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.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Beautiful Life
Life is beautiful. The twists the turns the unexpected dips into valleys of uncertainty that make us climb the mountains of discovery to reach the vistas and sunsets of life. It is all worthwhile, part of God’s plan, beautiful.
I just received a call from a friend, who acted on her own spontaneity, and God’s prompting to talk to me about friendship, experiences we laugh about that bring us closer, and the struggles that make us stronger. What wisdom! I reflect on our conversation throughout my morning.
I head downstairs to hear the music blasting, girls dancing to Black-Eyed-Peas, with smiles on their faces. The joy and laughter is contagious. I open kitchen windows to allow the fresh air to mingle with the smell of pancakes just made. The music shuffles to Taylor Swift and three girls begin acting out the words of her song. Hannah runs over to give me a bear hug, jumping into my arms to say, “I love you.”
I smile as I back away, watch for a while, sing with them, then go back upstairs. This fills me up to capacity. The love in my heart is complete. Whatever else the day is supposed to unfold will happen in part because I follow the path I am called to follow.
Today we will attend a memorial for a friend, the first person to bring me information about Down syndrome. All I see is her smiling face when I think of her. She will always remain in my heart as that first smiling face, that first positive interaction that life will be beautiful, raising your child with Down syndrome.
Life is what we make of it. If we share the best we have to offer each day, even if it is that best five minutes we squeak out to someone else, so be it. Refresh your soul and mind. Retreat to quiet and sleep if the need comes over you, but take the time to clear your mind and the beauty will come again. The gorgeous beauty of each new day will present itself.
I just received a call from a friend, who acted on her own spontaneity, and God’s prompting to talk to me about friendship, experiences we laugh about that bring us closer, and the struggles that make us stronger. What wisdom! I reflect on our conversation throughout my morning.
I head downstairs to hear the music blasting, girls dancing to Black-Eyed-Peas, with smiles on their faces. The joy and laughter is contagious. I open kitchen windows to allow the fresh air to mingle with the smell of pancakes just made. The music shuffles to Taylor Swift and three girls begin acting out the words of her song. Hannah runs over to give me a bear hug, jumping into my arms to say, “I love you.”
I smile as I back away, watch for a while, sing with them, then go back upstairs. This fills me up to capacity. The love in my heart is complete. Whatever else the day is supposed to unfold will happen in part because I follow the path I am called to follow.
Today we will attend a memorial for a friend, the first person to bring me information about Down syndrome. All I see is her smiling face when I think of her. She will always remain in my heart as that first smiling face, that first positive interaction that life will be beautiful, raising your child with Down syndrome.
Life is what we make of it. If we share the best we have to offer each day, even if it is that best five minutes we squeak out to someone else, so be it. Refresh your soul and mind. Retreat to quiet and sleep if the need comes over you, but take the time to clear your mind and the beauty will come again. The gorgeous beauty of each new day will present itself.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Believing In Dreams For This Newborn Child
Believing in Dreams for this Newborn Child
By Diane Hobaugh
Believing in dreams for this newborn child,
questioning, fearing while hope slowly dies;
Beautiful baby accepting and mild.
Devoting more time, feeling so wild,
Reading each book researching ties
Believing in dreams for this newborn child.
Hopes and possibilities slowly filed,
Meeting a parent, sharing life’s highs,
Beautiful baby, accepting and mild.
Families reeling, not feeling defiled,
Passion growing as big as the skies,
Believing in dreams for this newborn child.
Mastery of talent uniquely tiled,
Celebrating now, confidence flies,
Beautiful baby, accepting and mild.
Destination altered from one dialed,
Experiencing gifts in my daughter’s eyes,
Believing in dreams for this newborn child;
Beautiful baby, accepting and mild.
By Diane Hobaugh
Believing in dreams for this newborn child,
questioning, fearing while hope slowly dies;
Beautiful baby accepting and mild.
Devoting more time, feeling so wild,
Reading each book researching ties
Believing in dreams for this newborn child.
Hopes and possibilities slowly filed,
Meeting a parent, sharing life’s highs,
Beautiful baby, accepting and mild.
Families reeling, not feeling defiled,
Passion growing as big as the skies,
Believing in dreams for this newborn child.
Mastery of talent uniquely tiled,
Celebrating now, confidence flies,
Beautiful baby, accepting and mild.
Destination altered from one dialed,
Experiencing gifts in my daughter’s eyes,
Believing in dreams for this newborn child;
Beautiful baby, accepting and mild.
Permission to Cry
This entire week has been about Down syndrome. If I’ve ever wondered what I am to do in life this week was surely full of answers. One day a genetic counselor calls to speak about a new parent, another day we plan for the Buddy Walk at my home with our committee and all of our kids sharing a meal and sitting outside in the evening, still another is greeted with a gathering of moms and kids sharing the afternoon around a backyard picnic table and kiddies pool. All of these experiences are unique, varied, and wonderful, as our kids are. The way in which we grow by these experiences is beyond my own understanding at times, but I most certainly recognize the fact that we are changing by the lessons of our children, the glimmers of acuity from conversations with each other, and the transformation that occurs within us.
