Our newest godchild

Here is our newest godchild! Several months old (taken in March)

Well, the newest member of the ever-expanding tribe of Daoust grandchildren made it into the world safe and sound this past December. (Yeah, I'm late posting about it.) Isn't he a cutie? Starling and I are his godparents.

We are particularly glad to have this little guy around because his mom's pregnancy was classified as very high risk. You might remember that she had had a heart attack a couple years ago, caused primarily by the effect of pregnancy hormones on the lining of the arteries leading to her heart. Her heart completely stopped beating on its own and was not re-started for forty-five minutes, after which she was in a medically induced coma for several days.

Besides the risks involved in the pregnancy, my sister also faced near-constant pressure to "terminate the pregnancy" (the polite euphemism we're using for abortion these days...where there is a euphemism, something ugly can't be far behind) -- mostly from medical staff. Some of the things that were said to her by doctors, nurses, and "specialists" border on jaw-droppingly unbelievable. But she also faced pressure to abort from at least one friend and various strangers. We're not talking about passive pressure here...a surprising number of people felt very bold about asserting their opinion that she was irresponsible to continue the pregnancy. Starling posted about her SIL's situation on her Facebook account and someone she knows was very outspoken about how "irresponsible" it was to continue a high-risk pregnancy. This person got pretty worked up about it, too.

What is the difference between the worldview held by these people and the worldview held by people like my sister? In the first, preserving one's own life, no matter what the cost, is all-important. It is a pragmatism that has its roots in reductionist/materialist assumptions: "This life is not just good, it's the ultimate Good -- the only good -- so preserve it at any cost." The worldview held by my sister and people like her, on the other hand, is rooted in the assumption that there is a transcendent, enduring aspect to each of us -- a soul. Life is good, yes, but we're all going to die at some point. And that means that there is something more important than preserving your bodily life -- namely, preserving the beauty and integrity of your soul. It is not whether you die that matters ('cause you're going to at some point); it is how you live. What does it matter if you live a few more years, if doing so requires you to sacrifice the life of your child? On the other hand, sacrificing yourself for another is a profound act of love...and in the end, that is what endures, even after our earthly bodies have passed away.

I am so proud of my sister and her family!

What we're doing...and reading

The handful of you who follow this blog regularly may be wondering what gives...why no recent updates? Basically, I've been so incredibly busy with other things -- too busy. At the moment, I am part of a team of three people launching a massive marketing campaign on behalf of the kids' school. Okay, "massive" is a relative term -- but considering we're three people, it seems massive. In Minnesota, the only funding that charter schools receive is per-pupil state aid (regular public schools associated with a school district get to pass local levies). Over the past couple years, the school's enrollment has dropped -- not by a lot, but when each student brings $5,300 in state aid, that adds up quickly. (The reasons are various -- more competition, declining overall student population, plus other factors.) Plus, the state legislature, in its eternal wisdom, has decided to "borrow" (=raid) 25% of school funding for the past few budget cycles. School districts can borrow short-term loans to cover that cost, but charter schools don't have that ability.

That means that this year we've seen lots of cuts, including the loss of fourth grade band, our foreign language program, and half of our classroom assistants. (The latter cut was recently restored.) And teacher salaries, which were low to begin with, have remained frozen for years, which has meant high turnover.

The only factor that we control in this equation is enrollment, so our marketing committee's goal is to achieve full enrollment next year. That would bring in maybe $132,000 in additional funds. Unfortunately, we're starting from absolutely nothing. Parts of our website haven't even been touched since before 2003. Heck, most of our website wasn't even indexed by Google! And we had no brochures or literature to pass out to anyone inquiring about the school, and no publicity campaign (to the local media) whatsoever, no ads, nothing. So over the past few weeks I have been busy, with the help of a couple other people, creating print ads, brochures, internal flyers (to educate our families about the advantages of their school so they can spread the word to friends and neighbors), videos, a new web pages...there's more, but you get the idea.

It is NUTS. Frankly, I don't have time for this, but that's what I said all last year, and no one stepped forward to take it on, and the funding situation just got worse, so here we are. I've told people I'm basically going to be "gone" beginning February 1 to prepare for the adoption.

Speaking of which, we're kind of in a lull in adoption land. Most of the paperwork is off, although those fun-loving bureaucrats like to keep us on our toes by demanding entirely new documents every week or so.

One of the ways we keep our spirits up is to read the adoption blogs being kept by other families who have gone through the adoption process or are going through it now. It is also great preparation, in terms of learning what we might expect. If anyone else wants to follow these to get a bit of a window into our "vicarious" adoption journey, here's what we're reading. I will post these in the sidebar, too.

Bringing Winston Home
This blog is interesting mainly because the couple adopted this past summer from the same city that we're adopting from. In fact, we spent more than an hour talking on the phone with the mom a little while ago, just to figure out what to expect. The blog is no longer updated, but go back to July and you can get a bit of a sense of what it will be like when we go over there. Except that when we go, it won't be July. It will be cold!

Bringing AJ Home
This is the blog of the Putz family, who are adopting AJ -- better known to those who have followed our own adoption journey as "Anthony." They already have an Anthony at home, so they needed to give him a new name! We fund-raised and prayed and prayed for Anthony for many months, so it is heartwarming to read about them finally meeting him, and getting to know him. He has warmed up to his new parents very quickly! Lots of video of them playing with him in the orphanage visiting room. He is an amazing kid who far outshines his severe CP. This is a private blog, but if you want an invitation, e-mail us and we will see whether Leann would be willing to add you. (It is private mostly to avoid spammers.)

