What a difference a day (and a year) makes...

Yesterday, I think it's safe to say, I was feeling melancholy.  Almost mournful of what God has blessed me with.  I was thinking only of myself when I blogged about Josh and the reality that he might live with us for longer than the others.  Or forever. 

But this afternoon at the baseball field changed all of that. 

Last spring, Josh played baseball for a Challenger League, which means it was all kids with special needs.  Their needs varied... some in wheelchairs, some screaming uncontrollably... but a greater number of them with smiles than with not.  Every week I would put on a smile and act like I was enjoying every moment...

Oh, don't get me wrong... I was quite fond of watching the kids and being outside and visiting with "fellow parents who get it"... but a large part of me wished that he was playing in our little community with kids that he goes to school with.  A large part of me wished that Josh didn't need a 'buddy' going up to bat with him, running the bases with him, keeping him on task in the field.  A large part of me wished we didn't need a special needs team.  

The feelings I was having were strange.  I knew they were there but I wasn't giving them attention out loud.  I never discussed them with Jon or thought about it before or after the Sunday game. They didn't consume me, but they were responsible for me missing out. 

I'm not sure what happened this year, or today... but it was very different.  The kids and the needs and the parents were the same, but I was different. 

I was able to take in the smiles for real.  I was able to appreciate (and be amazed at) each part of the afternoon.  The boy in a wheelchair who insisted on standing to bat and walking to 1st base... then second.  The patience of the volunteer that walked him there.  The proud mommy taking video of her little boy who ran from bat to second to first to outfield without as much of an inclination that it wasn't the way to go.  The teen-aged (handsome and athletic) volunteer who made real friends with the boy he was 'assigned' to... real high fives, real hugs, real encouragement, real smiles, real friends. 

Last year (and yesterday) my glass was half empty.  Today, it overfloweth.

A few photos from last season...

 

Need a hand, friend?

 

 Josh's friend Damien and his buddy... Abby.  

  One of many... stars!

Josh loves to catch (but his bad hip hates the position).

So what was my part of the day?  Josh said "great game" no less than 50 times on the ride home!  

He loves it.  He loves every part.  It doesn't matter that he's only up to bat twice.  It doesn't matter that he only gets to run to 1st base every time or that he has a 'buddy' (this year it's Abby so he's thrilled!) running with him.  It doesn't matter that they play the same team every week or that there is no score keeping.  What matters is baseball... and smiles.  

Perhaps the most amazing part of the afternoon tho was the realization that I had changed when I didn't even realize I needed to.  

So thankful to the God who changes.

Love,

Susan

Sneak peek into the future...

As I sit here on a cloudy and kinda somber Saturday afternoon, fresh cup of coffee in hand, and listen... I don't hear anything.  It's silent.  Completely.  I love the quiet, but this silence finds me with a little lump in my throat.

As I turn a little to my right, I catch a glimpse of Josh outside chasing the chickens... top speed... screaming at them to see how fast they can run.  Jon is tinkering on the boat, stopping every now and then to make sure he knows where Josh is and sometimes conversing with him (read:  yelling at him to stop terrorizing the chickens). 

Abby is off with a friend and the boys are with their cousins.  Today, it's just the three of us.

When Josh was first born, one of my (very selfish) first thoughts was that Jon and I would never be just the two of us.  It would always be the three of us... me, Jon and Josh... it felt like forever.  

Another thought that took up residence in my heart was this... I hoped Josh was 'bad' enough that he didn't realize he was being left out of things... like when his siblings were off with their friends.

(By "bad enough" I obviously hoped he was affected enough by his Down Syndrome that he wouldn't realize the happenings around him, or be bothered by them.  How awful is that?  Honest, but awful.)


Well, he's not 'bad' enough.  In fact, he completely loathes when his siblings are anywhere but here at home with him.

"Where's Abby?  What time home?"
"Where'd Jared go?  What time is he be home?"
"Where is Caleb go?  What time he be home? "

Over and over.

And it's just beginning... his brothers and sister are just now starting to be off doing things with their friends a lot.  They are at the age when being at home with us is kinda boring (altho, they are homebodies at heart so they never leave for long). 

And it's just beginning... Josh notices (and dislikes) that they are not here, that he can't go with them, hasn't been invited, isn't getting phone calls and wonders (out loud and very often) why he can't go.

And it's just beginning... it's just the three of us... me, Jon and Josh.

With everything in me I know that just the three of us is okay.  Even wonderful. With everything in me I wouldn't change one little chromosome of those that make up Josh. Not one.

But...

I'd be lying if I didn't say it doesn't trample my heart sometimes.

He loves spending time with his dad (me?  not so much, dad is always the fun one).  And, truth be told, I think perhaps Jon loves it more than Josh because he gets to act like a kid... he jumps like a superhero, sings with no thought (or care) to who's listening, and all too often chases chickens alongsideJosh.  All of that is swell.

But...

I don't know.  Sometimes it just feels like forever.  I guess this is one of those days. 

 

me, Jon and Josh 

(taking pics to amuse him after hip surgery, 2010)

 feeding the ducks... just the two of them

 

oldie... but his smile here always makes ME smile 

Disclaimer (why do I always feel the need to explain myself?):  I fully understand that it may not be just the three of us forever.  I fully understand that Josh might even get married, live on his own, etc.  I'm not holding him back or making assumptions about his future based upon his diagnosis. But, I am a realist.  I'm okay if none of that happens.  If he leaves our nest empty then I will celebrate with him and for him.  If it's just the three of us... then that's okay too.  We sure will do a lot of laughing.  Together.

All that said and my coffee is no longer fresh and I hear fireworks outside.  Told you Jon loves having him around... gives him an excuse to play with matches.  

Love,

Susan