Eulogy

A friend recently sent me a song that got stuck in my head a while and brought back so many memories of the man who loved me the most as a child. My grandpa was an Army veteran, carpenter fisherman, and musician along with a music teacher......


Some of this post will duplicate an older one I did here but I'm writing again anyway. This version of the song, Dan talks about it. I feel much of what he said about my grandpa too. I'll never measure up but I am passing the tradition. His blood is in all the music his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren have played.

This is for my grandpa.

The first memories I have of you are of fishing, ice cream, root beer floats, the fireplace and the Sir Walter Raleigh pipe tobacco you always had.

Seeing the mayflies all over the sliding screen door on your deck near the lake. Your laugh was contagious. I can still hear it sometimes, despite you've been gone for 22 years tomorrow..... The fireplace always kept me entranced, at least till you got gas years later and no longer burned newspaper. The basement was your "man cave" but so was your workshop that was attached to the basement living area. You loved that area. The smell of sawdust, a hint of your tobacco and basement always lingered.
Christmases were special. There were family dynamics going on I didn't understand then till much later but at least we all got together and enjoyed it. For most of my birthdays or Christmases you got me at least one toy that taught or represented music in one way or another. The toy saxophone at roughly 4 or 5 I think mom found the most annoying. haha Or was it the harmonica when I was three?

As the years went on, we didn't get to see you as much as I wanted but I knew you loved it when we did. I never have forgotten.You never gave up on me, even when everyone else did. You never told me I'd amount to nothing. You never told me I'd wind up a criminal. You never told me I'd always be in prison. You never told me I belonged in psych hospitals for life. You never told me I should be or wished me dead. You never told me I'd be useless to society. You never told me I was too stupid to learn anything. You never told me I should be controlled. You never told me I should have been aborted. You never told me that doping me on pills was the right answer. I don't know if you ever thought any of that, or talked about it when I couldn't hear you but at least you never said anything like that to me or where I could hear it. Thank you for that at least. By you not being like that to my face, I believed you didn't listen to all the lies and hate that so many others in this world gave.

Music, your music....

I never got to hear you play your trombone but I heard the stories. I envision you much like the first pic on this post looking like that playing on it, and especially helping your brass students with their horns. I remember playing on grandma's organ. I remember playing on your piano. Those are fond memories but that's not what I remember the most. After time of playing a game called Professor Piccolo, I wanted to play in the band. I wanted to be like others in the family. I was wanting to play the clarinet. I do remember you said because of the orthodontic work I needed, clarinet was out but you had a flute from your old music store left and I started on that. I really think part of it too was lack of money to get. I still have that old Artley. I only wish now I could get the overhaul done on it and also fix the plating so it looks like what it did when you gave it to me. Years of marching band all but ruined it.....

I was so excited when you gave me that flute from your music store remains and I began band. It was the summer before 7th grade. Most kids in my district started in 5th so I had some catching up to do. I'd have to catch up, in a world that already saw little value in me. Game on! So that I did. It was one of the best things I could have ever done, honestly.
Remember me calling you the night after doing my first day in 7th grade band? It was like the second or third day of school because they tried putting me in 5th grade band. I had a mountain to climb to learn in weeks what the other kids did in two years but in time I did it. I called you then too. When I finally mastered the Bb concert scale by memory, could play the version of William Tell we were working on, but I also told you about being told by others in the band how bad I was. You told me to keep going. To focus on the one that did encourage me in my section. To work hard, to practice and I would catch up. So I did. I don't learn the same way others do however, so to get things to "click" I had to see it done, to hear it done, not just read the sheet music. That's what made practicing alone so hard early on, it was easier when I could play along or hear what it should sound like first. In time it got easier but I was still slow to learn.....
Soon after you had me start on this book. I still have it, not because I still need it but because of the memories.

I still have all the letters you wrote me while I was in lockups and group homes, towards the last few years of you being here..... I only wish I wrote you back more, or had the chance to even collect call you like you wished at my last group home, before you passed. Though I was glad for the daytime calls I did when not in school and home alone, even though I didn't realize till later how bad the long distance charges were.....

