Perspective is Everything

This morning was one of THOSE mornings. While I got up on time and got my shower before the kids got up (a rare treasure during the Summer), that was about the only thing that went right until we were in the car. Jackson didn't want to come down for breakfast. He didn't want to eat what I fixed. He didn't want to wear the clothes I picked out for him. My other children were exacerbating the problem, picking at Jackson and whining about him whining. Every transition was a struggle, and I found myself extremely frustrated. We finally make it to the car and are on our way to our play date. Yes. I was stressing about leaving late to play at a friend's house who would have been more than understanding of our tardiness, and for that matter, a friend that would have been totally fine with Jackson coming in his pajamas, bed head and flip flops. It was somehow too hard for me to just take it all in stride this particular morning. The tension filled my body, stiff and numb trying to clear my head so I don't end up complaining to the other mom the whole play date, I turned on the radio and began to listen to Addison Road's What Do I Know of Holy. Then we pass a funeral procession, and just like I do every time I see one of those, I prayed, "God, help them." Then I'm suddenly overcome and start balling like a baby.

There has been so much death in our friend and family circle lately. Some lost precious children, some fathers, mothers, brothers. Still others are facing deadly diseases threatening to take a loved one away at any moment. I couldn't help but compare my morning and all its frustration to the morning of those following that hearse. One of those mortal moments when the frailty of my own human condition and the fragility of the life in my care brought me to tears. The next few moments passed as my mind was flooded with the remembrance of so many blessings. The blessing of my son and all he is, autism included, stood out in those blessings. As hard as it has been adjusting to the special care he requires, this disease will not take him from me too early, and as hard as it is to handle the frustration that builds up from the life we live, I'm not following a hearse.

Perspective is everything.

Note: I shortened this after rereading it the next morning.

Happy Ever After and a Decade of Real Life

 How exactly do you stay married to someone you have nothing in common with? I wish I could say I have the answer, but "you just do" doesn't really cut it since life tends to be more complicated than that. I guess a better question might be, how did you get married in the first place?

My husband and I don't like the same kind of music, movies, tv, pass times, sports, passions, food, decorating style, fashion, books....I could keep going, really. He's a doctor. I'm an artist. He's concrete. I'm abstract. He went to public school. I was homeschooled. He went to a large secular university. I went to a small private college. He works to provide for our family. I work to keep us all from starving, stinking or streaking. He's a natural born leader. I'm more of a free spirit. About the only thing we have in common is our children and our faith.


I've often asked myself over the past ten years how exactly did this happen? How did two people so very different make it down the isle? And, how have we avoided the courtroom? Well, if I ever have that lightening bolt revelation, I'll let you know right before I write my own marriage self help book to add to the plethora of dusty books on my book case. I will say that the older I get, the more I realize how little I really do know about life and just how much I need help.

There was a time when my husband and I had more in common than it seems we do now. One of my favorite things about him was how we could talk for hours and I could ask him a million questions (usually about science or medicine), and he would just keep talking and answering as if he never got tired. He's a natural born leader like I mentioned above, but his gift is teaching. He can break down the most complicated concepts and explain them to anyone in a way they can understand. He won awards for patient communication in med school and residency, and it hasn't really changed. His patients LOVE him, and it's not all about how knowledgeable he is as a doctor (which I will say, he's pretty darn smart). It's about how much he cares about each and every one of them, even the difficult ones. His gift for teaching and communicating drew me in like a magnet, it makes him a better doctor and a better father, too. The best teaching moments, the ones I hope I remember all the way to my last breath, are the ones he shares with our children.

He works very hard to provide for our family. He always has, even when things weren't looking so good for us. That has allowed me the ability to devote myself completely to our children, especially  to Jackson's ever changing needs. He handles the bread winning so I can handle the bread making, and I am VERY thankful for that.

His type B personality is a pretty good compliment to my type A. His relaxed "it will all work out" temperment helps balance out my "the world is going to end right NOW" mentality. We might not have a whole lot in common, but maybe that's a good thing.

I believe my husband and I are together because God put us together, not to provide happiness but friction, the kind that smooths out rough edges and rusty patches. Iron sharpening iron (Prov. 27:17). I believe God is working in us and through us to give us MORE than happily ever after here on Earth, but abundant life with Him forever.

