Right Footed: Watch the Movie!

Back in November, Sophi and I went on the best daddy date ever!  The two of us had an amazing time at the Napa Valley Film Festival, but what was clearly the highlight of the trip was the opportunity for Sophi to meet Jessica Cox.  Meeting another person born without arms was truly a life-changing experience for Soph.  Our sweet little girl was able to see what great things are in store for her as she grows up and gets to experience more and more of the world.  We are so grateful to Jessica Cox for sharing her time and encouragement with Sophi.

The movie Right Footed is a fantastic look at some of the things that have made Jessica such an inspiration to many people around the world.  It is an emotional and uplifting journey and is a movie that everyone could benefit from seeing.  It is now on a platform called Tugg that allows people around the country to host a local screening.  It's a pretty simple process, with no financial commitment from the host.  To learn more about it, watch this quick video:  Right Footed on Tugg.

Sophi and I would highly encourage you to take advantage of this opportunity to see just how much potential every one of us has, and how a positive attitude, perseverance and hard work can help all of us overcome the challenges in our lives:)

Jeremy

Conner and Lexi Love to Ski!

Almost every month during the school year, the Utah School for the Blind takes visually impaired kids on an overnight field trip.  They do many different types of activities including life skills (going to the store, riding the bus and train), sporting activities (Miller Motor Sports Park Racetrack, Curling) and outdoor events (fishing, snowshoeing).  In January they were going to go skiing.  Both Lexi and Conner were about the trip, so I said I would go with them for the skiing portion.  It ended up being a great experience.  Conner loved being on the mountain and keeps asking if we can go again.  We're so grateful for so many great programs that are a blessing to our kids with special needs.  And so grateful to the many wonderful people who work for or volunteer for these programs:)

Amazing

This amazing man is an inspiration!  There seems to be no limit to what people can achieve.

Looking at the Heart

It has been many years since I've read this story, and I'm not sure if it's true or if it's a parable.  Either way, the message is beautiful.  (Thanks, Grandma Larsen, for forwarding this on:)

THE OLD DENTED BUCKET

My house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. I lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door.  I opened it to see a truly awful looking man.  "Why, he's not as tall as me, I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body.  But the appalling thing was his face, lopsided from swelling, red and raw.

Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening.  I've come to see if you've a room for just one night.  I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning."

He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room.  "I guess it's my face .... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments ..."

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch.  My bus leaves early in the morning."

I told him I would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch..  I went inside and finished getting supper.  When I was ready, I asked the old man if he would join Me  "No, thank you.  I have plenty."  And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body.  He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her 5 children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.

He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing.  He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer.  He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going...

When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch.  He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment?  I won't put you out a bit.  I can sleep fine in a chair."  He paused a moment and then added, "You made me feel at home.  Grownups are bothered by my face, but you don't seem to mind." I told him he was welcome to come again.

And, on his next trip, he arrived a little after 7 in the morning..  As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen!  He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh.  I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. And I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this….

In the years he came to stay overnight,there was never a time that he did not bring fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden.  Other times packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed.  Knowing that he must walk 3 miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious.

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning.  "Did you keep that awful looking man last night?  I turned him away!  You can lose roomers by putting up such people!"

Maybe I did lose roomers once or twice.  But, oh!, if only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear.  I know I will always will be grateful to have known him; from him I learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend, who has a greenhouse, as she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms.  But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket.  I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"  My friend changed my mind.  "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail.  It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden."

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven.

"Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman.  "He won't mind starting in this small body."

All this happened long ago - and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.

The LORD does not look at the things man looks at..  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7b)

As I read this again today, with the added perspective of a father to several wonderfully special kids, I was particularly touched by the truth  of this concept.  Sophi, Cali, Lexi, Graci, Xander and Elli, I am so excited for the day that your bodies are resurrected, perfect in every way, and your physical capabilities will match the greatness of your spirits!

Jeremy

Ability

I met this young lady's mother at a medical convention recently.  What a great example Lauren is of the tremendous contributions and successes that can be offered by those with disabilities!

See the video HERE.
-Jer

Blindness

Many times people will ask me how we manage parenting children who are blind.   Helping them with things they cannot do, working on Braille (Lexi), guiding them as we navigate places-- those are all the easy things.  The difficult part for me about their blindness is not being able to fix it.   Loving someone so much and not being able to "fix" their struggles in any way is almost physically painful.  Listening to Lexi cry, "Mom, I'm so tired of being blind!  I want to SEE!" is really heartbreaking beyond anything I can describe here.

