A Novella (for mother's of struggling children)...

I've been thinking about how to write this for weeks now. I'm still not 100% sure I have my head wrapped around it enough to be effective in my communicating with you. Yet, I feel an urgency in sharing our story, in hopes that it might spur even one mama to ask questions or feel empowered to pursue change.

My beautiful Ashlin. Over the course of time I've been writing here, it's been almost 4 years. She started kindergarten and we rejoiced and celebrated that sweet milestone and all the fun that comes with that year. And as we moved forward things became hard and got harder and eventually we had to seek intervention. If you're in the public school system, then you know there are programs in place to help your child catch up if they're behind (some are effective, some not so much). Though getting that intervention depends much on the teacher and counselors in the school. Fortunately Ash had a great kindergarten teacher who was pro-active in getting her some much needed help that first year. Little did we know, the learning gap for her would only get bigger after that. And getting help would become next to impossible.

Near the middle of her first grade year, we were spending close to 2 hours on homework a night. And it was painful. She was extremely behind state standards (though I've never been too concerned about that, as long as we saw steady growth, no matter how slow). John and I began asking for a psychological evaluation from the school that could possibly get her a more thorough, consistent, and tailored intervention. Both her EIP and classroom teachers were in agreement and got all kinds of reports together for us to help as we approached the school psychologist with our request.
Here's where I want you to pay attention, we made some major mistakes at this turn in the road. But God's been so good at redeeming and redirecting us. The first meeting with the school psychologist was just to present the case to her and have her evaluate the information as we were requesting what they call full spectrum testing. When I tell you this woman was errogant, this is a mild description of her demeanor with us. She'd never met my daughter. Never cracked her file. And had no information to base her very strong opinion on. But, she sat at the end of the table from us and looked at my daughter's file for the first time, then declared there would be no testing. She was extremely busy and there were no behavioral issues to back up her learning issues. John literally sat with his mouth open, then said, "You mean to tell me, you haven't even looked at her file before today. And you're taking two minutes to judge the situation?" Her reply was a pert yes, and that she'd been doing her job for a long time. We left furious and defeated. The teachers began compiling information to support our case and in a few weeks we tried again. She gave us another no and seemed bothered by the fact that we hadn't taken her at her word that there was nothing wrong. She didn't seemed bothered by Ashlin's struggles at all and seemed to feel it would work itself out, that we must not be doing something right. Folks, I'm not exxagerating. We had one more of these exasperating meeting a few weeks later. And I left exausted. I can remember walking through the hardware store afterward and feeling lost and fuzzy. I kept thinking, we're stuck. And no one cares enough to help my precious child.

We went back to the school a few hours later to pick her up in afternoon carpool, and when we pulled in one of the teachers came out and asked us to park because the assistant principal wanted to talk with us. She came out with a stack of paperwork and a smile on her face. And said she'd heard what had been happening and she had made an executive decision to step in and request the testing herself. She'd even ordered it done by the end of the year, which was only a few weeks away at this point. She apologized and told us that anything she could do to help, all we had to do was ask. She was a god-send. And we were stoked! We thought we had victory!

It was four weeks later that we came back to that small little conference room eager to get the results because we were positive we would soon be getting help. The psychologist sat at the end of the table and smugly began to tell us that the test had been inconclusive, really. And like she had suspected, there were no real problems. She asked us to sign the test saying that we understood what she had said. That was all that was explained. And we knew to do nothing else. We felt helpless at that point. I knew nothing about parent advocates. Nobody had told me we could have refused to sign that test. That we we could have demanded further testing until we got help. We truly had no idea. We knew when we left that day that something fishy had happened. We just didn't know what to do about it, or who to ask even.

So as we started her second grade year, we felt a little lost. I met with the teacher and again discussed our concerns. She assured me she was going to do the best she could to help Ashlin. Six weeks into the school year, she's missed out on an enormous amount of recess and had not been allowed to go to the library because she was unable to finish her work. Even though the teacher had said she would make allowances for decreased work load and extra time. Ashlin felt she was being punished. I don't blame her. It was then that a dear friend introduced me to Georgia Cyber Academy, and we applied immediately. I pulled her out in October and we never looked back.

