A New Tradition

We packed our first Christmas gifts today.  Despite being familiar with Operation Christmas Child, a ministry of Samaritan's Purse, for several years, I had not prioritized getting boxes ready and kept pushing it down on my "mean-to-do" list.  Determined to change that this year, I took J & Sarah out and we had a great time.

If you are looking for a way to model thankfulness in your family and to just plain have fun, please consider checking out OCC and packing a box.

Here are a few reasons why you should consider packing a box for Operation Christmas Child:

1. It's personal.
The box you put together will be opened by a specific individual, just like any other gift you will give this year.  This is the only charitable organization that I know of that transports gifts instead of using donations to purchase items and services needed in a particular country (though they do that too).  OCC is very hands-on and tangible for involving children.  You are encouraged to include a note to the intended recipient.  The OCC site also has a coloring sheet that can be completed by your kids and packed.  And if you give the estimated shipping cost ($7/box) online, you can track your box to its end destination.  You might even gain a penpal if you include your address in the note you send!

2. It's transparent.
89 percent of monies raised by Samaritan's Purse goes to funding its incentives. It has an overall rating of 95.9 by Charity Navigator and a rating of 100 for transparency and accountability.  This is a trustworthy place to give.


3. It's low-cost, high return.
You can pack a great box for $25.  You can  build one online for without leaving home or you can head down to the local Supercenter and gather materials.  I bought hygiene products (soap, toothbrushes and paste, chapstick, hair ties), small toys (coloring books, puzzles, stickers, hard candy, whistles), essentials (pencils, socks) at the Dollar store.  I think our store stocks items that are specifically on the OCC list because I found a ball pump today, a suggested item, as well as flip flops, which are obviously out of season now, another suggested item. I went next door to Walmart for a few special items like a basketball and HotWheels car for my boy box and soft baby dolls for the girls. I also got better brand art supplies there.  My most expensive item was $7 (basketball), and most were $1.  There is even a Pinterest board with low cost ideas.

4.  It will bless a child in need.
This isn't a guilt trip, but y'all, for the cost of a casual meal out, you can give a child a present that has long-reaching effects.  Each item in your box will honestly knock their socks off.   A dollar store toy will be played with and put in the toy basket tomorrow at my house, but it will be treasured by a child who may have never received a Christmas gift.  The gift is more than the gift.  Samaritan's Purse is a Christian organization whose mission is "helping in Jesus' name".  Many children who receives boxes also gain 12 weeks of bible lessons about God's love.  If you are looking for the real meaning of Christmas-- that God gave-- here's a great way to kick off the season.


5.  It will make you happy!
Buying gifts for a child is fun.  So is stuffing a box to the brim with goodies.  Believe it or not, if you let your kids know for the outset that your shopping trip is to buy gifts for others, they will not beg for toys on the toy aisle.  Giving is medicine for the gimme-gimmes.

This is our first Christmas doing Operation Christmas Child and it's really fun! We've seen a bunch of people shopping for kids around the world! #operationchristmaschild

A photo posted by Melissa Young (@thejaybirdblog) on Nov 11, 2014 at 12:37pm PST

What'dya say?  Ready to start a new, meaningful tradition right before we enter the season of thanks?  Do it!  And let me know if this convinced you!

I'm A Swifty Now

We are going to see Taylor Swift in concert next year.  After dinner last night, I was trying to keep the girls from screaming which involves pitching throw pillows at their heads and singing "Shake It Off" while they dance.  When Sarah returns fire and I spill coffee on myself, I have to leave the girls to their own devices (which mainly involves taunting, aggravating, and shrieking) while I change.  "Why won't Alex get off the computer," I grumble to myself as I stomp to my room.  When I get back downstairs, Alex has joined the kids.  "Here," he says, handing me a sheet of paper.  "It's not til next year, and the seats are far up, but I thought you'd like to go."  Turns to out he wasn't avoiding the madness, but searching for presale tickets for the TS 1989 show in Atlanta next fall.  My singing in the next room was the incentive needed to go ahead and plunk the plastic down and commit.

