I spotted a penny on the ground the other day and it triggered a memory that I recalled with surprising detail. My brother Craig was seven or eight years old at the time. We were getting in the car to go someplace and he spotted a penny in the driveway. Not being one to "pick it up and all day long have good luck," he picked it up and chucked it into the air with all the strength his skinny little arm could muster.

My mom was on the other side of the car buckling in our baby sister when she suddenly felt a painful ping on the top of her head. Seeing the penny bounce along the ground, and not believing for one second that pennies fall from Heaven, she picked it up and stormed around the car. Thrusting the offending penny under Craig's nose she demanded to know why he threw it.

Craig could not have been more incredulous...how had his penny ended up in her hand? I couldn't believe how unlucky he was. I mean, what were the chances of that penny landing on her head? We're talking maybe a four inch circumference here. I thought her yelp of pain and ensuing anger were a little over the top at the time, but thinking back I'm sure with the velocity that penny gained on its way down, that it really must have hurt like the devil.

Fast forward thirty years and I'm sitting numbly in the church pew at Craig's funeral. I was experiencing a kind of detached surrealness about the whole thing until the pall bearers walked by with his casket. The sight gave me a panicky feeling inside...that can't be my sweet brother in there! At that moment the agonizing finality of him not being a part of this world ever again cut me to the quick. I could hardly pull myself together enough to stand up and follow the rest of the family out of the church.

Just a few weeks before his accident, Craig had commented (eerily enough) that we'd all better view his death as an event to be celebrated because it would be well worth celebrating. He could sincerely say this because he lived truly believing that "to live is Christ and to die is gain." (Phil. 1:21) He knew that his life was not his own, that it was "bought at a price." (1 Cor. 6:20)

As dozens of people testified, Craig loved Jesus and lived a life that glorified Him...he lived a life that mattered. So many live their lives like it is their own, that the chief end of man is to work hard and then retire to a life of ease. They strive to gain the whole world yet lose their soul in the process...that's a tragedy.

Life is filled with pain, but Craig was spared from much of the evil and pain of this world. At the time of Craig's death a dear woman sent me a card with the following verses, "The righteous pass away; the godly often die before their time. And no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For the godly who die will rest in peace." (Isaiah 57:1-2 NLT). These verses convinced me that Craig's short life was his reward, his "gain."

Losing Craig was a tragedy to all that knew him. We miss his joyful, loving presence more than I can say. But his life was not a tragedy, because his life (and his death) left a lasting, positive impact on the world he left behind and now he is "present with the Lord." (2 Cor. 5:8) There could be no greater tragedy than to leave this life without having the all surpassing knowledge of knowing and accepting that we were bought...redeemed for all eternity. I hope and pray that my own life will have an increasingly positive, eternal impact on the world I leave behind, and that I too, will have lived a that mattered.

I've missed writing. I can't believe how long it has been since I sat down and tried to organize my chaotic thoughts into something intelligible. I set a goal this year (which I thought was reasonable) to write once week, but for several reasons I've fallen off the band wagon.

Apparently I have too much going on. I feel like I run around at break neck speed all the time and never accomplish anything. I experience on a regular basis what Steven Wright described as having amnesia and deja-vu at the same time; "I know I've forgotten this before." My mind has been too scattered to be "all there" for anything or anybody...how sad is that?

Two weeks ago I had to attend my annual job training. This "training" entails some mandatory performances, which if performed less than perfectly, could entail the loss of your job. I always get way, way too worked up about it. This year I came about as close to an anxiety attack as I've ever been. I know the stuff, it's just increasingly obvious that I'm not good at live performances (horrid at them actually).

There was a silver lining in all the hideousness, because this year I was able to attend with Tammy. God was good to arrange that little miracle. Assuming I could keep my job, Bob and I were planning on traveling to Florida the following Friday to watch Dane play baseball. I confessed to Tammy I was a little apprehensive about traveling with Brett. It's not easy flying standby in the best of circumstances (much less with Brett and in the middle of Spring Break).

She convinced me to try and recruit some help for five or six days so that we could leave Brett at home, where he would be much happier anyway. It's never easy for me to ask for help. My sweet, wonderful friend (who, by the way, is just as frantically busy as I am), hauled out her calendar and figured out which days she could help.

The possibility seemed almost too good to be true. Several days of only having to take care of ourselves? Six days of watching baseball for Bob? And three for me? Does life get any better? One thing about not having the freedom to just get up and go is that when you do get a chance to get away you are a billion times more excited and a billion times more thankful.

I came home Tuesday night from training and flew out again Wednesday on what was supposed to be a two day trip. Due to some freakish weather in Orlando I ended up getting stuck there. I had literally hundreds of things I needed to accomplish on Friday before we could leave and now I had only hours to do it all.

