I have a ridiculous phobia about praying out loud. I even struggle to pray out loud with Bob, for goodness' sake. He always has to start us out. Bob can pray with anyone, anywhere. I’d love to feel that uninhibited.

Recently, he pulled into McDonald's behind an old battered car. As he watched the woman get out of her car, he jumped out and held the door for her. He said he felt prompted to pay for her breakfast, and stood behind her in line. 

When it was her turn to order she began, "I'll take ten egg, cheese, and ham biscuits, five breakfast burrito's..." 

Good grief! Maybe he’d imagined the prompting. No, he thought, regardless of the cost, his gut told him he was meant to pick up the tab, and he did.

The woman was so overwhelmed she started crying. Her mother was dying and a slew of family members had shown up for breakfast. They were down to their last twenty dollars. He couldn’t possibly know how much his generosity meant to her. 

Bob asked if she would mind if he prayed with her. Right there and then!!! In the midst of a throng of customers in line to order.

By the end of the prayer, Bob had tears in his eyes, too. They hugged goodbye and Bob drove to work filled with joy, so thankful he’d obeyed that still, small voice.

When he arrived at work, every employee’s card had been placed in a large bowl. They were going to pull out one card and give that person five hundred dollars. Whose card do you suppose they pulled out?

As Bob relayed the story to me, he wanted me to understand that the deepest joy came from the giving, the blessing of obedience. Winning the money was just icing on the cake.

Isn't that an awesome story? You rock, Babe. Happy Anniversary!

I remember thinking that having a child with severe disabilities would be one of the worst things that could ever happen to a person.

I remember sitting in the cry room at church watching a couple sitting back there with their grown son. He was very animated, loudly asking the same questions over and over. When the singing began he would leap up, joyously clapping and belting out any word he might recognize, usually just "Jesus."  I felt sick for them.

Today, when I sit back in that same cry room with Brett, I think what I wouldn't give to see that joy on Brett's face, to see him leaping up and loudly singing out Jesus' name.

Recently we had about a dozen special needs passengers on board. One fifty-ish man was particularly thrilled to be on an airplane. He excitedly grasped my hand and asked me how my day was going. Pre-Brett I would have been uncomfortable, not wanting him to touch me and doing my level best not to make eye contact. But that day I was filled with genuine affection for him. His uninhibited joy and friendliness was contagious. I didn't even mind him asking me 20 times if we were almost to Detroit.

When one of the women asked me for a seat belt extension for her friend, she made it seem like a good thing. She was proud of her friend for managing to grow big enough to need an extension. Good job!

Having Brett has had the same effect on Bob. One day one of his customers mentioned his wife was waiting in the the car with their mentally impaired grown daughter. Bob encouraged him to bring them in. The daughter was non-verbal, just sat there, letting out a few whoops now and then.

Bob said when he looked at her he was overwhelmed with love for her and impulsively told her parents he loved them. I cracked up when he told me the story. The couple sat in stunned silence...who expects their car salesman to tell them he loves them?

After they had signed all the paperwork and left, the man returned to the showroom, hugged Bob and told him he loved him, too.

I love that story. I love that through loving and caring for Brett, God changed us, our perspective and our hearts.

Today is Brett's 14th birthday, a day that normally brings me down. But today, for the first time, I can appreciate his birthday being smack dab in the middle of the season of Thanksgiving. After all, there's nothing quite as effective as gratitude for banishing the blues.

Sometimes we have passengers who may need a little extra assistance, perhaps someone blind, deaf or elderly.

I was once asked to help a down syndrome adult to his seat. As it turned out he was plenty capable of finding his own seat. I think he fancied himself a dapper business man, traveling like any other business man. He wore horn-rimmed glasses, a polo dress shirt buttoned to the top, khaki's and penny loafers. He carried an old-fashioned, hard-sided briefcase just like one my dad used to have. After he proudly found his seat, he sat down and plopped his briefcase on his lap. He officially snapped it open to reveal one lone item: a Nintendo Game Boy.

I couldn't help but smile, and I couldn't help but wish my third child was Down Syndrome. My own beautiful little boy is blind, severely mentally and physically impaired, and will never walk or talk or respond to us in any way.  If God was going to give me a special needs child, why couldn't He have given me someone like this? Someone happy, enthusiastic and, most of all, responsive?

I've learned how debilitating it is to compare, knowing it usually leads to a loss of contentment. It takes my eyes off of all the things for which I am thankful, and an ungrateful heart is a joy killer.

Many people experience shattered dreams, but Brett isn't just a shattered dream. He is an integral part of a larger story. God used Brett's part in our story to strengthen our marriage and deepen our dependence on Him.