So, after 10 years, three kids, an autism diagnosis, and a whole lot of crazy life, I don't think it's so much about finding the right one, but about becoming the right one, together. Here's to another ten years of sharpening. Maybe by then we'll have it all figured out.

Marshmallow Protein Bars

I didn't like all the interesting ingredients in my favorite store bought protein bar. So, I decided I would try to make my own. The only thing is I didn't know how to bind it without adding the unpronounceable junk they do at the manufacturer. I was making Rice Krispie treats for my kids for the Fourth of July, so I decided I would use the other half of the marshmallow mixture and see what happened. The bars turned out REALLY good in flavor, but that's just too much sugar for it to be a 'healthy' snack or workout fuel. Also, they were kinda sticky (the way homemade marshmallow goes if you don't use confectioner's sugar or starch  to coat while they're setting). I've got another idea I'll post about later, but here's the recipe for these. If you're not counting calories or OFF sugar, these are really good! My husband and my oldest son kept nibbling while they were still warm. The best part of this recipe is the homemade marshmallow!

3 cups almonds, chopped
2 cups peanuts, chopped
3/4 cup sunflower kernels
3/4 cup pecans
1/2 cup Rice Krispies (added these as a filler, will probably use oats next time)
2 tbsp butter, melted
2 tsp honey

3 packages unflavored gelatin
1 cup ice cold water, divided
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup Lyle's Golden Syrup
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place the gelatin into the bowl of a stand mixer along with 1/2 cup of the water. Have the whisk attachment standing by. In a small saucepan combine the remaining 1/2 cup water, granulated sugar, syrup and salt. Place over medium high heat, cover and allow to cook for 3 to 4 minutes. Uncover, clip a candy thermometer onto the side of the pan and continue to cook until the mixture reaches 240 degrees F, approximately 7 to 8 minutes. Once the mixture reaches this temperature, immediately remove from the heat. Turn the mixer on low speed and, while running, slowly pour the sugar syrup down the side of the bowl into the gelatin mixture. Once you have added all of the syrup, increase the speed to high. Continue to whip until the mixture becomes very thick and is lukewarm, approximately 12 to 15 minutes. Add the vanilla during the last minute of whipping.

While the mixture is whipping, spray a large bowl with cooking spray or coat with oil. Add the nuts and Krispies, then the butter and honey. After the marshmallows are done whipping, pour half the mixture into the bowl with the nuts. Mix well.

[You may want to add more or less of the nuts to get the combo and texture you like. You can use a completely different combo. You just want to have around 7 cups worth of whatever dry ingredients you use to make the right ratio of nut mixture to marshmallow ratio.]

Lay out on parchment paper or greased cutting board. Shape into large square or squares. Wait for it to cool and harden, about an hour or so. Cut into bars and enjoy. Makes about 24 bars.

You will have half the marshmallow recipe left. After pouring the marshmallow into the nut mixture, pour the other half into a greased or lined cookie sheet and sprinkle with confectioner's sugar or starch and let it set. Homemade marshmallows are the BEST! One of those things once you have the homemade version, you'll never want the processed styrofoam they sell at the store again.

Ok. Enough About Me, Let's Talk About Food

I started this blog to give me a place to share our autism story and provide a way for me to share our corn-free and/or egg-free recipes. I think it's gotten a little heavy on the 'story' and a little light on the recipes. It's not that I'm not cooking. I just haven't really had much time or energy for experimentation with new recipes. However, I've been working on a few things lately. Especially given my new found conviction for 'clean eating'. That's hard enough for a grown up who wants to change their lifestyle. It's a whole other challenge when you're talking about changing your children's eating habits, too. Not that their diet is crazy unhealthy right now. Just not what I would like it to be.

I decided to start things out with small measurable goals. That's the way you get where you want with a fitness program. I figure that's a good idea for new nutrition goals, too.