Often Lexi will be sitting and "watching" TV with the kids.  She will laugh when they laugh-- even when she can't see what's funny.  Most of the time it makes me smile.  Sometimes it makes me cry.  She talks with absolute adoration about Andrea Bocelli and how she wants to meet him and asks what he looks like.  I try to describe him and realize I'm using words that she really can't even comprehend because she has never had sight.   But she doesn't seem to care... She just smiles as I describe things she doesn't understand in the way I yearn for her to understand.

Yesterday Lexi had a field trip to a children's theatre.  She talked excitedly about the ride on the bus and the things she "saw" along the way.  This is typical-- we will often be driving and Lexi will get a huge grin on her face and say "Oh, look at those beautiful mountains!" while staring straight ahead.  Or, "Mom, do you see the pretty sun?  It's so yellow!"  And yet all along I know she is seeing just one thing.  Blackness.

And then there is Elli.   Many times she is happy-- giggling and singing and genuinely content.  Other times she seems so despondent in her dark little world.  Her rages and frustration seem more frequent than they used to be, and I can't help but wonder how much of that is because she feels trapped in a body that cannot see and cannot communicate like it wants to.   I watch her trip on things and bang her head and just want the world to be more fair to her!!!!!!

Sometimes life can be so hard.  And yet, though I would give absolutely anything to give eyesight to my sweet girls, there is something about their blindness that makes them so special.  I don't know how to describe it, and there aren't really words for it.  But today I came upon a quote that maybe helps:

  “If love is blind, then maybe a blind person that loves has a greater understanding of it.” --Criss Jami.
 

There is something extra special about the love that comes from these two girls. 

 I am so blessed to be their mother.

But I not sad!

Trying to escape my long to-do list that wasn't getting done and feeling quite overwhelmed by life, I sat down at the computer earlier this evening.  A friend had sent me an email asking me some questions about what it was like to parent a child with limb differences.  A little boy had captured her heart, and she wanted some input from me.  He is three years old, from China, and was born with only the top part of his arms.  He also has some major leg discrepancy issues.  This was one of the sweetest, most beautiful boys I have ever seen.  Sophi walked in while his video was on and exclaimed, "What?!  I have another friend!  He is like Sophi!"  She was so enamoured with him and loved watching his sweet videos.

After the videos ended, she asked why he couldn't walk without a walker.  I told her that his legs didn't work quite right.  Then she turned to me and said in the most expressive little voice, "Awwww!  He's so sad."  Thinking she was referring to his special needs, I asked, "Why is he so sad?"

Her reply, "Because he wants a mommy."

Be still my heart.

After a moment, she brightened up and said, "But I not sad!  Because I have a mommy!"   The conviction and the smile with which she said it reminded me that my long to-do list simply didn't matter.

She has a mommy.

PS  If you'd like, you can head on over to This Little Miggy to read a bit about our family.
It's in two sections, PART 1 and PART 2.

A fun video...

This was taken Sunday morning-- I thought it would be fun to show you how Soph does some normal, everyday tasks.   We are so blessed to have this girl in our lives.  She teaches us gratitude, perspective, courage and true greatness-- just by living!



PS-- I should tell you the conversation that led me to make this video.  It was with a cute little 5-year-old boy at swim lessons:

Boy:  Wow.  She doesn't have any arms.  That's sad.

Me:  Well, she can do lots of things with her toes and chin and teeth!

Boy:  Yeah... well, she can't feed herself.

Me:  Actually, she does feed herself... every day!

Boy:  Yeah... well she can't use a spoon.

Me:  She's really good with a spoon-- you should see her!

Boy:  Yeah... well she can't brush her own teeth.

Me:  Actually, she does that too, don't you Soph?

Soph:  Mmmhmm.

Boy:  I don't think you're right.

Me:  I guess she'll just have to show you sometime (as I move Sophi away from him-- she's getting quite perturbed).

(;

Prayers

When Sophi says her personal prayers at bedtime, they're usually pretty short.  Last night as I was tucking her in her prayer went on and on and on.  It was probably 10 full minutes!  Some of the things she prayed for were sweet and cute.  Some were completely unintelligible, but I'm sure they had meaning to her.  She prayed for some of the things we're praying for as a family and many others.  I must admit my mind started to wander, but I was quickly drawn out of my daydreaming by the following:  "Please help Heavenly Father to fix Lexi's eyes and to put my arms back on.  Cuz' I was born that way."