Asking with Faith
This is the blog of a remarkable 17-year-old young woman who is VERY passionate about helping kids in need all over the world. She was one of two tireless advocates for Alex, raising money and pleading an praying for an adoptive family. Her own family just adopted a nine-year-old from Bulgaria; scroll back in her blog to November or so to see her story. Joanna is currently preparing to travel to Uganda to work with orphans there -- but she is in need of funding. You can help out by purchasing some of the cool stuff she is selling to raise money (see this post).

Three More Jacobsons
Here's a family that is attempting to adopt three kids! Their process is even more complicated than ours, and there have been lots of ups and downs, but they bring an inspiring faith to the process. Right now they have a great video of the boys practicing for a play -- singing a song, complete with actions, in Russian. Very cute!

The Blessing of Verity
This is the blog by the family that adopted the nine-year-old girl that they've named Katie -- the one who looks like an infant. Two months out from the adoption, they continue to update about her remarkable progress...still fun to pop in on every once in a while.

We're also following more adoption stories on a private Facebook group for families adopting from Alex's home country -- which is just to say that whatever we go through on this journey, others have forged the path already, and are accompanying us, too. (Some of them maybe literally!)

Off to work on more marketing materials!

Adoption stories

Sorry that we haven't posted much here lately...it is one of those especially busy times of life, especially with Christmas upon us. Besides my other work and volunteer responsibilities, I'm also trying to learn rudimentary Russian (and am extra motivated by the experience and comments of April Jacobson) and otherwise prepare for the adoption. As we move closer to the adoption date (we just got our $800 USCIS fingerprints done in St. Paul -- see our adoption blog for details), I find myself increasingly immersed in others' adoption stories, probably as a way to prepare myself, both emotionally and practically. I've been particularly interested in Asking with Faith, which is a blog kept by the amazing Canadian teen who did so much to advocate for Alex. Their family just brought a nine-year-old girl home from Bulgaria -- and while it has been joyful, lately it has also been pretty rough. As she points out, it's pretty typical for adopted kids (especially ones who are more cognitively typical) to go through a grieving period that includes lots of rage and anger and defiance. Thank goodness their family knows how to ride it out. They are in our prayers. I read their story knowing that we could be going through the same process in a few months.

It has also been fun to follow the Jacobson's adoption blog, since they are adopting from the same country as Alex, and April Jacobson keeps a fairly detailed account of their process.

And then there's the story of Katie, the nine-year-old girl who weighed just eleven pounds when she was adopted by the Musser family about a month ago. It's amazing to see how she has gone, in just a few weeks, from this...

...to this:

Wow. This family got a lot of flack and resistance from people concerned about them adopting a severely handicapped kid, but they did it anyway -- eyes wide open to the difficulties and necessary sacrifices, but also seeing beyond that to the ultimate reality of Love with a capital "L."

This is the sort of thing I was talking about when I named this blog "Gracewatch." There it is.

More at their blog, The Blessing of Verity.

Advent conspiracy

Love this video:

Why I hate protests...and why I go anyway

October is Respect Life month, and today is the tenth anniversary of the war in Afghanistan. So last Sunday when it was announced in church that the annual Life Chain protest would be held that afternoon a block from our house, I rounded up the kids and out we went.

As a person who hates confrontation and likes to be liked, I don't enjoy protests one bit. Way too public. You stand there watching thousands of cars going by in an hour, wondering exactly how many friends and acquaintances you're losing by speaking out. Which is one very good reason for doing it -- practicing the virtue of humility, and also the virtue of honesty. It's not much good having friends and acquaintances if you have to hide your beliefs from them. For that matter, it's not much good being friends with someone if you're not willing to speak hard truths to them once in a while.

Another reason why I don't like protests is because I think they're usually pretty ineffective. You stand there carrying a sign that people may or may not be able to read. You get maybe five or six words, max. It's worse than Twitter. And usually, if it's worth protesting, the issue is probably complex, full of misunderstanding, and highly emotionally charged. I personally doubt whether anyone's mind has been changed on an issue by a sign at a protest -- although I know that it can and does happen, especially if the sign is thought-provoking, and reaches someone at the right moment.

But beyond being a very inefficient way of promoting change, the other thing I don't like about protests is the way they set up an us-vs.-them division that almost immediately shuts down any possibility for conversation. People drive by, see your sign, and then they're gone. If they agree with you, they feel affirmed in their beliefs; if not, they dismiss you as an extremist wacko. End of conversation. Moving closer to a resolution on these important issues requires something more: an in-depth, ongoing conversation, ideally within the context of a relationship in which both sides feel safe. Where can those kinds of conversations happen anymore? I have no idea. Part of the reason we're so divided and angry as a nation, I think, is the lack of opportunities to really discuss our differences in an intelligent manner.