When I got home I couldn't decide what to do first...I'd start packing, then realize I better make sure I had everything ready for Brett, that I should probably clean my bathroom, that I better make sure Brett has all his medicine, make sure he has enough food and diapers...and on and on. I would start one thing, get distracted, think of something else, run upstairs and forget what I ran up there for. I was beginning to think I might be losing my mind.

During this agitated racing around I realized I'd hardly paid any attention to my sweet, cooperative Brett laying there contentedly on the floor (like he always does). I knelt down beside him, talking to him and kissing his cheeks and neck. Normally he isn't very patient with all the kissing and stroking I arbitrarily inflict on him...and who could blame him? I get claustrophobic just thinking about someone hovering over me and kissing me like that. Most of the time he none to gently pushes my face away. That day he put up with me, even gently trailing his skinny little fingers along my cheeks--his only way of "seeing" me.

He was being so unusually responsive that I stopped and made myself enjoy the moment and was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. Soak this up! This is what matters. Tuck this memory away so you can bring it out later. You're going to Florida!! You have people in your life that love you enough to sacrifice their precious time so that you can get away. Slow down and be thankful!

I don't want my frantic pace keeping me from enjoying life's simple pleasures or cause me to miss out on Divine appointments--which is what I feel I had that day with Brett.

Like my daughter recently reminded me, good relationships don't just happen; they're intentional. You have to be "all there" for people. Frankly, there are times when I'd rather by anywhere but all there, when I want to retreat into myself and not see or talk to anybody.

I think Satan uses both excessive busy-ness and isolation to keep us from making a difference in this world that we're just "a-passin' through." None of us are guaranteed a tomorrow, our life is but a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes, and anyone that knows the good things he ought to be doing and doesn't do them, sins. (James 4:14-17)

I hope in the coming months I'll be able to share that I've been successful in slowing down, that I'm enjoying God's simple pleasures and that I am recognizing (and doing) the good things I ought to be doing.

"Only one life; twill soon by past. Only what's done for Christ will last."

In my last blog I wrote about how enchanting a child's perspective can be. The very fact that we are born with a sense of how things ought to be is evidence that there is a God and that we're living in a fallen world. No one had to teach Sloan that it wasn't fair for one child to be born with sight and another without and no one had to teach my friend's little boy that his big sister is not the way she ought to be.

My friend Stacey's 15-year old daughter Alisha (who, like Brett, was born with severe disabilities) sometimes giggles for no apparent reason. Often this involuntary giggling occurs at inappropriate times, times when they wish she would remain quiet, like during their meal time prayers. Usually it's Stacey's five-year old son Caleb that struggles to be still and quiet for prayer, but the other night, Alisha started giggling, and little Caleb became a tad irritated. When the prayer was over, he asked, "Why did you get her anyway?" (implying that she hadn't been one of their better choices). He wasn't entirely satisfied with their answer that they'd actually "gotten" her before him, and he exasperatedly asked why God doesn't just "heal her up?"

Caleb doesn't know a life without Alisha. She has always been there, and he has never had any inhibitions about trying to communicate with her. Stacey tells of how (since he was really little) he has been scrambling up onto her wheelchair and pressing his nose against hers, just staring into her eyes. Though Alisha has always been a fixture in Caleb's life, he is probably only just now beginning to realize how much easier their life would be if only God would just "heal her up". Sadly, we aren't going to be able to give him any simple answers, because we don't have them. We can only share that we have chosen to trust in God's word and His promises and that as far as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are His ways higher than our ways and His thoughts than our thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9). Sure, there have been blessings unveiled in some of the difficulties, but the sharp ache of what could have been never goes away entirely and sometimes it's overwhelming in its intensity.

I've shared here before that Paul's words, "perplexed but not in despair" (2 Cor. 4) epitomize how I feel about Brett. I take great comfort in the fact that Paul, in spite of witnessing all manner of spectacular miracles, still didn't feel like he had all the answers. If even Paul never got to a state of being un-perplexed, than I can be certain I'll never arrive there...and that's okay... because, like Paul goes on to say, "we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that for outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" (2 Cor. 4:16-18). We can't see the eternal glory that Alisha and Brett are achieving here on earth but we can live without despair and know that they will be perfect and whole for all eternity and that their heavenly rewards will be far greater than anything we can possibly imagine.

I love how honest kids are. They haven't yet learned how to disguise their true thoughts and feelings. In "The Divine Conspiracy" Dallas Willard writes that, "interestingly, 'growing up' is largely a matter of learning to hide our spirit behind our face, eyes, and language so that we can evade and manage others to achieve what we want and avoid what we fear. By constrast, the child's face is a constant epiphany because it doesn't yet know how to do this." It's no wonder that Jesus beseeches us to have "child-like faith", without fear or phoniness.

