I’m empty. Barren. Hollowed out.

A vessel, in waiting.

I’ve strategically seated myself in the corner of a large food court in the Miami International Airport. I can, quite literally, feel walls on either side of me. Green and black tile on one side, mirrored glass on the other. I’m tight in this little nook all by myself, and this is the way I like it. At least for now.

In 3 1/2 hours, I’ll be joining a group of 40+ souls. We’re traveling together, today. We’re on our way to the Dominican Republic for a sponsor trip with Compassion International. While we’re there, we’ll see the amazing work Compassion is doing to release children from extreme poverty. Mamas will testify to the pain poverty’s brought to their doorstep. Babes will cry. And babes will laugh. Kids will swarm. And kids will hold our hands, sit in our laps and snuggle in for security. We’ll drive through slums. We’ll visit humble huts called homes. Tin roofs with holes and mucked up streams will surround us. And we’ll wonder why in the world did we happen upon comfort and wealth in our corner of the world while there’s undeniable poverty here? Our sponsored children will travel miles across the countryside, from all different directions, to meet us. We’ll hug and love, we’ll play and linger long in each moment. And in the end, we’ll wonder where the time went.

Miracles are in store for this sponsor trip. Yes, that’s certain.

This trip is anointed. By God. For God.

He is here. In this place. Waiting for us to arrive. To do His work. To do His will.

So here I sit. Empty. Barren. Hollowed out.

I’m a vessel, in waiting.

The week started great. I made a to-do list on Monday morning. It was a page long, and included everything I needed to do between Monday morning and Friday evening to prepare for my departure from the house this morning at 2:45 a.m.

I kept the list simple, only things that HAD to be done for my blog and for the trip. Five peoples’ laundry and house cleaning didn’t even make the list. I was getting down to the business of this sponsor trip, and I was going to give it my all.

I was doing well on the list. I really was. I published my first pre-trip blog post early in the week and had another planned for yesterday.

One by one, things were getting checked off the list. I was on my way. Smooth sailing.

But life threw a curve ball at me on Thursday morning. I’d intended to spend the day planning, preparing and checking off my list. Instead, I spent the day in relationship, managing the unexpected. I didn’t want to spend the day that way. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t joyful. It wasn’t uplifting or inspiring. I didn’t want to have the day I had. I didn’t want God to give me that kind of day. Didn’t He know I was supposed to be leaving for this sponsor trip with Compassion International in two days? Didn’t He know He was putting a little damper in the fulfillment of my childhood dreams? Didn’t He know this wasn’t good timing?

But I dealt with it. Yes, we dealt with it. That unexpected situation? It desperately needed tender loving care that day. Whether it was two days before my sponsor trip with Compassion International or not. So we tended. We did the hard work of dealing with reality and facing battles as they arose.

I lost the day. Or should I say, I gained it in authentic relationship and trusting God would make up the difference?

So came Friday. I was frantic. My to-do list no longer seemed short. It seemed long, very long. Let’s be real, the situation still needed tending. And yeah, there was that list.

Let me remind you, I was frantic. My mind was racing. My body was going a mile a minute to keep up. I even dropped the babe off for four hours at a home daycare so I could attend my daughter’s school program and pack for the trip in peace and quiet. I should have been doing well, and I was for a while. But the hours slipped through my fingers like seconds. I went and went until the end of the day. I was a stressed mess, waffling between high emotion and complete emptiness.

Before I knew it, it was 9:10 p.m. and I was just getting into bed. The alarm was set for 1:55 a.m. I was down to 5 hours of sleep if everything went perfectly.

The clock ticked. I was hot and uncomfortable. I tossed and turned. I was wide awake. 11:55 babe woke up crying. I moved to the chair to try another sleeping position. Nothing worked. I was wide awake.

By the time 1:18 a.m. rolled around, I realized there was no way I was going to sleep one minute this night before the Compassion International sponsor trip. Sleepless and stressed was NOT the way I wanted to start this trip. Sleepless and stressed was NOT what I had planned for this day.

So I started praying.

I put my hands on my head and prayed I would write the words He wants me to write.

I put my hands on my eyes and prayed I would see what He sees.

I put my hands on my heart and prayed I would feel what He feels.

Then I got up. And I started moving into the day. Because this is the day that the Lord has made, and today He invited me on a sponsor trip.