My last group home, my music world expanded so much there... Our band director was just like you in many ways. He's passed on too you know.... My senior year he did. Yet he saw potential in all students, unlike many teachers I had prior. He had the patience of a saint and never got angry, at least where we could see it. I know I was slow to catch on, with many things, yet once I did, it never left. Even there I was told how stupid I was by some in the band, especially the flute section I was in. The best years of my band life were finally coming and I knew no matter how bad I sucked at whatever, the marching band show couldn’t go on without me because the drill charts as they were called, formations, would not look right with me missing. I remember our section leaders often telling me how bad I was, to not play and march because I marched horrifically and that the girl who had many of the drills right beside me, I caused her foot tendonitis because I marched so bad. Yet if I had stunk so bad, why did we continue to win competitions that year? We had a really good season that year. I was blessed that it was my first year in.

It took me a little longer than most to catch on to marching in time and playing right at the same time. At that point though I honestly did tell all of them to kiss my grits (Not put that nice...) and instead of jumping all over me telling me how stupid I was, how about they help, and have the section leaders act like leaders, not morons. You would have been proud, if you could have been there. They told me to not march and play at the same time, but you know, I did it anyway, despite how stupid they thought I was.

The day we won state in our class division my freshman year..... Such an amazing and nerve-wracking day. Yet the only thing I wished beyond winning was anybody had been there to cheer me on.... Not a soul came... Most performances of mine though, especially once in high school, not a soul was in the crowd for me. I got used to it. That's not why I played though. It's one memory that is there, like it or not......

Auditions for chairs, I got last again. I was last in 7th due to being so new, last in 8th because of coming in mid-year but also because of skill. 9th I got last but it was close. It was that freshman year however that told me I needed to major in music teaching. The band director with his kind, old soul helped that. I finally had something to strive for. Several band pieces to this day, I can't hear without flooding memories of his teaching. First Suite in Eb by Holst to be one. Symphonic Suite by Williams to be another. I didn't do a solo for Solo & Ensemble but I did play in the flute choir. We got division 1 at district and state for that.

It was finally then that the flute section started to accept me.

That next summer, we prepared for marching season again, I was a sophomore and was ready. That was the last summer I saw you alive.... June of 1997 was the last time I got to play for you... I think you knew it was your last time getting to hear me. It didn't register when you gave me my final music lesson till after you passed, that you knew..... The tears in your eyes as you told me I had come so far in the so few years I had been playing..... Your words encouraged me, they game me fight, the will to stay at it and to persevere. I only wish I called and wrote you more often, even as the group home allowed it. Your heart just gave out not long after.

I just wanted more time. One more "I love you." One more lesson, one more float, one more day of fishing on the lake..... Just one more..... I don't think you truly know how much the odds were stacked against me from day one. So few saw any worth, value or purpose in my existence. Those who were supposed to love and teach instead showed apathy, disdain and sometimes hate. No lie..... You were a bright candle in my dark world. I cherished the visits with you, even though they were too far apart and too short. Far too little time..... What you don't know is despite the depression I had been in when I started music, despite seeing no value in myself back then whatsoever, you introducing me to music saved me..... It saved me because it showed me I could be good at something. Even if it was the only thing.... (At that time, it pretty much was!) The depression and wanting to die almost won but it didn't...... You saved me from myself, though it took a little while to see it....

At the funeral I remember putting some snapdragons on your tiny casket that held your urn. It was a rainy day. I just wanted more time......

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The first day back to school after your funeral was sooooo hard..... I heard several condolences that day. That morning before school when we had early marching practice, putting that Artley flute together for the first time after you died had ripped my heart out because you would never hear it again... What touched me the most was our director hugging me and saying that I didn't have to play or march that day if I didn't want to. I chose to anyway. That day on the blacktop going over drills and learning the last of the new charts, I saw a brilliant sundog. I knew you were with me. As tears rolled down my face in that moment, it showed me you were still there and now you could hear every note I played, good or not. Playing that day was hard but I did it. Two months later, we went to state again but did not win this time. Solo & Ensemble that year I did my first solo. I got a second division by one point.... One point from first division... I didn't care. It was the first solo that I knew you could hear and given how I was really close to a first division, I took it. Playing three years and I did that accomplishment. I also was no longer last chair!