My first goal this year will be to find a vegetable I can get them to eat raw. Raw fruit, no problem. There's not much they'll turn down. Well, except for Jackson. He won't eat anything with seeds. Texture issues. Raw veggies, no way. Not even covered in ranch dressing. That's their dad's fault. He won't eat anything like that. No ranch or sour cream. I can get them to eat most steamed veggies when I make it a requirement for getting a treat after their meal. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. However, I want them to enjoy the benefits of raw veggies, too. We started with cucumber salad, one of my favorite summer veggie treats. I cut the onions really big so they could pick them out. Can't expect a kid to eat straight raw onions, right?

Cucumber Salad

1 Cucumber
1 Tomato
1/2 Onion
1 tsp fresh chopped Cilantro
1-2 tsp Olive Oil
Sea Salt or Kosher Salt to taste
Pepper to taste

Peel and slice cucumbers. Slice or cube tomatoes. Chop onion and cilantro. Combine veggies and cilantro in a bowl. Drizzle EVOO over the top. Salt and pepper to taste. Makes enough for about 4 good servings.

Well, I guess I should have said, you can't expect a kid to eat straight raw cucumbers or tomatoes either. I swear I could eat most of it all by myself, but they didn't like it. Oh, well. On to the next experiment. I've crumbled feta cheese over the top before. My sister-in-law uses my recipe but adds carrots. I think I'll keep trying this with other raw veggies until I find a combo they all like. Farmer's market here I come!

Running for my Life

Have you heard about the Oxygen Mask Project? It was started by a few special needs moms applying the airplane oxygen mask principle to their daily lives and attempting to encourage other parents to do the same. You know the one, that you have to put your own mask on before you can help your children or anyone else with you. In order to properly care for our families, we have to care for our selves first. Our spiritual and physical well being isn't something to be pushed aside for everyone around us, but something we should tend to carefully and purposefully.

Those of you who know me well, know that I'm extremely undisciplined and OCD at the same time. Not a good combination for mental and physical health. I have two speeds, "I'll get to it when I get to it" and "Oh, NO, they'll be here in 10 minutes I have to wash the windows!" I've figured out if I could just find that happy medium between the two speeds, my life would be much less hectic. How do you do that? By adding one discipline at a time until it's a habit and building on those disciplines until you have a good routine. Well, that's what I've been told. I'll let you know how all that goes when I reach that level of enlightenment. In the mean time, I'm making an attempt to apply the oxygen mask principle in my life and acting on a strong new conviction for maintaining my physical health.

I'm quite ashamed lately at just how out of shape I let myself get. Now, you wouldn't have really known I was unhealthy from the outside. I'm one of those naturally skinny people that other people like to hate. It's genetic. My mom was always thin. Her sister was always thin. My brothers are skinny. Most of my cousins on my mom's side are super skinny. My doctor husband swears I have some kind of thyroid problem, but has yet to find any evidence of that besides a few incidental symptoms and the fact that I can pretty much eat whatever I want and not be as big as a house. Here's the thing though. You don't have to look fat to be UNhealthy, and you don't have to look skinny to BE healthy. It's not about the outside. It's about the inside. Sound familiar? Jesus had something to say about the power of the mind and the inner man. In God's eyes, lust is equal with adultery, rage is equal with murder, etc. He chastised the religious elite of his day for washing the outside of the cup and ignoring the filth on the inside. I've been quite surprised at the parallels between physical fitness and spiritual fitness lately. More on that in a bit.

I had deteriorated into weak and helpless or, as I like to call it, skinny fat. You hear people say all the time that you never know how valuable your health is until you lose it. Well, I want to cherish that gift. I want to be real physically and spiritually. I want to know that I will be around in my best condition to care for my children into their adulthood, specifically Jackson, should that take more than the usual 18 years. I don't want to just LOOK healthy because I'm skinny. I want to BE healthy, inside and out. So, putting on my oxygen mask and taking care of my own physical well being, I started making some changes.

