Some Mothers Get Babies with Something More...

I've never fancied myself to be anything special because I have a child with special needs. In fact, sometimes I forget to even mention it. Like when I was filling out scholarship and grant applications for school. Sure, I mentioned that I am employed for an average of 30 hours a week, that I am married with two children, that I've managed to attend a rigorous university carrying a full load of classes while maintaining a very healthy GPA and do it all at the same time. In fact, I was about to include that one of my children has a rare genetic disorder called Bardet-Beidl Syndrome but then I thought that it might sound as if I am fabricating. No, that would make me sound too amazing. I'm not amazing. I'm just a normal person. (Mind you, a person who might tend toward insanity sometimes but in a good, productive sort of way.) "Zac's not that bad," I told myself. "He's not one of those truly accessorized kids, the ones in wheelchairs who need feeding tubes and tons of medication." "And it's not like he's dying," I told myself. So I didn't include it. I got the grants I needed so I don't think it would have mattered anyway.

A few months after filling out all these applications, it was brought to my attention that some think us moms who have children with special needs are kind of amazing. A friend of a friend (or something like that) posted this on her blog. And now I post it for you:

SOME MOTHERS GET BABIES WITH SOMETHING MORE…

My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have given throughout the ages of time. She says it doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes. Of course, that’s what she says. That’s what mothers have always said. Mothers lie. Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more.

Every mother wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. Every mother wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule. Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but we mothers want what we want.

Some mothers get babies with something more. Some mothers get babies with conditions they can’t pronounce, a spine that didn’t fuse, a missing chromosome or a palette that didn’t close. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in the fourth grade when you didn’t see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind clean out of you. Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt of devastating news. It can’t be possible! That doesn’t run in our family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime?

I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It’s not a lust thing; it’s a wondrous thing. The athletes appear as specimens without flaw – rippling muscles with nary an ounce of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. As I’ve told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, there’s no such thing as a perfect body. Everybody will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, medication or surgery.

The health problems our children have experienced have been minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do it. Frankly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear. I wonder how you endure the praise and the platitudes, well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you’ve occasionally questioned if God is on strike.

I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy pieces like this one saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you’re ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn’t volunteer for this. You didn’t jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, “Choose me, God! Choose me! I’ve got what it takes.”

You’re a woman who doesn’t have time to step back and put things in perspective, so, please, let me do it for you. From where I sit, you’re way ahead of the pack. You’ve developed the strength of a draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require intense and aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You’re a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at the mall. You’re the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my sister-in-law. You’re a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and got something more. You’re a wonder.

-Author Unknown

I felt like posting this because I've never really blogged about Zac's "story" or what it is like to be a mom to a child with BBS. You see, I usually just tell myself, "This is just the way it is," because I've fully accepted that Zac has BBS and what that might mean for him. And I certainly don't feel sorry about it. Well, maybe a little sorry that he has to go through these things, but I'm far from feeling sorry for myself. Sure these little pick-me-ups like the one written above are nice. It's a nice gesture. But I don't feel like some extraordinary person. Life is hard for most people, just in different ways. But I also feel that my life is full of wonder, beauty, joy and also peace. I feel very blessed.

JUMP!

So a while back I posted about death. Well, a friend read my post and suggested I read The Undertaking by Thomas Lynch. I decided back then that I'd read it over Spring Break, the first bit of non-school, read-for-pleasure literature I would digest before getting back to the grind. This was, of course, before I purchased the skydiving ticket or made plans to jump out of a plane on Spring Break and I wondered if I was jinxing myself.

The day of was cloudy and when Natalie and I got to the drop zone, we were concerned we might not be able to jump. I would have been okay with that a couple weeks prior but I was determined to jump that day. I didn't want to wait, I was ready.