Having her home and learning during the school day made it painfully obvious that there were needs I couldn't meet. We worked to give her what she needed. Time, space, encouragement. But there was so much frustration. When I tell you she was slow, I mean, sometimes it would take us until dinner time to complete a days work. That's even with me minimizing her work load and only focusing on the essentials. Because I was aware of every missed word, every fumbled number. It made my heart hurt because nothing was done without much deliberation. Even when we figured out ways to help her...she's very kinestetic and we would do our best to make most things hands on. But that never sped things up. We made it through the end of the year but didn't move on into third grade work once the new school year began. We continued second grade math and language. And her precious third grade teacher worked with me to get her into programs that fit her needs.

God kept telling me that she'd begin 2012 in a new school. Though I had no plans for that and didn't know what that meant exactly. It was also around this time that I heard about the new charter school in Cherokee County, and though the school year had already begun, on a lark, I put in an application for her.

I felt like we needed to try having her tested again. Only privately this time. This was a step in faith because, if you haven't ever looked into it, this can cost you the price of your first born. But, when I started looking for psychologists in our network that were close to Woodstock, one name continued to come up. So, I crossed my fingers, prayed, and made an appointment. I fell in love with this doctor in the first consultation. Not because she was overly gushy and sweet. But because she was thorough and was truly interested in helping my child. We made the appointments for testing, but eventually had to make several more, because bless her heart, Ashlin is so slow. And when the results came back and she described both auditory and visual dyslexia, we weren't quite sure how to move forward. She'd found such a defecit that she'd suggested putting her into one of the ridiculously expensive private schools that specifically address the needs of dyslexic children. But, we don't have an extra $20,000 lying around the house. And we had been told by more than one person that the public school system was not equipped to handle dyslexia.We were at a loss.

It was literally the day after her diagnosis that I recieved an email from Cherokee Charter Academy offering Ashlin an immediate opening in a second grade classroom. We thought...Yikes...YES!...What do we do? All at the same time! This was just after Christmas break and I realized, maybe this was where God was heading. We jumped in and they met us with open arms and an aggressive approach to Ashlin's needs. It's been just over 12 weeks and in that time they pushed her through all four steps of the Response to Intervention plan, and as of last Wednesday, she is now a part of the special education program. We've been amazed at the way they've recognized her needs and been pro-active about meeting them.

All of this lead up, comes to this. I want to share this and express with fervancy, if you find yourself with a struggling child, that you have power. That you should question everything. And you should never settle. You must be a bulldog. You must be insanely aggressive. And you cannot let them convince you that they know your child better than you. Let me tell you what I discovered in our meeting last Wednesday. When the psychologist pulled out all of our paperwork and testing, both our private and from the county, she asked if I realized that we'd previously signed a waiver that said we would not seek special education services again in the county because we agreed with the school psychologist. That had not been what we were told. And we had only been shown the last page, apart from the rest of the test. There were literally only a few lines for us to sign and nothing else. THIS WAS OUR VERY IGNORANT ROOKY MISTAKE!

She went on to explain to me that to her shock, as she'd reviewed the test done at the previous elementary school, the psychologist had taken the test results in numbers and had falsified them when she transferred them to word form. So, for example, in the area of auditory processing she tested far below average, was in the range of intervention, and it was charted as such. Yet when she transferred it to the next page that we were shown, she wrote AVERAGE on everything. Across the board. Literally in all areas but one, she tested far below average and in the range of needing major intervention. Yet we were told that there was no evidence that she needed any further intervention. Then they had us sign that we agreed and wouldn't seek further action. I'm more than a little emberassed by the fact that we were so floored with the results that we didn't ask any more questions and didn't seek further action because we felt like they knew what they were talking about. And why would they lead us astray? Even though it never settled with us and we always felt like something was fishy. At the time we were on our own, trying to figure this thing out by ourselves. Royally stupid!

I wrote a letter to the offending school in hopes that they would feel some challenge in my words to address this issue (this was just after her diagnosis, and before her transfer to Cherokee Charter). Because there are children other than mine who I'm sure are being treated just the same. And what happens to those children when there's no one to go after change for them? It breaks my heart to consider it. A week later I recieved an email from the principal asking to meet with me because he'd love the chance to try and address our needs again. I didn't even consider it. They know now they'd be elligible for more money from the state now because of her diagnosis. I was more than offended. I told them we wouldn't set foot in the school again. And that we weren't even considering having our kindergartener there next year. We'd do anything we had to do to keep her from the place.