My husband bought me a treadmill (I would say he bought US a treadmill, but he's only used it twice), and I got started. I cut out ALL sugar from my diet (except for vitamin water and protein bars when I ran), and began a walk-a-little, run-a-little beginner's program. It was awesome! I felt so productive and cool, and I was doing really well until I got to the part where the running time started exceeding the walking time. That's when the trouble started. My shins started to hurt. I pushed through and kept up with the program. Three times a week, 30 minutes a session. Then the pain got so bad I could hardly walk after. My husband said it was probably just the muscles rather than shin splints or anything serious. They were just not used to all the activity. I was a little offended at the idea, but I used it as an excuse to buy new shoes and pushed through (new shoes make everything better). He was right. My legs were just that weak. Then my knees started hurting the same kind of way, nearly unbearable, even on my off days. At this point, my mental fortitude started to crumble. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. Maybe I should find something else to do, something easier." Somehow I kept pushing through. I just wasn't ready to give up yet. I wasn't ready to say I had failed, AGAIN, at yet another thing. I got up to 2 miles a session only walking to warm up and cool down (bringing the total mileage to 3 miles a session). Then I got bored. What am I supposed to do for 30 minutes three times a week while my body is screaming at me to stop this craziness and go have some pie? I figured out I could read while I ran, awesome! Then I decided I would have to buy all large print books for that because it was just too hard to read while I was bouncing up and down. Maybe my eye sight is failing in my old age. Then I figured out how to run while surfing pinterest or watching tv. That helped for a little while, but I just couldn't get used to the new format. Television and internet are activities best enjoyed while sitting on the couch or comfy desk chair, preferably eating a yummy snack. Of course I tried music, audio books and sermons, but I just couldn't figure out how to keep my mind focused while my body did what I told it to do. Running outside hasn't worked out since the only times I can really do that is before my husband leaves for work or later when everyone is settled at night, and my paranoid husband thinks someone is going to kidnap me if I do that. So, the treadmill is it for me.

I thought this was supposed to be fun. People run for fun, right? For that runners high? Things are harder when you can't agree with yourself. I started slowing down. Struggling with every session. I had been doing yoga longer than I had been running, and I started to think maybe that was more my speed. I had added strength training to my routine, and was enjoying the fruits of that labor. (My arms look awesome!) I tried jumping rope. Oh my! That's not a good idea for a woman who has had three kids and is extremely out of shape. I will spare you the details, but I will say my twelve year old self would have been rolling on the ground busting a gut laughing at my 29+ year old self attempting that routine. I kind of wish I had a camera rolling. I could have won some kind of reality show prize, seriously! Somehow, I kept running, and somewhere in the middle of all this, my knees stopped hurting. Yay! I then started struggling with my left hip, complications from an injury during my first pregnancy. Are you kidding me? Really? Is the pain just going to creep up my body one joint group at a time? What is going on?

My new diet wasn't cutting it, either. I NEEDED sugar! I had no energy, and was really struggling by the end of the day. Severe fatigue and headache by about 6pm. If sugar is a no-no, then what am I supposed to eat to reach the caloric intake I need to maintain my weight while increasing my activity? I give up. Give me CANDY! No, wait. Maybe I can balance this out. So, we're back to my original thought process in figuring out Jackson's diet. Sugar is NOT the enemy, especially with moderation and proper portioning. No junk does not necessarily mean no sugar. Then I pulled a muscle, not while I was running actually. That was all I needed to just completely melt down. I'm trying SO hard, and I'm eating right while my husband enjoys his ice cream and junk food and has somehow lost 12 pounds just mowing the grass and not eating fast food. It's not fair. Now what am I supposed to do?

This is when God hit me with more parallels between the physical and spiritual realness I was after.

1. Making the inside of my body match the outside is going to take time, and it's going to hurt, apparently a LOT.
Parallel: Making the life I'm living a reflection of my heart's condition rather than the screen I use to keep everyone from seeing the real condition of my heart is going to take time, and it's going to hurt, probably a LOT more than all this healthy stuff is going to hurt my body.

2. I'm not an athletic person. I've never been an athletic person. My body is going to go through a period of shock as I try to add these new activities in my life, especially having waited SO late in my life to begin this new lifestyle.
Parallel: I'm not a disciplined person. I've never been a disciplined person. My heart is going to go through a period of shock as I try to add new spiritual disciplines in my life, especially having waited SO long to begin this new lifestyle.

That doesn't mean it isn't worth it.

Tomorrow I plan to run again for the first time in nearly four weeks. Hopefully, this muscle has healed and I can get back into my original routine, and hopefully, I can use my future running experiences to fuel more spiritual discovery.