We watched a super old video with a lawyer on it while we filled out about 10 pages of liability release forms. It was kind of ridiculous really and I'm pretty sure that a small part of it is to build the hype of jumping out of a plane. After some waiting around for papers to process we had about 5 minutes worth of jump instruction. It's really easy. You squat at the edge of the plane, hands crossed over your chest, fall to your knees, arch your back. When your tandem buddy taps your shoulder, open your arms, give a thumbs up. Piece of cake. Funny story: one girl asked her friend, "What happens if I can't hold the squatting position and I fall?" I think that's the point, honey.

I was paired with Ron, Ron Stan. He had blue eyes and long dark blond dreads. I was secretly jealous of his hair. Confession: I've always wanted dreadlocks. He introduced himself to me, shook my hand and looked me in the eye for a second or two before saying, "You look incredibly calm." I told him I was even though I didn't know why. He said, "You're just ready to do this." I caught him looking at me quite a bit on the ride up. I take it he was trying to gauge my reaction to it all. I don't know. He didn't talk to me or try to pump me up like the other instructors seemed to be doing with their peeps. I was quiet and feeling...inner peace. Just calm, feeling good, enjoying the sights out the window, laughing a bit at all the girls freaking out... in a good way. They definitely generated a certain energy that was felt in the plane. When the door opened, things got loud. Ron and I were last to jump.

It's funny because it happens so quick but time seems to be slowed down in your mind, at least it was for me. Things were very clear, it was like clock-work. I know I gasped and held my breath when we first left the plane. I felt my stomach drop for about two seconds as I did a full somersault, maybe two. Then the stabilizer parachute deployed because in a split second I was on my stomach. I felt the tap-tap on my shoulder, put my arms out, thumbs up.

The wind was cold and loud. Coupled with the quick change in altitude, my ears probably got the worst of anything. Once you reach terminal velocity you don't feel like you're falling anymore. The force of gravity pulling you toward earth is equal to the forces of drag caused by your body position and the wind friction, thus there is no acceleration. Your speed is constant but for all you know, you could just be in a wind tunnel.

Looking down on the earth was incredible. It gets closer and closer but you still feel so detached from it that any fear of heights is diminished. We flew through a cloud, which was probably the coolest thing ever. For a second the air was thick, humid, and a cold mist chilled my face. Then I heard the rip and I knew my instructor was deploying the parachute. I reminded myself that I'd feel a pull in just a second and sure enough away we went. We got views of Mexico, the ocean, the lake below and the beautiful mountains. We maneuvered around a bit before coming in for the landing. "Terra firma," solid earth. I was back home.

When you ask someone why they would NOT want to jump out of a plane, naturally it is because of fear. But fear of what? Is it really a fear of heights? Or is it s fear of death? And if it is death, it's time to ask yourself the deep question: Why am I afraid to die? Does it come down to fear of the unknown? I realized that being okay with this ambiguity is really what made me able to jump out of the plane with minimal anxiety.

That's me! I don't know who this other guy is, he wasn't my instructor. Kind wish I got a picture with Ron. Guess I'll just have to go back!

So that's it! I totally want to go again. I can't stop thinking about it. I happened to look up an article on the psychology of skydiving after good ol' Dad, who always has to know the underlying reasons for my actions, asked me, "What is going on with your psyche that made you want to do this?" Still looking out for me in every sense. Love him. Well, this is the part that stood out to me and gave me a good laugh...

Skydivers who reported signs of being addicted to jumping, tended to be the least anxious before a jump. Having one's calmness recognised by others in the skydiving community "when others are feeling life-endangering fear and panic might be a major reinforcing factor", the authors concluded.

I just might be a candidate for addiction.

Three

The week leading up to the dive was so incredibly busy I hardly had time to think about what was coming on Saturday. Thus, no talking myself out of it. I've learned to compartmentalize very well (maybe too well) over the years. The mind is an amazing tool. Especially if you exercise mind over matter, which is exactly what I attempted to do. There were minimal nerves, mostly stubborn fortitude. Although I have to admit that I had a severe adrenaline rush just 8 days before the scheduled jump because someone tried breaking into our house. Yeah, you heard me right.

