Monday for Down Syndrome...

I stole this from my friend Renee's blog...she always has the most amazing stories and poems!! Enjoy...
Phillip's Egg
Author Unknown

Phillip was born with Down syndrome. He was a pleasant child.... happy it seemed, but increasingly aware of the difference between himself and other children. Phillip went to Sunday School faithfully every week. He was in the third grade class with nine other 8-year olds. And Phillip, with his differences, was not readily accepted. But his teacher was sensitive to Phillip and he helped this group of eight-year olds to love each other as best they could, under the circumstances. They learned, they laughed, they played together. And they really care about one another even though eight-year olds don't say they care about one another out loud.

But don't forget. There was an exception to all of this. Phillip was not really a part of the group. Phillip did not choose, nor did he want to be different. He just was. And that was the way things were.

His teacher had a marvelous idea for his class the Sunday after Easter. You know those things that pantyhose come in? The containers that look like great big eggs? The teacher collected ten of them. The children loved it when he brought them into the room and gave one to each child. It was a beautiful spring day, and the assignment was for each child to go outside, find a symbol for new life, put it into the egg, and bring it back to the classroom. They would then open and share their new life symbols and surprises, one by one.

It was glorious. It was confusing. It was wild. They ran all around the grounds, gathering their symbols, and returned to the classroom.

They put all the eggs on a table, and then the teacher began to open them. All the children gathered around the table. He opened one and there was a flower, and they ooh-ed and aah-ed. He opened another and there was a little butterfly. "Beautiful!" the girls all said, since it is hard for eight-year old boys to say "beautiful." He opened another and there was a rock. And as third graders will, some laughed and some said, "That's crazy! How's a rock supposed to be like new life?" But the smart little boy who put it in there spoke up: "That's mine. And I knew all of you would get flowers and buds and leaves and butterflies and stuff like that, so I got a rock because I wanted to be different. And, for me, that's new life." They all laughed.

The teacher said something about the wisdom of eight-year olds and opened the next one. There was nothing inside. The children, as eight-year olds will, said, "That's not fair. That's stupid! Somebody didn't do it right."

Then the teacher felt a tug on his shirt, and he looked down. "It's mine," Phillip said. "It's mine." And the children said, "You don't ever do things right, Phillip. There's nothing there!"

"I did so do it right!" Phillip said. "I did do it right. The tomb is empty!"

There was silence, a very full silence. And for you people who don't believe in miracles, I want to tell you that one happened that day. From that time on, it was different. Phillip suddenly became a part of that group of eight-year old children. They took him in. He was set free from the tomb of his differentness.

Phillip died last summer. His family had known since the time he was born that he wouldn't live out a full life span. Many other things were wrong with his little body. And so, late last July, with an infection that most normal children could have quickly shrugged off, Phillip died.

At his memorial service, nine eight-year olds marched up to the altar, not with flowers to cover over the stark reality of death.... but nine eight-year olds, along with their Sunday School teacher, marched right up to that altar, and laid on it an empty egg.... an empty, old discarded pantyhose egg.

And the tomb is empty!

Praise God...

Today we celebrate our Jesus..Our Lord...Our God, who gave his life for us...so that we may live. So that we will be forgiven, so that we can spend eternity with him...

This week Hailey gave her life to Christ...it was so wonderful for her to do that, on her own, out of her own little mouth she understands that He is her's...All those sins, washed! She's clean, she knows that now...I love her so much and I'm so proud of her for making that choice!

Jayvier came to watch our churches "Thorn" production where he cried and cried when Our Jesus was shown getting beaten for our sins, enduring pain for once again our sins...Jay, was so moved. He get's "it," he understands that Jesus is our Lord that he did this for US!!!

Thank You Jesus, thank you!!!
I love you...

Wordless Wednesday

Kind of long...but worth it...