Soon after, I had to transfer schools again. That was a little rough but I was ready to keep going with music. I also got private lessons again, paid myself and also paid for an intermediate flute. Paid that off. I sure loved that Artley but it was really in disrepair and starting to hinder me..... Junior year I marched piccolo for the first time. Really enjoyed that. Concert season I got third chair in the second band, about the middle compared to all the flutes at this school. Big progress but I was bound to really hit it with Solo & Ensemble again. Went into the hardest division this time and got a second division rank on my solo. Messed up with the piano part along with anxiety got in my way, that was the only thing that got in my way of State. Senior year we got 9th at State marching band, heard about the passing of my first high school director at the first competition that year.That first competition I dedicated to him.

Grandpa, had you known that director I had, I think you two would have been best friends..... Senior year also brought the end of not just school but of dreams....

I again knew my solo that year would be heard by you, and also it would be the last of S&E, at least for high school level. (Link would be movement 3 and 4 I did. No that woman is not me.) I got a first division at State. I was sooooo proud of that.  I also got third chair, first band. I was happy. First part, no piccolo, no solos. Just as I wanted.

Then the flute lessons stopped. They stopped because the dreams for teaching music died.... She refused to keep seeing me if I wasn't going to college for music. That year I was told I wasn't smart enough for scholarships, didn't qualify for grants, and despite working almost full time hours and doing school full time, no way I could pay for college by myself so music education died.... I couldn't afford it... I cried, which I know you saw.... I cried because I failed. I failed to dream good enough, to be good enough, to keep my promise......

Even when I did start college, it was hard to keep up. Working full time hours, keeping up with all the chores/housework I was responsible for both living at home and when I got on my own and full time college was rough. I know you were proud when I graduated community college though, especially top third of all of that community college combined campuses.

See, I wasn't as stupid as everyone made me out to be. I would have loved to see all of those who said I would be a nobody, dead, prison, psych wards and more to do what I did AND survive all I did. Though, you wouldn't have agreed to me doing it, the huge desire to throw that in the faces of soooo many would have been so sweet tasting.....

After high school, the Armstrong flute mostly collected dust for nearly six years. Then came playing at church. First Sunday there I was sooooo nervous, despite not being the only flute player there. At one time for a while there was four of us. I gave up the piccolo forever after a mishap of attempting to play a piccolo part for one of the other flautists because she was late. That happened after I'd been in around a year. The embarrassment of that and being called out, I chickened out and quit that. Before that, it had been several years since I picked that piccolo of mine up. I could have used a pep talk that rehearsal day from you.....

It wasn't long before I became the only flute player on stage most Sunday's. I learned to embrace it, because I could adjust the sheet music to sound good yet not overpowered by the small ensemble size. Sometimes I'm the only flute player up there and sometimes I'm not, but usually it's just me. I had seasons when I was out, especially time after the kids were born but I've stuck with it. Almost 14 years completed there now and still going. Though I admit I still get timid with solo stuff. I still remember a former player's daughter told mine not very long ago that they left the stage because of how bad I suck playing. That made me somewhat want to leave honestly. That was another day I wish I could have called you. Another pep talk..... It was obvious to me that I wasn't good enough. I rallied though.

Almost a decade after high school and near Christmas of 2008 I was able to replace the Armstrong flute I bought myself, and join community band as well. It took me a little getting used to the Yahama flute I upgraded to but I did it. The first night in community band, I was so nervous, last chair or not, I was. I had not played with a group like this in years.... I've been in that band just over a decade now. Hard to believe I started in there that long ago.... I was second to last chair with flute and am last chair with clarinet. However that clarinet I always have wanted to learn, I have been playing a year now. Amazing with everything that I have done a few concerts with it already.

I learned long ago that first, second or third part isn't as big of a deal as it is just getting to play and enjoy music.