I was up late (or early) studying for my last final and trying to get a paper written when I heard someone trying to open our door. I bolted upstairs, nearly broke my toe again, and got Eddie. He flew out of bed and down the stairs while I called the police. Eddie ran after him a little bit but the guy had a pretty good head start and then started walking away very slowly. Kind of makes me think he may have had a weapon since he was so flagrant in his confidence. I always thought I'd be touch chick in that situation but I totally ran. My "flight" response kicked in big time. Makes me wonder if I'm more of a pacifist than I think. Eddie on the other hand had the "fight" in him. I'm glad though. He protects his family. He makes me feel safe.

Nevertheless, that was NOT the adrenaline rush I was looking for. On the bright side, it helped me stay up the rest of the night to study...

Two

But then I thought back to my friend's comment about skydiving before she had kids. I knew Eddie didn't mind, I already talked to him about it. His response was, "You have insurance." Ha! Love him. Later I found out that he was referring to health insurance in the event of an accident whereas I thought he was referring to my life insurance policy in the event of my death. Can you tell who is more optimistic? Either way, I think my husband should be proud of never holding his wife back.

Anyway, I asked another friend of mine (who has gone skydiving several times) if he thought it was irresponsible to go skydiving even though I had kids. He surprised me by saying, "Yes" and telling me that his brother wouldn't go because he had a kid. I was incredulous to say the least. I chided him for going and thought it hypocritical: "Just because you don't have people to support doesn't mean you don't have people who love and care about you!" Of course I apologized for my outburst. He said he was joking. About what I was unclear but enough of that. It's over and done. I suspect he sensed he was not going to persuade me (I think my ticket was purchased by then) so he decided to validate my desire instead.

I also asked Jadon how he would feel if I jumped out of an airplane. He said, "No! You could die!" I told him I could die at any time because everyone has to die some time. (Thanks Dr. M.) I reassured him that I'd have a parachute on. He still looked nervous. Then I told him the people he knew (pretty much all the cool peeps) that have survived it just fine and showed him some videos of how it'd all go down. He agreed and smiled.

One

I had to post about skydiving but it is definitely an experience that is hard to put into words. And one that I think would be better told in context and maybe over a few posts....

It all started when a friend posted about a skydiving Groupon on facebook with the caption that she had to do before having kids. I don't know why, but I took that as a challenge. I've always wanted to go skydiving but I never had the desire enough to purchase a ticket. At this point, skydiving would be something to do more for bragging rights and building a facade of courage than anything else.

But something really irked me about this perception that life stops once you have kids. And I'm not saying my friend necessarily thinks this way (so please don't take offense if you read this). But it is pretty clear that it is common thought among those with no kids and an idea often perpetuated by those who do.

Perhaps it was because I had a surprise of a first child at age 20 no less that got me into the mindset that this kid was not going to rule my life. That's not to say I wasn't willing to make sacrifices for my child, he just wasn't going to slow me down or stop me from achieving my goals. I was determined not to let myself go or lose my identity (whatever identity one can have at age 20). I admit, I felt a little bummed when Jadon was 6 weeks old and he had to turn down a spontaneous offer to go to a haunted mansion around Halloween. But I never blamed the kid. I simply cherished my sleep (and his) more than going out and having a good time on that particular night. Your value-judgments change when you have kids.

While it hasn't been easy having kids at a young age (and I certainly don't endorse it), my life was given a bit of clarity, a bit of motivation and a lot of love. The things I ended up learning and continue to learn about myself are things I can't imagine learning any other way; at least for me. It probably sounds very selfish, talking about how motherhood has affected me, where some would think it should be all about your kids. I say that if one of the purposes of life is to become a well-developed person, then it's not just about them.

So I told her I'd go, purchased the ticket, figured I had a year to use it. We made our plans for just a few weeks later while I was on Spring Break. It was nice to have something to look forward to...

Apologetic Mom

So last week I was in Target purchasing a last minute baby shower gift and I was in one of those two-story Targets with the elevators. You know what I'm talking about? Well, in comes a mom with two kids on one of those extended carts that seats big kids. He son was humming a song and her daughter was slurping a drink and she tried hushing the kids a little. Then she looked at me and apologized. After I told her I didn't mind at all, she tried hushing her son again by telling him no one wanted to listen to him sing right now.

