What if I Trust
By Diane Hobaugh
What if I put all
of my needs in you,
my wants in you,
my trust in you?
Would you make them holy?
What if you put your
love in me,
your grace in me,
your presence in me?
Would I serve others?
Lord, let me be
an instrument of
your love on earth.
Build in me
a permanent home.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Waiting...Not Responding
The wake-up call came when I was mindlessly or mindfully consumed by rinsing the sink with the sprayer attachment. Thoughts of struggles...mine, theirs, and the difficulties of the day passed before me as the water cleared the sink of debris and swirled down the drain. Finishing the job, I turned the water off and replaced the sprayer into its station by the faucet.
Raspberry jam on my fingers from my toast brought me back to the sink for a quick rinse. SPRAY! Water blasted across the kitchen on a diagonal spree to the opposing island cabinets just missing my body. Expletives raced from my mouth as I exhaled and grabbed the towel. My mind didn’t retrieve the positive statements like, “Good Golly, or Good Gravy,” like my mom would say. I didn’t think it was very good at all as the water followed gravity to the open drawer making me remove contents and ponder my intelligence.
I should have known better. I know how this faucet works. Let the water settle down the tube, or whatever it has to do to return to normal, before beginning again. “Okay, I got the message!” I said out loud to the one on my mind.
Another bite while I cleaned up the counter walking dirtied cutting board and utensils from my lunch-packing routine to the sink. Turned on the faucet to rinse, and...SPRAY!
Water blasted out the sprayer with a force equal to the first once again, nearly missing my dressed and ready to go out the door body.
Louder expletives raced from my mouth...then pausing silence...then laughter. What was the message here? “Slow down, you move too fast,” were the words from a song that played across my brain.
Life happens this way. The more we try to control every event, the more confusing it gets. All of our insecurities pile up and make us feel helpless. Slow down. Recognize the stillness and God’s presence in it. My wake-up call wasn’t huge, but it was enough to get my attention focused away from the negative, and back to the positive where it belonged. I don’t function well in the negative. Sometimes it takes a jolt to remember the humor, the blessings, and the company I keep with a loving God who sometimes nudges me in weird ways to come back to him.
Raspberry jam on my fingers from my toast brought me back to the sink for a quick rinse. SPRAY! Water blasted across the kitchen on a diagonal spree to the opposing island cabinets just missing my body. Expletives raced from my mouth as I exhaled and grabbed the towel. My mind didn’t retrieve the positive statements like, “Good Golly, or Good Gravy,” like my mom would say. I didn’t think it was very good at all as the water followed gravity to the open drawer making me remove contents and ponder my intelligence.
I should have known better. I know how this faucet works. Let the water settle down the tube, or whatever it has to do to return to normal, before beginning again. “Okay, I got the message!” I said out loud to the one on my mind.
Another bite while I cleaned up the counter walking dirtied cutting board and utensils from my lunch-packing routine to the sink. Turned on the faucet to rinse, and...SPRAY!
Water blasted out the sprayer with a force equal to the first once again, nearly missing my dressed and ready to go out the door body.
Louder expletives raced from my mouth...then pausing silence...then laughter. What was the message here? “Slow down, you move too fast,” were the words from a song that played across my brain.
Life happens this way. The more we try to control every event, the more confusing it gets. All of our insecurities pile up and make us feel helpless. Slow down. Recognize the stillness and God’s presence in it. My wake-up call wasn’t huge, but it was enough to get my attention focused away from the negative, and back to the positive where it belonged. I don’t function well in the negative. Sometimes it takes a jolt to remember the humor, the blessings, and the company I keep with a loving God who sometimes nudges me in weird ways to come back to him.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Lessons from a Child
The cool grey fog blanketing our town brings such relief from the scorching memories of melting heat. Last weekend was stagnant with record degrees that egged on short tempers and paved the way to easy frustration.
Yet, she smiled. Her sister smiled. What was wrong with my take on the sunny optimism that permeated from the children? Was I caught up in the rat-race of schedules laid out before me that day? Was I already battling the heat and a bent disposition so much that I couldn’t rise above it?
Patience, I prayed, realizing that asking for patience is a sure way to get a whopping dose of hurdles to help me practice patience. “Practice makes perfect,” were words that ran through my head like a song stuck on repeat.
The morning continued with start and stop, and start again schedules. The problems allowed me to jump and run; jump and run to perfection. All of this practice was sinking in at about the same time as my daughter’s afternoon game with sun all around.
