Music reaches millions through it’s song. When the singer is a miracle in itself, it makes the message more powerful than we can imagine. I sang this song to my children when we walked the floors during many sleepless nights; through tough moments; and in times of deep moments of humility where I realized I knew so little yet have been empowered to do so much. This song reconnects me to the understanding that I can never do it alone.

My songs didn’t sound anything like this, but I have a feeling, with heart these words can make us all stars.

Coco brings me a drawing every day. She folds it, usually backward, and puts: To MAMA on one line, and then LOVE COCO underneath.

Where ever I am, I have to unfold it and study it. There is usually long story behind the photo. She’s been working on the idea of perspective in drawing: What’s close is bigger; what’s farther away is smaller. I’ve taught her this joke that was on Kid’s in the Hall. (Great show if you’ve never seen it. Hopefully Internet world could make these shows live again.) I digress…..

On the show, Mr. Tyzik (Dave Foley) would “crush” people with his finger. If he’d get mad or frustrated with someone, or even for a little harmless fun, he’d eye someone far away and “pinch” him between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m crushing you!” he’d say, with a long rolling “rrrrrr” sound.

So Coco and I drive around crushing things - without the mean intent; we’d be in it to gain a little perspective - the closer the object, the bigger the pinch. The sun, oh so far away, we can usually crush with a quick pinch. She’s gotten down the “rrrrrrr” part too. Since she’s bilingual, she can roll a mean “rrrrrrrr.” A building in the distance takes a bigger pinch, and so on.

The latest picture was of a bird flying home to the babies in the nest. The mother was close to us as was the rose bush with one blooming rose. The babies were far away, but not such a distance that we could crush them. Their little eyes peeked out of a hole in the tree, waiting for their MAMA. And, she always comes home to the nest. From Coco’s perspective, this is the absolute truth. I guess as close as I loom in her large in her psyche, I present a bigger perspective, perhaps, than I really am. As she grows away, to be her own, she’ll look back, from a distance and hold me right between her finger and thumb.

Note: This story first went on-line in 2007.
We still enjoy a good round of crushing here
and there, especially on long rides in the car.

They say it’s time to break out of our shells. Cancer, it is said, is the time when all we may want to do is crawl up into a ball, get under the blankets, and read a good book. It can be a tough month if we don’t go crack open those fears and face them.

One of my greatest fears is exposing my fears. Since I have no time to read books, I can often be found at one of my most favorite, cozy places in the house - in front of the refrigerator with the door hanging open. I stare at the not-so-full shelves, hoping something will appear that wasn’t there four minutes ago when I just did the same thing. I’m afraid this is a sadly pathetic habit. But it’s comfortable. So, I’m going to break out of my shell and make more homemade cookies and bread and to-die-for-lasagna.

Hmmm…I wonder what’s in the fridge.

The journey of inner transformation must happen to every person; on every continent; in every land; and in every home. We can no longer escape the fact that we are connected. In the next few days, I will be sharing a few stories of women who’ve published an exciting new visual-media book. They’ve taken life by the horns and found out that true change for the world begins with a good, hard look at the inside of ourselves. But that’s not enough. We can’t just peep in and go back to the way we were. As Einstein said, “We can’t solve our problems with the mind that got us into it.”

I’ve been a part of this project of transformation. In a few days, I too will be unveiling my book called, The Paradox of Paradise: A Woman’s Journey to a Place called Heaven on Earth. I feel like I’ve been on this journey with all of you, as you’ve read and cheered and helped me along the way. The book will be free and just a start to even more to come.

Sally Patton has advocated an worked for children labeled as disabled for over 35 years. She conducts spiritual workshops for adults focues on raising and ministering to children, particularly with special needs. She is the author of “Don’t Fix Me I’m Not Broken; Changing Our Minds About Ourselves and Our Children.” She writes that “Children are connected to our souls. When we forget this, we cut out an essential part of who we are and why we are here.”

Her new media book is called: What My Son Taught Me: No One is Broken! You can find more of her work at Embracing the Spirit of the Child, her website.

If this happened right before your eyes, would you do anything? We all have a certain way to respond to injustices. Some of us are quiet and don’t want to get involved. Some of get angry, and some seem to find a way to ease the conflict into some sort of resolution.

I was forwarded this by a friend on Facebook and was in tears by the end. Having a child with special needs means we do get separated from the crowd and often quickly judged. Older kids trying to assimilate into the workforce are not only enriching their own lives, but adding a valuable resource to the economy. It breaks my heart to think of the on-going challanges they have to face in our often impatient, gristly, and fast-paced world.

Over and over again with Down Syndrome in my life, I have learned that rushing to bag groceries or get out of the car or down the steps isn’t the only way to get there. Waiting for a person to do a task in their time and giving them the dignity to have the space to do it has got to be a human right.

Take a look at the video; decide what you would do; and then pass it on. And next time all of us are confronted with issues that make us wait, uncomfortable, and inconvenienced, we can think of the other person and offer a few moments of empathy and support instead.

One of my favorite views is up. No matter where I am, it is a whole different landscape to look up. This morning, I drove by a homeless man sitting on a green patch of grass off the exit ramp. Then, there was an accident just ahead. A woman had tired to make a left and hit a motorcycle. No one was hurt. Then there was a stray dog, and a truck broke down on the side of the road, and…..

The view just ahead can get suffocating. When I can look up, there is sky and birds, and a whole life perspective that can relieve the dread of looking at the crazy world head on.

The homeless will move on to another patch of grass; the papers filed on the accident; hopefully the dog will find a warm place to sleep; and the truck will get hauled. Remembering there’s another place to look makes the dents and cold bit easier to take.

I reached out and touched it. Didn’t want to. Had that squeamish reaction, and I squealed just like a child. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Funny thing is, those things we fear are never worse than we imagine in the first place.

In the thick of broken down houses and bolted up houses, it’s easy to spot hope. One blue dress, drying in the thick smog of a hot afternoon, hopes to get ready to go out or go to church or to where the people will be.

And the woman in the blue dress will feel better, connected, and escape the blare of the traffic that roars outside her bedroom window. What hope a simple thing can bring.

Although I only stopped in for a pair of shoes, but I considered buying this. Then, every time my son knocks over the flower vase with stale water or my daughter whines about her homework or the money runs out of the checking account when I thought I had enough….I can remember him.

He must have had a really, really, really bad day.

The chilly weather in the Central Valley of Costa Rica quickly turned hot. It is rare for the winds to fade in January. As the heat catches and brings on the summer months, everyone wonders what March and April will be like - our hottest months.

One day, as the sun set, I looked up and caught a glimpse of what should have been a shot in a movie. But then, I thought, maybe I am in a movie. Is it a good movie or just a B flick? Addison saw me from across the park and ran his wiggle walk to climb the jungle gym with me. I flipped off my sandals and scaled to the top. He joined me, reaching as high as he could go.

And that was it, a moment of bliss followed by falling down, tears, and being blamed for not bringing enough water or always wanting to leave too soon. I walked over to a swing set and stood as high as I could on the railing. The hot day had cooled into an hour of freshness. A smell that reminded me of being a kid, running around in shorts and no shoes in Minnesota. Sun rays beamed as if on cue.

My life, take 33201. On to the next scene. Let’s see if I can get it one shot.