FunnyBlog

Who’s the real hero?

Here is a story that was an e-mail forward. It reminded me of many of my heroic friends who are raising kids with special needs. Oh, how their children are a blessing to me and to all of mankind.


My question is this: Who is the real hero? Is it the parents, the special kids, or all who take time to love the special kids?

The answer: All of the above. That is why God sends them to us, so he can look down and smile when we all experience what it feels like to be like Him. This story illustrates the way I have always felt about these special kids. They have a soft spot in my heart because they are what remind the rest of us about the good in mankind.


Here is what snopes has to say about the story. If you read down to the bottom commentary on this page, you will see what mankind would be like if none of us took a moment or two to honor our special needs heroes. Purely shameful if you ask me.
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its

dedicated staff, he offered a question:

‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.

Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.

Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’ I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.’

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again..

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.


However, as Shay stepped up to the

plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.

As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.

Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first!

Run to first!’

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.

He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay’

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third!

Shay, run to third!’

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home! Run home!’

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team

‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.

Shay didn’t make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

SteeleStrong
I stole this photo from Rachel’s blog.
I am sure she won’t mind.
This is her at the hospital, surrounded by her volleyball team.
Rachel rocks on the volleyball court.
is a cool article about her team’s love for her
from
usavolleyball.org.

For a few years, while living in Utah,
we felt adopted into an amazing family.
We lived right next to the UVU campus in Grandma’s old house.
That is Grandma Steele’s old house.
LeGrand and I talk about the good memories of that time often.
We loved the people we went to church with,
we loved being close to campus,
and we loved the Steele’s.
We loved the peacocks, the dogs, the annie over games on our roof,
the little cousins who at times just walked in our door,
the occasional loose cow, the family resourcefulness,
the winning Pinewood Derby cars,
the music coming from Frost and Marie’s,
the garden out back, the annual easter egg hunt,
the Halloween pizza,
and just about everything.
One of our favorite things to do
was sneak out into the group of lawn chairs on Sunday nights.
They always spontaneously gathered at
Grandma Lucille’s and Grandpa Q’s who lived next door.
Under the big tree.
It’s like they were wired.
And after living there for a bit,
we did not want to be left out.
We were made to feel like family.
One time LG got a piece of mail that read:
Mr. LeGrand Q. Gold.
On that day, we knew it was official,
we were IN the family.
You see, LG really doesn’t have a middle name,
and there are countless Steele’s who have the middle initial Q,
after their beloved Grandpa.
Well, lately, I’ve been keeping up with Rachel.
You see, she started her own blog.
It’s one way she stays connected to the world,
during her long stays at Primary Children’s.
She was recently diagnosed with leukemia.
As far as we can tell, she is doing great.
We pray for her full recovery.
She is such a sweetie pie.
I remember one time she made Abigail
draw a picture of Abigail and cousin Joseph getting married.
Rachel also has an amazingly positive attitude
that is contagious.
I love reading her blog.
She is fun and funny.
Well, today I stumbled upon a video made for Rachel.
It is beautiful.
I wanted to share it.
Without words,
it screams,
SteeleStrong.
There is nothing better than family.
Unless of course,
your family has close to 100 people.
Then you can handle most anything.
Even adopting a couple of more
young married students,
and their kids,
who are far away from home.
And we hope they are hearing us
all the way in Utah.
“We love you too Rachel.”
We wear UT Vol Orange all the time,
so I guess we have been supporting you all along.

No Brainer

While recently spending time at the local K-Town gem
I had an epiphany.

If God gave us some snapshots of life before we came to Earth.
Any snapshots of what our future would hold.
And He let us a choose a gender.
(I know that’s not how it really worked,
as I am pretty sure our gender was part of our creation.)

I am 100% certain that I chose girl.
I wanted to be a girl.
And if I could only have one or the other,
I wanted daughters.

It was pretty much a no-brainer.
Don’t you think?

Only Sophia

A little while back Sophia had some fun by saying that if she would have gotten her middle finger cut off she would have to say “give me four” when wanting a high five for the rest of her life.
 
I recently came across this picture, and wanted to share the funny story.
 
Raising Sophia is so much fun. She is hilarious. She is smart. She is beautiful. She is SWEET. And she is also blonde. Very blonde.
 
A few years back, as we were visiting my in-laws, for some reason, LeGrand and the girls and I ended up driving to church in Grammy’s van. Aunt Michelle was with us. Halfway to church, Sophia starts screaming from the back. We, being the experienced parents that we were, told her to knock it off. Michelle attentively found out what was going on. She calmly declared, “Her finger is stuck in the seatbelt.”
 
“Well pull it out”, I say. “It won’t come out”, Michelle says. Sophia is now crying with full force, which is slightly louder than a whimper. I forgot to tell you the girl is quiet. And although she has mostly outgrown it, she used to be terribly shy. I climb in the back of the van to take care of whatever it was that 22 year old Michelle couldn’t.
 
