Four little words make a difference of night and day in my life

Last night in the middle of my frustration-- when I was about to scream-- something good happened. Four words were spoken that made all the difference that I couldn't make for months.

 But I have to regress for anyone to understand.  I have to tell you something I did not talk about because it was way tooo personal and way tooo painful.

I'm still amazed that four little words made so much difference!  And this has nothing to do with writing or Patrick's Rose.

I raise my children with closeness.  I want to be around them and they are very important to me even when they get older.  It got difficult when they became teenagers, but even then I tried to spend time listening (Not always my strong suit especially when I have my own ideas) to them.  Well we made it through some really tough times and they grew up (24, 22, 17 for my older girls ages).

Megan, my oldest daughter, and I became especially close partially because we were always together.  She is my editor and my publicist and my all around tech person besides my daughter and mother of the most awesome little three year old.  It was cool and I really didn't need friends outside of my own family because of a relationship with my daughter that was very much like a best friend.  We had fun together and buddied  around together.  We shared ideas and frustrations.  It was great.

When we moved in May that relationship became Hope, Megan, and I.  The three of us had so much fun!  We were best buddies.  We would go to lunch together.  We worked together to get Hope ready for college.  We laughed together and shared ideas together.  Notice the past tense.

In August Hope moved two and half hours away for college.  Megan and I moved her in.  It was exciting and emotional.  I was so proud and so heartbroken at the same time.  There were tears of joy and also tears of sorrow.  The joy because I was so proud of her for following through on her dreams and doing the work--  College was the fruit of so much work on her part.  Sorrow came because in many ways I was losing one of my pals.  Not that I wanted to keep her from it.  I didn't.  I wanted her to soar and lift with the wind into an unknown world where I've never been.  It's just I was very afraid of losing the closeness we had.  I left there that day and cried.  Megan was there with me and it would be alright.  After all I still had one of my buddies and I would visit Hope and she would be home for Thanksgiving.  There was consolation.

Then a few days later  maybe it was the next day, I am not sure, in the middle of a very emotional time for both Megan and I we had a huge blow up.

She and I for reasons that I am not sure I will ever completely understand had the biggest argument I have ever had with anyone, and hopefully I will never have one like that again.

It lasted for at least two hours and we both yelled, screamed, and said things that shredded both our hearts and souls.  Afterwards there was no going back to say sorry.  There was heartache like I never felt before. For three days it was silent.  For weeks after we barely talked.  When we tried to even pick it apart we began to fight again.  So we forged a new relationship where we avoided each other and once in awhile would share a little tidbit here or there.  That was what the last two months had become between Megan and I.  Each time I saw Hope she would ask "Hey are you two doing any better?"  or "Have you guys worked it out?"  But the answer was no.

 It hurt more than my words here can tell you and there was no way to get past the pain.  Worse I could feel my daughter's pain too and there was nothing I could do to make it  better for her or me.  At one point I talked to a counselor about it.  That at least gave me a little understanding but it didn't resolve anything.  Everyday was filled with prayer.  I felt like I had lost my daughter.  In a way I had lost my own way too.  Definitely I struggled with God over it.  Finally, just this week actually, I decided that I was hoping for too much if I thought that it would be resolved.  So this week I basically gave up.  Not basically-- I did.  This week prayer has been difficult at best, time at church nonexistent, and anguish acute.

Then at the point I was ready to throw my computer across the room and scream at myself and God, my daughter walks in the door.

She plops down on the sofa, and is frustrated as I am.  She is moody, kinda cold, almost looks depressed, and asks to talk to me.

My first thought is; 'Oh no. Not again.  I need to get done and I don't need a fight.'  But she is my daughter and no matter how bad the last two months have been she will remain my child forever.  And no matter how I am doing my child has my ear.  That is just the way it is. It's not even like a choice, it is the way God made me.  And it is one of the thing my kids know about me.  No matter what I will listen to them.

So I turned off my music and shut my computer and waited.  For several moments she was quiet, and then she began to talk.  I was really scared because she dove right in talking about the argument.  So I stayed quiet, silently praying that God would help me respond the right way when she was done.  I am not the best to talk to.  I say things and it is taken wrong.  When I want to convey something I am much better in print.  When my girls were teens we would write letters to each other and that was how we resolved things because when I speak what I am trying to say just doesn't convey.  So when she was talking I was listening with one ear and shaking in my shoes while I pulled on heaven's ear to HELP!

