Laho Christmas Traditions

Thought I would share some Laho Christmas-time...

Caleb and I begin to decorate the annual  Laho Gingerbread House. Where are the two family members good at geometry? No where to be found. Note all the small confused pieces.

 

We concur to sneak a peek at our McCartney Friends Gingerbread House. After all they were the ones so kind to curse gift us with this project so we could make family memories. Did I mention there are only two of us (dimensionally, geometrically, weak) working on a gingerbread house that has no directions. So glad Devaree posted her house on FB!

 

After some cheating diligence and a lot of crying patience, the tradition was complete! Note to future builders- do not eat glue frosting or corrugated cardboard gingerbread house.

 

Alisha sporting antlers for the annual Cooke Musical. Oh, and wearing my sweater that when Hannah saw said, "Wow Alisha! Is it ugly sweater day at school?" Nice!

 

Our decorations went up. Inviting isn't it? I really should have superimposed caught Santa on film!

 

Courtesy of Aunt Linda we camped out in our family room to watch Polar Express and eat popcorn. Watching a Christmas movie is definitely a Laho tradition. Now it looks like planting a tent in the family room is too. Hey, I will take this set up any day over the real deal. And Jeff's fire-building talents can be enjoyed anywhere! Should I mention this was Caleb's first viewing of Polar Express? Sometimes you fall behind with your fourth child. Don't judge me!

 

Of course the annual photo- in -front- of- the -tree tradition! Surprised it only took one! I didn't capture all the Laho traditions on film, i.e. the hot chocolate-spilling-ride through the Wayne County Lightfest, seeing Santa or just talking about him, parties, Advent wreaths, baking, hand-made gifts, Jeff & Stacey shop til Jeff drops , going door-to door singing Christmas carols (this one is only in my dreams)...

 

Not sure if I'm ready for a New Year. Sometimes I like to stay where I'm at. I know that's why I like tradition. I get to go to what I know. A new year? Risky. But tonight I will be snuggled in with the best of friends, an army of teenagers, and two small boys to invite in the New Year. I can't think of a better way to welcome some risk in the coming year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grief Thoughts

A friend of mine once rode on an airplane with famous journalist Mitch Albom. She asked him what advice he had for someone pursuing writing. His response? Simple, "Write about what you know."

Yesterday twenty-six people were murdered in a Connecticut Elementary School. Another senseless mass murder dropped at the doorstep of our hearts. I do not know the devastation of losing a loved one in a shooting. I do not know the personal struggle of mental illness or have a family member who suffers in such a way. But I do know loss and I do know death upfront and very personally.

My arms have been wrapped around my dead son's body and my lips have known the words leaving my mouth to tell a little sister, "Your brother has died and will not be coming home." I know the day our family was robbed of our young boy, the day we came home from the hospital without our child. I know the next day too when you wake up and the realization continues to hover over you that your son is dead. The day after and the day after that is the same. Your mind hears the words, sees the death, but your heart refuses to release its grip on the love of your life, the dreams you had.

You settle into shock because it is safer and easier to breath. And then the world goes on. But you are constantly barraged with reminders that your life will not go on as it did. The young sibling will not let you forget the truth. She bounces on her bed singing, "My brother is dead, my brother is dead." only to disappear into a closet sobbing that her brother is dead.

It is easier to look for the silver lining rather than allow the searing pain to enter our hearts and interrupt our lives. But it will enter and it will be ugly.

In a world of drive-thru everything we must not rush through the process of grieving the lost lives and seeking the face of God in the crucible of the horrific truth. There are no words to be flung out as if there was some fast way to heal the devastation. There are no answers to instantly be found to give us understanding.

There is a way to allow healing to begin though for the griever. If you want to be a friend to a griever...

Sit in silence.
Remember.
Cry.
Hold hands.
Pray.
Cry.
Write.
Remember.
Speak seldom.

Lastly, let the opportunity to go deeper into a broken heart not slip away and let God do the rest because He too had a child die.