As much as I still wish I could see you and hear you, You have shown me through sundogs, red cardinals on every single outdoor training run and most recently mayflies that you are here. Yes, I saw mayflies nowhere near water less than a month ago. There were more than I got in this pic but not as many as I would see around the lake. Or in Louisville when I visited in 2011. I couldn't believe it. Yet it was a sign......

It was that day my friend sent me Leader of the Band..... What gave me chills on the live version I shared on the start of this post was two things. That his papa was a band director for kids like my grandpa and his papa died in the year I was born.

I know since you died grandpa, you've not missed any concert of mine, any church service I've played in nor those "big" performances. I know you would tell me to keep going, to keep practicing and to play, not for everyone else but for myself and for God. And that I will..... One thing you used to say to me that I also have told my children is this:

"It's not about how good you are, but how good you feel playing."

May I teach my children the same. They are also the reason I keep going with music. What am I teaching them if I give up, or if I don't take a chance?


This saying I could hear coming from you too.....

Thank you grandpa for never giving up on me. Thank you for being a rare one who didn't. I will see you again. I look forward to the day I play in Heaven. The baton is being passed down to my children. Your great granddaughter is in her second year of band with trumpet and your great grandson has said he wants to learn trumpet too at the young age of five.

I just wish I had had more time..... I wish I had better used that time.... I have many regrets in my life and that is one. One thing I was reminded of though today was this: I have given my children a far better life than I ever had. Through all of my hurts, soapbox sermons, habits, and hangups, they already have it better than I did. I just wish you were here to show them your influence that you had on me.

When my eyes grow old, when my time comes to hear my children and maybe grandchildren play their instruments for the last time, may I feel your presence. The joy and pride you will have on every concert done, every solo done, and even every practice no matter how good or bad it is. May I continue to see signs from you that you have not left me in spirit.

Thank you for being the leader of the band....... I love you and miss you.... I wish you could be here for your great grandchildren's concerts......

Your granddaughter...



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For my grandpa, the one who loved me, I share these lyrics for him.

The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul --
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy
To the leader of the band
I am the living legacy
To the leader of the band.

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~ Special Momma ~

Ainsley's Angels 5k

Most of you know that I've talked about this organization. I have posts here about it and have been training for them. This post will be like a recap of all of those parts but more about why, memory lane and this last weekend.

It was a friend of ours who led us to this back in December 2018. Six months after a very crazy summer of new diagnoses, again. Yet my son rode in the chariot with the wind for the first time in December 2018. I was frazzled that evening because we were late and they were waiting on us. Yet his runners waited. Instead of just running for placement or whatever, they waited on my son for the inclusion. I wasn't judged for being late or anything. Just accepted and including my son in a race.

A few nights ago, I meet the founder of Ainsley's Angels and heard him tell the story. We had a BBQ dinner the night before the big Ainsley's Angel race. I saw the book his daughter wrote about her baby sister and why Ainsley's Angels was born. Yet to hear "Rooster" talk, the story he had is amazing. Another family chose to cover our dinner that evening when she overheard my hubs and I talking about it a few days prior.

I felt honored to be a part of it that night. Driving home I couldn't help but think about it. People embraced and loved on me, on my son, on my daughter and even she has grown from this organization. She sees some of the angel riders now and does not hesitate to interact and goof off with them. She doesn't see them as any different from anyone else, and neither should we.

Saturday morning came early. Late night Friday and an early start Saturday. Talk about tired! And to start our 3.1 mile run was humidity at like 94%! Yikes!!
It was hard. It was hot. Yet I got my best race PR! I was a little sore but no injuries. I pushed myself harder that day than I ever have.