Pain is an inevitable part of life. Without pain how would we know joy? Even those who seem to have it all in this life, have a nagging feeling there is something more, because God set eternity in our hearts. (Ecc. 3:11) As Christians we know this world is not all there is, we know Jesus is preparing a place for us where there will be no more tears, sorrow or death.

But here on earth, stories are being played out and some roles are undeniably more difficult than others. There is no doubt in my mind Brett is perfectly fulfilling the exact role he was created for, not only in our story but in the stories of others as well.

My daughter Caitlin used to teach fourth and fifth graders at a private school in the Washington D.C. area. One day she told her students about Brett.

I think she was somewhat taken aback by their strong reaction to the news. It was all so sad! How horrible that Miss Staples' little brother was born like that! Poor little Brett! Poor Miss Staples!

One of Caitlin's little girls came up to her desk a little later. She wanted to say something to make Miss Staples feel better about her little brother. She asked Caitlin if she knew about the verse in the Bible where Jesus said the "least on earth will be the greatest in Heaven"?

Caitlin nodded encouragingly.

The little girl sweetly continued, "Because I think that means your little brother is going to be the greatest in Heaven."

Isn't that precious? I can't describe how touched I was by this story. God used that little girl to comfort and encourage me. I will forever cherish those particular words of Jesus. I will never read them again without remembering that little girl and thanking God for her and her precious insight. How awesome that God's truths are simple enough to be understood by a child, yet remain "alive and active" to comfort and instruct us through every season of our lives.

Recently we moved my mom into a much, much smaller condominium.

When she made the move up to Michigan, she was too numb with grief to part with anything. So you can imagine the enormity of the job of sorting through decades worth of belongings.

I don't have a sentimental bone in my body. My criteria for deciding what to keep? Do I have any use for it? Will I ever care to even look at it again? No? Pitch it.

It's amazing how little we actually do need. Sorting through box after box, closet after closet, cupboard after cupboard, I'd ask, "Will you ever wear it again? Do you have any use for it?" I convinced her she needed very, very little and the give away pile ended up being ten times larger than the keep pile.

I was the right person for the big job of condensing, but the wrong person for allowing my mom time to ruminate and grieve over the precious memories sorting through each box and closet evoked. I tried my best to ward off her inevitable feelings of desolation. She has experienced so much loss.  Most people would have held her close and let her grieve. Not me, I plodded swiftly on, in spite of feeling I was failing her miserably.

My friends and family will tell you I am one of the least touchy-feely, warm and fuzzy people they know, cold even. But, honestly, on the inside I am holding people close, on the inside I am aching with them. I wish I wasn't so painfully introverted. I wish I didn't come across as cold and unfeeling. It's not an endearing quality.

The longest time my mom ever spent away from my dad was two weeks. He must have written her several times a day because she had a box full of letters he wrote to her during those weeks. Talk about being besotted!

We stumbled upon my baby book, she'd written very little, but a lock of hair from my first haircut was tucked in there as well as a teensy retainer holding two tiny yellow teeth. I knocked out my two front teeth when I was two years old. My mom didn't want that gap there until my adult teeth came in (around fourth grade), thus the retainer with two little teeth. But why yellow? If I was one bit tech savvy I would post my second grade picture showing off those beauties. I can almost guarantee a few belly laughs. My mom asked me if I'd like to save it. Did it meet my criteria? Not even close.

We also stumbled upon a yellowed piece of scrap paper with phone numbers jotted down on it, on the back side my mom had scribbled down a poem for me. Possibly for my 16th birthday or when I graduated from high school. Regardless, it was never given to me and of course I wanted to save it.

I've always told my mom she has a real knack for writing poetry. The sweet words I may never have read have helped allay some of the guilt I feel for rushing her through such a traumatic move.

On a warm and sunny afternoon,
God placed within my hands 
A darling precious baby girl.
We named her Laurie Ann

God said that we could keep her
And have her for our own and
Since that day our love for her
Has deepened and it's grown.

Now suddenly it seems to us, 
That little girl has gone.
No more does she delight us with
A silly phrase or song.

And in her place we find we have
A daughter fully grown.
One with grace and beauty;
A personality all her own.

I thank God for you, Laurie,
And what you've meant to me.
I'm thankful for your beauty,
Both the kind you can and cannot see.

I'm thankful for your loving ways
And the considerate things you do.
But most of all I'm thankful
God saw fit to give me you.

My Brett has beautiful skin and from the time he was little I liked the healthy glow he'd get from the sun. It made his sightless, gorgeous blue eyes stand out more than ever. I loved taking him on walks, letting him get a healthy dose of vitamin D and a touch of color too.

One sunny day I suggested Dane ride his bike up to the ice cream shop and Brett and I would meet him up there.

