A Few Good Women

The world lost a great person on February 20th, 2010, the last in a line of greatness, the last of a generation in my family. However, no flags will be flying at half mast, nor will there be a "laying in state." Naomi Ostien Stanley Ortendahl, aka Aunt Naomi, 92, will be laid to rest in a quiet ceremony attended by a fraction of the people she influenced in her lifetime. The emotions run high with this, bringing back memories of the not so distant death of my own mom. These two sisters, along with their 4 other siblings, contributed more to this world than anyone could understand.

The legacy of these women is not measured in worldly terms and the shoes they leave empty are going to be tough to fill. I realize only now, with the passing of Aunt Naomi, that it is up to my generation to put feet in them.

Their lives exemplified grace, passion and an unshakable faith in God. The grace I witnessed was as natural with them as walking with is to me. Life situations that I can only imagine--watching your children die before you, impossible children (ok, that I can imagine, but not I am not nearly as graceful!), family disagreements--all handled with the poise that comes through the great examples that came before them.

The passion was one for life: the good, the bad and the ugly. From the simple--a child's birthday cake--to the complex--leading a women's Bible study--to the impossible--saying goodbye to a loved one, they handled it with a joie de vivre that can only be fully appreciated with maturity and experience.

Their faith in God was a mainstay in my life. The unwavering belief that God is in control was a crutch leaned on heavily by both of them. This is not to say they were not strong, for in the leaning on God, there was strength derived from Him that increased their faith. It was the type of circle envied by some, misunderstood by others. It was a circle that enclosed them in a tight, comforting embrace that reassured them of their loving Savior. It was the circle from which they witnessed to the thousands of family, friends and strangers who walk across their life paths. It was from this circle they dealt with life's issues and trials. It was this circle that opened to accept all that was given them with humility and trust in God.

I will always associate several things with my Aunt. She was a "professional" cross-stitcher, making the model products for Precious Moments and inspired me, as did my Mom, to embrace that art form. She had a great cherry tree when I was growing up and I, to this day, associate anything cherry with her and relish the crop that comes off my own trees. She had a musical door pull that played when one would open her door. She had a sign, cross-stitched I believe, that said, "Kwitcherbellyachin." It took me a couple of years to get that one!

My Mom was generous to the end. We had just brought home three new kids and the oldest wanted a doll (as is typical with foster children, she came with very few items and none of the usual little girl toys). When Mom finally awakened somewhat from her surgery, she made sure my dad would fulfill that desire if she couldn't. That was the last request she would make and one I cherish. Her life was dedicated to children and she was Mom-mom to numerous children over her lifetime. She had a kitchen plaque that was perfect for her: "Come into the kitchen and chat with me, While I prepare a pot of tea." She was always ready for a friend.

So, the memories linger, getting better with age, and the life lessons have been taught. It is now up to me to carry on their legacy of grace, passion and faith in God, to those in my life path. It is a burden taken on with a heavy heart, yet one that was inevitable. It is time for me, the next generation, to take the life lessons given and pass them on the best way I know how. It is time to become one of the "Few Good Women."

In heaven, where Mom and Aunt Naomi are rejoicing and praising their Lord and Savior, there is no sorrow, only joy. I wish I could say that about here on earth. I miss both of them in many ways, but, because of their example, will once again, see them in heaven. I grieve for the loss of their influence, their enthusiasm, their encouragement, their wisdom. I rejoice for their new life, free of pain and grief, reunited with their loved ones. I realize that their lives and their accomplishments are not of this world but of eternity.

So, there is no flag remembrance, no news crew, no motorcade signaling the end of a life well lived. For now, I shall be content in the memories and know that the measure of my life will be celebrated where it counts--in heaven. I will remember Mom and Aunt Naomi every time I see one of their cross stitched works of art, teach a Bible study or eat cherry pie! I will cherish the lessons learned and endeavor to pass them to next generation. In this way, their lives on this earth will continue to be ones of influence, of purpose, of eternal value. I will cherish my time spent at the feet of these good women. I will strive to become a woman worthy of their legacy.