Maybe that sounds hard and cold. And I'm not often an aggressive person. But let me tell you something that I've learned over the past four years. You cannot leave your children's education and needs to the system. You cannot trust their experts even, which is incredibly disturbing. But, here's what I can tell you. You know your child. Trust your heart and your gut. Seek help. And do it privately. If you can't afford it and your insurance won't cover it, send me an email (deyoder@liberty.edu) and I'll give you the name of our psychologist. She's amazing and has a heart to help. They are THOUSANDS less than most other places and they will work with you. She's extremely thorough!  Your private results must be acknowledged in the schools. They may do their own testing, but you have a solid place to start. Look into parent advocates through your county. These are people who know your legal rights as a parent and will work to get your child's needs met with you when you come up against road blocks. Don't settle. It took three schools to find the right one. We learned something at all three. I'm sure we'll continue to learn as this will be something we have to continue to stay on top of for the rest of her education...it won't go away. And lastly, be responsible for your own child. The school can only do so much. You have to be their advocate in every way. At home. And at school.

I wish I had flowery words of encouragement. And I do want you to be encouraged, but I also want it to spur you on to be an investigator. There is help. There is hope. And there is a place for your child. There are options once there's a diagnosis. And so many ways to address their needs. I'm here. Please, ask questions, if you have them. I'd love to help and encourage any way that I can!

Addie Rea...

Addie Rea Brock...She was born on February 19, 1929 in Wewahitchka, Fl. And she died a short 34 years later on July 9, 1963. She married my grandfather Lewis Edward Green on June 1, 1950 in Dothan, Al. She's my grandmother. And I've always thought she was beautiful. We never met. I wonder what that might have been like. If she would have been affectionate like my mother is with her grandbabies. If she would have been funny like my aunt is with her grandbaby. Maybe she would have been both. Maybe neither. Who knows. But, its the gaps that I long to fill in.

I've been looking for information on her here and there for a few years now. I rarely find anything. And I'll be honest, I don't know where to look that I'm going to get honest facts. My grandfather is gone, and both my mom and aunt only knew her as small children.

But there are these. Faces in sepia. Little glimpses here and there that allow me to imagine how she might have been. Even the family that she was surrounded by.

Like these. I have to tell you, I laughed out loud when I found them. Made John come and stand with me as we marveled at the misery on all the faces. Here they all are...a table full of southern, family favorites, lining the middle of this long table. Listen, I've been the recipient of some of these family recipes. There is nothing to frown about. Maybe they were all sad they were going to have to sit so closely on those benches...

And this...no lie. It could be my house on a Saturday evening. Doors open. Table of food laid out. Half dressed children running around. And lot of crazy friends and family hangin' out. I felt inspired. IT'S GENETIC! I thought! Because I LOVE this so very much!

So, I'm related to these people. And it makes me happy. I wish I knew what they were thinking, even doing when the two of them got the camera out and said, "Earl, let's try for coy and ironic at the same time." I wonder how much Alabama moonshine they'd been through?

That's my great grandmother on the far right. The one that raised my mother. And I like to call this one "The Joy Luck Club". This is familial happiness at its best!

When they decided to take pictures of the new baby, grandma thought the perfect place would be sitting on the milking box, with Bessie the cow enjoying her breakfast. Of course!

Some more of my grandmother. Just because I like to look at her. The first one looks so much like my mother when she was younger...

I want to know desperately, what the HECK they were doing standing on these water level posts. I'm guessing this is on the bay in Florida, where some family lived. The whole strange picture conjures up stories...

To Dwell on These Things...

Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies. (Philippians 4:8, The Message)

There is nothing better (this might be an exaggerated statement, as I can think of many other things that are better, but at the moment, this is top of the list), than a steamy cup of tea and the rain. They go hand in hand somehow, as I very rarely abandon my beloved coffee for tea. But here I am, windows open, curtains blowing, honey vanilla chamomile, and my quiet little office. It's this moment I will dwell in, it's happy, it's mine...