She had been wearing her jersey since 6:00 a.m., anticipating playing soccer with her team for most of the day. The enlightenment came to me from the flash of her smile, the cheering and clapping for her sweaty teammates as she was substituted off the field for water break and fan sprit-zing.
I realized that she wasn’t complaining one bit. Her expectations were right on, perfectly aligned with her performance. Mine had been tweaked, out of adjustment, and needed to change. The next words out of my mouth were positive. I started to enjoy the game, the company, the effort all around, and the fact that the moment was exactly what it was suppose to be.
Instead of praying for patience, I thought of the wisdom of children.
“Unless you become like little children, you shall not enter the kingdom of God.”
(Mt. 18:3)
Their spirit and energy was the perfect example of how we should be. The game ended as a tie with high-fives all around. We thanked the coaches and walked across the field, entering the hot car for the eleventh time that day.
I turned around on the sticky leather seat to see my flushed and dripping girl drinking her cool drink. “Thanks for playing such a great game,” I said.
She responded enthusiastically, “Your welcome....No problem!”
Oh, to be like a little child!
Yet, she smiled. Her sister smiled. What was wrong with my take on the sunny optimism that permeated from the children? Was I caught up in the rat-race of schedules laid out before me that day? Was I already battling the heat and a bent disposition so much that I couldn’t rise above it?
Patience, I prayed, realizing that asking for patience is a sure way to get a whopping dose of hurdles to help me practice patience. “Practice makes perfect,” were words that ran through my head like a song stuck on repeat.
The morning continued with start and stop, and start again schedules. The problems allowed me to jump and run; jump and run to perfection. All of this practice was sinking in at about the same time as my daughter’s afternoon game with sun all around.
She had been wearing her jersey since 6:00 a.m., anticipating playing soccer with her team for most of the day. The enlightenment came to me from the flash of her smile, the cheering and clapping for her sweaty teammates as she was substituted off the field for water break and fan sprit-zing.
I realized that she wasn’t complaining one bit. Her expectations were right on, perfectly aligned with her performance. Mine had been tweaked, out of adjustment, and needed to change. The next words out of my mouth were positive. I started to enjoy the game, the company, the effort all around, and the fact that the moment was exactly what it was suppose to be.
Instead of praying for patience, I thought of the wisdom of children.
“Unless you become like little children, you shall not enter the kingdom of God.”
(Mt. 18:3)
Their spirit and energy was the perfect example of how we should be. The game ended as a tie with high-fives all around. We thanked the coaches and walked across the field, entering the hot car for the eleventh time that day.
I turned around on the sticky leather seat to see my flushed and dripping girl drinking her cool drink. “Thanks for playing such a great game,” I said.
She responded enthusiastically, “Your welcome....No problem!”
Oh, to be like a little child!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Just the Reason She's here
Just the Reason She’s here
by Diane Hobaugh
No protection from heartache
From the ups and downs
The antics and sorrows
Just finding their way,
On the turf of the school yard
Rallying for friendship
Monkey bar kingdom
Just trying so hard,
It won’t be my lesson
Teamed with emotion
Preaching compassion
Just changing young hearts,
It will be her example
Of living life fully
Of loving kindness
Just being a friend,
I will watch for the outcome
Compassion’s clarity
Life’s learning evolving
Just the reason she’s here.
by Diane Hobaugh
No protection from heartache
From the ups and downs
The antics and sorrows
Just finding their way,
On the turf of the school yard
Rallying for friendship
Monkey bar kingdom
Just trying so hard,
It won’t be my lesson
Teamed with emotion
Preaching compassion
Just changing young hearts,
It will be her example
Of living life fully
Of loving kindness
Just being a friend,
I will watch for the outcome
Compassion’s clarity
Life’s learning evolving
Just the reason she’s here.
Measure of Success
Isn’t it funny how the alarm goes off and the day begins without knowledge of circumstances that will reveal themselves. We reflect on the previous days for clues about how events and schedules were handled, and even make predictions about the present day, but we can only guess.
I arose from bed with a fresh attitude, determined to live, breathe, and be an example of God’s love today. Hannah was already up when I knocked on her door after getting ready myself. I count these as blessings when my daughter picks out her own coordinating outfits and has good hair, two less battles to face each day.
She is an artist in her own room. I hear drawers opening and closing, the closet doors sliding open and shut, and her running dialogue with her imaginary friends and family upbeat and expressive all the while. The result is usually successful by both of our standards.
