If you live or work in Oklahoma City, chances are, you've seen your Oklahoma City Firefighters on the side of the road collecting money for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. The MDA distributes this money to families living with a loved one with MD- they help meet the needs that Medicaid and other services don’t cover.
Anyone remember the new city ordinance that people are not allowed to step off the road or onto the median? You know, the one to keep us from having to look homeless people in the eye as we drive past? The one that makes it easier to forget that humanity comes in lots of different packages and that not everyone has the same privileges we were born with? Yes, that one. Yesterday OKC Firefighters received 15 citations for stepping onto the median to collect money for children and families living with muscular dystrophy! It looks like this fabulous city ordinance will keep us from being bothered by the idea of those “sad little children confined wheels” as well.
Oh well, at least there’s Medicaid to help those kids, right? Today Oklahoma’s state legislature is meeting to vote on a budget that guts Medicaid even further. A huge amount of our nursing homes (many of which house adults with disabilities) will no longer be able to care for their patients, because the Medicaid money won’t be there.
Luckily when the state closed institutions in favor of caring for people with disabilities in their own communities they set up the In-Home Supports Waiver! Families were supposed to receive money each year to help off-set the cost of care and save the state money (Institutions are astronomically expensive to run), never mind that there are more than 8,000 people on the waiting list for services through the waiver. No, the Oklahoma legislature has now decided that these people are expendable and this program is set to be cut today in the budget they have proposed!
And no, they can't just go pan-handling. Remember, the city doesn't want us to have to see those less fortunate than ourselves.
We cannot allow this! We will stand up for the most vulnerable in our communities! Please call your State representative NOW and tell them that the proposed budget is NOT acceptable. We will NOT allow our state legislature to give themselves are raise on the backs of our most at-risk population!
This link will lead you to your representative:
http://www.oklegislature.gov/FindMyLegislature.aspx
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
The War
The war begins,
Blame and bullets spray.
Both sides broken, dying and still convinced of their righteous cause.
The martyrs cry "STOP!" from their graves, but no one hears their calls
The angry mob shields itself with the poor and the desolate- a shield of disposable lives.
The war continues fueled by the dropping of bombs and propaganda.
A light shines
A child walks into the fray-
Shot down.
To whom does he belong?
More children enter the field of battle, followed by their bleeding mothers.
They stand amidst the battle
They ask "Why?"
Everyone has an answer,a finger to point.
They are raging, burning for vengeance.
The war does not cease,
But the beloved walk toward the guns of their killers
Some fall, but some reach their targets.
They hold the faces creased with hatred and the cracks begin to show.
And now it is up to us
Will we drop our weapons?
Will we join the innocent and wash our bloody hands?
"There is no fear in love, for perfect love casts out fear."
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Riding the Short Bus
"That's so retarded"
Ouch.
"The guy acts like he has Downs or something."
Yuck.
"I'm not smart like [him], you know, I was more like a short bus kind of kid..."
Deep breaths, just take deep breaths...
Words have so much power; power to heal or to destroy, to bring life or death. The words above are just a few of the very painful comments that I have noticed in the last couple of years.
People almost always love Cohen before they even get to know him. It's like one mischievous little grin in their direction and most people are goners. When they get the chance to know him beyond the "he's so happy all the time" phase, they find out how much he loves to play tricks on people, how fierce his love for his little sister is, that he can be incredibly naughty, that he is a crazy good wrestler for how tiny he is, and that he is fantastically strong-willed.
Cohen is a lot of things. He is not a joke.
"I'm so sorry, if I'd have know you had a kid like that I wouldn't have said anything."
It doesn't matter WHO you said it to!
Cohen has had to WORK hard for every skill he posses. He was two before he learned to walk, but every single day he endured difficult physical training so that he could build the muscle tone and the coordination he needed. And now, at three, he runs everywhere with his brothers and sister.
Cohen doesn't speak much yet, but every day he works through our speech therapy program and has an outside speech therapist once a week. It is difficult, but he keeps trying. Is that funny? Stupid? Retarded?