And there's something about freckles (she got those from me) across an elf like little nose, and wide, bright blue eyes in the face of my oldest, very serious, most precious love. Just as beautiful as the flawless complexion of another, the same blue eyes, the same button nose, in the face of my youngest, mischievous and playful, most precious love. It's their love and lives that I will dwell on, how it warms, and fills, and makes life beautiful in just the right way...

There's something about bare feet, stretched out across my fluffy white duvet. Dinner dishes put away, brunette heads tucked into bed. And in the quiet lamplight he holds my hand while we both quietly read, or he rubs my feet while I work out frustrating Algebra problems. And it's the loveliness of being known. The snuggle of years of familiarity. We always giggle (at least I do, he robustly laughs, like the man that he is). He helps me forget how hard life is at times. It's his hand in mine, 11 years of building and loving, it's the strenuous path we've walked together, it's how he loves me like no other that I will dwell on. My truest companion...

And there's the most precious friendships I treasure. Who would have known 28 years ago, when I walked into sunday school that I'd meet and join forces (yes, that's truly what we did) with one that still lives down the road. Only now we're older, wider, wiser. Our kids go to school together. I have to shake my head in wonder at times. And every time we talk, we pick up just where we left off. 28 years. It's truly my lifetime. How I love her. And then I can move forward through my years. On face after another. City after city, even country after country. What a gift to have known and loved wildly so many amazing lives. Relationship has been my heartbeat at times. And now, oh it makes me breathe deeply, to be loved and to love the ones I call friends. The ones who call me and make me move when I don't think I can. The ones who breathe life into the dry and weary places. The ones who share themselves with me. Who share coffee with me. Their kids with me. The ones who make me laugh so hard, I'm left with an achy head and sore cheeks. How I've loved to love and be loved. It's these things I will dwell on. Their gifts and colors, the shared lives, the acceptance of my unacceptable, sometimes it's like breathing...

Then there are moments in the mundane routine of carpool, where I'll drive over the lake and the sun is just so in the morning. Reflecting off the still water. Beautiful pink tinges in the sky. And God says "Look! I remembered just how much you love to see this color over the water." I am loved. Adored. And sometimes it's just that, that makes me remember. It's that lovely, vibrant shade of green that only stays for a few weeks during the spring. My mamas crimson or yellow daylillies. Lavendar roses. And the rush of icy mountain springs over jagged rocky beds. It's the cool quiet of night, when it's deepest and darkest. They are like private love letters, written just for me, though I know I must share them. It's these things I will dwell on. The gentle reminder, and quiet whisper that they are...

It's The Platters, singing "If I Didn't Care". Patsy Cline's, "Walking after Midnight". Snow Patrol's, "Run", Debussy's "Prelude to The Afternoon of a Fawn", Kari Jobe's, "What Love is This", Amy Grant's, "All I Ever Have to Be". All of them sink down to my toes and resonate with me in a different way. All tied to a memory, a heart string. And every one makes me think that music was meant to be mine. Making it. Listening to it. Loving it. Singing it. Another love letter that I must share. Though I'm happy to. It's on these things I will dwell, deeply moved, gently reminded, so much a part of me...

And the one and only thing that never fails me. I wear it around my neck..."Oh God you are my God, earnestly I seek you...I think of you through the watches of the night...your love is better than this life" I dwell in the truth of those words. I need Him more than life. He is my life. What He offers me is so much better than these days, where sometimes it's so dark. How I love Him. How I'm so taken by the grace with which he cares for me. Patience unending. Chasing after me with such passion how can I not turn and accept what's waiting. It's on these things I will dwell, live out of, love out of, be challenged and encouraged by, build my hopes and future on...

What's happenin'...

Another post about depression?...You bet! It’s been on the docket for awhile now. And this is really for me…and for no one else. But as messy as it will come out, I do want to strive for transparency in my life. No matter how redundant or hmm, tiresome it may be. God’s really working in me. And I’m wrestling hard with Him. I’m not happy. And I whine like I’m 3 about it often. I wonder if He ever rolls His eyes. I don’t think so. But I might if I had to continue to walk along this same path with me.