I tried to sleep on the plane. But it didn’t work. Believe it or not, people were talking! Big, loud plane beeps stirred me awake the second I started falling asleep. My seat mates had to get up to go to the bathroom. They ate the most disgusting smelling peanut snack. And people kept rustling their plastic bags.

A few minutes after I gave up on sleep, the attendant announced “Buckle your seatbelts, we’ve begun our descent into Miami.”

So here I am. At the Miami International Airport. I’m waiting for my 40+ travel partners to arrive.

I didn’t get my second pre-trip blog post published yesterday.

I didn’t get a minute of sleep last night.

And I’m empty. Barren. Hollowed out.

I’m a vessel, in waiting.

I’m remembering the words I wrote last August 8, 2014, in a blog post announcing this sponsor trip I’d be taking to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International…

“The moments will be orchestrated by God himself. The stories, prepared in advance for us to tell. May our words be a vessel through which He speaks truth about the value of every human life.”

I’m empty. Barren. Hollowed out.

A vessel, in waiting.

This isn’t the way I wanted to start this trip.

But apparently, it’s the way God wanted me all along.

Hollow. Empty. Barren. A vessel for Him to occupy. So He can live, speak and work through me on this trip. Blessed be the name of the Lord. If I must be empty, may I be filled with Him.

---

This week, I’m joining Compassion International on a sponsor trip to the Dominican Republic. I’m not on the ground yet, but I’m on my way. It’s an honor to share this trip with writers Kris Camealy and Sandra Heska King. Join us, will you, as we capture all the beautiful stories on our blogs? Perhaps as you hear more about Compassion’s great work with children in extreme poverty, you’ll be moved to sponsor a little one yourself. Click here and you’ll be directed to the sweet faces of children waiting for a sponsor! 

This blog post is part of a three-week series I’m writing about my journey to the Dominican Republic. Click here to read all the posts from my series.

If your heart has been touched by the words in this blog post, would you be so kind as to share it with friends and family on Facebook, Twitter, and via email? I would be so grateful. The more we spread the word about Compassion and the great work they’re doing, the more sweet children will be released from extreme poverty. Thank you, friends.

 

 

Dearest Friends,

I can’t think of a better way to kick off this series about our sponsor trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International than to tell you all about the sweet girl I’m going to visit!

Miss Meranyelis is the third of four sponsored children we’ve added to our family. Yes, I’m sold on child sponsorship. And thank the Lord, my husband has embraced it whole-heartedly as well! Miss Bethchaida was the first sweet pea we sponsored through Compassion. Then we added Mr. Djino! And our newest addition to the family is Mr. Charles, a just-turned three-year-old boy with a prosthetic leg whose sponsorship was long awaited, but miraculously came through last month! I was incredibly blessed to visit Bethchaida, Djino and Charles last February on a sponsor trip to Haiti with Compassion. The trip was worth every penny. I’d return in a heartbeat.

Now let’s get back to Miss Meranyelis. We’ve only sponsored her for six months, but let me tell you, I am so excited to meet her! Here’s why…

When I was in Haiti on the sponsor trip last February, I realized that I really loved interacting with the older girls in the Compassion projects. The young girls were super cute, of course! But the older girls were engaging, more than I imagined. I loved the conversation we had, and felt a strong connection with a few girls in particular. The time I spent with the older girls made me realize the notable positive impact we can make on these girls living in extreme poverty. One day they’ll grow up to be women, leaders of their communities and countries. It’s an absolute honor to pour into their budding lives.

So I knew, without a doubt, that the next child we’d sponsor would be an older girl.

When we decided to move ahead with another sponsorship, my husband gave me free rein to make a decision as to who it would be! When I told him it was going to be an older girl, he reminded me I shouldn’t restrict myself to one particular gender or age, but that I should be open and allow my heart to be led.

I opened the Compassion website. “Sponsor a Child Today” flashed big and blue on the top of the screen. I chose Dominican Republic from the “Where in the World” drop down menu. And I left gender and age preferences blank.

Pictures of sweet girls and boys in need of sponsors flooded the page. Some were younger. Some were older. Several captured my attention. But there was Meranyelis, sweet Meranyelis. (Um, yeah. I knew she was the one from the second I saw her face and that confident, a little bit sassy pose.)