Today was different. Hannah opened her door to reveal three layers of clothing draped on her body. The pants, shirt, dress, and jacket had nothing to do with each other in color, pattern, or layering effect besides sharing the space on her living-breathing frame. My suggestion to change was shut down immediately, so I opted for a spontaneous back-up plan.
“Will you make breakfast this morning?” I asked. The combination of independence and helpfulness compliments like bread and butter. We made plans for her early morning cooking adventure as we walked down the stairs to the kitchen and saw the single, pink rose in the tiny vase on the island counter.
Since God had created this delicate rose with its heavenly scent, how much more does he care about us...his creation, his occasional screw-ups, his hard-working people who try to keep it all together, sometimes succeeding, and sometimes failing? I breathed in the rose feeling thankful for fresh starts on this first week of school.
We had thirty minutes to make breakfast happen. I placed three eggs on the counter by the sink next to her bowl and towel. I thought, “This isn’t half-bad,” as she tapped the egg on the side of the sink and proceeded to squish the egg into the bowl. We had practiced countless times, hand-over-hand, cracking together, but today I was letting go.
I made myself busy with her juice and additives, glancing over to say, “Great job on that one...We just need two more.”
“I...I ...can’t!” she stammered, until the inevitable plop of the egg into the bowl convinced her otherwise.
“I did it!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands and grabbing another egg.
Sure, there were a few chunks of shell in the mix, but those were fished out while she washed her hands in the sink. She buttered the cinnamon-raisin bagel half while I cooked the scrambled eggs with a splash of milk and a sprinkling of Cheddar cheese.
We portioned out the meal for three, two for now, and one who would eat on the drive to school, and sat down together. Hannah didn’t settle for my sincere blessing of, “Thank you, God, for this meal.”
She took my hand in hers and said, “No, me, mom,” and proceeded.
“Thank you, dear Lord, for my mom. She is so special, and she is so p-proud of me. Pray for my Devon, my best sister, who I made breakfast for. Pray for Dad, Jeff, on his trip. Pray for Jerad, my b-best big buddy, and brother.”
Then, I chimed in, “And pray for Hannah, who teaches us so much about love every day. Thank you for Hannah, who helps us to stretch and grow into better people. Bless her, and protect her, dear Lord. Amen.”
With minutes to spare for the rest of the morning routine, we left the rinsed dishes in the sink and ran upstairs. I flew open her closet door, grabbed a dress, and gave her two choices of leggings. She dressed while I served up new bubblegum flavored toothpaste on her toothbrush. The bathroom routine, socks and shoes, check...check...check, and we were out the door.
We raced back downstairs, grabbed the lunches off of the counter and I stole three seconds to close my eyes and breathe in the rose. The measure of success was so high on our charts before the school day even began!
The vision of the cracked egg, the fear of committing to something unknown, where the outcome could be messy, is something we face each day. It is our job to seek God’s help, and to trust that we are in his hands. Our lives are the blossoms he created. The outcome is so delicately revealed in the choices we make each day.
I arose from bed with a fresh attitude, determined to live, breathe, and be an example of God’s love today. Hannah was already up when I knocked on her door after getting ready myself. I count these as blessings when my daughter picks out her own coordinating outfits and has good hair, two less battles to face each day.
She is an artist in her own room. I hear drawers opening and closing, the closet doors sliding open and shut, and her running dialogue with her imaginary friends and family upbeat and expressive all the while. The result is usually successful by both of our standards.
Today was different. Hannah opened her door to reveal three layers of clothing draped on her body. The pants, shirt, dress, and jacket had nothing to do with each other in color, pattern, or layering effect besides sharing the space on her living-breathing frame. My suggestion to change was shut down immediately, so I opted for a spontaneous back-up plan.
“Will you make breakfast this morning?” I asked. The combination of independence and helpfulness compliments like bread and butter. We made plans for her early morning cooking adventure as we walked down the stairs to the kitchen and saw the single, pink rose in the tiny vase on the island counter.
Since God had created this delicate rose with its heavenly scent, how much more does he care about us...his creation, his occasional screw-ups, his hard-working people who try to keep it all together, sometimes succeeding, and sometimes failing? I breathed in the rose feeling thankful for fresh starts on this first week of school.
We had thirty minutes to make breakfast happen. I placed three eggs on the counter by the sink next to her bowl and towel. I thought, “This isn’t half-bad,” as she tapped the egg on the side of the sink and proceeded to squish the egg into the bowl. We had practiced countless times, hand-over-hand, cracking together, but today I was letting go.
I made myself busy with her juice and additives, glancing over to say, “Great job on that one...We just need two more.”