I just got this in an email from my Best friend and I love it, it made me cry...do you know my Jesus? For those of you who don't know Beth Moore, she is an author, Bible teacher, and married mother of two daughters. This is one of her experiences: April 20, 2005, at the Airport in Knoxville, waiting to board the plane, I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is your ego. I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy, gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long, clean but strangely out of place on an old man. I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport... an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere? There I sat; trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served up on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man. I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. 'Oh, no, God, please, no.' I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, 'Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!' There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane.' Then I heard it....'I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair.' The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, 'God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am going to witness to this man.' Again, as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. 'That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair.' I looked up at God and quipped, 'I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?' God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: 'I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works.' (2 Timothy 3:17) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, 'Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?' He looked back at me and said, 'What did you say?' 'May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?' To which he responded in volume ten, 'Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that.' At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, 'SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?' At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Long Locks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, 'If you really want to.' Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, 'Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush.' 'I have one in my bag,' he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag and went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knee and said, 'Sir, do you know my Jesus?' He said, 'Yes, I do' Well, that figures, I thought. He explained, 'I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior.' He said, 'You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride.' Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it. Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, 'That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?' I said, 'Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!' And we got to share.. I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted, you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need! I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way... all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me. Internet Explorer 8 – Get your Hotmail Accelerated. Download free! Quick access to your favorite MSN content and Windows Live with Internet Explorer 8. Download FREE now! Reply Reply to all Forward

Spread the "word" to end the "word..."

It is time to “Spread the Word to End the Word,” and tomorrow, 31 March, events throughout the United States and around the world will make people stop and think about their hurtful and disparaging use of the word “retard.”

Most people don’t think of this word as hate speech, but that’s exactly what it feels like to millions of people with intellectual disabilities, their families and friends. Using "retard" as a term of derision is just as cruel and offensive as any other slur.

What It's All About
Spread the Word to End the Word will raise the consciousness of society about the dehumanizing and hurtful effects of the R-word and encourage people to pledge to stop using it. America will be asked to declare their support for more respectful and inclusive language, specifically that referring to those with intellectual disabilities.

"The earlier we can start teaching this awareness, the easier it will be to reverse the language, " wrote James Saetern of Sacramento, California, in an e-mail to Special Olympics. "This is not just a day of awareness, but a movement to end hate as a whole."

Ideas are pouring in. To date, we have heard of more than 700 events and activities happening throughout the United States – and around the world. They range from tables set up in malls, to grade-school assemblies on differences to all-day kiosks and movies at college campuses. The commitment and creativity are growing. Below is a sampling of events planned for tomorrow:

• Spread the Word to End the Word online youth rally
  Live stream at www.schooltube.com, 12:35 PM Eastern Time.
  The 50-minute rally will feature actor Eddie Barbanell from the hit movie “The Ringer,” Special Olympics athletes and volunteers, and original music performed by rap artist Rush. Also on the program are original videos produced by young people. High school students across the country will be asked to take the pledge to stop using the “R” word and to help raise awareness among their friends. The rally is being produced by Miami Palmetto Senior High School 11th-grader Noah Gray, Special Olympics Florida and SchoolTube.
• Take The R-word Pledge Rallies
• American University, Beirut, Lebanon
  Soeren Palumbo's R-word speech played hourly; movie at 6 p.m., "The Loretta Claiborne Story"; posters, pictures, online R-word signups.
• All high schools in Delaware, USA
  All 40,000 students will be asked to sign pledge boards in their schools.
• Tower Hill School, Newark, NJ, USA
  Spread the Word day as culmination of a week of exploring disabilities
• Fort Worth Independent School District, Fort Worth, TX, USA, all day
  Lunch-time rallies, video shows, student testimonials and R-word pledge boards
• University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA, all day in high traffic areas
  Sign pledge boards, visit www.r-word.org, get information.
• Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, MI, USA, 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. in five campus locations
  See posters, sign pledge boards, talk with committed volunteers and Special Olympics athletes.
• University of Nebraska, Lincoln, NE, USA, all day in student union
  Sign the pledge board, talk about why you support the campaign, get stickers, buttons and bracelets
• Princeton University, Princeton, NJ, USA, all day on campus
  Sign the R-word pledge, see big-screen displays of Special Olympics and R-word videos.
• Slippery Rock University, Slippery Rock, PA, USA, all day on campus
  Sign pledge boards, get buttons, bracelets and stickers for free, buy T-shirts