I was in for the shock of my life. HER FINGER WAS STUCK IN THE SEATBELT. What the heck? How did this happen? Sophia explained that she was just trying it on for size. You know, like a ring. What?.. had she worked her way up to the middle finger from the pinky? Well, she found the finger that it WOULDN’T fit. The middle finger was painfully and obviously TOO BIG. Honda Odyssey engineers must not have thought this one through. 3 year old stuck in a van + an empty middle seatbelt = an ultimate disaster.
 
I still thought I may be able to rectify things. I asked Michelle to hand me the A&D Ointment out of the diaper bag while thinking “thank goodness I still have one in diapers.” I slathered it good. The finger would still not budge. It wanted to keep that seatbelt on for the showing I guess. Sophia started really screaming good. I pulled hard to no avail. That thing, that ring, um, I mean that seatbelt was not coming off, and her finger was now swelling up good. The seatbelt started cutting into her skin.
 
By this time, we pulled into the church parking lot. LeGrand got in the back of the van to assess the damage. He calmly asked Michelle to go into the church building to get his dad. Papa came out and was astonished. Remember he is an engineer and he raised five kids….one of which, was Jordan. (a whole other story – one bragging rite was rescuing Jordan vs a hot water heater and although the hot water heater tried to shock Jordan to death, Jordan still won) Who would have guessed this could ever happen? Not any of us if we weren’t staring at it with our own eyes.
 
We decided I should try and get some ice from the church to see if we could get the swelling down. At this point, Sophia is resigned to be stuck in this van for a very long time. At least she had stopped screaming. The ice didn’t work. At all. It may have cooled her off a little but, that was about it. The only other thing we could think to do was call the fire department. I went in and found a NON EMERGENCY number and called. They questioned, “Her finger is stuck in the seatbelt?” “Yes”, I said, “but it is so much worse than that.” “We can’t get her out of the car.” With my brief explanation and their utter curiosity they said they would send someone out.
 
Meanwhile, we solicited the help from a prison doctor who happened to be attending church. He tried the trick of wrapping the string around the finger. It wasn’t even close to working. I guess it works on real rings…just not the steel kind. People from the earlier congregation start filling the parking lot as they were leaving. They looked over casually wondering what all these people were doing standing in the back of a van. It was July. It was hot. All of the sudden, you can hear the sirens. They are screaming from down the street and they are traveling fast. Could they possibly be for our Sophia? Why yes. They were.
 
First, the firetruck arrived. In LeGrand’s words, “Three big old firemen” all decked out in their flame resistant uniforms went to work. They assessed the situation and found a perfectly happy and shy little girl confined to a life in the backseat of a mini-van via seatbelt confusion. The confusion being theirs. They called the fire chief. He had to come and see for himself. Shortly after he arrived and checked things out for himself he said he had been the fire chief for thirty years and had never seen anything like this. Well there’s really no other way to celebrate America on the weekend of Independence Day, is there? The irony – no freedom to be found without the jaws of life.
 
Well, before they went as drastic as the jaws of life they decided that they would consult with their buddies, the paramedics. The paramedics offered nothing, except for some real eye candy for the people leaving church. We had a lot of gawkers. Not to blame them. How could they not wonder what was going on?A little girl in the back of a van. Emergency workers each taking turns checking out the situation. An array of emergency vehicles, inlcuding, but not limited to: a firetruck (with lights and sirens), an ambulance, a couple of police cars, and the truck of the fire chief.
 
Oh yeah, after putting all their heads together, what did they come up with? They were gonna have to cut her out. That was all they could do. They cut her out of the seatbelt and gave us their best advice, “Head on over to the emergency room to see if they can figure out some way to remove the metal from her hand”. “Oh, and tell your other kids not to play with the seat-belts in the future.” “Why thank you. Thank you so much.”
 
LG, Sophia, my father in law(Duane), and I head on over to the emergency room. We get to start it all over again. At the front desk. “Hi.” “hi.” “How can we help you?” We all look totally fine and we are dressed to the nines compared to the rest of the room because our Sunday worshop was apparently happening on their floor of the hospital. LeGrand starts to explain, “This is our daughter Sophia, she got her finger stuck in the seatbelt.” Blank stare. Me: “let me show you.” I held up her hand to the receptionist who immediately dropped her jaw in astonishment.
 
This exact scenario happened at least 20 more times while visiting the hospital. We finally just started throwing her hand into the faces of the medical gawkers. Everyone wanted to see what a finger looked like on a little girl who stuck it in a seatbelt. Nurses, doctors, janitors, desk workers, x-ray technicians. You name it. None of the emergency room docs knew what to do either. They tried the string trick, ice, but gave up shortly before the second round of A&D ointment.
 
It all ended with a visit from the orthopedic surgeon who declared, “we are going to have to do surgery with our diamond saw.” Are you kidding me?
 
As he started to explain that he was pretty steady with the saw, but there were still all kind of tragic possibilities including the loss of a finger, I quickly reminded him that LG was in law school and he better not screw up. He didn’t appreciate that. I started crying and begging him to not cut her finger off. He assured me that if he did cut it off, he would be able to most possibly successfully reattach it.
 