When she was done I was quiet for a long time before responding.  My heart cry was to find a way to tell her how much I love her and how much I had missed her in the last two months, but there is another complicating factor.  Not only do I have speaking problems, but Megan doesn't always hear what I am saying even when I am as clear as can be, and she doesn't always say exactly what is on her heart.  Even worse she expects that I understand what she is saying, and sometimes I really don't!

She is the smartest person I know.  She very much fits into the 'intellectual' group and when she talks she speaks at a higher caliber than I necessarily understand.  I love talking to her, but in this situation I know it could go awry very quickly.

So I was quiet for several moments as I tried to decide what was the most important thing I could say.  Then I began slowly, thoughtfully.  Both of us listened and both of us spoke, but in the end there were four words that made all the difference.

"I am so sorry."  She was talking about her sorrow over losing her best friend and I could feel her pain.  I was so sorry she had suffered and I told her, and that caused a healing I had not any longer expected but even now I feel the miracle of it.  God restored relationship between my daughter and I with those four little words.  Here are four more words-- I am so grateful!

Four little words.  Isn't that amazing?

FRUSTRATED!

Arrrrg!  Alright I am being a pirate!  Great Halloween costume, but that isn't what I am talking about.  It's Patrick's Rose!  I think today it is driving me to get a ship and scour other lands for treasure!  The writing doesn't bother me, but continuous problems of the storyline really gets me!  I fix one problem and come smack dab to the next one!  I need to be able to go without sleep for about ten days and be able to work none stop!  Yesssssss!  At least ten days.  I am writing this out of frustration, not even to share, just to let go! Flicking my hands I am trying to calm down, but it is not helping!  Music isn't doing it either!  Praying might if I can calm down enough to put together my thoughts.  ARRRRGGGGGG!  Sorry for the pirate language.  I love writing, and I love to resolve the story to make it what it should be, but I hate getting stuck!  Not writer's block-- I can write anything as long as I know the direction I am going.  Right now I have no clue!  The story is going in a spiral and first I am frustrated with myself for writing it that way to begin with, and second ready to throw my computer across the room as I try to fix it!

Alright... Calm down.  I am the writer.  In reality I can write it however I want to... I can change the time line or the order.  Now I just have to decide what I want to do about this new problem.  Whwew!  Whwew!  I'll blow away the stress!  Yeah right!  I am sure you don't believe that any more than I do.  Can I scream and jump up and down in a tantrum?  No I'd freak out my kids and cats!  Okay I guess I am going back in...  Diving in once more!  If I come up screaming you'll probably hear it where ever you might be!  (sorry for the drama-- just frustrated!)  This is Cat out-- going back in!

I don't usually do lists--- Buuut here is my list... of things on my mind and in my prayers.

I started to write not really knowing what I wanted to talk about but that I just wanted to write-- so here it goes.  I've been thinking about many things these last few days.  Maybe I will just turn this into a list and you know if I do this will end up being in the topic paragraph and if I don't it will just be deleted (Guess which I decided to do?)  Anyway--  How many other people think about any of these type of things each day?

1.  Top of the list is a little grateful sigh.  It is truly fall because my eyes have FINALLY stopped itching which basically means we are passed the Ragweed season (Thank you, God-- literally).

2. Fall being here means I only have a month to finish editing Patrick's Rose-- less really because by the middle or so of November I have to copies ready for my beta readers. I have to decide who my beta readers are going to be this time!

3. Peter.  Even after all the testing and doctor visits I still struggle with what to do next.  Tutoring is a must, but for which subjects?  And when?  Kinda figured out who...  Well sort of.

4. About being Mom, even to my older kids.  Even when they grow up, they still seem like kids sometimes.  And even when they are little sometimes they amaze with how grown up they can be.  Also the question still sticks in the back of mind--  Are there more kiddos coming?  Honest-- I'd like that.

5. About God and being Byzantine Catholic.  Are my times of failure alright with God?  Does he take them better than I do?  Why did he make me Byz really?  Don't get me wrong.  I like being Byzantine.  It is just the way I am.  But he could have made me any way he wanted to-- Why Byz?

6. Why a list?  Writing lists to check off make sense.  Writing a list of thoughts-- not so much!  Yet here I am sharing my silly list of thoughts.