Friday and Saturday were some of the best days of my life. I had not been that happy in quite some time.... It was like being at the CCA retreat except you sweat. Haha

No seriously, for "Rooster" to take something out of his circumstances and to bring forth Ainsley's Angels is amazing. To see his dream come to bringing anyone with disabilities no matter severity into the world of inclusion is amazing. To go into what we had this weekend and see more acceptance and inclusion than most of the loved ones had ever seen is a miracle of itself. To go into that 5k Saturday was stunning to see so many pink shirts and chariots. To meet a family from where I used to be in Indiana was great! To have them tell me my son is welcome to ride with them anytime was great! To be able to go to the Naturals game regardless of affording it, was heartwarming. We were going to skip that but I basically got told "no way! Get tickets!" Was heartwarming. To have our dinner Friday night covered by another beloved family was a huge blessing. To PR yesterday was great too but you know what I loved best? The inclusion and getting to talk to the one who brought Ainsley's Angels to all who can have it. To have inclusion no matter what, regardless of anything else subjective, we had inclusion because we all were human and there for a common cause. Being sore for pushing hard was totally worth it!!


Honestly? I don't care who gets butthurt with my next statement but I'm saying it anyway. Celebrate Recovery and Ainsley's Angels are the best. Why? Judgment free zones, inclusion, acceptance and no matter where you are in the journey they motivate you. They cheer you on.

That I am going to keep being a part of. This is worth running for in a woman who was never an athlete before April 2019.

We even got to talk about the struggles with different things in life and all with it during the drive to and from the Naturals game. Even the nitty gritty of the medical world..... Guess what? No judgment! I got to be honest about some stuff and no judgment nor rebuffs! No lectures, no blocking, no yelling, no nothing. Just discussion and keeping it real and honest.

That is what life should be about. That is what family should be about. That is what Ainsley's Angels and Celebrate Recovery is about.

If society could learn from this, if communities could learn from this, if schools could learn from this and if religion could learn from this, our world would have much more peace...


I have not been at peace...... I am not at my lowest point in this medical journey but I'm not back where I feel I should be yet either. However, thanks to Celebrate Recovery first and honest to God, Ainsley's Angels with joining them, I am coming back. I want to talk about how far down I went though.....

I was thinking about this yesterday on what else to say here. A song came on my workout playlist and it brought back memories. Memories of two years ago this month when we were losing Dallas of ten years. Two years ago when all of the advocacy and fighting and everything fell apart. It all came falling like a house of cards. Yet I had to pick those cards up alone and rebuild. Alone..... I admit that's where the bitterness at it's worst started...... 

So many people, including locals and family were telling me to get over it. To just roll with it. That I was making a huge deal out of nothing. So much more..... I even had one text me and say "Why are you so upset about losing Dallas anyway? Your kids will be fine and insurance just likely didn't want to pay for extra stuff anyway. If your kids are meant to not survive and thrive, then so be it. Just learn to roll with it and quit griping!" That was two years ago today.... I was even told it was my fault we were losing Dallas because we couldn't afford to keep them given the bad insurance coverage. Yeah that helped..... Did people sit down with me and let me talk it out? Did people give me the chance to just vent, cry and talk without telling me how wrong I'm handling it? NO! Did people offer to help us through it? No...... I did have a couple who would listen but it was more preaching and telling me how God this and God that. I understood that and knew they were trying to help but that's not what I needed as much of during that time. I needed more... I was always told to "give it to God" and those people that told me that would then walk away, not willing to listen when I need it. And was told multiple times to get psych help over it. I've been told that and much more off and on throughout the last 12 years simply because I talk about our medical journey and my heart/mind struggles......

My heart started getting hard again..... It's not hard honestly for me to get like that..... I have lived all my life on survival mode so getting out of that and staying out is about impossible... I saw many others getting love and support but we were not. Others who had people flocking to them to help but not us.... I knew our valuation was viewed as less than many here but that just proved it. Or at least in my heart it did..... It wasn't that I felt others shouldn't get, it was more of why we were left in the dark to fend for ourselves when we needed spiritual and emotional support the most.... (As in the most during those times, not more than anyone else. Don't get it twisted.)  

Valuation is what it boiled down to. I even was told that by a few locals. We didn't have people nor the popularity.

I realized I wasn't alone as a medical mom in that struggle. I started talking about my struggles and trying to get people to see either what they were doing, both to others and poor representation of Christianity or to share with those who faced the same issues that they weren't alone.  

I love the following pic because it depicts what we all should be for those around us who are struggling but we're not...