But I have to be honest, I tried to ignore the call I felt to sponsor Meranyelis, at least at first. My husband’s words played on repeat in my head…be open, let yourself be led. So I kept looking, kept clicking on pictures of boys and girls to see if perhaps they were the one. When I finished searching page one, I clicked to page two. After I’d made it through all of the children, I refreshed the screen. Some of the faces were familiar, but there were new faces, too. And there was Meranyelis, sweet Meranyelis.

I repeated this process – page one, page two, refresh the field of children in need of a sponsor – three, maybe even four times. Meranyelis popped up every time. She was one of the only children that didn’t fade in and out of my search. She was ever present, always there.

So I admit all the time spent searching and over searching was probably a little overkill, but it served its purpose. God was LOUDLY and CLEARLY speaking to me. Sponsor Meranyelis! She’s the one!

I finally surrendered to the fact that my hunch was right from the start. We were going to sponsor an older girl, and now I knew her name. Meranyelis!

I’m so excited to meet his sweet girl, y’all, and pour into her life during our precious time together. I have a little insight into Meranyelis’ life and past that makes me love her even more. A few months ago, I called Compassion to find out more about Meranyelis’ family. Her mother is alive, but doesn’t live with her. She lives with her father, aunt and grandmother. Meranyelis doesn’t have any siblings, but she has four best friends she named in one of her letters. She enrolled in Compassion’s Child Development Sponsorship Program in 2006 when she was three years old, and she’s had three sponsors prior to us.

I don’t understand why Meranyelis was born into extreme poverty while other kids live in wealth. I don’t know why she isn’t living with her mama. I’m not sure how she feels about being an only child. And I haven’t a clue as to the heartbreak Meranyelis’ three prior sponsors experienced when life circumstances forced them to discontinue sponsorship.

But these things I know for sure…

None of us know the WHY behind everything that happens in our lives.

But God works all things together for our good.

Our lives are joyful. And our lives are incredibly painful.

Regardless of the joy and pain, we’re loved. Deeply loved.

And so goes for Meranyelis.

She’s experienced pain and poverty, but she’s deeply loved. By God. Family. Friends. Compassion International. Prior sponsors. And our family. Love’s written all over her face.

She’s sweet. She’s kind. She’s smart. She’s a little sassy. And she’s going to be a leader in her community and country. I just know it.

It is an honor to be Meranyelis’ sponsor through Compassion International. And it is going to be a delight to meet her. To ensure she continues to be released from extreme poverty is the least I can do.

I can’t wait to tell her how precious she is. I can’t wait to hold her hand and ask her all the questions I ever wanted to know. I can’t wait to sit and play and walk and talk with this girl who’ll turn woman any day now. And I can’t wait to let her know. You are loved. You are chosen. God chose you. And so do I.

Perhaps you’re curious about child sponsorship. Or maybe you’ve felt called to sponsor a child, but haven’t taken action yet. Now is a great time! Who knows? Someday you might find yourself traveling to meet your sponsored child! Sponsorship is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. I pray that gift for you, too. So take a leap of faith. Click here and take a peek at all those sweet faces. There’s one special child waiting for your sponsorship.

This blog post is part of a three-week series I’m writing about my journey to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International January 10-15, 2015. Click here to read all the posts from my series! 

If your heart has been touched by the words in this blog post, would you be so kind as to share it with friends and family on Facebook, Twitter, and via email? I would be oh so grateful. The more we spread the word about Compassion and the great work they’re doing, the more sweet children will be released from extreme poverty. Thank you, friends!

 

 

 

I was planning to take this week off from blogging. It’s the week between Christmas and New Years, and in less than two weeks, I’ll be heading to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International where I’ll be blogging up a storm!

But to be completely honest, I was drawn out of my well-intentioned blogging hibernation by two well-known bloggers, Michael Hyatt and Money Saving Mom, who published “Top Posts of 2014” last week. Their posts were interesting from my perspective as reader, and seemed to be eye-opening for the authors as well. I left wondering how this type of post would take shape on my blog.

So here goes, my Top 10 Posts from 2014! Perhaps you read them all, perhaps you missed a few. But definitely check them out! These posts were most highly read this year, and include many of my faves, too!

1: In Which I’m Throwing A Belated Retirement Party for My Dad

In this post, I threw a virtual retirement party for my dad. He spent his career as a public school band director, but due to an unfortunate series of events, never had a proper retirement celebration. This online gathering was successful beyond my wildest dreams! I’m still flabbergasted by the outpouring of response.