Another reservation I have about protests is more pastoral. What effect does my anti-war sign have on a veteran who is recently back from the war? What effect does my anti-abortion sign have on the many women who have had abortions? In both cases, I think there is a great risk in poking a stick at someone's rawest, most intimate, most vulnerable places, stirring up all those emotions without any followup. "Violence is always wrong, but none of us are perfect and I respect your intrinsic dignity no matter what mistakes you may have made" just doesn't fit on a sign, and wouldn't really be sufficient even if it did. When I was at the University of Minnesota, our pro-life group did lots of demonstrations on the sidewalks on campus, or in the student union. (We mostly had information and displays.) There was a lot more opportunity for interaction, including some very enlightening discussions with women who had had abortions. Some of these discussions went on for a long time, like an hour or more. As we talked, we generally moved from her anger and rage to a somewhat calmer discussion that usually revealed a great deal of pain and hurt. (One young woman finally revealed that her own mother frequently told her that she wished she had aborted her. Wow.) You can't have those kinds of discussions when people are driving by in their car, looking at the six words on your sign.

Yet despite all this,I went to the protest anyway. And took my kids.

The only thing worse than that kind of protest is silence, and today there is a great conspiracy of silence around publicly sanctioned violence of all kinds. We simply do not want to talk about it; it's too divisive and uncomfortable, But as painful and inconvenient as it is, we have to talk about these issues, because the worst thing about publicly sanctioned violence is what it does to us as people, and as a society. It kills us just as surely as it kills the people it's directed against...the one type of death just takes longer, is all.

I recently finished reading In the Garden of the Beasts, the true story of William Dodd, ambassador to Germany during the rise of the Nazi party. Dodd was slow to realize the threat of Nazism, in part because of his own prejudices; but once he did, he did what he could to resist it, and he spoke out vigorously warning the United States and the western powers of the threat. He was not just ignored; people in the press and the State Department actively campaigned against him because of his outspokenness.

Such situations have repeated themselves throughout the history of civilization. Another fine example would be the persistence of slavery in the American south. What is amazing about it is that when you read the accounts of the people who were in power at the time, many acknowledged the evil of slavery, and the corrosive effect it had on the nation. "But what can be done?" they asked. Raising the issue in polite society in certain circles was just as likely to rupture relationships and kill a dinner party as raising the issue of abortion is today.

The only redeeming quality of protests, I think, is that they break the silence. They say: "All is not well...we need to talk." Perhaps they prick the conscience, even just a little. And if nothing else, they leave a record for future generations that not all were silent in the face of evil.

And so we went out. We brought our own signs, because I don't like the ones they provide at these events. One said: "SAY NO TO VIOLENCE / ABORTION - WAR - DEATH PENALTY"; another said: "SAY YES TO LIFE AND PEACE / FRIENDSHIP + ADOPTION"; the third, which we made for Jaybird, read: "I (heart) life!" She had fun painting the letters each in a different color. I like the "Say no to violence" sign the best because I think pointing out that both abortion and war are, at their root, acts of violence may be thought provoking to people on all points of the political spectrum. (So many are opposed to one but not really the other.)

Several hundred people attended the protest, lining the street for about a mile. We stood at the very end, at the busy intersection near our house. The kids came voluntarily and stayed for half an hour; just as we were leaving, a woman drove up and started yelling a string of profanities out the window -- she was truly furious. Fortunately, she was a little difficult to hear, and Jaybird interpreted her rant as being about the Vikings. (The woman used the F word repeatedly.)

Many people question the wisdom of bringing kids to a protest. To them I would answer that yes, it is good to use prudent caution when deciding whether kids should be involved or not. But if their physical safety is not at risk, then I believe that such experiences have some value in helping kids become responsible adults who do not stand by quietly as others are being systematically denied basic human rights, or even the right to life itself. In another time, another place, I would hope that my grown children would be among the brave few who publicly rejected Nazism. In another time, another place, I would hope that my grown children would be among the brave few to work for the abolition of slavery and segregation.

We have been reading the lives of the saints this summer. After reading the story of St. Terese of the Child Jesus (the one who called herself "the little flower"), the kids were particularly impressed. "Maybe we could become saints, too," Bear suggested. "Maybe we all could."

Standing on a street corner with a sign doesn't make one a saint. But being brave enough to stand up and speak out when the most vulnerable members of society are being harmed...that's a good place to start, I guess.

The yard sale of DOOM!

As those of you who read the "Attack of the Killer Plastic Toys" post know, we have been on a quest to rid ourselves of much of the junk we're drowning in, beginning with the Killer Plastic Toys.

We started out by spending the past few weeks sorting all our toys -- well, the ones we could hunt down, at least. That fun and exciting task took about 20 hours, give or take five hours. In the process, I threw away about five kitchen garbage bags' worth of broken toys, toys with missing pieces, etc.

Last weekend, it was time for Phase Two of our grand plan: a yard sale that would simultaneously relieve us of the burden of our superfluous things, ease our conscience by giving them to new homes rather than throwing them out, and raise money toward adoption expenses.

This epic event is going down in our family history as the Yard Sale of DOOM. It killed four days, between the set up, the actual sale, and the cleanup and redistribution of the remains. It nearly killed us, too, given that it was HOT (what, 90s, both days?) and that we were doing tons of hauling boxes back and forth. And it ended up not making that much money in the end. The words, "Never again!" have passed several lips.

See? Even Jesus is sad. He is thinking: "If only these people would have listened to the whole 'Blessed are the poor' thing...."