I was wondering why she felt the need to apologize. After all, I'm a mom. I get it. And that stuff doesn't bother me. Trust me, my kids have done much worse in public. But she didn't know that because I was kidless in the store. I realized that if I had told her that I had two kids, she probably wouldn't have been self-conscious about her own children's behavior. It's a mom thing. We know. We've been there. And yet we still think we are going to be judged by people without kids because they haven't been there. We think they wouldn't understand. We think we will judged on our ability as a parent (ie; if you're a "good" mom or a "bad" mom) based on our kids' behavior. Well, I left the store thinking, I'm never going to apologize for the things my kids do in public.

Ah, but there was my first mistake. I said, never. Word of unsolicited advice: Never say never, folks. Just don't. It's challenging Karma and let me tell you, Karma doesn't back down from a challenge.

Later that afternoon I had our last coed soccer game. Eddie brought the boys and of course, they were their lovely selves. Jadon, vying for attention in all the wrong ways. Zac, being a beast. Both of them fighting over everything in sight, which is actually kind of amazing considering there was nothing but grass. My team was getting water at half-time and so the shenanigans became more apparent to the public. Thus, I became more self-conscious of their behavior. And I did it. Less than 6 hours after I promised myself I wouldn't do it, I apologized for their behavior. And it stung. I cringed as the words left my mouth.

Everything I just wrote about not wanting to be judged based on your kids' behavior...I totally felt that! Not wanting someone to think I wasn't a "good" parent because my kids were acting like kids...I felt that too! Arrrrgh!!! Why oh why?!?

On another note, this made me laugh...

Surgery II

A few weeks ago Zac had surgery to remove the extra finger and toe on his left hand and foot. He had a previous SURGERY for the same thing on his right side when he was 18 months old so we kind knew what to expect this time around. Below are some pictures of the bone structure on his left hand and foot.

I was a little worried about Zac's recovery this time around since he would be a older and therefore more "independently minded." Not to mention that the process would be much more invasive than last time. He was going to have to stay in the hospital overnight for monitoring and/or pain control if needed. Also, he'd have to keep casts on his hand and foot for 6 weeks instead of 1 in order to protect the incision while it healed. Yeah, not fun.

Here are some more pictures pre-surgery. Our camera is MIA so they are taken by my cheap but trusty Nokia.

It's early.

Watching "PB" (Translation: TV)

Happy Boy (With no clue what's coming.)

Thank goodness for Bear!

I really couldn't get enough of his bum hanging out of his gown.

Or this surgery cap. (Here he is showing the surgeon his hand.)

Since he had this procedure done at Children's Hospital [holla!] one of the parents gets to get dressed up to walk back to the operating room. And no, we don't get to stay. But I did get to hold Zac when they put him under so I was the last person he sees. Then when he is in triage after the surgery, I was the first person he saw when he woke up. {Except Zac woke up while getting wheeled to his room.}

The only time Zac seemed nervous at all was after I walked him into the O.R. I tried to show him all the cool monitors and the TV with our faces on it but he was not amused. Instead I lifted that big boy up and sat him on the operating table. As I hugged him, the anesthesiologist put the mask up to his face. Zac whined a little but I rubbed his back and told him he was okay. Alright, I also told him to take a deep breath a few times.

Let me tell you, it is kind of an eerie thing to hold your child as he pretty much goes lifeless. It took maybe a minute for him to relax and then his body went limp. And so soon after my post about death. We laid him down on the table and that was my cue to leave. I can remember several times in my life where I know in my head that I have something to be nervous or anxious about but those emotions never come to fruition. This was one of those times. I only felt at peace and maybe a little fortitude; manifestations to me that a prayer had been answered, that the Big Man upstairs was watching and was aware of my situation.