Few phrases could be so faithful and so painful at the same time.  This little one has such great faith.  She has no doubt that the day will come that she will receive arms.  And yet she deals with this challenge all day, every day.  She is old enough now that she is very much aware of the way in which she is different from other people and many of the hardships it creates for her.  Occasionally she will say "I can't because I don't have any arms."  Sometimes this is said very matter-of-factly.  At other times it is said with painful resignation and a bleak expression on her face.  These are some of the most poignant experiences I have as a parent.

But most of the time, you couldn't meet a spunkier, more energetic, more happy-with-life individual than our Sophi.  Christi and I were discussing this morning just how happy Sophi is to be part of a family.  More than any of our other children at this age she absolutely relishes mom and dad, brothers and sisters.  She often lists everyone in our family and says how much she loves each of them.  She is truly a constant example of how I should be living my life:  Face reality, shoulder your burdens, and move forward with faith and a smile.  :)

 Jeremy

Beautiful Blindness

My mom is in town from Oregon for a couple of weeks.  Yesterday we visited some relatives with her that we hadn't seen in years.  It was a great visit.  They are a wonderful family and it was good to catch up with them.  Their daughter is getting married soon to a BYU football player, and of course Taylor and Parker wanted a picture:

  It will be fun this season to have someone on the field we can root for personally.

My mom, always proud of her kids, gave me the delightful opportunity of singing a couple of original songs without the benefit of my guitar.  Nothing better than an amateur singer/songwriter crooning unknown musical works acapella.  But it's mom.  How do you say no?

The highlight of the night was Lexi's interaction with their son, Brad.  When Brad was in high school, he had a catastrophic football accident that has left him almost completely paralyzed and with every little communication.  I would guess that some children would be a bit hesitant to approach Brad and interact with him because he looks different.  But Lexi absolutely fell in love with him.  She talked to him and wanted to sit in his lap.  He was able to move his arms enough to wrap them around her in a hug.  I believe he even tried to hold her hand.  It was very touching.  But the best part was the singing.  Lexi sang some of her children's songs from church.  These are songs that Brad also grew up singing.  I had no idea that Brad could even move his lips, let alone sing, but I looked up and noticed that he was mouthing the words with her.  It was a beautiful moment to behold.  When I listened closely, I realized that Brad was actually singing.  It was very soft, but very clear.  Then I realized that in order for him to make this sound, his mother had to help him.  She had to push against his diaphragm so the air in his lungs would come out with enough force to create the sound.  With that help, he was able to sing along with Lexi.  Once Lexi realized how this worked, she insisted, "I want to help Brad!"  So Lexi pushed his chest and helped him sing along with her.  It was a tender and special experience.

How grateful I am that Lexi is blind to the disabilities of others.  How grateful I am that she is blind to the inhibitions that prevent many of us from expressing the interest and love we feel towards those around us.  May we all develop such blindness.

Ramen Noodle the Poodle

I had the most tender experience earlier today.  Sophi was having one of her moody mornings.  It was a doozy.  I finally put her on the couch in front of the TV and tried to ignore her incessant whines.  I know, great mom.  I came in my room to check my email and found a message from someone who I've never met, who wanted to know if I had heard of "Ramen Noodle, the two-legged poodle."  She said it reminded her of Sophi.  I actually had seen a video of him before, but hadn't shown Sophi.  I went and got her from the couch and brought her to the computer.  I pushed play on the video, and her face slowly went from Miss Grouchy to Miss Sunshine.  She was enamored, and after a few seconds with her face glued to the screen she said, "Look, Mom!  It's a Sophi dog!"  Bless her heart.

She kept asking for more, so I kept showing her more videos of Ramen Noodle, then moved on to other animals with missing limbs.  She was totally captivated.  After a little while, she planted a tender, sweet kiss on my cheek-- just out of the blue.  I was so grateful for this thoughtful email that allowed me to have such a precious moment with my Sophi, and turn her frown upside down.  (:  Thanks, Janet!

Counting Our Blessings

The other night at dinner I had a very simple yet very profound experience. We had finished eating and were playing 20 questions while still sitting together. This is a favorite game for the kids. My arms were resting on the table, and my elbow hung out over the edge by just a few inches. Sophi was down from her chair and wandering around. I almost didn't notice as she came up and started rubbing her eye against my elbow. I glanced down at her and was suddenly hit by the significance of what she was doing.