2: Serenading His Way to Big Dreams

This post features Pete Ford, a singer-songwriter I met at a local mall who composes and records personalized songs for customers. It was a delight to chat with Pete. And I’m psyched to report that after my blog post ran, Pete’s Serenade Store was was also featured by the Star Tribune and on Kare 11 News!

3: Where God Leads When We Listen: In Memory of Teresa Marie Hennen Moksnes

In this post, I shared a miracle I experienced at a cemetery. I was drawn to a young mom’s grave one summer evening only to discover that day would’ve been her 40th birthday. It was a significant honor to receive comments, Facebook messages and emails from several of Teresa’s family members who discovered the post after the fact.

4: When You’re a Single Mom Who’s Living With Mental Illness

This was the fifth post I published about my sister who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder: bipolar type, but the first she wrote herself. It was an honor to have Tiffany guest post and share what it’s like to be a mom of two who’s living with mental illness.

5: In Which I Follow My Little Girl Heart

This post couldn’t be any nearer or dearer to my heart. It’s the one in which I shared my journey to child sponsorship, my heart for Haiti, and announced my sponsor trip to Haiti with Compassion International in February 2014. It’s also the post that includes links to ALL the blog posts I wrote about my journey to Haiti. Love. Love. Love.

6: 31 Dreams From the Street

This post introduced my 31 Days series for 2014, Dreams from the Street. At the time this was published, I had no idea what I was in for. A whole month asking complete strangers one question (If you didn’t have to worry about money at all, what would you do with your life?) proved to be quite challenging. But I met a lot of inspiring people along the way, and all of their stories are linked at the bottom of the post.

7: Why I’m Taking a Three-Week Break From Blogging

In this post, I explained why I decided to take the biggest break I’d taken from blogging since launching the blog in July 2012. The break proved to be crucial in regards to gaining clarity regarding my call to write, and perspective about my future as a wife, mom, speech-language therapist and writer.

8: How To Know You’re Done Having Kids

I really loved writing this post, and hope the moms who need it most will find it via Google search. Yes, I finally know what it feels like to KNOW I’m DONE having kids. This was a huge breakthrough for me. I spent many years wondering if we were done having kids, then after our third, I finally knew. We were done. Questioning whether you should add another member to your family? Maybe this post is for you.

9: When God Fulfills the Dreams of His Little Girl’s Heart

This was my ninth most popular post of the year, and a very special one at that. In this post, I share the awesome news that Compassion International invited me to join a sponsor trip to the Dominican Republic with two other writers in January 2015. The trip is coming up soon! Maybe you’d like a refresher before I go? Check it out. I can’t wait to share the journey with you.

10: Dream 7: Therapies and a Bucket List Blessing

I just love this post. It was one of my faves from 31 Dreams from the Street, and the second most popular read from the series. In this post, I feature Lisa, whose son has autism. Lisa shared her dreams for her son, for her marriage, as well as her dreams for herself. It was an honor to spend time connecting with Lisa, and a privilege to share her story. To see the support and positive feedback Lisa received from friends and family when she shared this post on Facebook was pure joy. Blessings, Lisa.

Well, I’ll leave it at that friends! Hope you enjoyed a post or two you hadn’t read before. We’ll see you around here next time.

 

 

 

 

We decorate our trees with ornaments old and new. Store bought. Homemade. They remind us of good days, and days that weren’t so good at all. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas streams in the background. Memories swirl in the invisible. We’re joyful, for sure. But below the surface, there’s a longing, a yearning for more. More than this.

Christmas anyway. 

We hang our stockings by the chimney with care, in hopes Saint Nicholas will soon be there. We ponder over stuff used to fill. Maybe it’s too much. Or perhaps, not enough.

Christmas anyway. 

We place presents under the tree, sweatshirts adorned with AWESOME, tractors made from recycled goods, gift cards and chapter books. Our desire’s to show our affection, our devotion. We love because He first loved us. But we’re really not sure when enough’s enough. One? Two? Twenty? How many will it take for us to feel, to know we’ve done enough, said enough, given enough, helped enough? How long will it take for us to know we’re enough? As we are. Goods or no goods.

Christmas anyway. 