Zac laid around in his hospital bed the rest of the day but tried getting up to go pee a few times {despite having a pull-up on, yay!} He didn't complain of an pain at all until about 8:30pm that night. He had a little attitude with the nurses because he basically wouldn't acknowledge them whenever they walked in the room. He got yummy food {Mc Donalds as promised pre-surgery}. He was a little grumpy the next day when we brought him home. But after that he was fine as long as he had his meds. Man, I so wish I could give him that stuff all the time. That kid would be high on life.

So grateful to everyone at Children's Hopsital and for all the love, good thoughts and prayers sent our way. A big thank you to my in-laws who do so much for us. And a special thanks to my momma who came down for the weekend to be with us. She's a true angel.

Laughing with...

Funny because I think of this song at various times throughout the day and each time I do, I tell myself that I need to make a blog post about it. When I finally sit down to start, I see that I already had the title and the song pasted within the text. So I will take that as a sign from my subconscious to free the idea already.

I've been thinking a lot about why I think about God so much and religion for that matter. It seems obvious that if you grow up in a religion that permeates nearly every facet of your life, that it is bound to happen. I can't escape it. Even if I wanted to, it is my heritage, my tradition, my culture. But oftentimes I find that it proves difficult to reconcile the way you are taught to feel things at church and to think things at school. In my opinion, to discount either method, would in many ways be ignorant as both methods for experiencing life and the world around us have value.

So I work to find that happy medium. Personally, I do this not by trying to fit the world, and everything in it, into a religious context. In other words, when we learn something new or observe something in life, I try not to immediately squeeze it into my religious beliefs. If we did so, we would end up with an exclusionary process because not everything is going to fit. It leads to turning a blind eye to those things that are "cast out". It leads us to see things in terms of black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. The problem with this is that the world, the place in which we live here and now, is not that way.

Instead, I do the opposite. As I've been trying to see how religion fits into the world, naturally I have a lot more questions. But I have also found that it allows me to see things as they are. For example, I've been trying not to look at the decision making process in terms of good choices and bad choices or right choices and wrong choices. Decisions are decisions. They produce reactions, effects, repercussions that we should be ready, able and willing to own, bear and deal with. {My apologies, I just read Boris ate a Thesaurus with Jadon the other day.}

OKay, now to this song. I heart Regina Spektor. Just listen to it...



There is another way of looking at this song aside from pointing out times when people either draw closer to God or curse God. To me, whether she knows it or not, Ms. Spektor could be taking a very Hegelian approach toward God in providing us with a synthesis of two opposing positions about God. The thesis (statement A) would be something like: God exists and is omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent. This would be based on things like a personal feeling about it or the miracle of life or the Grand Canyon, the creation of earth or some other majestic natural or heavenly body. The anti-thesis to that (statement B) would look something like: God is dead and non-existent because based on statement A, how could it be possible for God to exist "in a hospital or a war or when someone is starving or freezing or so very poor," basically in horrible conditions full of pain and suffering.

As for the synthesis? Perhaps it can be found at the end of the song: "No one's laughing at God, we're all laughing with God." Maybe she is trying to say that God exists within us or among us so that is why we would be "laughing with God." Or maybe she is trying to say that God is there if you believe in God and God is not there if you don't, as if it is something that exists for us in our minds.

Now to tie it to my previous paragraphs of rambling. What if she is just trying to say that God is simply God [whatever that means] which is different to each individual. What if we tried to think about God not in terms of what God is or isn't but to see God for what God is. Then we could probably all come to the conclusion that God is...

God.

A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

I just love these boys.

Deadly Confession

I have a strange obsession with death. And I think about it quite frequently. Now before you go call the suicide hot line for me, that's not what I mean. I don't really think about myself dying, just other people. Ha! I'm pretty sure this slight obsession with death comes from the fact that it is a fear of mine but also something I'm a little intrigued by.