One of my favorite quotes:

"You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." - C.S. Lewis

I want to push my body to it's limits. I want to experience how health feels when you earn it. I want to push my spirit to it's limits as well. I want to remove the weights and hindrances that hold me back from experiencing abundant life, the kind earned for me on Calvary. I can't help but feel like they're intertwined right now, my physical health and my spiritual health. So, I feel like I'm running for my life. It would be nice if I could figure out a way to make running spiritual WHILE I'm doing it, but so far the only prayers I can get out sound like "Oh, God, it hurts. Help me." Things like that. We'll see. The thing I need to push for right now is perseverance, something I've lacked my whole life. Gotta stick it out, and see where I am when this race is over.

Note: I wrote this post last night, but somehow it didn't post before I signed out. So, I'll just go ahead and tell you that my run this morning was awesome! It did start hurting again, the pulled muscle. More of a tightness than a pain. So, I quit at a mile and a half, but it felt SO good! That plus my strength training, and I'm feeling like I can conquer the world again. To quote a little fish I have always felt a strong connection with, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Or, in my case, just keep running. The race isn't over until you meet your Savior face to face; so, just keep going.

That's What God Sounds Like

It was a typical start to the weekend in our house. Kids in bed. I'm trying to catch up on some computer work (i.e. Facebook, Pinterest and Blogger) when my husband hands me a letter from Georgia DHR saying, "this is going to ruin your night." It was a notice of termination regarding Jackson's Medicaid.

Let me pause here and share what exactly I'm talking about. Back when all this was new to us and we didn't know we had options, we accrued a pretty substantial amount of debt in medical and therapy expenses. The doctors, teachers, psychologists and therapists all told us Jackson needed these services to function, that without them, he wouldn't have a chance of developing properly and the developmental gap between where he was and where he should be would continue to widen. However, these services are expensive. We kept going, paying what we could when we could, but it was getting out of control. One of Jackson's therapists invited me to a parent night out where a Medicaid expert would be speaking about the Katie Becket Deeming Waiver. This is a special waiver for children with disabilities requiring extensive therapy. It is based on the diagnosis and prognosis of the child not the income of the family. Jackson's diagnosis qualified him for that program. It was a crazy set of hoops we had to jump through, but without this program, Jackson would not have received the services he needed to achieve what he has achieved over the past 4 years. He would certainly be in a very different place. If you are a Georgia family with a child on the spectrum, and you haven't heard about the program, you should check it out (and make sure you read all the way to the end). Now back to my story....

When I read the line "NOTICE OF TERMINATION" and then "YOU DID NOT GIVE US THE INFORMATION WE REQUESTED," my physical response was immediate. My heart started racing. I could feel the blood pumping through my temple. I felt hot and flushed at the same time. What?!?!? I'm telling you, if I didn't have Jesus, I'm afraid someone would have died. I immediately called the number on the form thinking I would leave a message. Good call, Rach, you're so clear headed and rational right now, you'll leave an awesome message. It's busy....Now, that's not uncommon. Back in my rational mind, the one I jumped out of for a moment, I knew DFCS doesn't have a voice mail. (Could you imagine having that job? No, thank you!) I've called them dozens of times over the past year trying to get the review paperwork we needed. See, we never got our review packet last year. Actually, we received absolutely nothing from them last year. I called over and over and got different answers from different people. No one could tell me his case worker. They would often refer me to another county's office, which would often end with the busy signal as well. I eventually got someone at the state office who told me, "we'll get to the bottom of this," and heard nothing. I've heard over and over again how overwhelmed they are at DFCS. I've heard over and over, just give them time, they'll get to you. So, we waited and waited, eventually receiving this termination notice and leading me to the brink of a total nervous system collapse....I can't get them on the phone? Fine, then I'll get them by email. Off to the website. There isn't an email account for our county's DFCS office. (Something else I knew in the back of my mind. Who would want that job either?) Awesome. Well, then I'll go above them. I emailed every commissioner, representative, office clerk I could think of. I must have sent out dozens of emails all stating our situation and how horribly my son's review was handled. I dropped names and dates for when I had talked to them and what they had said. I even mentioned my husband and his active role in our county's child advocacy programs. I sat at my computer for a long while executing vengeance on my keyboard until I rather anticlimactically went to bed. Nervous and unsettled, Monday couldn't come fast enough.