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I could care less how people view me but how dare people show my kids they are worth less than Joe Schmoe over there and everyone else...... I spent my whole life being unwanted, unloved by most and a burden to everyone else. I was unheard and only drugged up to shut me up. Nobody wanted to help me. Ever. People still don't for the most part. I was NOT going to tolerate my kids being seen as that either!


Some of my blog posts in here seriously reflected the struggles with those storms and where my heart went.... I don't regret my entries in here but yet to look back on that, I really was struggling in a silent and lonely world..... Nobody was there. 

To top that off, we learned my son really needed surgery much sooner than first thought, he had too high of pressure on his brain and Children's was making us wait on surgery anyway due to scheduling. Then months later epilepsy and encephalomalacia came into the picture due to waiting too long....... That added to it..... More comments and opinions as well about how bad we failed and all of that. More recent were comments that I just want my son to have problems for attention and money. As if.... Then we did twenty days at Children's due to ADEM. (Unrelated to his epilepsy and brain injury!) Minus family, we had two people visit on one day during that stay. I stayed with my son for all but one night of that. Hubs did one night. We pretty much supported ourselves for all of that stay too. God's miracle for that but we did. We support ourselves with no help from anyone minus one GoFundMe for my son's neuropsych testing that a family member covered the majority of. Though I do wonder if all of the parents/caregivers of children on SSI/Medicaid hear this stuff too...... I know some do because I've heard/read the stories.

Yes, the last few years changed me the most. Watching every single seizure, especially the first changed me. Riding in the ambulance with my son still seizing changed me. I still can't hear our county EMS without jumping and getting near tears..... The 20 days at Children's with also a several day stay soon before it changed me. Not knowing what of my son would be left during the last extended stay changed me. Learning of his brain injury and why changed me too.... The minimizing I heard and or the accusations that I'm making a big deal of his medical world has changed me. Being told that it could be worse and to just get over it changed me. Being told we are less deserving of support (Any type) changed me. Seeing people at VBS afraid of him and not let him in their group honestly changed me too... He finally got into a girls group because the leader took the initiative to take him in. I saw and learned a lot. Still am. His journey is far from over and still carries uncertainty for his future. I have no idea as a start how his brain injury will affect his future. Let alone the rest of his medical world. Even my daughter's isn't over yet. She has another type of major surgery ahead of her, let alone if another cranio surgery is ahead either. Honestly even before all of that, the first trip to Dallas for my daughter changed me. I became a medical mom... Yet I make a big deal out of little apparently...

Where's Jesus in that? Where's support for others in that? Where's 'love your neighbor' in that? I saw it was all selective.


Again, I started talking about my struggles and trying to get people to see either what they were doing, both to others and poor representation of Christianity or to share with those who faced the same issues that they weren't alone. I was just outspoken with no fear of sharing. I see why most who feel these struggles sometimes don't speak about it.  

I have learned that many out there have the same struggles as me. I hear it in the groups I'm in and through some conversations with other special needs parents. Though as I learned yet again recently, sharing struggles via social media makes you enemies. Even when you can't control it, nor how it shows up in a newsfeed compared to other posts others make. However, it also helps you and others to know we are not alone in those struggles. If being open and honest all these years with these struggles, and yes that includes the stuff I shared here from way back when that I still do at times struggle with makes me enemies then so be it. If making enemies allows me to help just one, I did something.


If that makes me the community outcasted, loudmouth pot-stirrer (As I have been accused of on social media and to my face several times) than so be it.



So anyway, yeah...... The judgment and condemnation was worst from when my son was born to honestly when we lost Dallas and a little while after.

Learning the clarinet has helped. But it was still keeping me at home. Like I wanted. Then we wound up at Children's for 20 days after a recent four day stay prior. When we got home I put a lot of focus into research and learning both neuroscience and the clarinet. I didn't want to deal with anyone  beyond Celebrate Recovery because of all of the prior crap. We had been pretty much forgotten or ignored while we were away. Later, it was like pulling teeth to even get one friend to convince me to try her MOPS group come that fall. That first day in there was like going to a new school. Yet I survived and was able to definitely make some new friendships. Last December things began to change. That's when Ainsley's Angels first came into my life, which I shared earlier.