How It Started
Created by young people with and without intellectual disabilities, Spread the Word to End the Word is one element of Special Olympics’ vision of a world where everyone matters, where everyone is accepted and, most importantly, where everyone is valued. Leading the way in promoting acceptance of people with intellectual disabilities, Special Olympics opposes prejudice and discrimination, continuously working to dispel the negative stereotypes associated with this population — the use of the R-word being one such stereotype. In a world that has worked to eliminate pejorative racial and ethnic language such as the “N word,” among others, the R-word is gaining popularity.

Tomorrow, young people across the country will lead local efforts to raise awareness and collect pledges on www.r-word.org from peers and the community to vow not to use the R-word. Actor and activist John C. McGinley, of the hit show “Scrubs,” is helping with this effort by making national media appearances on behalf of the campaign.

What YOU Can Do

• Send us your plans to Spread the Word at r-word@specialolympics.org.
• Take the R-word pledge to not use the word "retard" as a put-down
• Download Spread the Word to End the Word resources

After 31 March, let us know how your Spread the Word event went. Send a report, photos and videos to r-word@specialolympics.org

National Down Syndrome Day...3-21

So I totally missed National Down Syndrome Day...lol But in honor of that day I want to post this from my DS group forum....

I wish I would have known...
What Parents Wish They'd Known

This booklet is a collection of thoughts from parents of
children with Down syndrome, who responded to this question:

What do you know now that you wish you'd known from the start?


v


I wish I'd known that it wasn't the end of the world.

--Joseph, dad to Janna (3 years)


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I wish I'd known Down syndrome does NOT make being my son's mommy,
or loving him, difficult or different.

--Kathy, mom to PJ (8 ½ months)


v


I wished I'd known just how much like a "typical" newborn my baby would look like
when she arrived. I was a bit scared and feared the unknown, but was pleasantly surprised:
Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, two ears, a mouth and a nose . . . PERFECTION.

--Robyn, mom to Amarli (7 months)


v


I wish I'd known to listen more and assume less.

--Chris, mom to Stevie (3 years)


v

I wish I'd known that I could be the best advocate for my child.
I didn't even know what the word meant, but I know now that I have no problems
standing up for Hope, and this has made me better at standing up for all my children.

--Debra, mom to Hope (4 years)


I wish I'd known how much having a child with a disability in my life
would change the person that I am.

--Robert, dad to Hope (4 years)


v

I wish I'd known that I would say and feel so often, "You're so smart!" or "You are the cutest kid
in the whole world!" I wish I'd known I would use words like "sparkling," "vivacious," and
"infectious laughter" when describing my child. I underestimated her.

--Nancy, mom to Gabriella (3 years)


v

I wish I'd known how very joyful and in love I would be every second of every day.
When my son was born, I worried, can I do this? I cherished that worry because it meant his
was a life worth worrying about. I'm glad I know now that I don't have to worry.

--Kitty, mom to Nathanael (2 years)


v

I wish I'd known that my daughter would be so able. To clean her own room. To charm grown men.
To plant the garden with me. To play dress-up with other little girls. To read and write.
To be a friend that cares and shares. She is so able.

--Jeni, mom to Joy Daisy (6 years)


v

I wish I'd known that my baby wasn't going to die. We were left with so many unanswered questions and I thought for sure that it meant she would die within hours.