Sloan was only four years old the first time he met Brett. He knelt down beside him and started talking to him and making funny faces, and I had to gently tell him that Brett couldn't see him. He was visibly appalled, almost angry.

"That's not FAIR!"

I wasn't sure how to respond. To an adult I might say, "Yeah, well...life isn't fair, is it?" But to a child? That seemed a bit much.

"He doesn't see anything?" Sloan persisted.

I sadly shook my head.

"But that's not fair!" he said again, even more vehemently.

It amused me and oddly enough, I found his genuine indignation comforting... a refreshingly honest departure from the positive spin most adults feel obligated to give it. I've had plenty of people tell me what a "blessing" it is. A blessing? I confess I struggle not to be aggravated by that one. If you think it's such a blessing than why don't you pray for a child of your own with severe disabilities? But, like my mom always reminds me, they mean well. Of course they do. I know that. People don't know what to say, but children are free to call it as they see it.

Caitlin teaches fourth and fifth graders at a private school in the Washington D.C. area. One day she told her students all 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.

And 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 like nothing else ever has. 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 and yet remain "alive and active" to comfort and instruct us through every season of our lives.

Today is our 25th Wedding Anniversary. It doesn't seem possible. I have spent more of my life being married than not being married...wow.

I recently read about a play in which a girl was allowed to choose one day of her life to relive.
It got me pondering which day I would choose. I asked Bob which day he would choose. He doesn't like questions like this. They make him skittish. I think he thinks I have a "right" answer in mind and if he comes up with the "wrong" one, all hell will break loose. I persevered and he finally came up with a day he thought he would like to relive. He chose our wedding day. That happened to be the wrong answer. It was not a good day, it was filled with tension and Fiddler on the Roof music (and I hated Fiddler on the Roof). Sadly, being the spineless little people pleaser that I was, I let everyone else decide almost every detail of my big day. My sweet Aunt Janet came up with some ideas for songs and after she read me some oh- so appropriate lyrics, I went with the ones she suggested. I was horrified when they started belting out "Sunrise, Sunset" at the rehearsal. Why didn't someone tell me the songs were from Fiddler on the Roof??? Well, it was a little too late to change anything by then.

Bob said he only chose that day because he wanted to go back and change everything so that it would be a wonderful memory for me. I told him that part of the "rules" were that you couldn't change anything, you had to relive it just as it was, so he needed to come up with another day. He wouldn't. I put a great deal of thought into which day I would choose for myself. I told him I would like to relive the day he first told me he loved me. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Truly. I could hardly believe that Bob Staples loved me, of all the girls that had a thing for him (and there were many), he loved me! It was very intoxicating. It probably wasn't such a stellar day for him. His avowal of love was met with total silence on my part. Finally, I just embarrassingly buried my face in his neck. I was such a goof. Months and months later I finally mustered up the courage to tell him I loved him, too (even though I'd been hopelessly in love with him for almost as long as I could remember).

If I had gotten a peek on my wedding day into all that was going to transpire in the next 25 years I probably would have done an about face and marched right back out of the church (or rather pranced out accompanied by that silly Fiddler on the Roof music). How fortunate that God doesn't let us see into the future. Because if I had walked out I would have missed out on experiencing the miraculous ways He has healed our marriage, making us stronger and more dependant on Him than ever. I would have missed out on seeing how tenderly, totally and selflessly Bob has loved all of us. I would have missed out on seeing the special love Bob has for Brett and how he has never viewed him as anything but a gift from God, with a special purpose. He considers Brett the "glue" that has bonded us together. Bob has never complained or resented the fact that we will be tending to Brett's every need for the rest of our lives...this in spite of the fact that we get absolutely nothing back from him...not even so much as a smile.

Since those first early days of dating Bob, I haven't been able to envision a life with out him, I still can't. Like the words of that old Barry White song, he is "my first, my last...my everything". Happy Anniversary, Babe!

When Dane was three years old I ordered him a Batman costume from a catalogue. As soon as I opened it I realized that something had gone terribly awry in the assembly of the mask. It was so tall  you could have fit two heads in it. One of the ears was straight up while the other one was almost stitched flat.

Dane didn't recognize the strangeness of it and could hardly wait to don the whole get-up and pretend he was Batman. I wanted to throw myself on the floor laughing after I put the mask on him, but somehow, I managed to keep a straight face.