No, it's not. It's brave. It's strong. It's Amazing.
Being compared to this kid should be a complement, not a joke.
Ouch.
"The guy acts like he has Downs or something."
Yuck.
"I'm not smart like [him], you know, I was more like a short bus kind of kid..."
Deep breaths, just take deep breaths...
Words have so much power; power to heal or to destroy, to bring life or death. The words above are just a few of the very painful comments that I have noticed in the last couple of years.
People almost always love Cohen before they even get to know him. It's like one mischievous little grin in their direction and most people are goners. When they get the chance to know him beyond the "he's so happy all the time" phase, they find out how much he loves to play tricks on people, how fierce his love for his little sister is, that he can be incredibly naughty, that he is a crazy good wrestler for how tiny he is, and that he is fantastically strong-willed.
Cohen is a lot of things. He is not a joke.
"I'm so sorry, if I'd have know you had a kid like that I wouldn't have said anything."
It doesn't matter WHO you said it to!
Cohen has had to WORK hard for every skill he posses. He was two before he learned to walk, but every single day he endured difficult physical training so that he could build the muscle tone and the coordination he needed. And now, at three, he runs everywhere with his brothers and sister.
Cohen doesn't speak much yet, but every day he works through our speech therapy program and has an outside speech therapist once a week. It is difficult, but he keeps trying. Is that funny? Stupid? Retarded?
No, it's not. It's brave. It's strong. It's Amazing.
Being compared to this kid should be a complement, not a joke.
Friday, October 10, 2014
beauty
My day has been filled with tiny giggles and big belly laughs, chocolate chip covered faces, wet kisses, arms wrapped tight around my neck, little hands pulling at my apron, water and tears spilled, fears calmed, lessons taught, songs sung, the same three books over and over, more kisses, and four sweet lovies tucked in bed. What could be more beautiful?
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
End The Night
Last night I had a terrible nightmare.
In my dream, two of my children and I were taken from our home and forced to work at a brothel. I begged and cried and pleaded with the woman in charge to let my children leave. I told her that I would be her best employee if only she'd let my children go. She responded with a matter of fact "They are old enough to work. They are cute and they'll sell well."
The next scene I remember is the morning after that first night's "work" holding my little boys in my lap weeping and one telling me "I thought the night would never end, Mama. I thought the morning would never come!" I was broken and so were they. There was no hope for us.
I woke to the sound of the baby crying and after I realized it was just a dream I began to calm down. I nursed the baby, gave her some Tylenol to help with her teeth and walked with her for a while.
Then I put her back to bed and went back to my bed. But I did not sleep.
That dream kept playing in my mind and while I was relieved that it wasn't true and that all of my children were sleeping safely in their beds, I couldn't help but realize that it is true for so many mamas. As I lie in my bed last night, there were women crying, screaming, begging, making bargains they never would have otherwise made in order to protect their babies.
Our world is broken. For so, so many it feels like an eternal night of hell and that morning will never come.
Some mamas just risked it all, they gave up all of their money, they gave their babies to strangers or sent them off on their own and hoped against hope that morning could come for the ones they loved. They sent them off with tears and kisses and lots of prayers. Maybe if they made it to America they'd be safe. And the gamble of "maybe" being safe was worth the risk, because they couldn't deal with the certainty of their baby being forced into the gangs, forced to kill or be killed, forced to become a prostitute, forced to sacrifice humanity for survival.
Some of those babies made it! They survived long treks with little food. They survived the traffickers that were supposed to be taking them to safety abusing and taking advantage of them. They kept moving forward because their mamas told them not to stop until they crossed the border, that when they got there they would have the chance to be children again.
They made it! They did it! They were safe!
But we don't want them. Those children will expose our children to all types of diseases. Think of all of the terrible things they've seen; won't they replicate the terrors they have been exposed to and our children need to be protected from such atrocities. Those children are not our children.