Kids Kamp

Yesterday we hosted a fundraiser for our son Kodey's scholarship at Ward Church. The scholarship provides families hit with hardships the opportunity to send their kids to Kids Kamp for a week in the summer. This Kamp is no ordinary camp. It is a camp our son fell in love with. A camp Kodey dreamed of returning to as a counselor. I believe he would have lived there if he could have.

One time, after Kodey died, I went to Kids Kamp to chaperone a bus-load of kampers. Once there I saw all the things Kodey talked non-stop about; the lake reflecting trees with a big "blog" in the middle, the cabins with their bunks, the area referred to as "News on the Deck" where Kodey reported on kamp activities, including an incident with Mr. Greenman falling asleep on duty! All of it engaged my imagination to see my boy and what captured his heart. Tears would not stay at bay as I saw this beautiful get-away.

And I do think that is what makes it so "magical". It is a get-away for many of the kids who go. We save letters that we get from kamp kids who go on Kodey's Scholarship. The letters usually say "thanks" and "I love Kids Kamp because...". But one letter this summer had a picture of a boy named Christopher smiling wide as he proudly held up his riflery target peppered with holes. Christopher is one of those kids who needs a get-away.

His mom was killed in the car accident they were both in when Christopher was four. Christopher's face gives clues to a story of pain, with a deep scar under his right eye. Kids often ask him what happened which brings the pain of his grief front and center, as he still struggles with his inability to have saved his mom in an accident he survived.

But that isn't the end of Christopher's story. His dad's grief and job struggles have left Christopher almost parent-less and often neglected. When Christopher goes to Kids Kamp he is getting more than a fun week away. He is filling an emptiness.

The emptiness gets a pouring in of love from counselors, friends and most of all the teaching that there is One who will never stop pouring in, Jesus.

So yesterday when we hosted our fundraiser I got my own pouring in. I could tell you about the loads of loving faces that showed up on my door step to be a part of this event. I would tell you how warmed I was to hear memories of my boy from so many who knew him and do not forget. I would share how generous people were to put us past raising $2000. And all of this would be so true!

There was more though. It was the from the God who is able to do immeasurably more than all I ask or imagine. It was the "more" that gave me a glimpse of the kingdom of God at work. Christopher is his name. Thank you Mary for sharing his story with me!

Two months ago I awoke from my night of sleep, strangely saying these words, "Ok God, I will host a fundraiser." I had no idea why I had this strong urging but I knew it was from God and I needed to do it right now. Now I think I do know.

Thanking God today for all of you who supported us yesterday. It blessed me immeasurably! I hope it did you too.

Remember Him

Two nights ago I spoke to about seventy people about the grief journey. I simply shared my own experience and how I had seen God faithfully reveal to our family He had not forgotten us, that He did not mean to harm us in our great pain but truly had a hope and future for our lives.

How could I say all of that? A decade ago today our son died. I thought I would die. I told those in attendance that. I think it made them feel understood. I also told them that I don't believe we "move on" as way to heal from our pain. I said we move with our loss, we let our pain move us toward a place of healing. I think they understood that too.

To say "move on" has always felt to me as if I could easily live without my son, as though his life could be separated from mine. The tender place he made in my heart does not forget. It will never forget. And it can never be filled by another.

On this journey of loss I have seen over and over how God wants to be a part of my future. I've seen how He has endured my obstinacy, my faltering trust, my ugly emotions. Like a daddy holding an inconsolable newborn, My Father has held me not forcing upon me His love and His ways but always offering it. Revealing it.

Many have comforted me along the journey. Many have never forgotten Kodey with us and have stuck closer than a sister or brother. I am grateful for that!

Today is ten years since our son left. Tears want to burst out of me and I want to breathe deep. As much as I miss my boy, and I do miss him, my tears are joyful ones laced with the ache that a Savior knows. I want to remember Him. I want to cry out how He has been so merciful, so intimate, so gracious and so faithful.

So today I remember Him and how he took what was meant to harm us and used it for good.

So You Think You Can Park?

It's kind of funny. This morning I thought about writing this blog to educate the non-using handicap space members of society about the importance not parking over the blue lines. Then I went out and got lift-bound. Someone parked right next to my side door where I unfold the wheelchair lift to get Alisha in and out of the van, which prevented me from using the lift. I had to move the van two more times on the stone-grated parking lot before I could successfully get the lift down and we could be on our merry way.