I kind of fear losing someone close to me. I've never experienced it before so it's really just fear of the unknown. I don't want to lose someone, but at the same time it seems inevitable. As my cold-hearted perinatologist* once said to me, "Everyone has to die some time." {She wasn't really cold-hearted, just brutally honest.}

But when she said that, it got me thinking...and basically she is absolutely right. Death, as I like to think of it, is a part of life. It's like life's greatest adventure. I know that sounds very cliche. But that is way I like to think about it. I've never really been afraid of dying, probably because I'm still young. Really, when was the last time I've been that close anyway? Except for all those times driving on the freeway in LA. I'd like to think that if I didn't wake up tomorrow morning. It would be like, "Oh well, I kicked the bucket. Only thing I've ever been early for." Probably not for the ones left behind though.

My mom is a nurse so she's dealt with death before. She would sometimes say that if we really believe in life after death, we are really only being sad for ourselves when someone dies. In her eyes, it is sad to loose someone but because they've taken the next step we should celebrate. It sounds true in theory but in practice I think it would be much harder and more complex than that.

So what got me thinking about death this time? I came across this article HERE. Read it. I found it to be very insightful and really beautiful. I particularly like that it is from someone who does not profess any religious beliefs about death. Yet it made me think of death as a sacred experience. I mean, the way she describes her last moments with her dad, is there not something ineffable about that?

One of the things I truly believe in my religion is that we existed in a spiritual form before birth. I guess it points to our bodies as shell, meant to house our spirits, that it is your spirit that keeps living after your shell expires and it does so because it is eternal and divine in nature. Things I can't explain, but that resonate with me for some reason. So I loved when Claire, from the article above, said after her experiences with loss:

"I know that now I believe we are all part of one another. That's it's not that we will meet again, but that we have already met before."

Sometimes I think about people who are close to death. Last week at church I saw this couple who must be about 90. I mean, they're OLD. And in the pew before them was a little boy, not more than 1, a baby really. He was standing on the pew facing the older couple. And I wondered, what is it like to be so near the end of your life and see someone so near the beginning? Hopefully, I'll get to find out. And hopefully this will be me playing Just Dance II on the Wii.





*PS "perinatologist" is code for high-risk pregnancy doc.

How to Make Comic Books

How to Make Comic Books

by Jadon Whittemore

Step 1: What You Need

What you need is: paper, a stapler, and IMAGINATION

Step 2: Characters

Next you have to come up with characters from the dumb to the smart from the smart to the dumb.

Step 3: Day Dreaming

Next for the story you have to do day dreaming.

Step 4: Writing

Next you have to start your writing.

Step 5: Writing Special Affects

Next you can use writing special affects like BAM! POW! or BOOM!

Step 6: Illistrations

Next you have to make illistrations.

Step 7: Drawing Speciall Efffects

Next you have to make drawing speciall affects like punches, kicks, and even head injuries!

Step 8: Stapler Time

Next you have to staple it all together but before you do it you have to make the...

Step 9: Cover

Next you make a cover make it based on the story.

Well what are you waiting for!!!

Where am I?

Confession: Sometimes I think about the universe. This is coming from someone who thinks that Physics is magic. But on occasion, I wonder: What's really out there? Are we humans really alone in the universe?

A long time ago, my Dad (a former aerospace engineer) sent me an email with the following pictures. He thinks about this type of thing a lot more frequently than I do. I believe the pictures came from an article found HERE











Kind of makes you feel really insignificant doesn't it? I mean, I feel small just walking across campus. When my Dad sent these pictures, he didn't send a message. He had but one line typed in the heading which read: Yet God knows when we lose a hair on our heads. {Which is in reference to these passages found in the Bible}

Of course it could be read skeptically, that after all we know, we can barely place our little planet in the universe, and yet could believe that there is some higher power out there that knows us individually and so intimately. It would be like someone valuing a speck of sand on the beach. It sounds completely preposterous.

And yet sometimes, I get this sense that I matter, that I hold inside of me the potential to do something really great. I don't know what it is, that great thing. Nor am I sure how I'm going to do it or if I'm going to do it. But I know it is there. I know that there is a reason I am here, right now. I have a purpose. And I think that you do too.