Please, for just a moment imagine that they were our babies. That we had our babies in a place that we could not keep them safe, no matter what we did. That we had to send them off, reliant on the mercy of others and the mercy of God.
I beg for mercy! Please, they may not be our babies, but they are somebody's babies! We can work together to end the night!
If you are interested in being a voice for mercy by calling or writing your congressmen here are the links to contact them:
House of Representatives
Sentate
In my dream, two of my children and I were taken from our home and forced to work at a brothel. I begged and cried and pleaded with the woman in charge to let my children leave. I told her that I would be her best employee if only she'd let my children go. She responded with a matter of fact "They are old enough to work. They are cute and they'll sell well."
The next scene I remember is the morning after that first night's "work" holding my little boys in my lap weeping and one telling me "I thought the night would never end, Mama. I thought the morning would never come!" I was broken and so were they. There was no hope for us.
I woke to the sound of the baby crying and after I realized it was just a dream I began to calm down. I nursed the baby, gave her some Tylenol to help with her teeth and walked with her for a while.
Then I put her back to bed and went back to my bed. But I did not sleep.
That dream kept playing in my mind and while I was relieved that it wasn't true and that all of my children were sleeping safely in their beds, I couldn't help but realize that it is true for so many mamas. As I lie in my bed last night, there were women crying, screaming, begging, making bargains they never would have otherwise made in order to protect their babies.
Our world is broken. For so, so many it feels like an eternal night of hell and that morning will never come.
Some mamas just risked it all, they gave up all of their money, they gave their babies to strangers or sent them off on their own and hoped against hope that morning could come for the ones they loved. They sent them off with tears and kisses and lots of prayers. Maybe if they made it to America they'd be safe. And the gamble of "maybe" being safe was worth the risk, because they couldn't deal with the certainty of their baby being forced into the gangs, forced to kill or be killed, forced to become a prostitute, forced to sacrifice humanity for survival.
Some of those babies made it! They survived long treks with little food. They survived the traffickers that were supposed to be taking them to safety abusing and taking advantage of them. They kept moving forward because their mamas told them not to stop until they crossed the border, that when they got there they would have the chance to be children again.
They made it! They did it! They were safe!
But we don't want them. Those children will expose our children to all types of diseases. Think of all of the terrible things they've seen; won't they replicate the terrors they have been exposed to and our children need to be protected from such atrocities. Those children are not our children.
Please, for just a moment imagine that they were our babies. That we had our babies in a place that we could not keep them safe, no matter what we did. That we had to send them off, reliant on the mercy of others and the mercy of God.
I beg for mercy! Please, they may not be our babies, but they are somebody's babies! We can work together to end the night!
If you are interested in being a voice for mercy by calling or writing your congressmen here are the links to contact them:
House of Representatives
Sentate
Sunday, February 23, 2014
For Kezzi- On The Hard Days
I wrote this for Kezzia last month, but it fits again: with a trip to the emergency room due to a "hair tourniquet" (it's a real thing) followed by our little ER souvenir of uncontrollable vomiting all around. I think the worst has passed and am dreaming for a decent night's rest.
Sweet Kezzi,
You were sick this week. You cried so much and were so uncomfortable. I held you and walked round and round and round the living room with you. Every time I tried to sit and rock you, you threw your body backward with all the force your little 10 month old muscles had and screamed and head butted me until we got back up and walked some more. A few times I had to take you to your bed and let you cry for a minute because I *had* to use the restroom or make lunch for your brothers or just take a breather.
It was so hard.
I cried a lot with you.
Caring for little ones is the hardest thing I have ever done. Honestly, many days I wonder whether or not I can do this mothering thing. It is so hard. Some days I give and give and give and it's never enough. And some days I'm selfish and don't give and that hurts my heart too. The sick days are the hardest, trying to do the every day hard stuff with a little one who is hurting is heart-breakingly hard.
But it is also good.
When you fall asleep in my arms and I feel your soft baby hair and skin against my cheek, I know I can do it.