7. Thoughts on my food situation.  This is probably a paragraph in and of itself.  I am intolerant to gluten and fruit (yes fruit-- all fruit except melon and all parts of the fruit even the leaves and bark.).  On top of that my body rejects meat and eggs 99.9% of the time.  To make it more confusing I don't do well with most starches and I am on a diet called Shape Reclaimed to try to lose weight and bring down inflammation so my body will work better.  The real question here is: WHAT DO I EAT?!  I never know really.  I don't complain because that does no good, but none the less I have no clue!

8. Food thoughts bring me to the next issue, and that is having an ileostomy because they are kind of interconnected.  Having a bag isn't so bad (except it is embarrassing when people see part of it and ask or see the bulge and begin to ask questions.  Going through an airport is about as bad as it gets--arggggg!).  Though I would never chose it, and hate that I had to have it--.  It is better than the alternative (either tumors or death.  Neither of those options appeal right now--If you get my drift.).  But being able to chose when you use the bathroom and it not interrupting you when you are talking is not half bad.  Having a poop bag on the outside is another story.  Now you've heard your fill of TMI I am sure.

9. Another daily thought is if this country will make it.  Are we even going to have another Presidential election?  When all is said and done does saving up for retirement even make any sense in this economy?  Please God help us do better than we are now!  And on and on and on...  Political stuff and economic stuff mix in my head.  And between the news, political sagas, and Twitter the questions never get a rest.  Now mix all of that and put me with a couple friends, and I have enough thinking and praying in this area to last a month of Sundays!

10. Not my final thought, but the final one I'm going to write about (because the rest are toooo personal even to write or speak about)-- How do I handle the past?  I could write a litany about this.  I guess it starts with being an adopted child and goes on from there. But the past does not seem to die and in so many ways repeats over and over again even when you learn from it.  So how do I stop it?  Or am I stuck with the patterns that were set up long before I was around?  Don't like that thought.  I thought when I was younger that I could right the wrongs of the past, but now that I am growing up I really don't know anymore.  I'm still trying though.  Maybe that is part of what making this list is about!

One final thought to sum this up-- Is this me thinking too deeply?  I always here that-- 'You are thinking too deeply', but what does that mean?  These are much of my daily thoughts and many of the things where my prayers begin.  So is this thinking too deeply?  Or do most people think these things?  Good question, if I do say so myself and I do.  So here is my list or thoughts that ultimately turn into prayers.  This is Cat out.  Thanks for listening.

Sneak Peek of Patrick's Rose

This scene happens between Anna's mom, Emily, and Patrick's father, Peter.  It is after a pretty devastating sequence where Anna's been harmed and traumatized, and Emily goes to Louisville, Kentucky to Peter's house in hopes of finding Patrick so she can get him to Anna.  This does not go as Emily hopes.  It also answers many questions about the rift between Peter and Jacque, and in this scene Emily must make a choice.  So when you are done reading tell me what you think,please

Emily Lattimier took a deep breath to calm her frightened soul. She had taken a flight to Louisville that morning, and she would leave before the sun went down to return home. Hopefully that would be before anyone really noticed she was gone. Jacque was busy with the church today. Maybe he wouldn't ask about her day.

Pressing her lips she tried to bring herself back to serene as the taxi pulled into a drive of a large old mansion that must have been built in the Antebellum era. It looked relatively cared for. This must be Peter's family home that he use to talk about so often. She nodded to herself. So was this where Peter Rueschel had been spending the last several years? Her inner person shuttered. She really didn't want to think about it.

There was nothing she could deny her daughter, not even this, but if Anna knew the truth, perhaps she would not have asked...

In twenty four hours she had been thrown into the past twice. It was into a past she had never put to rest, and still didn't have answers for. Now she faced this... Perhaps Patrick would answer the door instead of his father. That was her one small hope, but somehow she doubted that was the way it would be.

The driver pulled around the circular drive and stopped in front of two massive entrance doors. She hesitated, but then started to take money from her purse. Once again she paused thinking better of it.

“Stay here, I shouldn't be but a few moments, then you can be my return ride to the airport.” The driver nodded slightly and she hurried out of the car up to the doors that promised her future doom.

She pushed the button for the doorbell and heard the loud gong even outside. It was another minute until the door was opened.