Dane raced around the house, cape flying behind him, fighting off his imaginary foes, and generally just having a rollicking good time....until he caught a gander of himself in the hall mirror. I could tell by how still he suddenly got that he was stunned. I could see his little eyes looking through the mask taking in the whole ridiculously freakish picture he made. It most certainly was not Batman. And the Batman game was definitely over. I realized it was actually a good thing that he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror because it would have been infinitely worse to let him get laughed at. Let's face it, if his own mother could hardly keep a straight face, he wasn't going to fare well with the general public.

Our Brett has hydrocephalus and when he was born his head was already way bigger than it should have been. As the days progressed it just kept getting bigger and bigger, until finally it was imperative that he undergo brain surgery to have a shunt put in. Because his head was so abnormal looking (and still is to some extent), I became fascinated with the variety of heads out there. For one, I had gotten so used to Brett's large head that every normal infant I saw looked like a pin-head.

I'm still fascinated with all the various sizes and shapes of heads. There are tiny headed (of which I happen to have one), flat headed, huge headed, pointy headed and lumpy headed, all out and about and doing just fine, thank you.

Bob and I both realize what a blessing it is that Brett is blissfully unaware that he doesn't look or act normal. We are very thankful that we never have to worry about his feelings getting hurt, because let's face it, nothing hurts quite so much as seeing your child get hurt. Especially the emotional hurts.

Most of the time, physical hurts heal and the pain is temporary, but being mocked and rejected often leaves life-long scars. We can't kiss away these "boo-boo's" or put band aids on them.

We can't protect our kids from the inevitable sorrows of life, but we can trust in the One who loves them more perfectly than we can. Jesus told us we would have troubles, but He didn't stop there, He said, "but take heart! I have overcome the world!" (John 16:33) Someday "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain," (Rev. 21:4), until then we have been promised that "He who is in us is greater than he who is in the world" (1 John 4:4) and that we can be "more than conquerors through Him who loves us" (Rom. 8:37). Everything that takes place God uses to take us to the place He wants us to be. He doesn't waste any experiences (Rom. 8:28), not the broken hearts, the crushed spirits or even guilt and shame.

I was given the opportunity to finally see Caitlin's beautiful little apartment and the school where she teaches. I'm always in awe of Caitlin. Always. How did she go from pretending to teach school to actually having real live students? Of course they love her... who wouldn't? I can tell she's a wonderful teacher and that she loves those kids with everything she has.

What a treat it was to attend their morning meeting, to hear God's word shared and marvel how much wisdom has soaked into those little minds. Even the littlest ones had answers that reflected real Bible knowledge. Wow.

Of course I got to spend time with my sister and her boys, too. I can never get enough of them. She had a bunch of her friends over for brunch. Five two-year olds and one three-year old were part of the entourage and Kristie had hired a babysitter to keep them occupied in her basement.

I was more tired than usual, not feeling up to socializing with people I don't know (isn't that terrible?). She needn't have hired the babysitter because I decided I'd like nothing more than to hang out with the kids. Perhaps because Brett is blind and doesn't really do anything, but I'm more fascinated than ever by children and their distinctly different personalities and interests. They are all so unique, so funny and adorable.

My little nephew Sam is one of the most beautiful little boys I've ever seen. His big brown eyes, perfectly chunky body and big wide smile would melt anybody. I can hardly keep myself from stroking his pudgy cheeks and kissing his sweet neck. Of course, you can only get away with so much of that before they start avoiding you like the plague. Sam seemed rather bored with the other boys and didn't interact much with them, just played contentedly with his cars.

The other boys dug in the toy box until they found things that could be used as weapons. There were numerous bouts but surprisingly no one got seriously hurt. The two little girls dug desperately in the toy box for something that would interest them and, lo and behold, one of them unearthed a baby doll. She was thrilled with her find and gently cradled her in her arms. Alas, there wasn't one for the other little girl and she eventually settled for pulling a little chair up close to watch and admire the "baby."

I marveled at how God made us so innately different...so evident in these precious little ones. I thoroughly enjoyed quietly observing and occasionally laughing out loud at their antics. I was almost sorry to see them all leave but looked forward to spending the last few hours with my sister before I had to head back home. Time with my sister is always wonderful, she's not only an insightful and fascinating conversationalist, but she laughs all the time...and it's delightfully contagious.

What made my little excursion to D.C. possible was that my friend Dawn offered to come and stay with Brett for me. She not only watched him, she cooked us up a fine dinner and even baked us a cake! I prayed specifically that Brett would be his usual content self and that she wouldn't have to change a messy diaper. Sadly, God didn't grant me either of those requests (the only disappointment in my near perfect day). I asked God to especially bless her because she is a busy, busy gal and yet she carved out these hours just for me. Dawn, I am so thankful for our friendship!