I feel like I owe everyone an explanation as to why over the last 6 months, I look like I live on the couch eating chocolate all day. It’s far from the truth but I know people judge. They have no idea. And I know I owe no one anything. Yet, I feel like screaming at times that just behind my smile I’m one, “How are you?” away from bursting into tears. And it’s hard to bring myself back when I do let go and grieve it. There are only a few friends who can really handle the answer to that question. ‘Cause man I’m a downer when I get going.

I’m taking HTP, I’m taking a new anti-depressant, I’m drinking my green smoothies, I’ve worn a walking path so deep that one day when I’m gone they’re going to name it after me. God is speaking and I am listening through it. Yet I’m still so weary of being here. I told friends this week there are times I feel like a science experiment. If this is a part of what He’ll use one day to bring others out of this black hole, I want to be able to victoriously say “I made it through. And God is still good.” But, I pray long and hard that this isn’t the sole reason I’m here. My brain knows it’s not. Yet my heart is so worn, that I’ve asked often the past month, “Why Lord?”

And though this place is hard, there are other good things going on in my life. Beautiful. Wonderful. Everyday little miracles. Precious relationships. Love that overwhelms. God is doing things. Moving us on to a very new place in our lives. Closing so many chapters in my life at the same time. By the end of this year, my life will be unrecognizable. It makes me happy and excited and so sad at the same time. What will I do with myself?

Thursday evening, through the physical pain I’d been pushing through all day, I went to spend the evening with lovies at church for our awesome Easter worship service. And all it took was a “How are you?” from one of my favorite people and I came undone in a most unbecoming way. You know, the snotty, sopping wet way. But because she knows me so well, she hung in there with me through the next two hours. And we loved on little ones and played games. Then before leaving she reminded me of my tendency to be so hard on myself, then asks me to take a look at all that’s happening aside from the depression in my life.

Somehow, I’ve made myself believe that if I work hard enough. Walk long enough. Eat just the right things. Take just the right med or supplement. I’ll eventually find the key that I’ve somehow missed the past 5 years. Instead of again, accepting that God has me here and taking it in stride. He is healing me. But in His way. I simply cannot change it by focusing all my efforts on it. I’ve made myself worse. This seems easier than recognizing the grief and the change and loss of my current situation. They’re all good things that are coming. But they’re hard things that will make giant changes in our rhythmic little lives. I don’t do loss and change well. I grieve deeply. And these things…I cannot prevent them from happening, but I can be proactive in taking care of us in this place. It’s attainable. And where God wants my attention and efforts.

Damn you depression! That’s what I want to scream and often do. My focus is here so often when there are beautiful, wonderful things happening all around me. That, even in the depression, I can breathe in and soak up all the life that the spring air and green grass have to offer. Relationship that’s renewing.

Since Thursday night, God’s been whispering…”Breathe. How I love you. Remember how deeply I love you?” And I have to consider the irony in the fact He’s reminding me of this during the days before His resurrection. I hear Him and see Him in the most wonderful places. My body still hurts. I feel trapped inside of it sometimes. But I can still recognize His goodness, even when it’s painful.

Yesterday, I drove to Cartersville with my girls and our sweet Fieldtrip Friday friends. We stood on the Etowah River. Climbed the mounds and let the wind whip through our hair and looked out across the lush green that stretches there for miles. We sat on a swing and watched the river roll by. We laughed. We ate. And I lived. Life that matters. Things that will stick. Memories that my girls will call up again one day about their mother and her crazy friend who always got so tickled about things that the kids could only be embarrassed. We walked through thick green grass. We stood under weeping willows. We read the history that took place so long ago. Yet we still visit that place to remember. To celebrate the life that took place.

I hope and pray in a most desperate fashion that even as I struggle, God will commemorate these days as places and times where His love was victorious. That even through the change and the struggle we were still able to celebrate the life He’s given so graciously. To stand and look out at all He’s so done and given. To fondly remember these days and faces.

Just look at what I have to be thankful for…I borrowed these from my Mandy (who you should check out here), to share with you. I know she won’t mind. And they’re just plain lovely to look at.

My Fieldtrip Friday Crew...they're such good stuff! At the Etowah Indian Mounds in Cartersville, Ga. It's an incredibly beautiful place!

Awesome pic by Mandy! It's truly all this beautiful...you should go!

She's good for my heart...love her dearly!