“What do you wan---” Peter Rueschel stood in front of her looking scraggly and weathered in a dressing robe and slippers. His voice was impatient with the world and aggravated with being bothered. Even in this state he frightened her-- Not because he was impossible to deal with or even that she was afraid of any harm he would do, but she knew the emotions inside of her that had never died away as she had hoped they would. She held her breath slightly seeing him. It was not for him she came here, but for her daughter and for the son-in-law that she was so grateful to have. He'd been like a son to her all the time he was little. Now she could truly call him that. It was in the middle of this thought she realized Peter had stopped speaking.

“Emmy...” Her name was called softly from his lips as he reached up rubbing his eyes. It was as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

“Peter.” She acknowledged stiffly. Why even for her daughter had she agreed to this?

“You-you are here... At my house.” The shaky words scared her more than any response he could have given would have. It made her soul go weak, and lessened the value of all her resolves. This was not a place she should be.

“Please come in...” He stepped out of the way, and she almost listened, but remembered suddenly she had told the cab driver to wait for her, and so at least that gave her an excuse not to go inside and not to stay any longer than she actually had to.

“I... I can't stay. I've got a flight to catch in just a little bit. I actually came here to talk to your son. Is Patrick here?” Her voice trembled like a leaf in a puddle of rain water. She didn't sound as tough as she was trying to be. It wouldn't take much for him to see through her and see how weak she really was. Peter shook his head, sticking his bottom lip out slightly.

“No he left yesterday. Took some clothes with him. I don't know when he will be back.” She nodded. Alright. That was it. Now she could leave-- quickly.

“Okay then... I-- guess I'll go. It was-- ah-- nice seeing you again.” She started to turn, but he gently grasped her hand. The old surge of wispy butterflies doing sweeps inside of her began once again as if she was the eighteen year old at her first week of classes and he was the professor at the front of the room. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her heart from feeling. It didn't work.

“Emmy please stay, just for some tea.” Turning back, she shook her head. She knew better than letting herself feel for him again. But even here and now it was such a temptation! Pressing her lips tightly together, she shook her head.

“I'm sorry I can't. I do have a plane to catch and a car waiting. Thank you for the offer. Will you tell Patrick, if you see him, to give Jesse or me a call. It is important.”

“Emmy, I will.” The soft almost pleading words called to her, but she knew the only way to keep her resolve lay in getting away from him.

She left quickly, pulling her hand from his grasp as if it was effortless, but once more she felt him holding on to her heart, and that she just could not rip away from him. On the drive back to the airport, she kept her eyes closed so the tears inside would not spill. If she had made different decisions years ago what would have life been like? Why did she still desire him?

Twenty minutes later, Emily sat near the gate she would board her plane at in two hours. She held tightly to her purse as every muscle in her body was taut. Facing Peter was more than she was able to do. She felt like she was standing in that place thirty years before when she chose Jacque over her heart. She thought she was past all the feelings, and yet today she realized how wrong she was-- then and now.

Quietly, she stood and walked over to the windows that looked out to the planes coming in and leaving, but she saw that day so long ago instead. They had both been in love with her. She had known that; just as surely she knew she had to choose. There was the blue skied summer day. Warmth like a blanket wrapped around her. She had been home from college for two weeks. They had both followed her home.

Emily smiled as she thought back. These were the days she felt free. Yet she wasn't. She was fearful and unsure. She knew what it was like to have disapproval because of a past that wasn't even her own. She knew she had to make a change.

Jacque had the friendship of Pastor Sheldon and her step father. Her mother liked him too. Even her distant family voted yes. Then there was Peter. He was nine years older than her, and had a child from a past broken relationship...

He was every handicap she didn't need. Yet he called to her heart. When she was with him she was happy. When she was around him he filled her heart with passion and zeal she had never found any place else...

Emily stepped back from the memories. It was not alright to go to that place.

“Emmy.” She jumped around to see Peter again. This time dressed in wool dress pants, a button down plaid shirt, and a sweater. He almost looked like an old professor. The thought about made her smile, but that was a place she could not go with him.

“Peter...” Her hand covered her chest more for effect than actual startle.

“What are you doing here?” Once more like when she was standing at his door, he took her hand in his. He was so gentle and so sensitive. Yet she knew this was not a road she could go down.

“Emmy, I cannot just let you walk away like before.” Her breath caught within her as she heard what he said.

“You are everything to me. You have been ever since I first met you.” Pulling her hand from his grasp, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if she could protect herself from this onslaught.