On the upside, we had fun interacting with neighbors and customers, made some pocket change, and ended up getting rid of almost everything (by donating the remains, not through the sale). Besides what we sold, we gave away seven big bags of clothing and about ten large plastic totes of toys, not including some large toys we got rid of. (The guy at the loading dock at Grace Place raised an eyebrow and tactfully commented, "Gee, your kids sure have a lot of toys," after the fifth box.) Lest anyone think us cruel, I would just point out that the kids' shelves and bedrooms are still overflowing with toy options.

Oh, and the kids acquired four new toys on Saturday, the same day we were busy getting rid of stuff in the yard sale -- two through McD "Happy Meals" (I forgot to say no toys), one as a belated birthday gift to Jaybird from our neighbor, and one from a treat sack that Mouse received at a birthday party she was attending.

Next up: "The Closets of Chaos" and "The Basement of Fatal Death." Stay tuned!

Trying the Nurtured Heart Approach

Although we don't say much about it on this blog, anyone who knows our family knows that Jaybird is our "spirited" child. Some would say our "difficult" child. That is to say, she's very intense -- all her emotions are BIG. She is also very sensitive, persistent ("stubborn," if you don't like what she's being persistent about), and has difficulty with transitions. All classic markers of the Spirited Child, as outlined in the book by the same name (see the link below).

She consumes about 30 - 50 percent of our parenting energy on a good day. On a bad day, more like 80 percent. A few weeks ago, we began having way too many bad days. You know you've crossed a line as a parent when you start dreading interactions with your child, or when you start feeling bullied by your five-year-old girl. And just to be very clear about this, we did try just about everything we could think of, including ramping up the severity of the consequences to something just short of corporeal punishment; it was both exhausting and ineffective.

Finally, one night while Jaybird was in an extended time-out, after a particularly bad mutual meltdown (on her part and my part), the rest of the family sat down and prayed (out loud) for help in figuring out how to live with her. And more than that -- how to love her.

The next day at Early Childhood Family Education, I heard another parent tell her story. Basically, she had a nine-year-old who was in day treatment at her elementary school; the school counselors and psychologists were recommending drug therapy. (Apparently, it took four adults to hold her down during one outburst.) Then the mom started implementing the Nurtured Heart Approach. They saw a very quick change: she went from having several calls home every week to going four weeks without any calls home. Everyone was telling the mom that the girl was like a new child.

We started implementing this approach right away, just based on what we were able to glean from it anecdotally. Even with this partial, imperfect implementation, we've seen a remarkable change. The hour-long blowout temper tantrums that were a regular feature of every day now occur much less frequently. She never used to make it through family prayer without reprimands and, usually, being sent to her room. That doesn't happen anymore. More importantly, she is happier and more confident -- you can see the pride she takes in being good. (Her little chest actually sticks out more and her smile gets bigger!)

I'm going to try to outline the approach for the benefit of any of my siblings who may want to try this approach (not that I've noticed any difficult children among the cousins, but you probably never marked Jaybird that way, either). I will also provide a link to the book and the website below; the website isn't very informative, though, which is why this overview might be helpful. I offer it with two warnings: 1) The guy who systematized this approach does not claim that this approach is necessary for all children, although any child could benefit from it; most children do fine with conventional discipline techniques. This approach has proven to be very successful with high-energy children, including those diagnosed with ADHD. 2) Please understand that this is my own personal understanding of the NHA (Nurtured Heart Approach), which I am still learning. I'm leaving out a lot of the nuance, context, examples, and additional explanation given in the book. Read the book if you want more information: Transforming the Difficult Child: The Nurtured Heart Approach.

Here's my summary:

• The Nurtured Heart Approach is geared toward emotionally intense, sensitive, highly attached children -- your classic "spirited" child. It presumes that these children, more than others, really need a lot of "input" from others in the form of interaction and structure. It also presumes that conventional discipline techniques have taught these kids that it is really easy to get a lot of intense feedback from the people around them by acting up. It doesn't matter that it's negative feedback; these kids just want your energy, in any form they can get it. The NHA seeks to break the kids of the habit of acting up to get energy. 
• Howard Glasser and Jennifer Easley, authors of the NHA book, provide a very helpful analogy that really captures the approach. They observe that most of these "difficult" children strive hard to be successful at video games and/or sports games; more than other children, the difficult child "plugs into" these games because of the high level of interaction, feedback, and energy involved. Glasser and Easley also observe that video games and sports games offer lots of rewards (points, fun noises and visual effects) for positive behavior; negative behavior (breaking the rules or failing) consistently results in a simple, quick penalty -- the lights and sounds go away, or game play stops -- but only momentarily before game play (and the drive toward success) resumes. Glasser observes that these games are highly structured, and focus more on positive incentives than on negative consequences. At the risk of oversimplifying, the NHA strives to recreate the basic environment of a video game -- lots of positive reinforcement, combined with quick, consistent, low-intensity consequences for rule-breaking.
• The first step in the NHA is to stop giving energy to negative behavior -- you ignore it if possible, or address it as quickly as possible, and as neutrally as possible, if necessary.
• The second step is to reinforce -- and even create -- success by actively recognizing it and naming it whenever it occurs. Glasser points out that no child misbehaves all the time; so what you do is to give them lots of active recognition (feeding them "energy") when they're behaving in a way you want to encourage. The book spends four chapters outlining strategies for recognizing and reinforcing pro-social behavior. One element that seems important to me is that the positive reinforcement is not vague or unmerited ("Good job!" "Thanks!"). Rather, you're naming and describing very specifically the positive behavior that you're observing: "Amy, I'm really happy about how you asked Jeff to stop; you used your words in a polite voice, and even though you were frustrated when he didn't stop, you used your power to make a good choice by just walking away. It's wonderful to see your powerful self-control and good decision-making." You're not only feeding the child energy in return for positive behavior, you're providing structure by very explicitly connecting that positive input to the exact behavior that elicited it.
• For especially difficult children, Glasser outlines a credit system whereby the child earns credits for positive behavior -- lots and lots of credits -- that can be traded in for privileges. Credits are never taken away (just as points are never deducted in a game), but the child needs credits to "buy" the privilege. Glasser and Easley call this a "time-in" (as opposed to a time-out) approach. The kid gets something tangible for his good behavior. Again, this is like accumulating points in a video game; in the game, accumulated points result in obtaining new levels or powers. It's the same idea here, except that points = privileges. 
• Also, like a video game, the rules that one must follow in order to obtain credits are very clear-cut and well-defined. Glasser and Easley advocate formulating rules for the difficult child that are stated in negative terms ("No hitting, no lying") rather than in positive terms ("Respect others") because a negative definition is much more clearly defined than the more vague, open-ended positive definition.
• Finally, once the positive reinforcement has been established, you set up the companion piece: consequences. "Consequences serve as the all-important limits side of this intervention," Glasser and Easley say. Going back to the video game analogy, they point out that video games do not give any energy to a broken game rule: "No points are scored. There is no payoff. The game's response to any violation is totally predictable: Oops, broke a rule. The consequence: Temporarily missing out on the action." In the NHA, consequences are meted out neutrally, without fanfare or explanation (again, not giving energy to negative behavior). Also, warnings are not given (for the difficult child, warnings are just another "payoff" for negative behavior; they know the rules, or if they somehow missed the explanation, they will figure it out through the consequence).
• The consequence? A brief, manageable timeout -- what Glasser calls a reset. It begins when the child stops the negative behavior and quiets down, and is over very quickly afterward. The child is congratulated on successfully extinguishing the negative behavior and successfully completing the reset. "The power of a time-out...is not in how punitive or drastic it is, but rather in how 'clean' it is." A clean time-out is de-energized, with a rapid return to the pursuit of success -- much like a penalty in a video game or sports.

Again, I'm necessarily leaving out a lot of nuance and context.

I like this approach for two reasons. First, it seems to be working -- very quickly and effectively. More than once, Starling and I have exchanged raised eyebrows or shocked expressions as the expected blowup fails to materialize (like when we said "no" to a sleepover that she was invited to) -- or even at Jaybird's explicitly naming all the ways she's being good. Second, its focus on positive reinforcement and its presumption of the basic goodness of the child seem to me to be very consistent with Christian values. (Yes, some Christians emphasize the reality of sin, which cannot be denied; but presuming the dominance of sin, or that sin can only be fought with violence or harshness, seems to me to be a denial of the reality of the Resurrection. Grace has, and always will, overcome sin. Relying on that grace is the way to go. Hence the name of the blog, folks!)

The website for the book is http://difficultchild.com/ -- given with the warning that I didn't find it at all helpful for understanding the approach. For that, read the book: Transforming the Difficult Child: The Nurtured Heart Approach.

You may also want to read Raising Your Spirited Child: A Guide for Parents Whose Child Is More Intense, Sensitive, Perceptive, Persistent, and Energetic.

Finally, lest we give the wrong impression, let me just say that one advantage of raising a spirited child is that their joy and loveliness also tend to be magnified. Here's a video of Jaybird heading out into the snow, which I offer as proof of her essential sweetness. (I love her, "Aye, aye!") It's moments like these that make all the effort of parenting her so worthwhile.

Fun Run: A good first outing

Anthony

Well, Starling is declaring that the "inaugural" Fun Run to raise money for orphaned special needs kids in Eastern Europe "went smoothly." Which is to say that attendance was nowhere near what we'd hoped for; chalk it up as a learning experience. However, thanks to the extra generosity of several participants, we raised $622.10. That, plus a substantial gift from our friends in Boston, brings Anthony's adoption fund up to $6,642.10. Not bad. It might even be enough to get him adopted; he now has the second-highest fund (out of two hundred kids) on the Reece's Rainbow website.

We're relieved it's done, since Starling basically got the notion to do this all by herself just about three weeks ago. She did an amazing job, considering she was also holding down a full-time job, creating a grant proposal, and taking care of four kids in the evening. She's already talking about next year! I bought her a Subway sandwich to celebrate afterward. As we talked, I learned a few new things -- like that the one-year survival rate for the kids who end up in the adult mental institutions is about 50 percent, according to Human Rights Watch; Reece's Rainbow, which has been more deeply involved there more recently than HRW, says the one-year death rate is actually higher than that. All the more reason to do it again next year, I suppose.

Here are some pictures:

Mudpuppy getting his feet painted

The kids loved singer-songwriter Amanda Hardy

Starling registering kids

I think there were more volunteers than participants!

Getting ready to run

Mudpuppy on the run -- it was cool and windy!

Let's all do a happy dance . . . or cry . . . or thank God . . . .

You might notice that the "Help for Tori" button is down in the sidebar. There's a reason for that: Tori's adoption is now fully funded.