This is going to seem like a gripe session but bare with me or just humor me. Just trying to do a little handicap parking education. There are two kinds; the regular signed "Handicap Parking" and the "Van Accessible Only" spots. Not complicated you say.

If someone parks in a handicap spot they have been given an extra wide (although not always) lane to park in and some blue diagonal lines next to their space indicating the area where the person with a disability could be unloaded from the vehicle. These blue lines are not painted to make the parking space more symmetrical in appearance or ascetically attractive to the human eye. No, they actually are a sign as important as other signs on the road like the famous "stop" sign or the not always respected "yield" sign.

If you park in a space with these diagonal blue lines you want to do one thing and one thing only- park anywhere but on the diagonal blue lines. If you do park on the diagonal blue lines someone is not going to get into their vehicle very easily. Someone is going to be unhappy. You may even become at risk. Not saying for what.

There are people in this world who will become unglued if you park over the diagonal blue lines. They may want to hurt you. Not me of course. I really try to remain more rational than some.

Now, the words "Van Accessible Only" is a whole other matter. My husband who happens to be one of the more even-tempered people I know in this world is transformed into the likes of Dr. Jekyll when he sees a car parked in the "Van Accessible Only" spot when there are  plenty of regular "Handicap Parking" spots available. Even though I told you the handicap spots are extra wide, they are not wide enough for vans. When deploying the lift we take up an extra six feet. The only way to ensure the lift will go down with ample room to get Alisha out is to park in one of these spots. Nine times out of ten parking in a regular "handicap" spot will result in being lift-bound. There is definitely a shortage of these Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Golden Ticket parking spots. So when we see the "Van Accessible Only" spot it's like a teen opening an iPhone on Christmas morning. But when we can find no where to park and see cars parked in these rare "Van Accessible Only" finds, some of us come unglued. Not saying who.

So if you ever park near or in a handicap parking spot think about these things. It just may save your life.

IDEA

Yesterday a friend of mine gave me an important assignment. She doesn't know she did and I hope she won't mind that I took her misunderstanding to inform others.

Having a daughter, Alisha, who has been profoundly impaired since birth I have been involved in the special education process for eighteen years. I have watched my other kids pass her by quickly in milestones only to move onto things I was fairly certain Alisha would never reach.

She does not talk, walk, eat by mouth, sit up, pick up objects, scratch her face, roll over, push away people trying to harm her, brush her teeth, blow her nose...

She laughs inappropriately, plays with toys a six month old would enjoy, has seizures, vomits unexpectedly, wears three different devices to help combat high muscle tone, uses a cochlear implant to help her to hear, has eyes that float in different directions, drools excessively...

If I stop there you may wonder what's the point of going to school. By the word's standards she will never "fit" in. Some in the world do not think her life has value at all.

In 1990 the federal government passed a law called The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, (IDEA). It is designed to protect the rights of students with disabilities ensuring that all children receive a free appropriate education no matter what the disability.

Special education is not some sweet name we call education to refer to kids who are "special". It is to differentiate the type of education needed. Specialized. Tailored. Specific. The education Alisha receives is based on what Jeff and I along with her teacher, physical therapist, occupational therapist,and speech and language therapist determine are the goals  to work toward for the school year. It is called the Individualized Education Program, (IEP).

Without this law and plan Alisha may be sitting in a classroom without any assistance, with typical peers, learning about chemistry and geometry. Now that makes me say, "what's the point?".

The placement for kids who have disabilities is not always clear or easy. Often imperfect.  And the purpose is not to make typical students more compassionate or tolerant towards those with disabilities. Although it does happen and is certainly hoped for. Most importantly their placement is valuable for them. They are valuable.

Over the years I have struggled with where I want my daughter to be on the "charts" and where she really is. It's almost a lifetime of grieving. But it is also an enormous opportunity to move closer to God and what He values.

IDEA is to me an idea. It is the idea that all people matter. It is an idea to strive toward individual goals that matter. It is an idea that gives hope to students and parents.

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