“Peter this is not a conversation I can have.” She groaned, and yet she knew in her own way she had brought this on herself. The reality was, in some deep place within her heart, it was a conversation she had wanted to indulge in for years, and yet until today there had been no path. So she stood in front of him and as much as her appearance looked as if she would not listen, her soul felt as if it was receiving water after years in a dessert.

“Tell me you no longer love me, and I will leave and never bother you again, Emmy. All you have to do is tell me.” She shook her head, huffing out a breath. What did he expect of her? No she could not tell him that. She knew him, and if she admitted her feelings there would be no stopping him. The problem was, she could not lie either. That was against everything she held herself to.

“I am a married woman, Peter. I chose Jacque. That is the way it is.” She answered instead.

“I didn't ask that, Emmy.” He stepped closer to her eradicating the space between the two of them.

“I know the answer. I know you still hold my heart and I have never desired to let go of yours.” The words were almost a whisper as he moved even closer. She didn't walk away. She wasn't sure what it was, but for that moment, she couldn't. Why was he what she wanted when even now it was so very wrong? He leaned in closer and his lips brushed close to hers. It was in that moment she had to make her final choice.

The past and future swept in with visions, and she saw how things could have been different, but then she saw how it was. She grasped a glimpse of the future and how it would be if she took this choice to it full potential, and suddenly she knew...

She turned her head, then ever so slowly stepped back. She without warning saw what she couldn't see all these years. Everything that had clouded her vision cleared.

“It is not about my feelings, or whether you have not released my heart, Peter. It is about faithfulness. I made a commitment all those years ago, and to break it even now would destroy too much. I would not be able to live with the destruction I would cause and so today with you I have made a choice once again-- based on love this time. But the love for my daughter and son, and for your son and for Jacque and even for you. Love also for my best friend and for my grandchild that is with God now...” The last thought brought fresh tears. She, especially for the little granddaughter that she would not know on earth, could not do this.

“I cannot break my vow.” She stepped out of his embrace, and though pain radiated within her, she also felt a new sureness that had never been before.

“What if something happened to him? What if you divorced? Or-or he died?” Peter was grasping but she shook her head. She turned away, not even dignifying the question with an answer.

“How dare you...” The words were whispered. But she knew the answer. It was no. Not even then could she go back to him. After years it was over. Though he may always hold her heart, or maybe this was the end, she would never break her vow.

He knew it also. There was no more hope for him and a few moments later he left the airport and she waited for her plane alone. Tears fell, her body felt achy from the emotional beating, but it was done and it was over.

No more questions remained, and no more fear that she would act against her own code. Now she knew. She loved her family, and what she and Jacque had built together. She would always love Peter. There was no doubt of that, but she had chosen Jacque and he had always accepted her as she was. Today she realized for that and all they had weathered together she did love him, and she could not imagine harming him in this way. If she ever chose Peter, she would not be able to live with the destruction it would cause Jacque. That was her answer. She couldn't do that to her husband. She loved him too much for that.

When she got home that night, she hugged her husband, and somehow felt refreshed. He didn't ask about her day and she did not tell him, but there was new peace between them. As if the rift that had kept them apart for years was no longer there.

The new where do I go from here --10/18/14

Alright. I've been soul searching the last few days, and maybe talking about it is a little boring, but I write out my thoughts fifty million times better than I can speak them.   All of this will be rearranged before you read it because right now I'm just typing out my thoughts randomly.  These two statements are at the bottom, but they will probably end close to the top after I'm done.  So here goes my thoughts.

There are some big differences between Peter and myself. One is I live life very randomly, and he is very concrete and logical.  Two is I am pretty defined and positive and he is like the wind and tends toward the negative.  His highest skills are in verbal reasoning.  Meaning he learns best by auditory teaching.  I am a visual and written learner.  My least strong area is verbal.    His least strong area is in visual perceptions.  With all the vision problems he's had-- couldn't see that one coming!  I am a little more stubborn than Peter, but I've had almost forty-five years to grow in stubbornness too.

Believe it or not, other than these things Peter and I quite alike.  We both like goals.  We both hate surprises of any kind.  Both have had troubled starts to life, and struggle with many of the same issues.  We both have anger issues, and get caught up in alot of emotion.  Both of us are prone towards shooting ourselves in the foot just when we need good aim.

I  know he has a hell of alot higher IQ than 69 just by the stunts he's pulled! Honestly, I am not a stupid person, nor am I intellectually challenged, and if I was to set my son's behavior problems aside I would guess Peter and I for about the same IQ.   No matter what doctors say about my son, I know my boy.   The psychiatrist placed him at a first grade level.  I know he is closer to a fourth grade level.  He would be higher than that but we've had to deal with sight and behavior issues.  I also know he's capable of alot more than he gives himself credit for.