Some moments take me back to the core of my own feelings seven years ago. I held the six-week old baby girl against my skin, rocking in the shade of the table’s umbrella, talking with our newest mom. We answered questions that were asked as four of us sat around and snacked on lunch, feeling relaxed and positive about our kids playing and conversing, but something was working in me that I couldn’t identify until after the baby was placed back in the carrier, and hugs were given as she drove away.
We cleaned up some of the paper plates as our children took turns receiving help with dressing, snacking, toileting, or displays of defiant persistence without feeling the pressure of performance or judgment of any kind.
At one moment I froze while holding the collection of plates in my hand. I turned to my friend and said, “She needs to let it all go...We made it seem so easy, so natural by the way we have grown accustomed to life.”
“I was just thinking the same things,” my friend replied.
“We have to call her,” I said.
We continued to share our own stories of falling apart, when we felt the pressure filling our chest, stiffening our backs, and straining our necks. We shared the moments when we found our own space, away from everyone wanting to help, to let the tears flow and the rage escape. That release was essential to the progress we made as a result of crying the tears and asking the questions we had inside.
Do we need permission to cry? It is yours, freely given and expected. Yours to keep and use at your discretion as you see fit. Your new baby in your arms, a fearful doctor’s appointment, transitions from early start programs to pre-school, I.E.P. meetings, or just play-dates with other kids and moms. We don’t need to be so brave all of the time. The crying times we all have in solitude, are the same ones we talk about as moms when we come together at picnics or support group meetings. We can laugh about how we had to sneak away, or wait until the room was empty, or used the noise and flow of the shower to wash away our pain. We laugh as we recall the countless times our tears have healed and strengthened us as a result of allowing them to fall, allowing ourselves to crumple underneath the demands we place upon ourselves.
You know what I will say next. The very weakness we allow ourselves to feel will be replaced with the strength God has to offer. Feel the power of turning all of your pain over. Feel the burden lifted right off of your shoulders. Ask for the help, and it will be given to you, and your thankful spirit will rejoice. The load will be lighter. You will feel the cheer and confidence you need to do your job well. So, go ahead and cry.
Some moments take me back to the core of my own feelings seven years ago. I held the six-week old baby girl against my skin, rocking in the shade of the table’s umbrella, talking with our newest mom. We answered questions that were asked as four of us sat around and snacked on lunch, feeling relaxed and positive about our kids playing and conversing, but something was working in me that I couldn’t identify until after the baby was placed back in the carrier, and hugs were given as she drove away.
We cleaned up some of the paper plates as our children took turns receiving help with dressing, snacking, toileting, or displays of defiant persistence without feeling the pressure of performance or judgment of any kind.
At one moment I froze while holding the collection of plates in my hand. I turned to my friend and said, “She needs to let it all go...We made it seem so easy, so natural by the way we have grown accustomed to life.”
“I was just thinking the same things,” my friend replied.
“We have to call her,” I said.
We continued to share our own stories of falling apart, when we felt the pressure filling our chest, stiffening our backs, and straining our necks. We shared the moments when we found our own space, away from everyone wanting to help, to let the tears flow and the rage escape. That release was essential to the progress we made as a result of crying the tears and asking the questions we had inside.
Do we need permission to cry? It is yours, freely given and expected. Yours to keep and use at your discretion as you see fit. Your new baby in your arms, a fearful doctor’s appointment, transitions from early start programs to pre-school, I.E.P. meetings, or just play-dates with other kids and moms. We don’t need to be so brave all of the time. The crying times we all have in solitude, are the same ones we talk about as moms when we come together at picnics or support group meetings. We can laugh about how we had to sneak away, or wait until the room was empty, or used the noise and flow of the shower to wash away our pain. We laugh as we recall the countless times our tears have healed and strengthened us as a result of allowing them to fall, allowing ourselves to crumple underneath the demands we place upon ourselves.
You know what I will say next. The very weakness we allow ourselves to feel will be replaced with the strength God has to offer. Feel the power of turning all of your pain over. Feel the burden lifted right off of your shoulders. Ask for the help, and it will be given to you, and your thankful spirit will rejoice. The load will be lighter. You will feel the cheer and confidence you need to do your job well. So, go ahead and cry.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Open Art Studio
Palettes of blue, green, pink, and brown come alive on canvas so white.
Pooh Bear emerges with Piglet riding high on his back waving a flower like a lasso in the air. Hannah’s blue-painted apron hangs ‘round her neck, delicate strokes, painting her pleasure, engrossed in her project, purposeful art. Proud independence perched atop a stool, side by side with children circled around a table. Quiet concentration permeates though music plays in the background. Her tilted glance views her masterpiece as she smiles and says, “I love this.”