For those of you who might have missed it, Tori is the little girl that Starling "adopted" this month on Reece's Rainbow. This is an all-volunteer organization that promotes and supports the adoption of special needs kids in Eastern Europe. In Tori's country, these kids live in an orphanage until they are five, then are shunted off to a mental institution intended for adults. They generally die from neglect. In fact, a little girl that was listed on RR died just a few weeks ago at an institution in Tori's country.

Starling and another woman had taken on Tori's cause because she just turned five and was moved to a mental institution. (She has cerebral palsy, which is not a mental issue anyway.) For the past few weeks, Starling has been working very hard to raise money for this girl. In fact, our family is apparently single-handedly organizing a run/walk/roll around Lake Winona at the end of the month. (!)

So this morning, as Bear and Jaybird are fighting with one another and Mouse is on the couch throwing up, I get a call from Starling. She says, "Are you sitting down?" Someone -- we don't know who -- gave Tori a major grant, pushing her fund up to $23,500. That should completely cover the cost of her adoption, meaning that the likelihood of her being adopted soon just went way, way up. Most of the kids, even those in worse shape than Tori, get an adoptive family within a few weeks of being fully funded.

After I got off the phone, the older kids wanted to know why I was crying. :)

Initially, we thought that our generous friends in Boston decided to fully fund her; they had already made a very big donation. But when we called, it turned out it wasn't them. The donor remains a mystery.

Now, we just need to pray for a "ready-to-go" family -- one with all the paperwork completed -- steps forward. And yes, the fun run is going forward; the money will go toward one of the many other kids who aren't as lucky as Tori.

Our Version of Survivor: Camping 2010

Hi everyone. It's Starling again.

I am not a huge fan of camping. I like the outdoors and hiking, even canoeing, but sleeping with mosquitoes and rain and cooking in the elements with small kids--not so much. After all, didn't people move toward building permanent housing for a reason. But I am in the minority in the household. Plus its the only vacation we can afford, so...off we went to Kathio State Park near Lake Mille Lacs!

First we stopped at Jackrabbit's family home on the way...and went to Murphy's Landing one afternoon. This is a historical education spot, with houses, farms, schools, and a small town from circa 1840-1870 in Minnesota. They have interpreters and a horse drawn vehicle to the landing site. It really is pretty cool (well, actually it was hot, which should have served as warning about the upcoming trip). Our pictures didn't turn out, but here is one of Jaybird curtseying to the teacher, as she was told she should do at the beginning of school, in the recreated town hall.

Then off to Lake Mille Lacs! This is a huge fishing lake in central Minnesota, and we chose to go there because 1) we could rent a very basic cabin and avoid freezing to death like last year, and 2) its somewhat nearby (4 hrs from Winona), and we do have a baby traveling with us, and 3) it seems like everyone else has been to Lake Mille Lacs. Why not us? So, two firsts: we went to Lake Mille Lacs and Mudpuppy chowed down on corn on the cob. He loved it.

This was our late night dining room. S'Mores are a requirement to get me camping. The kids indulge me that way.

Here's a pastoral picture of Bear fishing on the Rum River. Sadly for him, he didn't catch anything. But he got a new fishing pole because I accidentally broke his in the packing extravaganza. So he tried that out gamely.

This gives you a better sense of where our cabin was. The area is very wooded, although it is somewhat new forest--the park is a reclaimed farm from the 1920s. For the record, we did eat real non-sugary food too....

One of the cuter moments was on our last night, while it was POURING rain, we sat in the cabin (thank goodness we had a cabin) and Mouse wrote a letter to future inhabitants about what we did there. It went along the lines: "We had a great time: we swam, we hiked, we fished, we did everything! My dad even saw a porcupine!"

On the way to the observation tower to see the Lake and valley. You get a sense of the "newer" forest here. Very pretty though. Granted, I sat in the van with a sleeping Mudpuppy for this one.

Making beaded bracelets and headbands at the Mille Lacs Ojibwe Museum. The reservation is literally right next to the state park and lake, and they have a fantastic museum. Really, this was the highlight of the trip for me. The history of Native Americans in Minnesota is rough to say the least, but it is heartening how this group is trying hard (and it appears successfully) to preserve their heritage and create a healthy sovereignty on their reservation.

It was hot hot hot, and humid, and doing anything is four times harder than being at home. But we also get to be together in a way that is without distractions. I like the North Shore much better, but this worked out for this year.

And I'm glad we're home.

Goodbye, Dad

My Dad passed away shortly after 2:30 this afternoon. Unfortunately, I am too exhausted to write much about the experience, other than to say that these past few days have been sort of like a retreat -- a very intense retreat, but a very fruitful one as well. For all the suffering my Dad has done, he has also given me a great gift by helping me to face my fear of death.

Although we are all responding in different ways, I would say that for the most part the family is truly happy for Dad while also mourning the loss of his physical presence with us.

'I love you, Dad'

Yesterday, Dad was qyute alert for much of the day -- for the most part unable to speak, but speaking a lot with his eyes. At one point we each got to tell him that we loved him, and he was able to say the same in return; then, he showed that he wanted to give us a kiss, so we each bent down and received a kiss on the cheek. When it was my turn, I kissed him three times on the forehead, and gave him the blessing that I give my children: "May God bless you and keep you, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen." This said with the sign of the cross made on his forehead. Not surprisingly, everyone was weeping -- but it was also a very blessed time.