I paused our game for a moment, and without telling anyone why, I had us sing the first verse of "Count Your Many Blessings." After we sang, I asked if we all had challenges. Of course everyone said yes. I asked what some of them were. Someone mentioned Lexi being blind. Graci talked about her heart problems. (Parker threw in "being overly attractive...it's rough.":) After listing a few more, I pointed out what Sophi had been doing. How often, I asked, do you reach up with your hand and rub your eye or face? Pretty frequently! Sophi cannot do that. If she is sitting, she can do it with her foot, but if she is standing, she cannot do it by herself. So she came up and rubbed her sweet little eyes on my elbow.

We were all grateful for our hands that evening. I am grateful for all of my children-eight wonderful blessings I get to count every single day.

Jer

Someday

Dear Sophi is such a trooper! She is independent and works hard to do everything by herself. She loves to help and will carry things in her mouth or between her chin and her shoulder. She gets up and down stairs by herself. She is so precious. She rarely ever shows sadness about her missing arms. In fact, she usually is quite content with "feet-hands" and "leg-arms" as she calls them. Her usually cheerful attitude made this exchange all the more poignant:

Sophi had a roll of Smarties candy. She tried and tried to open it with her toes, but just couldn't figure it out. Suddenly she just went to pieces. She sobbed and sobbed and was so distraught. I held her and rocked her in our easy chair. I opened the Smarties and she ate them with her "toe-fingers". Once she calmed down, I helped her out of my lap and held out the wrapper to her. "Here Sophi," I said. "Go throw this away." She looked at me with hauntingly sad little eyes and said, "I can't. I no have arms."

Oh, sweet Sophi. I am so sorry. You have some challenging days ahead of you. Fortunately, you have an indomitable spirit. You rebounded quickly from this experience and will do so with more tough experiences in the future. I am so grateful for a personal witness that Jesus Christ is our Lord. That through him, someday, you will be able to look into my eyes and say, "I can do it, Daddy. I have arms!" I love you, Soph.

-Dad

It's a Bird...

This morning Lexi developed a super hero alter-ego. She wanders around the living room saying "I Blind Girl! I in the sky! Dad, you can call me Blind Girl! Hey everyone, you can call me Blind Girl!" In theory, this is great. Lex has embraced her disability and turned it into a positive way to face the world and it's challenges. On the other hand, I can't wait until I'm overheard at the park saying "come on Jess, come on Xander, come on blind girl, it's time to go home..."

-Jer

Elli's Antics

Elli, Elli, Elli...

What are we going to do with her?

Anyone who has a child with severe autism knows what a rollercoaster ride it can be. Elli can go from laughing to screaming to singing to screaming to quiet to screaming (are you getting the theme here?) for no apparent reason. For the past few months, the screaming and sadness seemed to be the overriding emotion and it was becoming extremely difficult for everyone. We decided to start her on some meds to try to stabilize her moods a bit.

Results were quick! We felt like we had our Elli back. She became more verbal and sweet and happy. Along with that came a whole new Elli.

We call her Miss Mischievous.

Elli's newfound energy and contentment (which, by the way, is by no means constant-- she still knows how to scream, but overall it is much less) has been channeled into wreaking havoc upon our home. In any given 5 minutes, she can destroy an entire room. Whereas before she would tend to stay in one area for long periods of time, playing with her music toys, she now roams the house constantly, exploring and making messes. One of her favorite new things to do is to go into the bathroom, climb in the tub fully clothed, and turn on the shower. This was funny perhaps the first couple of times it happened, but quickly got very old. After several stints in the shower, Jeremy purchased the "childproof" plastic doorknob covers to put on the bathrooms. It helped for approximately one and a half weeks. Yesterday we were out at parent teacher conferences all afternoon and left most of the kids home with Taylor and Parker.

Speaking of parent teacher conferences, we visited with over 20 teachers. Eight kids and two in junior high make for a lot of visits!

But back to Elli. We got a phone call from Taylor that went something like this, "Dad, Elli found out how to open the bathroom doors and went into the shower again."

"Oh, I'm sure someone just left it open."

"That's what we thought the first time, but it's happened twice now. She knows how to pull apart the plastic on the covers and can get in. She's showered twice."