“I...I ...can’t!” she stammered, until the inevitable plop of the egg into the bowl convinced her otherwise.
“I did it!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands and grabbing another egg.
Sure, there were a few chunks of shell in the mix, but those were fished out while she washed her hands in the sink. She buttered the cinnamon-raisin bagel half while I cooked the scrambled eggs with a splash of milk and a sprinkling of Cheddar cheese.
We portioned out the meal for three, two for now, and one who would eat on the drive to school, and sat down together. Hannah didn’t settle for my sincere blessing of, “Thank you, God, for this meal.”
She took my hand in hers and said, “No, me, mom,” and proceeded.
“Thank you, dear Lord, for my mom. She is so special, and she is so p-proud of me. Pray for my Devon, my best sister, who I made breakfast for. Pray for Dad, Jeff, on his trip. Pray for Jerad, my b-best big buddy, and brother.”
Then, I chimed in, “And pray for Hannah, who teaches us so much about love every day. Thank you for Hannah, who helps us to stretch and grow into better people. Bless her, and protect her, dear Lord. Amen.”
With minutes to spare for the rest of the morning routine, we left the rinsed dishes in the sink and ran upstairs. I flew open her closet door, grabbed a dress, and gave her two choices of leggings. She dressed while I served up new bubblegum flavored toothpaste on her toothbrush. The bathroom routine, socks and shoes, check...check...check, and we were out the door.
We raced back downstairs, grabbed the lunches off of the counter and I stole three seconds to close my eyes and breathe in the rose. The measure of success was so high on our charts before the school day even began!
The vision of the cracked egg, the fear of committing to something unknown, where the outcome could be messy, is something we face each day. It is our job to seek God’s help, and to trust that we are in his hands. Our lives are the blossoms he created. The outcome is so delicately revealed in the choices we make each day.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Acknowledging the Present with Hope for the Future at the NDSC Convention
Acknowledging the Present with Hope for the Future at the NDSC Convention
This weekend proved to me how right we are together. I was proud to be a family at the NDSC convention in Sacramento. The weekend offered confirmation that we respect and value the “More Alike Than Different” message of the National Down Syndrome Congress as a way of looking at life for our child with Down syndrome, as part of our family, and as part of a greater community.
The time we spent attending conference sessions, walking around town, going out to dinner, and relaxing in the lobby/bar with other couples and families was a reaffirmation of the best parts of lives. We are a unit, working hard to be a loving family first, but connecting with others to help make a difference in their lives as well. We all have something to offer: to brand-new parents, to physicians we meet with our children, to genetic counselors we speak to about our children, and to communities we live in.
I had no preconceived notions about the effects this convention might have on my relationship with my husband. I just asked him to be a part of the weekend, without a lot of pressure, just saying, “This is all I wanted for my approaching birthday.”
I attended the Friday session as an Affiliate leader in our area, and my family followed arriving later that afternoon. What I realized throughout the weekend was the fact I couldn’t ask for a better man in my life. I couldn’t ask for a better father for our three children. I saw a unified vision of acceptance and honoring individuals for their unique abilities, hopes, and dreams.
I watched my husband interact with children, teens, and forty-year-olds with Down syndrome in such an honest and loving way. He joked, he listened, he gave knuckle punches and high-fives to guys who looked like they played professional football, and he gave just as many hugs to as many that came over to speak to us.
We had arrived at the place we were to be. I couldn’t ask for a better scene for this time in our lives as a family, and as individuals. We all felt great pride in our accomplishments thus far and incredible hope for the future.
Our daughter, Hannah, remarked by saying, “The kids are so proud of me. The adults are so happy, and the babies are so happy to see me!”
I know we will start planning for college ahead for our daughter with Down syndrome. We will dispel our old beliefs that Hannah will live with us forever. The young Self-Advocates we heard speaking at the podium to thousands gathered wanted no part of living underneath the roofs or rules of their parents. We are already getting a taste of that on a daily basis from our seven-year-old daughter!
The advocates spoke about their personal choices, their friends, and their freedom to work one, two, or three jobs, while always keeping their civil rights at the forefront. They spoke about making their own dinners, enjoying hobbies, practicing their faith, and enjoying cups of coffee on their own couches. These are not simple people performing simple tasks. These are complex people with everyday hopes and dreams.
We all have the present to whirl around in throughout our busy lives, but the future doesn’t seem so far away, and I might add, it looks pretty darn hopeful!
Thank you for an awesome weekend NDSC- staff, Board of Directors, Self-Advocates, families, and volunteers. The weekend was a huge success!