My sense of this being a period of waiting -- like Advent -- continues. I spent a good deal of time today taking care of my sister's children while she spent time with Dad; I also had a good chunk of time to say the rosary with him (well, he didn't say it -- he has been sleeping muchof the time). He continues to have sleep apnea, where he will stop breathing for up to a minute, and then breath again in deep, gasping breaths. The hospice nurse assures us that this is more of an involuntary bodily reaction than something making him uncomfortable, which makes it easier to bear. His blood pressure and other vitals continue to look more or less normal -- although after five days of not eating or drinking, obviously this can't go on forever. He seemed much more peaceful today than he has since I got here, except for when people move him, which is still very uncomfortable.

Last night the entire family was with him until almost midnight, expecting the end (his breathing was very ragged and his pulse rate had slowed down so much). Tonight we will gather again to pray.....

Here is another amazing entry from my sister's blog -- you can get directly to her blog from the link in the sidebar of this blog. It's called, "It's STILL a Blessing." And, incidentally, thanks to all who have left comments or messages -- they are much appreciated.

Monday, July 12, 2010A day of goodbyes and happiness


My mother told a good friend of hers who came to pray at my Dad's bedside: "Today has been one of the hardest days of my life. But it's also been a day of happiness."

What a gift, what joy today has been. For the day, we had our Dad back. He was very awake and alert, knew who was with him and seemed to understand what we said to him. He was unable to talk but as my mom put it, "He talked to us with his eyes."

I came over about 1:30 today, hoping to have some time with my Dad. But it seemed that there was either someone in the room praying or else he was sleeping and he was not to be disturbed. I had come with my children and they were already fizzling out quickly. In disappointment, I headed for home and told myself that I really didn't need to be there. If it happened, then it happened. But I had wanted a chance to talk to my Dad one last time. However, he never seemed to know I was there.

Dennis understood my pain. He kept trying to talk me into going back but I stubbornly refused. I was hurt and angry. Me and my Dad never had the greatest relationship and I felt that his last moments were precious. However, he kept asking for everyone but me, and as selfish as it may have been to be thinking of myself, I was hurt.

Restless, I told Dennis I would like to go to Adoration to pray. On my way over, my sister called to tell me that my Dad was very alert and at peace. In the morning, he had been agitated, but then some friends came over and gave my Dad a healing cross and laid it on his chest and said the Divine Mercy chaplet. My Dad opened his eyes then and fixed them on my mom. From that moment on, there was a real peace about him. When he was sleeping, he slept normally. The apnea was completely gone.

My sister told me this story and said that a family rosary was planned if I could be there. I didn't really give my sister an answer--I knew I would be there, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I went to church as planned and after entering the chapel, I picked up a prayer book. I don't remember the exact words, but basically it said that we all make choices and that bad choices that hurt ourselves and others will only stop Christian love. And the longer that goes on, the more crippling it can be in our spiritual lives. I knew then that I would go. As Dennis said, "Put your feelings behind you and be there for your family."

I arrived and found that my mom was with my Dad. I didn't want to disturb her so I chatted with a family friend for a while. Then my mom came out and told me that my Dad wanted to see me.

I went in the room to find my Dad in the same weakened condition and unable to talk, but awake. He raised his hand to me and I held it. I then told him what I've wanted to say all my life:

"Sometimes children misunderstand and think the wrong thing about their parents in life, but then they grow up and realize that they all along they just really didn't understand. I misunderstood you, Dad, and I realize now that you did the best you could with me. You gave me all you could give me. And you were a father in the most complete sense. I've always known you loved me, even though we didn't understand each other or get along very well.

I love you, Dad, I always have. And I forgive you for everything and I hope you forgive me for the hurts I caused you. You've been a good Dad, and I thank you."

Through this speech my Dad squeezed my hand even harder, his face showed many different expressions, one of which he looked like if he had the tears, he would cry. I was already sobbing through this and when I finally stopped talking, my Dad looked at me and breathed out the words, "I love you."

The emotional burden of hurt and anger that I carried through a lifetime was lifted, I felt that God had answered my prayers of healing.

It's the first time I ever said "I love you" to my Dad. It's about the 5th time that he's said it to me.

The years of frustration with each other don't matter anymore, for today, I felt close to my Dad. Later, my Dad somehow conveyed the messege that he would like us to pray. We gathered around his bedside again and prayed the rosary. He was awake through it all, he was beginning to look scared again. After the rosary, he kept pursing his lips to kiss. My mom bent down to recieve his kiss, and then again, and again and again. The cross that he held so tight was brought to his lips to which he kissed.

My sister then offered her his cheek, and he kissed it and she kissed him in return. We all followed suit, all of his children giving him a kiss one last time and telling him how much we loved him.

My turn came and I again broke down. Now that I had my Dad I didn't want to let him go. I laid my head on my chest and told him, "I love you, I love you." I can never make up for enough "I love you's" in a day.

I went back to Adoration later in the evening to pray this time for my Dad. I felt at peace now, I was sad but I was at peace. Before I left the chapel I prayed to Jesus: "I have one thing to ask of You. Let him sleep. Let him sleep. Let him sleep."

When I got home he had lapsed into a coma. My mom had told him, ironically at the same time when I was at the chapel praying, "Go to sleep, Norm. It's ok to sleep now." My Dad said one last time, "Oh God."