We adorn our houses with care. Snowmen, snowflakes and Santa Clauses. Candy canes, wreaths and lights up the wazoo. Our goal? To make it just so. We waffle like bobbling dolls and teeter totters. One day, life’s good. The next? It’s wrong. All wrong. Our hearts long for eternity, our instincts tell us there’s more than this. We decorate to acknowledge beauty’s waiting to be uncovered, even in the mundane, even in the most dreary and disgusting of days. Beauty matters. Even so. Even when.

Christmas anyway.

We debate the goodness of Christmas carols. One loves Emmanuel, the other claims to hate Noel. One friend has seven Christmases because of multiple divorces. And another’s at risk of landing in a shelter because they’ve fallen off the wagon…again. An old friend lost her mama this year, and let’s be real, somebody’s baby is starving tonight. We argue about going to this church or that one. We’re not really sure we have a church home anyway, but we get dressed up and go anyway.

Christmas anyway.

We prepare Pinterest-perfect peppermint mousse cups. They’re pretty. Good in theory. But horrific in reality. We taste one spoonful each and agree. Horrible. Terrible. They’re tossed in the garbage in a big ol’ bag. And two hours before guests set to arrive, we run to the store for dessert number two’s ingredients. A good old fashioned trifle from the recipe box suffices. Fine. Just fine.

Christmas anyway.

We set the table, take great care. Cooking, baking and scrubbing have consumed our days. We long for unity, community and love, unconditional. It’s grace that gathers us. There’s no other way. We pass the bowls, serve the kids, and seat granddad at the head of the table. We pray. There’s no other way. Today, we’re desperate for this gathering, this being together as one. Yes. When we finally sit, we know. We’re one body, many parts, all longing to play our part. This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Christmas anyway.

We wait. For Old Saint Nicholas. Soon he’ll be here. He’s gentle and loving, tenderhearted and giving. He wouldn’t harm a soul, the father figure we’ve all longed for. Whether we believe or don’t believe, we can’t help but love him anyway.

Christmas anyway.

He’s patient. He’s love. He’s divine. He’s come.

Jesus, yes Jesus.

Come. Come. Come, this day, oh Christmas Day.

He’s Wonderful Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Jesus, yes Jesus.

You’re just what we need.

A Counselor.

A Mighty God.

A Father.

A Prince of Peace.

Come, oh come, Emmanuel. God, be with us. This day.

Christmas anyway.

 

 

 

 

For 14 1/2 years, I carried a loaded trunk full of toys and materials for speech-language therapy home visits. The rotation was constant. With the exception of family trips to the mall, zoo and grandma and grandpa’s house, the stuff was always there. Neighing horses and beeping timers sounded at every bump.

But now, once and for all, it’s time to unload the trunk. It’s time to bring it back in. It’s time to bid farewell to friends who stood the test of time. The great ones, the loved ones, the classics, the ones that worked for every kid regardless of their disorder or delay. It’s time to say good bye.

Dearest toys and materials, I’ve known you all too well. What works, what doesn’t, the words I’ll need, the response I’ll receive. I’ve loved you, grown fond of you, and relied on you. It’s been a good ride, friends, but it’s time to say good bye. Perhaps later we’ll play. Perhaps later we’ll learn together. Perhaps later we’ll grow together. But for now? You’re heading back to the closet.

Hopping Frogs, you always served me well a minute or two. Hop goes the frog across to the log. Green frog or pink frog, which do you choose? Mom’s turn or Sam’s turn, which will it be?

Stringing fruit (a.k.a. beads disguised as fruit), you’ve seen your days. The frayed edges of your box prove you were well loved. Yes, your fruit shape distinguished you as most clever, most interesting to toddlers and preschoolers. Swooshing down the line to mom or dad, and swaying in the breeze were your specialities.

Oh train. I can’t bear to throw you away. You were tried and true for so many years. Your $10 price tag was long ago worth it. And now, you barely move. New batteries won’t do a thing for you, Mr. Train. I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what to do. So there you go, back in your closet where you’re free to stay a lil’ while longer.

Sweet Nestle Quik boxes, I never really knew your name. Who knew you’d be a hit?! The kids did, that’s for sure. Pull, pull. Up, up. Then shake those eggs and wave those scarves. Your simplicity was golden. Your fray-edged ribbons show your wear. Good bye, dear one. Good bye.