We are going to be like Gary The Stepdad from "Ew!"on the Tonight show among all the screaming tweens.  It shall be epic.  Skip ahead to minute 3 below.  Two things: the Gary dance and the way "Sara" says League of Extraordinary Gentleman.  That's how my toddler pronounces everything.




Anyway, I spent about a good hour after the kids' bedtime studying up on Taylor's music video timeline and learning fun facts such as how she wrote a 350 page novel on vacation as a 12 year old.

I'm a few more hours of research away from taking selfies with "heart hands".

Who else is a secret Swifty?

And Then My Head Exploded.

The Season is upon us.  You know the one: Family Picture Season.  I determined in my heart that we were not going to participate because we'd had pictures made last year and I'd kinda promised Alex I'd only make him do that every other year because surprisingly, lounging on a blanket in a field while wearing carefully coordinated attire isn't a dream come true for him.

Well, that inner resolve made it all the way to November 5th.  I innocently inquired about a holiday session at a local farm because we hang out at farms all the time and feels like an accurate representation of our home life.  Plus there is an atmospheric wooden barn and wreaths and why shouldn't we mug for posterity in the great outdoors?

So I like pretty pictures.  Deal with it already, inner conflict.  The straw the broke the no-picture-this-year's-back arrived in the form of beautifully curated holiday outfits for the children with the express purpose of picture taking.  And how can I disappoint family?  I mean, there are sweater vests and velvet bows to be worn.  And matching plaid dresses, might I add.

Now begins the outfit angst for me.  You know, it's all about Mama, right?  I mean, of course it's going to be "darlin' plus" as one of my favorites says because of the kids, but outfitting an adult woman for a family pictures is not easy feat.

I mean, the options.  I have several black and red basics that would work and even a cute print dress.  My sensible side says to wear one of those and call it a day.  My inner Pinner disagrees, because that might be too much print and overwhelm the picture and make it look like I was trying to hard. Say it with me: TOO LATE.

We were out last night and able to stop by the mecca also known as Charming Charlie's where I spent at least 45 mintues debating the merits of the bib necklace versus the hanging chain and it was as world-altering as you might expect.  Then another half hour online window shopping, fretting about the green lace tunic or the gray lace top and the regrettable lack of cream leggings on this particular site.

And Then My Head Exploded.

I miss November 4th.  It was a simpler time.

So Ladies, let me poll you.

1) Black Skirt with Creme Top w/ lace accents that I own?

2) Black and White Wrap dress with red flats that I also own?

3) New Tunic and Leggings Combo that is a minefield of delicate coordination choices?

I need your help. Please let me know I'm not alone in this prison of my mind.

Sincerely,

Losing My Mind After Pondering One Too Many Statement Necklace/Tunic/Legging/Boot Combo

A Basket of Happy

Today I received a gift basket.  As I was dropping the girls off for preschool (both girls, as in MOTHER'S MORNING OUT, Oh Happy Day), another preschool mom was waiting for me in the parking lot.  She heads up a Mom's group that meets at the local Methodist church.  I started attending this year on the invitation of a friend, now having a bit more freedom with my time.

This week's meeting topic was "The Mystery of Autism" and I'd missed it.  We had a plumbing issue arise and the repairman's window of time conflicted.  And truly, I wasn't sure how I'd feel in a group of "autism outsiders" discussing this subject as an insider.  I can get a wee bit, erm, defensive about it.  A bit prickly, I'd say.  I'd looked ahead to the week's discussion guide, and it started with an opener that had the moms imagine the limitations of autism, such as only being able to talk about a restricted subject or obsession.  Some part of that bothered me.  I thought about asking the leader to share from my own experience or just to come up with another entry point into the topic, but I didn't and let the impulse pass.  So when my appointment interfered with the meeting, I thought maybe it was just as well.  No need to have a cynic in the room.