Schooling is going to have to change.  I've been trying to teach an auditory-- almost solely auditory learner by mostly visual and kinesthetic approaches.  Gee-- could that be at least part of the problem? Peter needs verbal, so we have to do a revision of our approach.  The only subject I've been doing verbal is spelling-- which has become his favorite subject.  Ahhh- Wonder why?  Not really.  Sorry for the sarcasm I'm still struggling, but at least waking up and taking back my strength instead of feeling like I was blind sided.

Further more I asked Peter what he believes about himself (without telling him what the testing said about him).  He told me he believes he can catch up to his age mates.  He said that is his biggest goal. I believe he can do it.  That's the plain and simple truth.  I know all the things we are going to have to do in the next few years to make it happen, but I believe it can be done.

More than all of this I know what God says about my boy.  Maybe it is strange talking about what God says, but He's never led me astray.  He's never told me one thing and then left me to face something else entirely different.  In fact anyone who knows me knows how much I try to listen to God and follow what I feel he's saying even when it is not logical.  I think that is part of what makes me so random.  I've been going over in my head all of the things God has shown me in the years before and since we adopted Peter to see if somehow I miss understood.  God never talked about group homes, or interventions.  He told me he will have trouble while he's young and I will have to keep my thumb on him.  But he told me he would go to college.  I've had visions of him as an adult, and been told prophecies about his future.  None of these said he wouldn't be able to be part of the normal adult world.  In fact it is just the opposite he ends up helping kids that are in situations far worse than his.  If I believe what is being said then that's that.  I can't believe that he's not even going to be able to take care of himself without help.  Besides, I will always trust God more than any doctor.

Honest I don't know that I am up to the challenge, but I know I've got a support system around me that will be with Todd & I as we figure all of this out.  And whether I am up to it or not I will become up to it.  Tomorrow I'm going to talk to a friend of mine.  She offered to help with tutoring, even if I couldn't pay her.  I don't have money, but Peter does need a tutor.  I'm going to see if she's still willing.  Further we have applied for disability for him.  --Not because we think this is a lifetime thing, but precisely because we don't want it to be and to get the intervention he needs we need the help.  I also found alot of my Classical Conversations materials, and we are going to begin using them again.  Reality is we have to change the way we do school.  He did very well when we were involved with Classical Conversations-- it is very verbally based (Peter's strength).  Besides it is very logically step by step based (another Peter necessity).  Todd is going to take over some of his schooling to give me a little reprieve that I can use to some preschool with Tory and to do more cleaning up and meal prep. Peter needs alot of structure, and so I have to figure out how to go about that.

If you read this please pray for us.  First that God will direct us and help us trim away what does not work, and keep what does.  Second that I will have the stamina to do what is needed.  Finally allergy season is winding down so that should mean I will be feeling better, but my immune system has taken a huge hit in the last five to six weeks because of Ragweed, Golden Rod, and crop dust from harvesting.  Every year about this time I have trouble, but this year has been the worst ever.  Anyway my immune system is weak and so I am hoping I will be able to rebuild it, but I don't know how things are going to go. Third pray that I will be able to have the time to continue to write.  I really want to get Patrick's Rose ready to publish in December.  That's not that far away, and I have trouble doing two things at once.  So I covet your prayers.  I think in the next couple days I'll try to put together a sneak peak of Patrick's Rose and post it.  I am kinda excited about it, but with everything else I haven't talked about it much.  So the next post I'll tell you more.  Hey, everyone reading, thanks for being there and listening.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate the comments, and love that has come through from so many.  A million words is not enough to tell you how thankful I am.

Lots to update --lots about what is going on with Peter

Sorry for the long absence.  Virus, internet, & computer trouble finally got fixed.  I tried to blog from my phone, but that didn't work so well.  Facebook & Twitter work just fine with a phone, but blogger not so much.  Honestly I don't know where I left off, so here is the quick version  update and then alot about our news today.  Warning most of this is about my son, Peter.

