Finding Hope

Today I found a surprise waiting in my inbox. The surprise was in the form of an email written by Kellie, who is the Associate Executive Director of the Peoria branch of the Greater Illinois Chapter of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. I have known Kellie since I participated in my first Great Strides walk back in 2004 when a great group of friends decided to get together and raise money for Alex and Cystic Fibrosis. They called our team Alex's Angels, and I was so surprised and touched by their compassion, I cried when I found out about it. That was one of the first of many acts of kindness we experienced after Alex was diagnosed. Since that first fundraising experience, I've been amazed and humbled by the generosity of our family, friends and strangers who have donated money repeatedly over the years to help fund research, care centers, and the creation of new drugs--all of which help to better the lives of those living with this disease. And the ultimate hope? A CURE. In m...

Once again, my goal to become a better blogger has failed. Over the past few months, several post ideas have come to mind, but I keep filing them away for a day when I have more time. Time to think. Time to process. Time to lose myself in words. Well. Here it is. 12:01 AM. I'm sitting here at my computer in an almost quiet house. I hear the soft hum of the computer, the creaks of my house settling into the night, and the occasional car motoring down our street. And...snoring. From two rooms away. But don't tell my husband I told you so. I want to share a story with you, dear reader. And this story, I must confess, makes me very sad. A few weeks ago, my husband (the snorer) got up as he usually does and came downstairs to watch the news. As he was enjoying a cup of freshly brewed Folgers, a news story caught his interest. So worthy was this news story, he re-wound the broadcast and recorded it for me (oh, the modern convenience of DVR). He was quite excited to tell me ab...

Mom(me) Moments I'm a mom. And I've discovered there are only two places a mom can really think. Number One: in the shower. Number Two: in the car. This is assuming the mom is alone in both locations. Because being a mom means that no place is one's own. Not even the shower. Small fists bang on bathroom doors, 8 year olds waltz in to demand "Where's my library book?" and "I can't find my shoes!" followed by "Yes, I looked!" Bathroom time is the place to learn about your child's latest LEGO creation and to discover which level of Wii Bowling he has just completed. And if you're as fortunate as me (and you have only one bathroom in the house)...well let's just say, my bathroom can be a very SHARED space! But sometimes, even a mom finds a moment to shower in peace. And T-H-I-N-K. This post revolves around an idea I had several months ago while doing just that. I had been thinking about how I had neglected my blog. My poor,...

I’m attempting to get back on the blogging track. When I started this blog, I really felt inspired to share my stories. And then the lazy days of summer turned into the busy days of fall i.e. the school year. My days go something like this: The Morning Mad Dash 6:10 AM … beep , beep , beep , beep . The dreaded alarm. Once upon a time, I popped out of bed at that sound and happily began my day. That was when my worst fear was missing the bus. Nowadays, I am the bus, and I’m happy if I get my son to school before the janitor locks the doors. For the record, we’ve only been officially tardy twice in the past year and a half. That requires signing in at the office and does NOT make my anxiety-prone son a happy camper. On those days, I felt like the worst mom ever. If only I could harness that guilt and train it to slap me in the face every time I reached for the snooze button, maybe I’d snooze less often. The goal is to be up and moving by 6:30 AM, so that we can get Alex’s treatments ...

When I was a little girl, I remember thinking my life was good, too good, in fact. Nothing terrible happened to me. I enjoyed a fun childhood, and with the exception of some typical teen-aged confidence issues, I cruised into young adulthood carefree and happy. I always felt that God was preparing me for what was to come. And as crazy as this sounds, even as a 10 year old, I knew my trials in life would come later. ***** When the nurses placed my newborn son into my arms on July 26, 2003, I cried blissful tears of joy. He was soft and smooth and sweet, and I recognized his cute little nose from the sonogram pictures. Immediately, I thought, "Who are you, what is your name?" I'm a last-minute person, and even though my husband, Steve, and I had narrowed down our name choices, I was concerned about what we should call him. Within a few minutes, Steve and I decided to name him Alexander Michael, Alex for short. It was the perfect name for our perfect little boy. Two days lat...

I was recently asked to help lead a new Mom's group at my church. In an effort to encourage other moms to join our group, we, as team leaders, decided to give "testimonials" about our lives as mom's. We were to share our testimonial at a "ladies luncheon" to which all the women of the church had been invited. I was scared. My face flushes with embarrassment just thinking about speaking in public. But I resolved to do it. And I knew immediately what story I should share. But again, I was afraid. The story I knew I should share was a difficult story for me to tell, and I wasn't sure I could share it without becoming too emotional. I didn't want to cry in front of a bunch of strangers! (Although that would've been a great testimony for my need of a mom's support group!) So I debated for a couple of days. What story should I share? The fear got to me, and I decided to share a comical story about my son...one that wouldn't make me cry. I stood...