When the group leader approached me today, I offered up my apologies and reiterated my conflict when she handed me a basket filled with cards and "little happies" and told me the group had prayed for me and another mom in the group with a child on the spectrum.  I thanked her and we chatted a few more seconds, as I placed the items in the car to take the girls inside.  When I got back to the car and began to unpack the basket, I opened up card after card that just encouraged me-- no "poor you, your life must be so hard"-- just encouraged me.  From one woman to another, with different experiences perhaps, but many in common:  womanhood, motherhood, and following God.

I had to text a friend the unexpected surprise (if something happens and it's not shared and photographed, it didn't happen, right?  This is 2014). In the text, I summed up my unspoken stance towards receiving someone's generosity:  Um, God. I'm supposed to do nice things for others.  I'm too competent to receive in return.

I believe the deep theological word for this is pride.  In the English it's pronounced PRIDE.  I don't know how it's pronounced in the Greek or Hebrew.

These are the dots I've been connecting lately: At some point in our life, we will belong to a sub-group we wouldn't have picked.  Mine's disability.  And when we are not in the company of that group, we don't want to be known by that label, in my case, "Autism Melissa".  No one wants to be Divorced Jane or Almost Bankrupt Mary.  And the trouble with that mentality is if that's how we think we are being perceived, then that will be how we perceive others' treatment of us.  Perception becomes our reality even if it's not the truth at all.  Obviously, I've read enough Personal Growth and Spirituality books to fancy myself quite the psychologist, but go with me here.

What brought me happiness today was that this thoughtful Basket of Happy wasn't addressed to AUTISM MELISSA.  It was addressed to me.

Someone who was cared for by a group of women who don't know me very well, but know God's gracious ways and extended them to me.  I don't attend their church, and I belong to a different denomination, which seemed like a big deal as a child growing up in the bible belt.  (The only time we mentioned our brothers and sisters in Christ who worshipped at the church directly adjacent to ours growing up was to exclaim from the pulpit that our parking lot had more cars.  God Bless Our Southern Baptist Hearts.  I do sincerely love being a part of this denomination.)

All of that to say,  I'll be at the Mom's group next Monday, with or without the clogged plumbing.  And more open to receive the unexpected.

It's The Middle That Counts

 "...Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning." (Hope Floats)

I thought we'd be moving away this week.  That's what I told our dentist, doctors, and therapists as I got records, made last minute appointments, cancelled others, and oh, listed our house and SOLD MY KITCHEN TABLE. It was beat-up anyway, but that's serious intent, right there.

Oh, and with the expectation of moving across state lines and not having company insurance benefits for the first 9 months, along with other reasons, we enrolled Jeremiah back in school.  That's a whole 'nother post, but basically, I feel totally confident in this decision.  His teacher (who was going to be his teacher last year) just agreed to start a special needs Sunday school at our church.  Guess who is her first class member?  And guess who I worked with to get J back into the system smoothly?  Seminary grad.  When we were small-talking at J's IEP meeting, he mentioned graduating seminary and I immediately said, "So that's why I like you so much."  This man was so helpful and on-the-ball and welcoming to us coming in to the school year a few weeks late.  I honestly left that meeting and thought to myself, "I feel like God's favorite person."  It's so cool to me how I've changed in my view of education and special education in particular.  I feel more empowered from our year of homeschooling and so at peace that this particular autism classroom and that this particular teacher sees my whole child.  He (like any child) needs so much more that academics and this is a great fit.  Public school is our choice for this year and this stage of J's development and I stand by that.  Honestly, one of the few things holding me back was "well, what will my homeschooling acquaintances say?" like I would lose some kinda mommy-wars street cred.  Which is ridiculous, but there you go.

This move, or almost-move, gave us permission to re-examine our life and priorities.  And that's been worth all the emotional energy it consumed.