I am doing a rewrite of Patrick's Rose and hoping to publish it mid December.  Hope is in college and just got mid term grades-- all is great there.  I am recovering from seasonal allergies (really bad this year).  Megan is in college also and starting her second class online (she takes one course at a time and they take about seven weeks each), teaching Bradley Method Birth classes, and thinking of becoming certified as a Doula.  Tory got a dog bite about a month ago, had seven stitches on her left leg, but it is healing nicely.  The stitches came out about two weeks ago.  Peter just finished up soccer this week, and during September each Monday we visited a psychiatrist to do testing to evaluate the extent of Peter's disabilities.

Today Todd and I sat down and listened to the report.

Let's face it.  I didn't expect the report to be great.  We went there to find the depth of the problems we have to deal with.  We know Peter has Cerebral Palsy, and we know he has impairments in his vision, brain, and scholastically at the very least.

I hoped my worst fears were overreactions.  I'd hoped that things were better than I thought.  That is what I hoped...

The reality isn't what I hoped.

Todd and I were told that our son has severe ADHD.  On a hundred point scale rating system where fifty or higher is ADHD he scored a ninty six.  He is seriously socially impaired, and has a severe intellectual disability.  That was our news today.

We were told we needed to find a support group for parents of children like Peter.  We were told that the most we could do was get him to a fifth or sixth grade level.  That he would more than likely need community help even as an adult.  That sometimes 'children like him' can be independent as adults with community support.  We were advised to apply for social security disability for him.

I could say that today my dreams for my son died.  OR that they have to change to face this new reality.  Yet I can't.

Through all the struggle, and through all the battles I have believed that God placed him with us so that we could help him achieve something better than he would have had otherwise in a Bulgarian orphanage.  I truly believed that we could help him to be self sufficient and to be able to accomplish something significant for himself.  I believed this with all of my heart and that has been the goal I've been working towards.

I know we are going to have to reevaluate the way we go about this goal.  We are going to have to build in alot more interventions than we thought before.  And if we have a chance of being able to make it possible for him to be independent and self sufficient we are going to have to apply for disability for him to help with the cost of the interventions.  But I cannot give up the dream.

Maybe it is denial.  Maybe it is me not realizing just what we have been told today.  I can accept that the disability is real.  I just cannot accept that there is nothing we can do to change it for the better.  I cannot believe that eventually he will have to go live in a group home, or that he will never understand the things adult people talk about the way my girls do, or that ultimately he will not understand things better than my little Tory when she gets a little older.

If I accept it really desecrates everything I have believed we were doing.  If all he can do is live a secondary existence in a home where men are treated like boys and work a job that most teenagers out grow for college for the rest of his life, what happens to his dreams?  He wants to help kids like himself overcome their disabilities.  It is such a worthy dream.  Do I just help him throw it away?  Do I discard it like rubbish?

I have been the one to make him believe we could work on it and overcome.  I've made him believe that everything in his heart is possible, and now I have been told I have lied to him.

Sorry-- pause-- The tears are truly overwhelming right this moment.  My world feels shredded and pulverized, and though once in awhile I've been accused of over-dramatizing, this is not.

As a child I was taught to overcome.  Now do I tell my son I was wrong?  That I was raised wrong?  Do I stop believing what has led me to conquer all the obstacles in my life?  Do you I stop when it was this attitude that caused us to be able to heal his sight?  It was this attitude that allowed him to read.  It was this attitude that encouraged him to try soccer, and this attitude that believed we could change his bad behavior.  Do I give up my hope and accept this diagnosis as it is?

The psychiatrist simply said it was genetic as if nothing more could be done.  'These children you can get to a fifth maybe sixth grade level.'  In the report more was expounded.  He would ultimately live in a group situation and maybe be able to partially support himself with help with finances and self care.  I wanted as I read the words to die-- just to stop breathing.  All this time had I had him believing a pipe dream?  All this time was he right?  When he told me he was dumb, 'a retard' (his words not mine.),  could he have known something I could not accept?  Yet, I just cannot accept that!  I can not tell my son that his worst fears are reality.

Some how we have to find more answers to allow him to grow up to be able to get to his dreams and be able to be an adult that is self sufficient.  That is all I know.  I can not just lay down and accept---

I have to keep believing and working for the best.  Otherwise that would mean to give up on my son and just no.  To many have given up on him already.  That is not me.

  
That is all I know.  I will try to post soon with more about this event, but I think this is not going to be an easy or quick process.

If anyone out there reading this has any insight, please share.  Even if I do not agree I will appreciate the thoughts.  Who knows?  You might have an answer I didn't have a clue of.