Wednesday, May 18, 2016

A House; A Home

A dear friend of mine once said, "I like that whenever you talk about your house you call it your home."

"What do you mean?," I asked.


She replied: "I've noticed that you never call your house 'a house.' You always say 'home.' I think it's sweet."

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

The "Be Good" Bus

Autism looks like many things in my house...


It looks like meltdowns and tantrums and tears. It looks like phone calls from the principal's office and citations from the bus driver. It looks like chocolate-brown eyes and gap-toothed grins. It looks as much like anger and frustration as it does laughter and joy. It looks like setbacks and successes.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Willing To Be Open

As the mother of an autistic son, I have been a member of the autism community for a little over three years.


And in that time my eyes have been opened to the heartache of such a disorder. There are setbacks to overcome, there are mountains of adversity to climb. There are angry tears shed in hot, nighttime showers. There are prayers of longing and frustration whispered into bed sheets. But in the midst of all that is hard and disparaging, there is beauty and triumph, too.

Friday, March 11, 2016

H Is For Honesty; A Letter

Dearest Lilly,


As your wise and doting mother, I feel it absolutely necessary to teach you solid, moral standards. The world has a lot of truly tremendous and wonderful things to offer, BUT sometimes it is like a pond. There is a lot of scum out there! It is imperative for you to maintain your integrity. Cling to the value of honesty. I want you to always tell the truth!

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Personalized Bookmarks For My Bookworm!

I was the kid with a flashlight and a book under my pillow at night.


My doting mother would come into my floral-wallpapered room (YIKES!) at bedtime, tuck me in, ask if I had said my prayers, and kiss me goodnight. She would turn off the light and quietly slip through the doorway. As soon as I heard the soft, muffled sounds of her feet padding down the hallway, I'd dive under my covers, flick my flashlight on, and read, read, read.