Pooh Bear emerges with Piglet riding high on his back waving a flower like a lasso in the air. Hannah’s blue-painted apron hangs ‘round her neck, delicate strokes, painting her pleasure, engrossed in her project, purposeful art. Proud independence perched atop a stool, side by side with children circled around a table. Quiet concentration permeates though music plays in the background. Her tilted glance views her masterpiece as she smiles and says, “I love this.”
Compassion and Charity
A familiar voice from a genetic counselor called yesterday afternoon. She called to tell me a new parent might be contacting me at home to talk about the daily experiences of raising a child with Down syndrome. The mother had just heard the news about her baby in her twentieth week of pregnancy, as I had in mine. The force of this news is like no other as it confronts a woman with a very personal question of life that rattles her to the core as she asks, “How do I go on from here?”
The answer remains the same each day of my life. I walk in faith and lean on the support of our loving community. Faith is my belief that the Holy Trinity is walking this journey with me. Each challenge I face is met with prayer. Each blessing I receive is sweetened with praise and thanksgiving. Each joy I experience is an appreciation of the grace of God in my life.
One might think that faith would be enough to sustain me, to build me up and hold me even in the strongest winds of change. I honestly couldn’t live my life as I do without faith in God, but I also know that he sent me a loving community to make sure I succeed on a day-to-day basis.
Community support is so varied and often spontaneous that I have learned to pay close attention to the subtleties I witness. Beginning with my own family, I welcome the new day and hustle through schedules with hugs, kisses, shared laughter, and even frustration that draws us in and apart, and back again to work it out.
The friends I talk to on the phone, or in person, are the same ones I call Sweetie, Honey, or Babe. They are my lifelines at times; my listening, coaching, counseling friends who see me through many decisions and wonderings. They are Christ’s arms, ears, and voice as the Spirit moves through them to me.
Community support comes often when I don’t expect it...at the grocery store, through a smiling cashier who graciously accepts the help from my daughter packing the bags. Support comes from neighbors who listen patiently as Hannah tells her stories, slowly and sometimes in disjointed fashion, but still extremely important for her to share. This communication is a gift shared between us when questions are asked and Hannah answers them with detail and pride.
Community support is evident in the swim class at the YMCA that started with a conversation about the lack of progress in thirty-minute sessions with few minutes devoted to individual attention. A few questions asked, a few ideas shared, leads to new opportunities to expand programs and offer more possibilities to children of all abilities. The extra teachers and assistants have shown such love and compassion that real progress is evident on many levels.
These are the greatest gifts I could ever impart to new parents facing the question, “How do I go on from here?” My response is to tell them to face each day expecting your own compassion and charity to be tested and stretched in many ways each day. Be ready to give and receive the beauty life has to offer as a result of your willingness to share your self, your talents, and your love on a whole new level. The blessings you receive will be so much greater than you ever imagined.
The answer remains the same each day of my life. I walk in faith and lean on the support of our loving community. Faith is my belief that the Holy Trinity is walking this journey with me. Each challenge I face is met with prayer. Each blessing I receive is sweetened with praise and thanksgiving. Each joy I experience is an appreciation of the grace of God in my life.
One might think that faith would be enough to sustain me, to build me up and hold me even in the strongest winds of change. I honestly couldn’t live my life as I do without faith in God, but I also know that he sent me a loving community to make sure I succeed on a day-to-day basis.
Community support is so varied and often spontaneous that I have learned to pay close attention to the subtleties I witness. Beginning with my own family, I welcome the new day and hustle through schedules with hugs, kisses, shared laughter, and even frustration that draws us in and apart, and back again to work it out.
The friends I talk to on the phone, or in person, are the same ones I call Sweetie, Honey, or Babe. They are my lifelines at times; my listening, coaching, counseling friends who see me through many decisions and wonderings. They are Christ’s arms, ears, and voice as the Spirit moves through them to me.
Community support comes often when I don’t expect it...at the grocery store, through a smiling cashier who graciously accepts the help from my daughter packing the bags. Support comes from neighbors who listen patiently as Hannah tells her stories, slowly and sometimes in disjointed fashion, but still extremely important for her to share. This communication is a gift shared between us when questions are asked and Hannah answers them with detail and pride.
Community support is evident in the swim class at the YMCA that started with a conversation about the lack of progress in thirty-minute sessions with few minutes devoted to individual attention. A few questions asked, a few ideas shared, leads to new opportunities to expand programs and offer more possibilities to children of all abilities. The extra teachers and assistants have shown such love and compassion that real progress is evident on many levels.
These are the greatest gifts I could ever impart to new parents facing the question, “How do I go on from here?” My response is to tell them to face each day expecting your own compassion and charity to be tested and stretched in many ways each day. Be ready to give and receive the beauty life has to offer as a result of your willingness to share your self, your talents, and your love on a whole new level. The blessings you receive will be so much greater than you ever imagined.
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