Stunned, Not Dead, Dear In the Back Seat

If you have ever heard the "Stunned, Not Dead" deer 911 call, you can imagine that it would not be fun to experience an animal waking up in your car and shredding both you and the car. Well, imagine that the dear is a child who does not like you, ....at all,...not one bit,...and she is not afraid of you either!

Living with slightly demented kids is like this every ride. I have been on the freeway, on the way to the psychologist who was helping with the kids, when A(7) decided she did NOT want to be in the car with me. In a small car, there are NO (legal) places to hide a child. She was unfortunately seated behind me and, between her long legs and mine, the back of the seat was well within her reach. I spent 45 minutes enjoying the jarring action of a then 5 year old kicking my seat. I have no idea how she kept it up the steady, hard rock beat the whole time, but she managed. It was much like having van Halen in your car only much less talent!

Life with these kids is like that every day. We deal on a continual basis with their desire to rid themselves of our family in any way possible. As we contemplate taking a vacation (something we have not done for 3 years), I remember that 45 min trip and think, "This is so not worth it."

Life will get better and some day, our family will once again enjoy the family bonding experience that is vacation. However, in order to that, the dear will have to be either domesticated or left home in the wild.

Never Put Green M&Ms in Your Pocket on a Hot Day

Dealing with children's mental health issues can be challenging. Most recently, our 5 year old boydecided to push the limits of our parenting abilities by hittint us with a double whammy--cutting himself with a knife and running away on the same day. He chose to run away from the counselor's office so she was obliged to call the police.

Because I knew it was going to be a tough session with the counselor that day (the appointment was between the cutting and running), I picked up some "reward" candy from the dispenser. It was M&Ms. I put them in my pocket for incentive during the session. The culprit candy was still in my pocket when the escaped ensued.

The day was hot--80 plus degrees--in our beautiful, mountainous area. I was pursuing him and he was finally stopped. We sat on the curb with the fire fighters who helped corral him, waiting for the police to arrive. After a brief talk, we headed back to retrieve the other children from the counselor's office.

It was at that time I reached into my pocket to get a tissue and, instead, felt something sticky. It was the green M&M, now permanently attached to the inside of my shorts' pocket. Needless to say, the M&M was lost and B(5) ended up at the "behavioral" hospital for 2.5 weeks. The M&M lesson was, by far, the easiest of the two lessons that day.

Daylight Stupid Time, Part Deux

Once again, the insanity and mayhem of "time change" comes into our home. This "spring ahead" concept is probably just an annoying wrinkle in most peoples' lives. However, when dealing with the various children's mental health issues that we have in our home, it is pure pandemonium. This will prove to be the worst week of the year, second only to the week following "fall back."

The minds in our home are so tied into the sun that the normal course of the sun through the seasons causes problems. This is not your run-of-the-mill sun up at bedtime in the summer. This is noting that the sun sets at 4 instead of 4:30 or that the bus is now coming when it is light instead of in the dark. "Why is the bus late?" is the question asked by T(12) even though it is still 5 minutes until bus time.

I challenge any proponent of changing clocks to duel--it would be fair. Just come in to our home for 5 days--no, you only have to do 4--after the clocks change. You will bear witness to chaos beyond imagination, attitudes that make you WANT to deal with gang members and temper flares that put solar flares to shame. You will intercept fists and spit wads heading towards faces, toys and other objects whizzing towards walls, and food shooting across the table. You will shout untold number of times and try to placate with video games and movies. In the end, you will retreat, exhausted, to write to your congressmen and insist on doing away with time changing.

So, as the rest of the week unwinds, think about those precious minds that are to significantly affected by the chronological conversion. Think about those parents who are tending to them. Be thankful if you are not part of the chaos. And, if you really want to help, write your congressmen!

Thank you, Keri

For those of you who are unfamiliar with children's mental health issues, psychosocial rehabilitation happens when a trained professional interacts with the affected person on a regular basis, thus promoting a more socially acceptable look on life. We, as a family, have been blessed to have a wonderful therapist with us since shortly after the trying trio arrived on our doorstep.