--Renee, mom to Kennedy (4 years)


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I wish I'd known what a wonderful teacher my older son would be.
He is Owen's inspiration for everything—walking, talking, playing, climbing, eating, etc.
Jason treats Owen like a kid, which is exactly what Owen is.

--Tricia, mom to Owen (2 years)

I wish I'd known that my son would develop a personality like any other child.
I spent so much time wishing his babyhood away wanting to know what he was going
to be like. I wish I had relaxed and enjoyed the sweet baby I had.

--Ann, mom to John (5 years)


v

I wish I'd known that this unexpected journey that began 4 years ago would not be one of sadness,
but of unspeakable joy, filled with more love and pride than I ever thought possible.

Shirley, grandmother to Aleena (4 years)


v


I wish I'd known . . .
Not everything I read would happen to my child.
I would love her more than anything else on Earth.
Her hugs and kisses are real, from her heart.
She is just like any other kid.
She would make me a better person.
Her laughs are the best music.

--Jennifer, mom to Brook (2 years)


v

I wish I'd known how incredibly in love I would be with my daughter, how much fun
this whole process would be, and how amazing our friends really are.

--Francine, mom to Sofia (3 years)


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I wish I'd known that my son would attend his local school, and would have lots of friends
who just accept him and like him for who he is. I wish I'd known how
happy and normal our family would be.

--Naomi, mom to Callum (5 years)





I wish I'd known . . .
That it was OK to feel broken-hearted when we first heard the news
That having a child with Down syndrome is NOT a life sentence
That my son would have his own agenda for doing things
And that it's a privilege to be his mom.

--Sara, mom to Nathaniel (9 years)


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I wish I'd known that, although they say our kids "stay little longer," they still grow up too fast.

--Meredith, mom to Brianna (2 years), Emma (5 years, adopted),
and Micah (1 year, adopted)—yes, all three with Down syndrome!


v

I wish I'd known that my daughter would bring me only happiness, not pain.

-- Destiny, mom to Lily (9 months)



v

I wish I had known that my son would have received two awards at the end of second grade:
one for achievement in the Accelerated Reader program, and the other for being a "Number 1 Best Friend."

--Vicki, mom to Aaron (8 years)


v


I wish I'd known that children with Down syndrome just as loveable, kissable, snotty, tantrum-throwing, bubble-blowing, huggable, and milestone-making as their siblings.

Ava, mom to Daniel (3 ½ years)


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I wish I'd known that I didn't have to be afraid, that it would all be just as it should be.

--Rhonda, mom to Alex (8 years)


I wish I'd known how deeply in love I would be with my son, and how
I wouldn't know what to do without him and his diagnosis of Down syndrome.

--Vonda, mom to Noah (9 years)


v


I wish I'd known how much joy and happiness Olivia would bring,
not only to me and my wife, but to everyone around her.

--Mike, dad to Olivia

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I wish I'd known that she would survive two heart surgeries and continue to thrive
despite leaks within her heart. Her tiny heart was once a great big hole,
but it's full of a great big love that we get to experience each day.

--AJ, mom to Janna (3 years)


v

I wish I'd known he would be so full of life! He is intelligent, creative, a sports nut—
just like his siblings. He's a social butterfly, a love bug, an amazing little boy.
I wish I would've known he would be more like us than different.

--Jennifer, mom to Brady (3 years)


v


I wish I'd known . . .
That his sisters would love him so much
That he would have an awesome throwing arm
That he would have lots of friends
That he would read and love books
That he would do all the wonderful things little boys do.

--Anjie, mom to Adam (5 years)




I wish I'd known I would look Avery and NOT see Down syndrome.
I see her as this amazing, smart little cookie—strong-willed, self-reliant, and cute as a button.
She walks around like a little queen in a parade, waving, hugging, and talking to everyone.

--Kathleen, mother to Avery (3 years)


v

I wish I'd known having identical twin boys both with Down syndrome would bless our family
more than we could have ever thought. They work together, play together, and show us
how to take life one day at a time, and enjoy every moment.