When you reach for me and open and close your little hands to tell me that you want me to hold you, I know I can do it.
When you and all of your brothers are tangled up together for a bedtime story, I know I can do it.
The love I have for you is fierce and even on the days that are oh-so-hard, it makes me brave.
Little One, you are going to face so many things in your life that are hard. You may think that there must have been some sort of mistake, because the mess you find yourself in is too hard. You will probably find some things that you had no doubt that you'd be good at and then realize that whatever it was did not come as naturally as you had expected.
But Sweet One, almost anything worth doing is hard sometimes. So far my experience is that the experiences I most treasure in this life have been hard. Be brave.
Just because it is hard does not mean you're doing it wrong.
I hope that by the time you are old enough to read and understand this letter I will have been made kinder and softer by all of the hard things I have run into.
My hope for you is that one day when you find yourself in that place where you say "I can't!" you'll find the courage hang on, because nothing lasts forever. Every single difficult day this week came to an end. Even when you cried for what seemed like hours and I could not put you down, eventually you fell asleep and in those moments I held you even closer.
In the shower this week, I wore out this chorus:
"Your grace is sufficient for me;
Your strength is made perfect when I am weak.
And all that I cling to, I lay at your feet.
Your grace is sufficient for me."
These moments, these hard, I cannot do this moments, they can make me more like Jesus.
Sister, I don't know what life looks like for you now, but I sure know that the world can always use a few more people who act like Jesus.
So today, when things are so, so hard- breathe deep and keep being brave.
I love you,
Mama
Sweet Kezzi,
You were sick this week. You cried so much and were so uncomfortable. I held you and walked round and round and round the living room with you. Every time I tried to sit and rock you, you threw your body backward with all the force your little 10 month old muscles had and screamed and head butted me until we got back up and walked some more. A few times I had to take you to your bed and let you cry for a minute because I *had* to use the restroom or make lunch for your brothers or just take a breather.
It was so hard.
I cried a lot with you.
Caring for little ones is the hardest thing I have ever done. Honestly, many days I wonder whether or not I can do this mothering thing. It is so hard. Some days I give and give and give and it's never enough. And some days I'm selfish and don't give and that hurts my heart too. The sick days are the hardest, trying to do the every day hard stuff with a little one who is hurting is heart-breakingly hard.
But it is also good.
When you fall asleep in my arms and I feel your soft baby hair and skin against my cheek, I know I can do it.
When you reach for me and open and close your little hands to tell me that you want me to hold you, I know I can do it.
When you and all of your brothers are tangled up together for a bedtime story, I know I can do it.
The love I have for you is fierce and even on the days that are oh-so-hard, it makes me brave.
Little One, you are going to face so many things in your life that are hard. You may think that there must have been some sort of mistake, because the mess you find yourself in is too hard. You will probably find some things that you had no doubt that you'd be good at and then realize that whatever it was did not come as naturally as you had expected.
But Sweet One, almost anything worth doing is hard sometimes. So far my experience is that the experiences I most treasure in this life have been hard. Be brave.
Just because it is hard does not mean you're doing it wrong.
I hope that by the time you are old enough to read and understand this letter I will have been made kinder and softer by all of the hard things I have run into.
My hope for you is that one day when you find yourself in that place where you say "I can't!" you'll find the courage hang on, because nothing lasts forever. Every single difficult day this week came to an end. Even when you cried for what seemed like hours and I could not put you down, eventually you fell asleep and in those moments I held you even closer.
In the shower this week, I wore out this chorus:
"Your grace is sufficient for me;
Your strength is made perfect when I am weak.
And all that I cling to, I lay at your feet.
Your grace is sufficient for me."
These moments, these hard, I cannot do this moments, they can make me more like Jesus.
Sister, I don't know what life looks like for you now, but I sure know that the world can always use a few more people who act like Jesus.
So today, when things are so, so hard- breathe deep and keep being brave.
I love you,
Mama
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Love
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” ~C. S. Lewis
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