I was honestly reluctant to give Ainsley's Angels a chance. Not because of them per se but because of all the betrayal and negativity I'd gotten from everything else. I kept even them at arms length distance.

I'm glad I did give it a chance.... This last weekend proved all of that. Other moments have too, as I also shared earlier but this last weekend really sealed the deal..... Over six months of being within Ainsley's Angels total. Eight months as my son being a rider and four months of me being an Angel Runner. Really didn't do much running though till early June. Two months later and I did a PR with the ArkAngel 5k. My average pace overall now is 11-14 minutes per mile. That's with run/walk intervals. Sometimes more running than walking, sometimes more walking than running. Depends on the day.

My training has changed me. It has not changed the struggles but it has changed my healing from within and I have a long way to go. I still speak on struggles. That will never change. Enemies or not, I know sharing has helped others so I will continue to do so. Those who truly support me will be the ones that stick around.... So much more healing to come. A few have seen that. I have also already defied what the majority of all the predictions thought all I'd be.


One thing I will always wish for though in this world.

We really just need to act like a village instead of saying we are and only help some but not others..... As a whole that's much of what's wrong with this world. We decide we don't know or like whomever or we see something as "not our problem" and walk away. But when it does affect someone we know, as long as we either like them or sometimes related to them,  then we might help. Help being any method of help. Financial is what most think of but people need way more than that. We've gotta change that mindset and have all equal all, not just the few we want. 

If money was all it was about then how come do studies prove that the rich are overall unhappy? Money doesn't buy real, genuine support.

Knowing the right people does. You can't just know the right people though, they have to be willing and want to support and love on you in order for them to be willing to support in any form. That's not what Jesus, or even proper manners taught!!

I heard something recently. "You can't help other people unless you spend time with them." Yet then why don't we get more intentional to get to know others? I'm guilty too.... The last few years I have preferred to stay either alone/one person group thing. When I am in a social setting, I'm either a wallflower or semi-social beyond how I can be myself as a social butterfly at Celebrate Recovery. When my anxiety hits I'm either really quiet or I don't shut up. That is my natural, to be social, sometimes too much.... I just am not really much that anymore.... Yet that person is right, how do we know what is going on with others or understand/empathize with what's going on with them either what we see or even what storms are inside of them if we won't take the time to know others?


Even if we don't jive with other personalities, just taking that effort can make a difference.


That's what I have seen both within Celebrate Recovery for the most part but most especially Ainsley's Angels.


This weekend really showed me all of that. Ainsley's Angels have shown me time and time again that they are an amazing village. To be accepted no matter my pace, how long I have been doing this, no matter how disabled my son is, no matter anything. They accepted me. To be given a chariot to use by them despite all of the local negativity I faced for the Crowdrise, was humbling and a blessing. It allows me to keep training even when my son is home from school and he can enjoy the ride too. He can roll with the wind anytime.

They have showed me the most that I truly matter, warts and all. No judgment, no condemnation, no "not good enough" and most of all, no "you don't belong" or any derivative of. Nobody, and I mean nobody has done that before.

I think Ainsley would be proud. God used her story and her daddy and therefore many more to bring inclusion. To bring acceptance. To bring love. Just as Jesus would want. It's something this world needs a lot more of.....

To go to all of the events I have with Ainsley's Angels and see the joy on the faces of all who are there, riders and athletes alike, is so contagious! To be greeted by strangers, race bib or not is acceptance. To have people love on my son and even my daughter no matter what, without any conditions is something not seen nearly enough in today's world.

Why can't the world be more like that?

Look up Ainsley's Angels on YouTube and look for episode 181 Spotlight Saturday next week!!


May I continue to heal because just as I think I am "healed from" A, B and C; D, E and F show up. I thank God for Celebrate Recovery to help with my hurts, habits and hangups because we all have them and always will. They just change over time. Yet they too are a judgment free zone.


~ Special Momma ~