I passed a woman on the sidewalk. She looked closely at Brett. "The sun sure is bright today."

"It's beautiful," I agreed and continued on my way.

As I approached the door to the ice cream shop, a police car came screeching up and stopped at an angle. A police officer jumped out.

A patron was holding the door for me, "Looks like somebody's in trouble."

"I guess so!" I agreed.

"Ma'am?"Heavens! Was he talking to me?? My heart lurched. Please God don't let anything have happened to Dane.

"Ma'am, I need to have a few words with you." He approached me, "Is your baby wearing sunscreen?" He was accusatory, not friendly.

"Yes, he is." I foolishly held up the bottle of sunscreen as "evidence." The truth was I only had the sunscreen with me because I let him get 20 minutes of unfiltered sun before I applied it.

The officer wasn't impressed. "Why don't you have the canopy over the stroller, so at least the sun isn't in his eyes?"

"Well, he's blind." What a stupid, stupid thing to say. Was I looking for sympathy?

"All the more reason to have the canopy up!"

He came closer, inspecting Brett from head to toe. Apparently satisfied he wasn't burnt, he got back in his squad car and drove away.

I was devastated. Mortified. Humiliated. I barely made it around the corner of the building before I fell to the curb and sobbed my heart out. Huge, gut-wrenching sobs. I think I sobbed harder then than I did when Brett's team of doctors told us he'd never respond to us.

Somehow Dane found me. Alarmed, he jumped off his bike and sat beside me on the curb. He could barely make out what I was saying. He patted my back, "It's okay. You're a good mom."

He hit on the crux of it. I didn't feel like a good mom. It hurt that the officer and bystanders thought I was neglectful, possibly even abusive. I looked at my sweet, oblivious Brett. His skin was flushed. Maybe I had burnt him. My poor baby! As if he didn't have enough troubles! I bet I sat there sobbing for a good half hour before finally getting up and walking home.

As I walked, I became angry. How dare that officer speak to me that way, humiliate me like that!

Bob called the station to complain and the officer told him he'd call and apologize. Bob asked me to be respectful, we sure didn't want to be black balled by the local police department.

The officer did call and explained they had to follow up on complaints, but he was sorry I responded the way I did. That's an apology???

"You could have handled it better. Why squeal up there like I was a dangerous felon? And what would you have done if he wasn't wearing sunscreen?"

"If my touch would have left a white mark on his skin, I would have reported you to protective services."

Angry indignation made my voice louder than I intended, "I suggest you forget trying to stop crime and save lives, instead, why don't you station officers at local pools? I'm sure they'd find plenty of sunburnt children to keep them busy."

Then I hung up on him. I wasn't respectful and I felt just as guilty and heartsick as ever. All because of my stupid pride. All because I wanted Brett to look as healthy and normal as possible. All because some lady found me unworthy enough to sic the police on me.

Thankfully, as flawed as I am, Christ ensured my worthiness in God's eyes, and His eyes are the only ones that ultimately matter, "For these light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all." (2 Cor, 4:17). Amen to that!




A couple of side notes:
I have an enormous amount of honor and respect for police officers. They risk their lives every day to keep us safe and the climate in this country is making their job more dangerous than ever. I am extremely grateful for their service.
If I wasn't so tech-illiterate I could figure out how to attach an old picture of my sun-kissed baby Brett showing off his bright blue eyes. Maybe if I change my cover photo it'll work. We'll see.

I noted last week that one of the greatest perks of working for an airline is flying for free, but  flexibility and patience are a must because things happen.

Though non-revving to and from Florida over Spring Break is nigh on impossible, Tammy and her family manage to make it work. They split up, they sit on jumpseats, they take circuitous routes...whatever it takes, they get there.

At vacation's end, it is just Tammy and her son Spence hoping for a seat on the first flight back to Detroit. They aren't feeling hopeful. Every flight is overbooked. There is a good chance they will be spending a long, futile day at the airport, before trying again the next morning. All they can do is wait patiently in the gate area and pray for a miracle.

The harried gate agents are busy loading and unloading one overbooked flight after another when they get word a crew member has become sick. Without the FAA required minimum crew, the flight can't go out. Talk about a nightmare! I'm sure those poor agents were bracing themselves for the raging lunatics who simply cannot accept that things happen.

Tammy is sitting in the gate area oblivious to the calamitous situation brewing at the podium when she gets a call from crew scheduling:

Would there be ANY possibility she'd be willing to work the flight to Detroit? 
Of course she would! But she was traveling with her son, would they be able to ensure a seat for him? 
To avoid stranding 200 people? A no-brainer! Of course they'd get him a seat!!

Tammy boarded the airplane to brief with the crew, while her son waited in the gate area to board with the rest of the passengers.