Seriously, what are we going to do with her? The other day she went in Jeremy's office for a few minutes and managed to create a huge mess that had Jeremy pulling his hair out. When I went to get her the other morning, she had pulled off the closet door in her room and was sliding down it. She's broken the piano bench and ping pong table. She tears pictures off the wall, "clears" off the kitchen table, pulls all of the blankets and sheets off beds, and every other thing you can think of.

Whatever you're envisioning, it's worse. I'm actually very worried to find out what she's doing this very moment! But believe it or not, it's better than the constant screaming. She seems happier most of the time. So I'm not sure what to do! It's impossible to watch her every minute of the day. She's kind of acting like a one year old, but can do so much more damage because of her size and strength.

One thing that has come to mind is getting her more musical toys. She has a TON already, but she plays with them constantly, so the novelty can wear off. Every time we get her something new, it provides hours and hours of mess-free Elli. But it kills the budget. So... if any of you readers out there happen to live in my neighborhood and have musical toys that would just go to the DI, PLEASE ask if we have them, and if not, send them on over here! You could be saving an entire house from utter destruction! (:

I'm not even kidding.

We do love you, Elli! It's fun to see you come alive. (:

The hardest part about being a mom

are conversations like the one I just had with Lexi:

"Mom, why I blind?"

"Because that's the way you were born."

"But why my eyes can't see? Are they broken?"

"Yes, your eyes are broken."

"But it's not FAIR!"

"I know, honey. It's not fair."

"But I tired of being blind!" (sobs begin) "I want to see you!"

"Come here, sweetie." (I put her hands on my face) "You can see me with your hands."

"But I want to see you with my eyes! I don't want to be blind anymore!"

"Lexi, someday you won't be blind anymore. Because Jesus will heal you. And you will be able to see me with your eyes."

"I want to see you right now!" (tears continue to pour)

"I know."

"I don't like being blind. Because I trip a lot. And I want to see Erin C."

"You will see Erin C. in heaven. And you will run around and play with her. And she won't need to hold your hand while you walk, but you will hold hands anyway because you love each other."

"Can I see Denise (Erin's mom) too? Because I want to know what she looks like."

"Yes, you can see everyone in heaven!"

(little bit of a smile, but still sniffling)

"I want to go to heaven."

"I know, I know."



These are the kind of conversations I've had with many of my kids about their unique struggles. There aren't words to explain how hard it is.

Luckily, Sophi is still at the blissfully easy place where a conversation with her goes like this:

"Why I not have hands?"

"Because you have feet-hands" (her terminology)

"Oh... good!!!"

(:

Lexi

Lexi has come so far the last few months. Something has finally clicked with braille, and she is beginning to read simple three-letter words by herself. It is sooooo exciting to watch! She still struggles with many letters, but she is getting there, and can braille most of the alphabet by herself now.

She still surprises us with how bright she is. The other day I was practicing spelling words with Xander. I gave him the word "water" and he wasn't paying any attention at all (typical) and began "b..." Lexi, who was in the room but busy with something else, exclaimed, "XANDER! That would say "bater! Silly you!" This from a girl speaking English just over a year.

Lexi is our social butterfly. She has been so blessed to find a "best friend." Her name is Erin, or "Erin C." as Lexi always calls her (there are two Erins in her class.) I will often hear Lexi in the morning laying in her bed singing "I love Erin C." to various tunes. (: Today I overheard Parker tell his friend about Erin. I thought he described her perfectly:

"Erin C. is so great because she treats Lexi like a real person. She doesn't baby her, but she's so nice to her at the same time. She actually plays with her and acts excited to be her friend."

That's our Erin C. I love that girl so much for what she has done for Lexi. They have had many playdates together and I am so grateful for that! Lexi is not fun when she is bored, so playdates are a good thing! On Thursday, Erin and Lexi were walking from school to their cars and Erin fell down and cut her forehead. She ended up with a few stitches. I'm not sure who was more traumatized-- Erin or Lexi. It took Lexi over 30 minutes to stop crying. She kept saying, "I'm so sad that Erin C. is hurt. I really really really want Erin C. to be better!" She was hysterical, and still talks about it several times a day. "Remember when Erin C. fell down?" she says constantly, and then has to relive the whole thing. Such sweet friends.

Lexi loves to be like everyone else. It is poignant to be watching a show and have her laugh when everyone else laughs even though she didn't see what was so funny. She is such easy company. She's happy to be doing anything besides sitting by herself. Jeremy has taken her along with the boys to go to BYU basketball games and she is a great sport, just sitting there and cheering when everyone else does.