Keri started with us in the midst of the turmoil that is the first months of child placement, not to mention the death of my mom. She was skeptical at first, as were we. However, the little cocoons soon matured into beautiful butterflies and we both noticed that we were not so different. As we matured in our relationship, a strong bond was formed--not just with the kids, but with our families.

She saw us through the darkest, lowest time in our life as a family, refraining graciously from commenting on our immature attempts at dealing with things. She encouraged us to try new techniques to soothe savage beasts and calm fears. She tirelessly combed the internet for more information on reactive attachment disorder, children's mental health issues and other timely topics. She read the information and highlighted the key ideas to help me save time, but still understand the kids.

What can I say about someone who walked so willingly with us, scooping us up in time of need and rejoining in the little things? Thank you, a thousand times over, thank you. From all of us in this home with a slightly bedraggled family, but still together after 2 1/2 years, thank you. You will be missed.

Daylight Stupid Time

For those of us with special needs children, time must ALWAYS be on our side. Having four of these children make the changing of the clocks a "climb Mt. Everest" type of event. The last 2 weeks have been testy, at best!

The first thing one notices are the comments, starting in mid October, that we are eating dinner later and later. Then, once the clock changes, the kids start complaining about getting out of school later and eating dinner at bedtime! The whine is, "Where did the sun go?"

That is not the worst of it, though. The worst is the changes in behavior that happen the first week after. It is not a pretty house at this time. The whole adjustment process takes a minimum of 2 weeks to adjust and tempers flare frequently during that time.

Each election, I think I should run for office solely on the platform of eliminating time change. It would be one change that would have an immediate effect on the most sensitive of our population. It would calm the world of many frustrated parents and caregivers during those former time change weeks. It would be change from the bottom, impacting life as we know it for the under represented of our world.

In plain words spoken from our special needs 12 year old, T (who deals poorly with the changing of the clocks), "Why do we change the clocks? It doesn't stop how the sun works!" Out of the mouths of babes...

Mothering Others' Children

When one starts down the road of adoption, the light at the end of the tunnel is the brightness of the newly dawning sun, rising to greet the newly formed family as they start a brand new day. Ah! The stuff dreams are made of!!

The reality of adopting others, however, is this--the light at the end of the tunnel is a train!! One cannot envision what the future holds when you have no input into the first days, weeks, months and years of a young life. I think about my first three "scratch" kids. I was there for every minute of every day of their young lives, especially that very important pregnancy! The "prefab" kids are different, though. I know the saying, "You were not grown beneath my heart, but in it." This is sweet, but does not begin to estimate the damage these young lives experience and the lifelong recovery they (and their new family) must go through.

If I were observant, prior to entering this strange world of mothering others' children, I would have thought it out logically. Why are these kids up for adoption? Why are their parents not able to care for them? How did the answers to the first two questions impact those fragile, early weeks, months and years? These are not children of neurosurgeons and lawyers. These are children of drug addicts and alcoholics, abusers and mentally ill. These things are not just environmental. They are genetic, passed on to the next generation (the one you adopt) and difficult to override. Those early days and weeks are firmly embedded in that young psyche and very difficult to override. What was I NOT thinking? Why did it take so long to figure this out?

Still, there is a passion to right the wrong, fix the broken, contribute to society in some tangible way that overrides ALL logic and compels some of us to continue down a road less traveled, one that involves taking other mothers' children, attempting to right the wrongs done in the past, showing a positive present, and pushing toward a bountiful future. The ultimate goal for the "prefab" kids is the same for the "scratch" kids--productive, kind, God-fearing citizens. The only exception is some of the parts are broken or missing and you have to be more creative in getting to that goal. Sometimes, very important pieces are missing and can never be replaced. Sometimes you realize that you may never be able to override the issues that brought them to adoption in the first place.

Maybe, if we are blessed and work harder than imaginable, we can change the light to something less damaging than a train, perhaps something closer to a sunny day. Maybe...