This weekend proved to me how right we are together. I was proud to be a family at the NDSC convention in Sacramento. The weekend offered confirmation that we respect and value the “More Alike Than Different” message of the National Down Syndrome Congress as a way of looking at life for our child with Down syndrome, as part of our family, and as part of a greater community.
The time we spent attending conference sessions, walking around town, going out to dinner, and relaxing in the lobby/bar with other couples and families was a reaffirmation of the best parts of lives. We are a unit, working hard to be a loving family first, but connecting with others to help make a difference in their lives as well. We all have something to offer: to brand-new parents, to physicians we meet with our children, to genetic counselors we speak to about our children, and to communities we live in.
I had no preconceived notions about the effects this convention might have on my relationship with my husband. I just asked him to be a part of the weekend, without a lot of pressure, just saying, “This is all I wanted for my approaching birthday.”
I attended the Friday session as an Affiliate leader in our area, and my family followed arriving later that afternoon. What I realized throughout the weekend was the fact I couldn’t ask for a better man in my life. I couldn’t ask for a better father for our three children. I saw a unified vision of acceptance and honoring individuals for their unique abilities, hopes, and dreams.
I watched my husband interact with children, teens, and forty-year-olds with Down syndrome in such an honest and loving way. He joked, he listened, he gave knuckle punches and high-fives to guys who looked like they played professional football, and he gave just as many hugs to as many that came over to speak to us.
We had arrived at the place we were to be. I couldn’t ask for a better scene for this time in our lives as a family, and as individuals. We all felt great pride in our accomplishments thus far and incredible hope for the future.
Our daughter, Hannah, remarked by saying, “The kids are so proud of me. The adults are so happy, and the babies are so happy to see me!”
I know we will start planning for college ahead for our daughter with Down syndrome. We will dispel our old beliefs that Hannah will live with us forever. The young Self-Advocates we heard speaking at the podium to thousands gathered wanted no part of living underneath the roofs or rules of their parents. We are already getting a taste of that on a daily basis from our seven-year-old daughter!
The advocates spoke about their personal choices, their friends, and their freedom to work one, two, or three jobs, while always keeping their civil rights at the forefront. They spoke about making their own dinners, enjoying hobbies, practicing their faith, and enjoying cups of coffee on their own couches. These are not simple people performing simple tasks. These are complex people with everyday hopes and dreams.
We all have the present to whirl around in throughout our busy lives, but the future doesn’t seem so far away, and I might add, it looks pretty darn hopeful!
Thank you for an awesome weekend NDSC- staff, Board of Directors, Self-Advocates, families, and volunteers. The weekend was a huge success!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Blessings from a Child
Blessings from a Child
by Diane Hobaugh
Sitting on the back porch sharing chips and salsa,
dog underfoot just hoping for dropped crumbs,
stopping to notice how she hunches her shoulders,
forming hand as saucer under chip moving in.
I watch fascinated caught up in her beauty.
My smile remains frozen as time marches nowhere.
She catches me looking; her smirk widens quickly.
She comes ‘round my chair to grace me with kisses.
Orange and salty lips form her upturned smile.
She cradles my chin with her two little hands.
Brushing wisps of hair to uncover my eyes
she cocks her head slightly revealing deep secrets.
Her fluid blessing flows from her heart.
My eyes brim with liquid full of compassion.
Absorbing her words fixated on her gaze,
grace-filled blessings of love freely given.
From child to mother reciprocal exchange;
a bond like no other; a gift fully present.
Moments to ponder, memories for a lifetime;
and ones for which I’m thankful I’ve been given this gift.
by Diane Hobaugh
Sitting on the back porch sharing chips and salsa,
dog underfoot just hoping for dropped crumbs,
stopping to notice how she hunches her shoulders,
forming hand as saucer under chip moving in.
I watch fascinated caught up in her beauty.
My smile remains frozen as time marches nowhere.
She catches me looking; her smirk widens quickly.
She comes ‘round my chair to grace me with kisses.
Orange and salty lips form her upturned smile.
She cradles my chin with her two little hands.
Brushing wisps of hair to uncover my eyes
she cocks her head slightly revealing deep secrets.
Her fluid blessing flows from her heart.
My eyes brim with liquid full of compassion.
Absorbing her words fixated on her gaze,
grace-filled blessings of love freely given.
From child to mother reciprocal exchange;
a bond like no other; a gift fully present.
Moments to ponder, memories for a lifetime;
and ones for which I’m thankful I’ve been given this gift.
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