Kids fed. Everyone showered and dressed for the inevitable trip down to DFCS. I thought I would try it one more time by phone. First try, busy. Second try, rings indefinitely. Third try, busy. Fourth try, hallelujah someone picks up and says, "Barbara?" I quickly seized the opportunity before she could back track and said, "no, but I need to speak to someone regarding a termination notice." "Sure, hold on." Great, now I'm on hold. Someone gets on. I give her my information. I'm given another number to call, in another county. When I call this number, I get a very frustrated woman explaining to me that my county sent over all review cases between last July and this March to her county. Many were lost in the transfer either to them or from them, and while her name was on our case, she had nothing to do with it. And, even better than that, she couldn't help me. I would likely have to reapply, through my county's office. So, I take a deep breath, vent on Facebook and load everyone up in the car. Did I mention that it's raining. Wonderful.

Not sure what to expect, nervous and sick to my stomach, I wait in line. My boys settle into seats with their DS's while my daughter happily makes friends with everyone in line. The closer I got to the window the more impressed I was with how the woman working the window was handling everyone in line. She had a calming smile and a genuine interest in every case. She was unbelievably helpful and knowledgeable. I immediately thought about Proverbs 15:1, "a soft answer turns away wrath." Her gentle responses diffused any anger in the line, and by the time I got to the window, I was calm. Barely holding onto my tears because that's usually what happens to me after my blood boils, the water works begin. I asked her for an application and showed her the termination notice. She said to wait and someone would be with me soon. We waited. My older son and my daughter were making friends with the other children in the office. My older son was having a conversation with a girl who looked about his age about how boys play baseball and girls play softball, but she knew a boy who played softball, and he had a girl on his baseball team last year. They were smiling and talking, making the most of the situation, actually enjoying themselves. It was about this time, I checked my Facebook status. Remember I vented before leaving my house. There were comments from friends offering encouragement and prayer. I was suddenly overwhelmed with peace, and extremely embarrassed by the fact that I got so angry in the first place. And, by the fact that I had to vent my frustrations on Facebook.

During this peaceful moment of clarity, I was reminded of a question Jackson asked in church that Sunday. Jackson asks LOTS of questions, mostly pertaining to how 'real' something is. We're working on understanding the difference between fantasy and reality. He tends to lean more toward the reality side of things, and as it pertains to spirituality, I've long given up the Sunday School answers we grown ups often give kids his age. They seem to confuse him more than the grown up answers. [Case and point: asking Jesus into his heart, asking a God who is bigger than the earth, the universe and the boogie man to live in his chest would be painful and most likely result in an explosion.] He is definitely my kid. Anyway, one of the dozens of questions he asked during the service was, "is that what God sounds like?" Now, I did take notice of this question, and even thought about how precious it was, however, the full weight of it didn't hit me until that moment sitting in the DFCS office.

"Is that what God sounds like?" Yes, Baby, that is what God sounds like. He speaks to us through His Word and through His people. He speaks to us through His creation and His Spirit. He speaks through the pastor and Sunday School teachers that care for us. He shows himself in our moments of desperation through social media and the DFCS worker handling the window. He works behind the scenes in the hearts and minds of those around us to make things happen in record time, all to say He loves us and to remind us we CAN trust Him. He never drops the ball.

Jackson's caseworker came to the window. She gave me the paperwork I needed to get back to them, some had to be completed before we left making our visit with DFCS about 2 hours long. Things got tense there toward the end, DS batteries exhausted and other children to get into trouble with. However, that peace lingered.

It's funny how entitled we can become, and how offended we can get when something we feel entitled to is threatened. The Deeming Waiver allowed my son to receive therapy, paid for by the State, when we weren't able to pay, and rather than being grateful for what I had been given, I was quick to lay blame, point fingers and make accusations. How dare they terminate my child? I'll show them.