He told her later the agent made an announcement explaining a crew member had become sick and if not for a vacationing flight attendant willing to work they would have had to cancel the flight. She wasn't in uniform (obviously), but not to worry, she was fully trained and qualified.

Many passengers expressed their gratitude to Tammy. After the service, a woman came back to the galley and personally thanked her; her mother was in hospice and if the flight had cancelled she would have missed the chance to say good-bye to her.

Back in the galley, Tammy shared the story of her friend Cindy, a fellow flight attendant in dire circumstances due to an unexpected illness. One of the flight attendants was so touched she grabbed her wallet and gave Tammy a hundred dollars to give to her.

When they landed, Tammy called Cindy to tell her she'd be leaving money in her mailbox and Cindy burst into tears because that very day she'd received notice that her electricity would be turned off unless she came up with a hundred dollars.

I love stories like this, such clear evidence of God working behind the scenes. He used Tammy's availability and sweetness to answer prayers that day, including her own prayers that she and Spence might get on that flight. Gotta love it!

An irate passenger made national news last week. She went absolutely ballistic over a delayed flight. Yelling at the top of her lungs at the poor hapless gate agent. What bothered me most was the lack of condemnation on the part of those reporting the incident.

Goodness people! Things happen. Weather gets severe, airplanes break, medical emergencies force unexpected landings, crew members get sick, out of control passengers cause delays...and the list goes on.

One of the greatest perks of working for an airline is flying for free. The only glitch is, you only get on flights with open seats. Hence the term "non-revenue." You may think you're going somewhere, but like I said, things happen.

My kids learned that early on. When they were seven and three, my parents lived near Orlando and we visited them often. They got used to watching one airplane after another pull away from the gate without us on it. But eventually, we always made it down there.

I remember one occasion I checked a flight that, miraculously, had sixty empty seats. I told the kids the night before that it was a "sure thing" we'd get on that flight. Silly Momma.

There was a little girl (I would guess around four years old) in the gate area sitting near us. She carried a Little Mermaid back pack and wore a Minnie Mouse T-shirt.

"I bet you're going to Disney World." A woman commented.

"Maybe, but we're non-revs."

"What does 'non-rev' mean?"

"It's bad." The little girl answered matter-of-factly. "It means we come to the airport but we barely ever go anywhere."

I had to laugh. Poor little thing. But at least this time she would be going to Disney World. Or so I thought. But, things happen.

Hordes of people came out of nowhere, a flight had cancelled and they were all being re-booked on our "sure thing" flight.

Caitlin and Dane were stunned. "But, Momma," they wailed, "you said it was a 'sure thing!'"

I vowed to never say something that ignorant again. There is no such thing as a "sure thing," not even with paying passengers.

I fell back on my usual, "But, like I've told you before, everything happens for a reason."

I'm happy to say we all got on the very next flight.

The following week I ran into a flight attendant who was on the flight we did NOT get on. Turns out that flight was a nightmare, an emergency landing followed by hours of sitting on the tarmac. She didn't get to Orlando until the following day.

From that time on I used that example, "You know how I'm always telling you things happen for a reason? Remember that nightmarish flight God saved us from? You guys were frolicking in the pool while those poor people were stuck out on the runway of our "sure thing" flight.

All because, things happen.

I was recently reading the verse, "If Christ is for us, who can be against us?" and it made me think about what it means to be "for" someone. It was opening day so my first thought was that I am "for" the Detroit Tigers.

I'm a huge fan. I always look forward to the start of a new season and sad when it ends. Admittedly, I found last season to be a bit frustrating because the following scenario played out way too often: The starting pitcher and hot bats give the Tigers a wide lead. The reliever comes in in the eighth inning and mows down three batters, often throwing less than a dozen pitches. He's hot, in his groove. No matter, he gets pulled for the ninth and they bring in the closer. The players are out on the field on the cusp of a big win but instead watch dejectedly as ball after ball sails out of the park. And they lose. Ugh.

I was thinking how different I'd feel if I knew with certainty the Tigers were going to win the World Series. I would relax and enjoy the game more. I would show a little more grace for errors, bad calls, dopey coaching decisions and even closers who give up one dinger after another. Because I'd know in the end they are going to be the champions.

As Christians, we know the outcome. Christ won the victory. He is "for" us. No one can win against us. And our "win" is infinitely better than winning a World Series. Talk about a celebration!

Knowing the final chapter helps me deal with crushing disappointments, injustices, dopey decisions and devastating losses. I can extend a little more grace and experience less anxiety because I know Christ is preparing a place for me that "no eye has seen nor mind imagined," where there will be "no more mourning and no more tears," and the loved ones I've lost will be there to welcome me Home. Hallelujah!