Deep thoughts by Mady and Mommy...

This picture is a testament to the fact that our kids are growing up. In the years past we've either dyed eggs in the buff or I've made them wear trashbags. No one needed the nudity or trash bags today. Just covered the table with them. Sniffle, sniffle.

Hunt loot!

Happy Easter from us to you! I pray you experience the truth of the day. God is so good!

Full Circle...

You know I have issues with my phone. It is one of those things in my life that everyone likes to poke at. Half the time I can’t find it to save my life. And the other half, it’s on vibrate from church on Sunday and I don’t hear you calling. I HATE the thing anyway. So I won’t lie. I don’t mind that I’m not easily accessible. However, I know it is not a good thing. I KNOW…thank you John and Ronny.

But, last night, I received a rare phone call that I actually answered. I love it when the phone rings and I see this name. She is one of the dearest in my life. Always will be. She’s just that special. But, because she’s endeavored to do some dream chasing in the last year, I don’t see near enough of her. I’m okay with that. I’m so proud of what she’s accomplished. It hasn’t been easy for them and it’s come at some cost. But isn’t that what chasing dreams is about? There is a balance that eventually comes as the chase slows. I know they’re ready for it.

One of the many reasons we’re so tied together (because we’re about as opposite on some things as you can get), is that our husbands were poured from the same mold. Public servants at heart and a few years ago also in vocation. We led such similar lives. And no one can understand what sacrifice it takes across the board unless you’ve lived it yourself. We’ve always understood each other where it mattered. And this definitely mattered. It was almost two years ago, that my phone rang similarly, late one night in April. I answered and hear her tell me the unthinkable. Her husband had been on the receiving end of a loaded gun. Two babies at home. Alone. What next? Can you imagine the panic?

And in the months to follow there were unspeakable heartaches. Determination. High highs. Low lows. Pain both physical and mental and even in the soul where such things seem to burrow and hide away. The healing of the body only a portion of the mountain that must be conquered. And understand the physical healing from such a wound is great. Never without complication.

They both know their Redeemer and Healer intimately. I can only say, as they walked out in search of TRUE healing, they found it. Though it was not without struggle. His body healed with resilience because he was determined it would. But, he returned to work only to be faced with the fact that it would never be the same again.

It was then they decided to do some dream chasing. He left the police force and they opened a CrossFit. A part of Atlanta they weren’t completely familiar with. Countless unknowns. It required faith, down to their toes. They knew God was going to use it. And they’ve worked tirelessly at it for a year now. They celebrated a year last weekend as a matter of fact. They’ve been incredibly successful. And have seen unbelievable growth from their sacrifice. But I think God waited for this one, divine appointment, until the timing would have meaning. And be a reminder to more than just them, that His plans are greater.

When I picked up the phone last night she’d called to share with me what redemption at its finest looks like. I wish I could share. But it’s not my story to tell. I will say this, what happens in chaos and pain, can be turned into a mirror that offers clarity and more than just encouragement…but life, for others. To love, that is His calling for all of us. What’s so exciting is that, at times, when He calls us out and we move in obedience, He lets us be a part of changing the lives of others. I’m so proud of both of you. This, my sweet friends is what full circle looks like. Take a breath. Look back at all He’s done. And look forward at all He’s going to do. Unbelievably exciting!

From the Yoder Clan to the Edwards Clan, we more than love you. You’re our family. Always will be. More proud than you know.

Progress...

I took a quick trip into the girls' bathroom this morning after carpool and nearly fell on the floor when I saw this. We keep a whiteboard in the bathroom so that I can remind Ash of things she might need to get or things we have to do for the day. They often doodle on it.

And as precious as the sentiment is to me, it is the outstanding miracle that it's written correctly that made my heart go pitter-pat! All 8 of the words are simple in nature. Basic. Words that developmentally, they say she should have mastered years ago. Yet this is a first. All on her own.

I can only say, I'm so thankful that God leads us, when we ask. Answers when we call. I love that she's in a place where not only does she love it, but they love her and love to help her. Just over 6 weeks and she's grown so much!

This is truly progress!

For real...