Two weeks ago, my husband hands in his notice.  His employer makes a counter-offer; he comes back to me and we decide we were still "go" on the move.  We have an over-the-top-this-is-wonderful trip to Knoxville.  Which is most likely due to the fact that we are alone for almost 3 days and can do anything we please... brunch, home-hunting, campus strolling, happening upon a local downtown festival (I die), eating on the hip square, a movie. Bliss.  We visit a church and the worship rings true.  We can do this.  The possibility of a double housing payment, uprooting and starting over; the potential of the job and the city are worth it.
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Two weeks ago:

We're moving in two weeks to the Knoxville, TN area.  Which is the same amount of time I've had to start mentally preparing for this.  Listing the house, making calls, and doing a last round of doctor visits.

A job opportunity that caught Alex's attention last year has become open again and he is going for it.  He'll be working in the same field of computer programming and working with the same language, while learning a new one.  It's a fantastic professional opportunity in a exciting area (for us, at least.  I mean-- SEC football, seasons, and even a Trader Joe's.)

When we moved to Middle Georgia six years ago, we just loaded up our 1100 square feet of stuff and toted our newborn along.  I had my husband and my baby and as long as I had that, I was up for anything.  And then we built a house and moved in and had another baby.  And another baby.  And we have lots more square feet of stuff.  Lots more bills.  Lots more obligations.  And we're honestly excited to hit the reset button and simplify again.

I've still got that "where thou goest I will go" spirit because, well, that's the deal.  If my husband is happy and fulfilled and it happens to be in another state, that's where I want to be.

Then I reflect on all the middles.  It stops me short, a punch in the gut.

I know some things here.  I know the places.   I know the people.

I have a community.  Just this Sunday, a longtime Sunday school teacher remarked that our children's faces are carbon copies of one another.  

They are loved here.

When someone goes the extra mile for your kid, it sticks with you.  And there are so many faces in my mind that have done this for me in the last several years.

The deacon who helps in J's choir class.  One evening I came to choir classes without J because he'd just been having a hard time.  This man made a point to come over and tell me that J was missed-- and welcomed-- there.  And you know you just cruising along and come undone in a moment because a kind word has just opened your Achilles' heel?  That's life in the middle.

Same thing with my pastor.  I attend a relatively large church in the area.  Church culture gets knocked around a lot, sometimes deservedly, but from the moment I met my pastor, I've been impressed by his genuine care for people, while being an excellent teacher and administrator.  When I finally started sharing openly about J, I asked the pastor to pray over me.  The next time I saw him in the halls of our church, he made a point to share a story of a young autistic man who was becoming a missionary, fluent in 5 languages.  He made sure to have a hard copy of the article sent to my house.  While most of what I know about my pastor comes from sitting under his teaching, actions and character speak volumes.  I'm so tenderhearted toward my church. Church is a good thing.  It's truly a second home.

So many kind and passionate teachers and therapists that have invested in all of us.  Those real deal friends who quietly go the extra mile to meet your needs: a kid's special haircut, a 1:1 VBS teacher for J, a meal or a coffee date.  Therapists, with so many clients to attend to, have each gone above and beyond in some way to encourage me in J's progress under their care.  

There are good people everywhere.  I've just meet so many here.

This is a love letter and a promise.  

I'm going to take all of this and make, hopefully, new memories that quickly become middles.


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The second time he turns in his notice, with the offers being even and the reality of a home, community, and supports in place for J in particular, we decide to stay.

And now, we're in the middle of our middle again.  Our closets are leaner and meaner.  We are, too.  I'm trying to take the excitement I was ready to invest into a new home and pour it into new outlets.  We're going to a Country and Western concert at THE Georgia National Fair, our first since dating years. (Musicals and plays, yes, but live music, sadly, no).  We're playing softball for our local Autism support group.  I hope to take the kids to visit their aunt and uncle in Kentucky because if Fall won't come to us, we'll come to Fall.  And I have two little girls ready for some attention.

Basically, we're a stronger team.  We can bust it for each other.  That lesson was worth learning.