--Stacy, mom to Caleb and Isaac (2 years)

v


I wish I had known that she would get through her heart surgery, that she would crawl
and walk and play just like any other kid, that she would be able to communicate so well,
and that life would be so normal.

--Karyn, mom to Talitha (2 years)


v

I wish I'd known that it isn't that hard, and that my daughter isn't different
from any other little girl her age. All my dreams for her can come true!

--Kelly, mom of Alexis (2 ½ years)


v


I wish I'd known how normal and silly moms of kids with Down syndrome really are!
I thought they were all supermoms that were like angels in the flesh—now I know the truth!

--Cas, mom to Jirah (2 years)


v

I wish I'd known life wouldn't be defined by the myths and misconceptions I had
about Down syndrome, but instead, it would be as "normal" as normal gets,
and my son would fill my life with love and joy beyond comprehension or measure.

--Sandy, mom to Lucas (19 months)

I'm actually glad I didn't know much about Down syndrome when my son was born.
I think if I had, it might have ruined those moments and that connection I had with
my son the moment I saw him. I would have thought of the negative,
not of the fact that I had a little boy who I loved and was perfect.

--Judah, dad to Jaemen (3 years)

v

I wish I'd known the pure joy, happiness, pride, love, and dedication that my baby would show us all. I wish someone would have told me that this baby was going to change my outlook on life, make me a better mother to his siblings, a better wife to his daddy and a better person to this world.

--Carmen, mom to Jaemen (3 years)


v

I wish I'd known that it was ok to grieve and scream, cry, vent and be angry. I wish that a facility or network had been in place to reach out to me, instead of the other way around. I wish that every parent coming home today could see my girl and how she smiles and loves.

--Amy, mom to Larkin (2 ½ years)

v

I wish I'd known not to believe everything the doctors said my child would not achieve,
such as breastfeeding. I wish I'd known the immense gratitude my son would bring to my life
just by reaching up and touching my face. I wish I'd known that I would never feel shame
for having a child with Down syndrome.

--Andrea, Mom to Alex (10 months)


v

I wish I'd known the new lesson on love that AJ would teach me would fill my heart
in a way I wouldn't have thought possible. I wish I had known of all the
positive changes I would see in my other children.

--Ibby, mother to AJ (2 years)


v

I wish I'd known I was strong. My husband and I always thought we were the people who
couldn't handle raising a child with Down Syndrome. Actually, there's really nothing to "handle."

--Stephanie, mom to Megan (4 years)

I wish I'd known the stands would erupt with cheers when she got a hit in baseball,
and that her classmates would circle around her with love and protection if anyone was mean to her.
I wish I'd known that "being slow" would mean savoring every step, every puddle, every blossom.

--Michelle, mom to Ciarra (9 years)


v


I wish I'd known that children with Down syndrome are NOT happy all the time.
Darah throws temper tantrums and needs time-outs just like every other three-year-old.
I wish I'd known that when Darah was first born, she was MY baby. When she was in the NICU, I felt like the hospital owned her and was afraid to speak up with my concerns and questions.

--McKenna, mom to Darah (3 years)


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I wish that I had known that my broken heart would one day heal,
and the love that I felt for my son was the cure.

--Kristy, Mommy to Zachary John (3 years)

v

I wished I'd known we were going to be okay, that this one little chromosome was just a tiny piece of our lives. I wish I'd known that the dreams I had of the little girl with long dark hair were still going to come true! That while she may beg for a green Mohawk at times, she's still that little girl in my dreams.

--Leah, mom to Angela (12 years)

v


I wish I'd known that this would be such a marvelous journey,
and that everything would turn out . . . JUST FINE.

--Jackie, mom to Emily (28 years)

Lera Pictures...

Go over to my photography blog to see the rest of the pics of Little Lera... click HERE