His apnea has come back, he is no longer responsive. He is at about 50 seconds of no breathing now. We spent about 2 hours at his bedside praying, but my mom told us to go to bed. To leave him in God's hands. She would sleep with him.

I will be so sad to lose my Dad. But at the same time, I feel that God has been in this with us. God never snatches his souls to him, but takes them with a gradual drawing from our arms to His.

Prayers

Hello All--Starling here in Alabama with my family.

We'll blog more about the Alabama trip when we can, but the news now is that Jackrabbit's father is clearly in his last days (maybe hours).  I'm here in Alabama until Wednesday night with the kids, and Jackrabbit is now back in the Cities with family.  If readers can please pray for a peaceful death and strength and consolation for the family, that would be appreciated.

Thanks.  Much more on Becky's Its Still a Blessing blog (see left) for details.

Update on Becky

Here's a quick update on my sister, Becky, who had a massive heart attack, including a aortal dissection, last night.

First off, thanks so much for your prayers and general support. At its best, the Catholic blogosphere can be an avenue of grace -- a way of having an expanded experience of the universal Church, and this has been a good example of that.

We arrived in town late this afternoon to help take care of Becky's four small children, including her newborn (12 days old as of today). They are, thankfully, mostly oblivious (although wondering why mom is taking such a long nap).

For her part, Becky has received the sacrament of Anointing and remains in a state of medically induced hypothermia, which they are going to begin bringing her out of tonight through tomorrow morning. They plan to keep her heavily sedated and paralyzed for another two days after that, so we should know whether she will survive sometime over the weekend, or by the middle of next week at the latest. They continue to say that they just don't know whether she will come out of it or not, although there are some encouraging signs. Last night they were giving her a 50/50 chance of survival, which is amazingly good odds considering the circumstances. The fact that she was given CPR by a police officer within a minute of cardiac arrest was a huge factor; the fact that she is at one of the best heart hospitals in the region is another plus. Also, she is going to be the subject of a seminar attended by 50 national heart specialists here in town tomorrow -- her doctor is giving the presentation. Apparently her case is very rare.

As horrible as this has been, there is grace around the edges; the kindness and generosity of people, including complete strangers, is an awesome thing to behold -- a reminder that love has already won the victory.

Becky's blog is called It's STILL a Blessing. We will be setting up a CaringBridge site for her tomorrow.

Washing feet -- and everything else in sight

Today I took M along with me to our Holy Thursday service, which was as great as usual. As people were washing one another's feet, I couldn't help reflecting on the day I'd spent ministering to sick kids. J in particular has it really, really bad. Let's just say I did more loads of laundry today than I think I've ever done in one day in my life: towels, sheets, blankets, clothes, rugs. I spent a few hours in the bathroom with her, too, moving her from the bathtub to the toilet and back again every 10-15 minutes.

Washing feet in ancient times was dirty work -- practically no paved roads, and poor sanitation, you know. Washing a child, and nursing her and getting up with her, is also a "washing of feet," and in its way, just as holy.

B is sick with nausea and a low fever, but not as bad as the girls, thank goodness. M, meanwhile, is almost completely recovered. I would have said she was all the way there, except that she took another three-hour power nap this afternoon, and she collapsed in the middle of church tonight (right during the Gloria!) -- fainted dead away, making quite a scene for the people around us. I was going to take her home, but she wanted to stay -- which she did, seated.

On the way home, M pointed out the moon -- a "bowl of milk in the sky." And tomorrow is Good Friday.

J and B go down

Well, I always wondered whether it was possible to have the stomach flu and a bad cold at the same time, and this morning I found out, because at 4:30 a.m. J -- who has been fighting a bad head cold -- started throwing up. Just like with M, it's been pretty intense. She's vomited maybe a dozen times or so. Now she is begging for tall glasses of water, which of course we can't give her -- just a teaspoonful of water every five minutes. Or a popsicle, which she's now turning down regularly. (Never thought I'd live to see the day when she would turn down a popsicle.) B is complaining of nausea now (around 6 p.m.), and has a slight fever of 101. S has fled the house to get away from the Apocalypse. Well, as long as one of us doesn't come down with it, I think we'll be fine.

B's bus accident

Well, nothing quite matches the feeling of approaching your child's bus to see it surrounded by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles . . . or being told over the phone that the reason why your child isn't home yet is because his bus was in an accident. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fryer . . . up until then, we'd just been mildly annoyed and worried about B not crashing through the door on time.

Fortunately, the administrative aid who we talked to followed those words with ". . . but none of the students were hurt." When I told S, she said, "So that's what all those sirens were about!" So over her objection I hopped into the car and retraced the bus route.

This is what I encountered a mere four or five blocks down our quiet residential street. Turns out a pickup truck failed to yield and got clipped by the bus. The only thing seriously hurt was a broken tail light, but since it was a school bus, they had to wait for a replacement bus and fill out lots of paperwork. By the time I picked up B, it'd been a good 50 minutes since the crash. We didn't see the replacement bus come by until an hour and fifteen minutes after its usual time.

B, for his part, said it was "exciting but then really boring." He said "you couldn't miss it" -- a loud bang, apparently.

All's well that ends well. Speaking of which, M is now smiling, laughing, eating, and drinking. Last night she consumed 10 french fries, her most substantial food since Thursday; today, she followed up with some yogurt and two mini-hamburgers. White Castles, to be specific. Hey, it's what she wanted, and the doc said to give her what she wanted . . . .