Later that afternoon I got a call from the supervisor over the Medicaid division that handles the Katie Beckett Deeming Waiver cases. One of those emails I sent out reached the right person. During my conversation with her, she apologized for the problem, confirmed it was a mix up between the two counties and she was able to reinstate my son's Medicaid benefits, immediately. They still need the review paperwork, but there would not be any lapse in care.

That's what God sounds like.

For My Niece

My oldest niece graduated from high school today. I was only 14 when she was born, and if you had tried to tell me then that I would marry her mother's brother, I would have laughed at the obvious improbability of your prediction. Were there not already plenty of evidence in the world that our God has a sense of humor, I would offer as evidence His liking for making me do things I said I would never do. My marrying the man I did, given our history of interactions up until the day God started messing around with my heart, would be top of the list. The very first conversation I had with my now husband (I was about 12 and he was about 15) he made fun of my being homeschooled. (Yes. I was homeschooled, the old-fashioned, uncool way.) I don't remember all the details of the conversation. I probably said something very immature and silly in my defense, but I do remember thinking later, 'well, public school obviously did you well, teaching you to pick on a younger kid and make fun of the educational decision their parents made for them, cause I know your momma didn't teach you that.' (He fell for me, though didn't he? Hahaha!) Yet more evidence of God's sense of humor, we just got done with our second year homeschooling through a special program (the same fully accredited homeschool program my niece just graduated from). My husband is now the parent of homeschooled children, and his homeschooled wife is teaching them. Hahahaha! See. God doesn't just like doing those kinds of things to me. I'm pretty sure it works across the board. Now, my youngest son (the one with autism) will be going back to public school this next year (I'm actually getting more and more excited as I process this recent development), and this post isn't intended to applaud or condemn one educational method or the other. It's actually about my niece and her graduation, I promise. See, she's the reason we made the decision to try the homeschool program in the first place. This whole homeschool thing, at least for my husband, started with her. She's the one that changed his mind about homeschooling, not me. She is the product of a parent led home education program, the same one we hope our oldest (and maybe eventually our other two) will graduate from MANY years from now, and I'm really proud to say that.

I've been through my rough moments, regretted marrying the man I did and thought through plenty of 'what-ifs' and 'if-onlys' to eventually come around convinced that I have received more blessings having been with my husband than without him. While there are obviously three very important little blessings that would be at the top of that list, one of the other blessings would be my niece. I know it's common to list the memories you have, mostly embarrassing (why is that?), of someone reaching one of these milestones (like the time she was convinced that I spray painted my toe nails), but I think I'd rather just say I wish I had had more time to get to know her. Any time I see her, we're able to talk, and I mean really talk. It's nice. Makes me feel less old and out of touch with reality that an 18 year old can enjoy a conversation with me. Well, I guess I might be assuming a lot with that last statement. She could just be humoring me because she's too nice to abruptly end the conversation and leave, but I enjoy our conversations. I'm very proud of her. You know how you tend to say that a lot about the kids in your life. It's almost expected to say that at ball games, awards ceremonies and graduations, but I really mean it. I'm proud to call her my niece, nose piercing and all, and I'm so glad I married her uncle and got to be a part of her wonderful family.

It's also common for us old people to give the young'uns advice as they embark on their life as an adult. Well, my sweet, awesome Niece, I wish I had some advice to give that would blow your socks off. One of those gems you'll look back on when you watch your niece walk across that stage and think to yourself, 'holy moly, where did the time go?' The truth is, I don't. I still feel as lost and unsure many times now as I did the day I finished high school (I didn't get a graduation, though, maybe that would have helped). I will say that there will come a point when you have to stop preparing for your life and start living it, and I mean really living it. You will have all kinds of voices telling you what you should do and not do with your life. They'll chime in with their opinions on the big and the small decisions. You'll be motivated by many of their words. You'll be hurt by many, too. The best advice I can give you is to learn how to filter all the advice you get through God's Word and the convictions He's given you because when it comes time to live out the decisions you've made, God is the only one who will ALWAYS be there. You won't be able to stand alone and make things happen based on what someone else thinks you should do. It's gotta be you. It's gotta be yours. It's your life, and you're the one living it. Live it well, Baby Girl. Live it well.