I'd laugh really hard about this if my head didn't hurt so bad, but I had a moment last night where I was laying in the bathroom floor with my laptop and algebra book attempting to take a quiz through a fever haze and bouts of hanging over the toilet. Both the girls were on the floor outside the door, head to the crack, Mady asking very important questions like, (I kid you not) "Mom, why don't all kids have neighbors? Mom. Mama. It's portant!" While Ash shoved arts and crafts materials in because she just couldn't get Fredrick Douglass' coat just right. It's times like this that I think I want my adult card revoked. I'll be glad to go back to the awkwardness of middle school even...I just need an excused absence sick day and some TLC from my mama.

Grace for a life...

...A life led by the Spirit. I've been slowly piecing together a challenge for church and as I've written, God's challenged me, more than I'm having the chance to challenge others. I realize this is usually the way it goes. But about three months ago He really pointed out to me what His heart was for my life...A life lived in grace and led by His Spirit. That abundantly covers all the bases for me. Being a woman. Being a wife and mother. Being me, fully.

I looked back over the things I've written in the last two years. It's the pictures of my struggle or triumph and a lot of times it's hard to read. Depression has been very real and very demanding. So have Ashlin's struggles. There aren't too many funny recounts of life at my house. But there've been beautiful days and there've been days where laughter rattled our walls. There've been days where I found healing in time spent with others. We truly lead a FULL, running over, abundant life with people I love and am truly thankful for. I guess those things don't always make it here.

In the last three weeks our lives have taken a HUGE turn and Ash went back into school. After years of piecing together the puzzle for her, we finally have some answers and moving forward is like breathing after being held under the water. Relief. I could not have planned this path we've taken, but God's been in it so evidently. She LOVES it. How shocking is that? She's doing well. Another shock! And she's getting help without me having to be the prison warden with the school staff. A role I'm glad to relinquish.

It's answering those quiet whispers. Moving sometimes without even thinking about it. It's knowing that I live a life led by Him. Because I certainly could not have planned this. I wouldn't have, in fact. He would have been with us whatever we'd chosen, but I'm so thankful for where He's led us as we've sought Him out.

Then there's the grace. It's so HUGE. And so all encompassing. He's given me the freedom to live and move and love. And says He's with me as I go.

I won't lie. This post will probrably follow suit with others that have come just before it. I've really struggled with depression for the past 6 months. Hit a lower low than I've ever experienced. But God's been my comforter. I have a really hard time asking for prayer because there have been times where I feel like it seperates me from people as I do share. And that makes it even lonlier. A little more hopeless. But, at John's prompting I went back to the dr. only to discover I had next to no seratonin. So we've changed meds. and that has had a whole other host of side effects.

But I'm sharing all this to say...I re-read some of the things God had challenged me to for January and December. Things like my normal 5 mile a day walk. Time with Him. Reading Psalm 63 daily. Doing thing that are just for me. Connecting with people I love. But choosing to make them all a priority and not an after thought. All things that not only help to combat the depression but challenge me to seek Him as I'm healing. Grace for a life led by His Spirit. He knows my needs and puts things in place to take care of me. I'm undone by that at times.

And I know I've shared this with lots of people in the past few months. It's become my mantra. But...read Psalm 63 with me. Let it wash over you. His love is better than all this life can offer me. I love David's words about meditating on God through the watches of the night. There have been times in my life when I was depressed that sleep was more than difficult. And I love to think of this during those times..."when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy." And I do. There are times where all I can do is sing. God is so good. So faithful.

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
But those who seek to destroy my life
shall go down into the depths of the earth;
they shall be given over to the power of the sword;
they shall be a portion for jackals.
But the king shall rejoice in God;
all who swear by him shall exult,
for the mouths of liars will be stopped.

And just because I'm concentrating on doing things I love, here's one of my favorite, melancholy songs. That I'm sure will drive some crazy. But me, it makes me throw my head back and sing. I love Copeland. But I love the words of this song. I know where he's coming from... and I really just love to sing. So I do!



But, I really wanted to spend some time this morning reminding myself in the midst of all this change that God's given me grace for a life led by the Spirit. And I want to live it well.

Something borrowed, something blue...

This is a trip down memory lane. I took it yesterday afternoon with the girls both in my lap, laughing so hard they could hardly stand it. I wanted them to be a part of remembering with me. The beginnings of their mommy and daddy. 10 years ago tomorrow.

