struggle to Be Grateful

The Struggle to Be Grateful

Wretched man that I am!
Who will set me free from the body of this death?
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Romans 7:24-25a

We’ve had plenty to be thankful about this winter. Not much snow. Warmer than average temperatures. Good driving conditions. With the days getting longer and spring around the corner, my heart should be positively overflowing with gratitude. But it’s not.

Instead, I do plenty of complaining. About the miserable state of our gravel road. About how every mild day brings the stink bugs, box elder bugs, and Asian soy beetles out of the walls and into our old farmhouse. About the possibility of this winter’s mild, dry conditions morphing into a blistering hot, summer drought.

Yet I rarely express dissatisfaction with my penchant for complaining, even though plenty of scriptures warn against the practice. In Numbers, complaining earns the Israelites earn an extra forty years in the wilderness. Job describes his complaints as rebellion. Two of Jesus’ best buds, Peter and James, advise new Christians to stop complaining, too.

However, scripture doesn’t just warn against complaining. It tells us what to do instead.  In Leviticus the priests are commanded to offer sacrifices of thanksgiving. The Psalms advise turning thanksgiving into song. Jesus gave thanks as he broke the bread that signified his imminent crucifixion. Over and over Paul tells believers to give thanks in everything, rejoice always, rejoice in everything.

Rejoice.
Rejoice.
Rejoice.

Still, complaining remains my default response unless the Holy Spirit exposes my ingratitude for the joy killer it is. When that happens, God breaks my heart. He shows me how complaining dims His glory, and Paul’s despair become mine.

Wretched woman that I am! Who will set me free from this body of death?
But Paul’s hope, spoken in his next breath, becomes mine as well.
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Christ, who gave thanks in the face of death.
Christ on the cross.
Christ in the tomb.
Christ, risen from the dead.
Christ, who sits on the right hand of the Father and intercedes on my behalf.
Christ is my hope and weapon and protection as I struggle with ingratitude.
Christ, not the weather or other circumstances, is a reason to give thanks always.

Lord, may you be a reason for rejoicing in my life and in the lives of all who love you. Amen.

Our Grown Up Son

Our Grown Up Son

A couple weekends ago, we visited our grown up son and his grown up wife at their grown up house in Wisconsin. They showed us the sights in the area, including a visit to his new workplace.

More than once during the weekend he said, “I have a grown up job,” with wonder in his voice and a shake of his head. “I’m a grown up.”

Allen’s sense of wonder pervaded the entire visit as he and our new daughter showed us around his office, drove us through the grounds of a nearby historical site, showed us the sites in the closest city.

The wonder invaded my soul and Hiram’s too, as we sat in the kitchen and watched this lovely, grown up couple prepare meals for us.

Omelets for breakfast the first morning,
Roast chicken and scrumptious new potatoes ala Julia Child for supper,
crepes for brunch before departure the next day.

I watched them cook and saw
our baby boy on the kitchen floor banging on pots and pans with a wooden spoon,
our preschooler sitting on the counter to peer at what was in the mixing bowl,
our kindergartener standing on a char, “helping” crack eggs (and eggshells) into a bowl,
our 7-year-old learning to make Kraft Macaroni and Cheese all by himself,
our middle schooler baking cookies,
our high schooler sliding frozen pizza into the oven,
our monk baking bread in the monastery kitchen,
our farm hand showing me how to stir fry kale,
our son and new daughter cooking for us three lovely meals.

The wonder hovered round us all that weekend. It was in the car as we drove away. It’s been in my smile and Hiram’s each day since we’ve been home. It wells up inside me and flows down my cheeks as I write. It lulls me to sleep each evening and greets me when the alarm clock rings each morning.

Our son is grown up.
He’s married to a grown up wife.
He lives in a grown up house.
He has a grown up job.
He cooks grown up meals.

In wonder, we bow and give thanks for what God has done.

Mindful – Recycled

Mindful – Recycled

We’re off to cheese head country this afternoon to visit our son and new daughter, so time is short. Therefore, today’s post is recycled from February 12, 2010 when we were busy planning two weddings. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, both kids nearing their second wedding anniversaries, and my time crunch due to visiting one couple, this seemed like the perfect post.

Mindful – Recycled

I take so many things in life for granted: a warm home, a loving husband, more food than I need, education and job skills, freedom to travel, vacations, a functioning government, friends who stand by me, and the ability to pay our bills each month. These privileges are so commonplace I treat them as my due.

But each time my children call, I’m reminded of a double privilege my husband and I hope we never take for granted. We count their calls as blessings, their voices full of confidence in our love for them, eager to talk about the events of the past week and dreams for the future. The blessing multiplies when they ask for our advice, consider our words seriously, and heed what we say.

I never dreamed of such relationships with my adult children after growing up in the sixties watching the hippies and flower children denigrate and scoff the “establishment.” A bit young to participate in the rebellion, a bit of the ‘60s attitude still managed to rub off on me. My parents’ advice was considered suspect until after our son was born, and we needed all the help we could get to survive his first five years.

So we never expected our children would value our advice before they became parents.  During Allen’s monastery years, we lost our easy relationship with him and believed it was gone forever. But God has blessed our family with restoration though we deserve this blessing no more than any other family. When I talk to our children, I am overwhelmed by the sweetness of God’s grace and acutely aware of families broken by strife, crippled by rebellion. I hold back the tears until after the good-byes and I love yous.

Then I let them flow as I pray, “Please God, make me mindful of your blessings. Don’t let me ever take them for granted.”