Lex is a great sleeper. She can fall asleep at any time and both Jer and I love to have her join us for naps. She'll lay quietly by you and stroke your face for a second and then just drift off to sleep. So so sweet.

Lexi loves to share her testimony of Jesus. She still tells anyone who will listen how Jesus is going to fix her eyes. It can be so incredibly heartbreaking when she cries to me, "Mom, why can't He do it now?" She's been begging for a "blind friend." Anyone know of someone nearby? Sometimes she will put Jesi's glasses on (so cute!) and say, "Why I not wear glasses to help me see like Jesi?" Oh that glasses would work!!!!!!!!

I'm in love with you, my Lexi Li! I am so privileged to be your mother!!

Don't Scare Me Like That!

I just opened a letter from Lexi's school:

Dear Parent or Guardian,
Recently at a vision screening at your child's school, your child was unable to see the critical line for their age and did not pass for this or other issues...

Glad they caught that!

Jer

Healing

Lexi knows that she is blind.  But what does that mean, exactly?  Does she have any concept of what sight is?  Does she understand the implications of sight?

I often wonder.

Lexi accepts her blindness, but is very excited about the healing that will someday take place for her.  She tells everyone that when she gets to heaven, Jesus is going to fix her eyes. (Of course, when Lexi passes away, she will probably immediately be healed, without Jesus physically healing her, but she has decided this is going to be a big, special event in heaven.) A few days ago, Lexi asked me if she could sit in my lap when Jesus fixed her eyes.  I said, "Yes, you can sit in my lap.  That would be very special."  She then asked if I would hold her hand, and went on to explain that she was scared that it was going to hurt.  I reassured her that it wouldn't be painful.  I said, "Jesus will just put His hands over your eyes, like this (I put my hands over her eyes) and when He takes them away, you will be able to see."  (I'm not sure that's exactly how it will happen, but it's got to be something like that, right?)   (:

Lexi was very happy about this, and has shown at least a couple of people how Jesus is going to heal her.  She gets very giddy just talking about it.

Tonight, Lexi tripped on something in the living room and fell against a bookshelf.  She wasn't hurt badly, but she was crying hard, and wailed, "I can't walk when the floor is messy!"

That about broke our hearts.  Just try walking around your house right now blindfolded-- it's pretty scary!  I tried for less than a minute after her fall and my heart just ached for her and Elli and their daily struggles.  I will often remind my other kids to do the same, just to help remind us all to put our things away.

Tonight as I was tucking her into her bed, I was just overcome with how much I love this beautiful, special girl.  It's been almost a year since she joined our family and I can't believe her grasp of English, her resiliency, her happy demeanor, and her pure testimony of Jesus Christ.  As I kissed her goodnight, she said, "Mommy, can I fix my eyes?"  I said, "No, sweetie, only Jesus can fix your eyes."  She replied, "But I know how!  I just have to go like this," and proceeded to put her hands over her eyes.

Such childlike faith.

I have no doubt that it is faith enough to be healed now, if it is His desire for her. 

I love that sweet Lexi of mine.

Three cheers for Elli!

Elli has been so happy for the last couple of days. Her teacher said that Tuesday was the best day she's ever had-- yay! Yesterday I met her class for a field trip. I wish I had brought my camera-- the kids were all so sweet! It's always good to be around other moms and teachers who understand a lot of what you are going through with these special kids. Something so random-- one of my roommates from BYU has a son with autism who is in Elli's class. We hadn't seen each other for years and then that happens!

I was visiting with her teacher at the field trip, and she thinks that I need to take another shot at potty training Elli. Um, that sounds like as much fun as pulling out my toenails! I am not kidding. But I'm going to try. Elli does usually go on the toilet when we take her, it's just that she doesn't tell us when she needs to go. And she dances around on the toilet and makes all kinds of fun messes. Apparently at school, they have been taking her very consistently (giving her treats as rewards-- she'll do anything she can do for treats) and she is staying dry there. She rarely stays dry here, but then again, I am not at all consistent at taking her. So I guess we're going to give this thing a try. Starting Saturday. I'm trying not to panic.


I LOVE my Elli. I have said before that she is like oxygen to me-- that I just have to breathe her every day. Admittedly I feel more that way when she has good days like these!! (:

She is an angel on earth, that girl.