Seek-n-Find puzzle, you were amazing. Absolutely amazing! You were, without a doubt, a tried and true. Your box is held together with layers of clear packing tape. I put together your edges, corners, and middle pieces countless times. Out of your 24 pieces, only 1 wasn’t optimal for speech and language. That means you’re reliable, Mr. Puzzle. You’re dandy. There’s no way I’m getting rid of you.

Dear picture cards, this is just the beginning of your collection. How many times we flipped through, set up, chose which ones we were going to do. I have a hunch you’re becoming obsolete, but to me, you made life complete. You’re as good as a guarantee to me. Pair you with any game, and we are good to go.

Magnetic ice cream and cutting fruit and veggies, you’re awesome, a wooden delight for all ages. You were so useful, I bought four versions of your Melissa & Doug goodness. Thank you for the days of velcro-ing, cutting, and velcro-ing some more.

Lids ‘n Lizards, Jeepers Peepers, and Grammar Gumballs. Who knew you’d be so popular? Who would’ve ever guessed? Super Duper knew what they were doing when they made you. Your catchy rhyme-y names suggest your creators were speech therapists, proving simple + clever is definitely best.

Oh tried and true board games. You’re my faves. Your boxes are torn, taped and ripped to shreds. Zingo, Don’t Break the Ice, Caribou and Counting Cakes. We’ll never forget you, Bunny Hop. You were the fave of the faves, the best of all, my most prized possession as a speech therapist, the toy that worked for everyone, every time. Those bunnies, they never stopped surprising. Rest in peace for now, dear friends. You played well.

Little bears, oh how I loved and hated you. One thing’s for sure, you made my job a lot easier when it came to following directions. Who knew tiny colored bears would do the trick? But you ticked me off more than once when you fell out of the trunk onto the icy, snowy ground and spilled all over driveways. Oh, how you ticked me off. I knew that was it, once and for all, when that box of yours broke into tiny pieces, strewn all over a driveway on the coldest of winter days. Oh, how I hated you then. I didn’t hold my tongue as well as I should have when I went into that house. “Oh, what a blessing it is for you to come so families don’t have to travel in this cold.” But my mind kept spiraling back to that icy driveway and how naughty you’d been just minutes ago.

You’re a little bruised, too, gears. Your corner broke off when you slipped out of the trunk onto the cold, icy driveway. My use of you waxed and waned, but only because you were so good. I used you so much that I fatigued of you. I simply had to get a break. I didn’t bring you much those final days. Your C batteries were all used up. I intended to refill you for sweet “T’s” play, but never got you back for that one last day.

Oh, Fisher Price Loving Family and Snap ‘n Play babies, dogs and dolls. I bought up every Snap ‘n Play before you left stores. You were so good, oh so good. Every mama and grandma wanted to know where I got you. Who knew you were a great gift, too?! But I was never sure of you, Fisher Price Loving Family. You were hit or miss, never in-between. So you came out and stayed to play, or got put away right away. Good bye friends, I’ll bring you back out for the grandkids.

Random bag of trinkets, nobody told me about you in grad school! Who knew these tiny treasures could entertain for 45 or 60 minutes? I wanted to buy more of you on eBay, but never got to it. I just kept on collecting you, one by one, until you added up to two bags full. I’ll never forget the seconds of fun you brought to the tabletop.

And then there’s you, oh you. Connect 4. Deluxe Version. How many times did we play? You never got old, you never wore thin. Never. Ever. We could’ve played all day. You served as a distraction between bouts of super hard work, a reminder that we’re human, a reminder that kids who have speech and language delays possess certain brilliance beyond measure of standardized tests. Connect 4, you’re perhaps the most memorable, impactful of all games, toys, and materials. Because you showed me that these special kiddos are more than their speech, more than their language. They’re human. They want to win the game of life, too.

He won nearly every time. I had to concentrate hard to win. It was clear he was genius with his hands and just about anything visual-spatial. 

That last day, I lifted Connect 4 out of the bag and sat it on the table along with some picture cards.

We were about to start playing and drilling one last time, but tears welled big in my eyes.

I told him I was proud. He’d worked so hard. He’d come so far. We’d done this together.

Then, after we played, after we drilled, after we worked hard all over again…

Back in the bag you went, back in the trunk, then back in the closet. 

I packed you all nice and tight. I’m closing the closet. For now, good night.

With gratitude and love,