I told them the story from the beginning. Because where else would I start?

I love this picture, for so many reasons. I look ridiculous and drunk (I was not). We rocked a mini van all the way to Blue Ridge (courtesy of The Downs Family), full of candy and bridesmaids dresses. Notice the foil and toilet paper veil Annie and Jenn made me. Amazing. The night before the wedding, we crammed into a room at the Cohutta Lodge. And while they all slept, I stared at the ceiling.

We got our hair done at the only salon in Blue Ridge. They shut the place down for us. They were so cute and so southern. And we spent the morning laughing like we were in Steel Magnolias. They made us pose for all kinds of picture afterwards...a 30 minute photo shoot in our sweats.
When we got home from the honeymoon and friends started sending us pictures, this one made me roll in the floor. My mother in law will appreciate this story 10 years later. But, this was taken moments after meeting her for the first time. She'd driven in from Oklahoma with her husband and here we stood in the parking lot at the lodge. Awkward at best. Then she says, "Oh wait, I have a gift for you." I thought...hmmm, dishes or a nice picture frame.

Please take in all the nuance of the picture as I describe what's going on. She hands me the box and it's incredibly light. I look at my best friend Jennifer and think...oh no. It can't be. I open it slowly to find a white lace nighty.

I'm in a parking lot.

This is my mother in law, whom I just met. Seconds prior.

Please note the disgust on Jenn's face. The hand that says, "Here, let me take it from you."

Erin in the background doing her best to find her happy place anywhere but there.

My mother in law, ecstatic telling me. "Oh, I hope I got you the right size. I can't wait to hear how it fits." No. Lie. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
We spent the day at Wal-Mart picking through lip gloss, dancing on the green lawn in the sun, laughing in our flip-flops and sweats, making decisions about chairs and toulle. Doing nothing but enjoying the day.

Then came the photographers. Utterly obnoxious. Terribly bossy. And we got to the point that we just laughed at them. This was a moment I still remember vividly. Laurel behind the camera. Laughing from the white lawn chairs at the chaos the photographers were causing. That's the photographer's hand in the corner. I won't tell you what Annie and I were doing, but it still makes me giggle. And Jenn's face is classic next to us.
This....is why we picked this place.
At this point in my life, these sweet ladies were two of the best friends I'd ever had. So loved sharing this day with them. They helped make it what it was. Magic.
Sweet friends. Friends I still treasure.
My dress...almost weighed as much as I did.
My favorite moments...

We've been friends since we were 4. I walked into Sunday school and there she was. We've been best friends ever since. Our kids play together now. How crazy is that?! And this is the perfect wordless description of our friendship...Love it!
My precious Uncle John. Who looked like a WWF wrestler. Hugged like a teddy bear. And whom I loved fiercely. My heart breaks a little every time I see this...
A defining moment in the day for me...another similar to the one in the parking lot...with the nighty. John's grandmother catches me. Hand over my heart. And just at the moment the picture was taken, she tells me to give her a call if John isn't gentle...you can fill in the blanks. She was tottally serious.
Let there be dancing.

This is SO my dad and I. Singing. I'm sure in harmony. To a Nat King Cole song. Precious.

John's favorite part of the evening by far. He calls it, "that ugly song you sang to me". Someone to Watch Over Me. It had been in my vocal repetoire for years. Sung at many competitions and auditions. It was and still is one of my favorites. I was so excited to get to sing it to him and mean it.

And one line in the song says...although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart he carries the key...And this picture was taken as he was telling me how ugly that was. Made us all laugh. Good stuff.
My dad, telling John how proud is was of him. The two men in my life. Both of them irreplacable.
There was no choice in tossing the garter. John just put it on Matt's arm. And they had a good chuckle over it.
A precious group of friends, who had loved me, laughed with me, cried with me, prayed with me, and encouraged me through so much of my life. A discipleship group that started when we were in the 6th grade that met until the day we graduated high school. This isn't all of them. But I was thankful for the ones that were able to be there...and missed the ones who couldn't.
This picture is so cheesy. Yet, it's been one of my favorites since that huge album of proofs came home. Ten years later, it is our life together. Hands in. Commited. In love. And more beautiful and dear to me now than I ever could have imagined that day.