That was the longest hour of my life. The surgeon did a great job. I never did tell him that LeGrand wouldn’t have sued him even if he cut her whole hand off. I was so relieved that she was all in one piece.
 
Today, Sophia is really proud of two things. One- she was in a movie and two – she has a beautiful and modern ring that is an original. (I haven’t had the heart to tell her that has probably happened to someone else out there in this big world) The ring is cut into two pieces in her box of keepsakes and she is free to try it on whenever she feels a hankering. We figured that would be the surest way of keeping her away from the same exact seatbelts in our current van.
 
I wish I could have been at the Honda Dealership when my father in law was explaining the situation. He had to pull out a picture of WHY the fire department had actually cut the seatbelt out of the van. “She got her finger stuck in the seatbelt” just wasn’t cutting it.
 
Our hats go off to Honda who has a lifetime free replacement for their seatbelts. Maybe one of these days they will call to let our children safety test their vans. I am sure there are other possible disastrous scenarios that their engineers haven’t thought of. Adding a blonde child to their team could only help their safety regulations. I know four children that could give them a run for their money, as long as they won’t lose any fingers.
Adding this video in on 1/24/2014 for your reference to the string trick mentioned.

Forgiveness is a gift
This video is AMAZING!
Quite possibly,
at this moment,
my favorite on the web.

I’ve had some things in my life that were really hard to forgive.
I have found that the only way I was able to forgive
was because somebody perfect gifted me with the ability to do so.
Christ was that perfect example of taking Himself
and His own pain out of the situation.
He showed me the way,
when I thought it was impossible.
His charity allowed Him to care for others perfectly.
His love for others made it possible for Him to not be hurt by their issues.
“Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.”
We all have the beckoning call to be like Christ.
The only way to be like Him, is to go to Him,
and let Him wash us over with His grace.
As humans, it is very hard to love others in the same capacity
that we love God and we love ourselves,
but that is the requirement.
Only when we do learn this power,
can we overcome our trials and our sorrows.
Why is it a requirement?
Because God knows that is the only way to our happiness.
I am so grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ.
I know that He is the only way I have been able to forgive.
He is the only way that I can learn to love perfectly.
I know He is the Savior of the world.
But, today, I am mostly grateful
that He is my Savior, my Shepherd, my Mentor, my Perfect Example,
my Advocate with the Father, my Brother, and my Friend.

Book Review: The Help

The HelpThe Help by Kathryn Stockett

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was a quick read, which means it was a good read. I think historical fiction is becoming my new favorite genre. Besides the interesting historical bits, I found myself mostly in love with the characters over the content.

It’s not that the plot wasn’t great because there were many and I wanted to uncover the end to them all. It’s that the characters were flawless. The whole time I was reading I kept trying to decide if I was more like Aibileen or Minny or Skeeter. Or was I like Elizabeth, LouAnne, or heaven forbid Hilly? Was I like Skeeter’s mama or was I like Miss Celia? I finally had to compromise that I was like each and every one of them.

I love to encourage the babies like Aibileen. I also like to tease the kiddos by asking them where are their tails and funny things like that. I also would have a lot of “I am not on good terms with that dress” moments because I hate to iron just about more than anything.

My mouth, just like Minny’s, has got me into heaps of trouble. Thank goodness I have never been hired or fired as The Help. I don’t think I could have done it. I rejoiced when Minny finally got her gumption to love herself. Yeah for the Co-dependent’s success. And I have to say that because I go to a support group every week where there are many ladies who get beat by their husband’s and they are all trying to find their courage.

And Skeeter. Well, she loves to write. What more do I need to have in common with her? Although I do have more than just the love of writing. I like to think that I would be a risk taker just like her. I would do what was right for the greater good, even if it meant I committed social suicide. And I have a dream of living in New York someday, and really you don’t need more than this commonality to love a person.

Like Elizabeth, do I worry too much with impressing my friends? Do I not appreciate my children enough? And LouAnne. Well, I don’t want to give her secret away, but let’s just say that I understand psychological warfare. And I think that every woman on this earth can relate to Hilly, especially if they’ve been through Middle School. I know I was way too worried about getting to the top of the heap and staying there for my 4 years of High School. What a disgrace to my own history.

Skeeter’s mama was proud and she was blind to how her own pride screwed up her relationship with her daughter. Every critical statement was really just a reflection of Mama’s own pride issues. And once again, we all have those…especially Americans. Oh and Miss Celia. How I loved her loyalty and her naivety. I like to think that my love also has no bounds and that I can be blind to invisible social taboos. It would be really great if I could look that great in an evening gown too. 🙂

Anyway, this book is a must read. I really enjoyed it. I am glad that it was chosen for the book club. There is a little bit of language and there is one racy part with a sex offender, but I hope the book club ladies will be able to see past these parts and know that the good is always weightier than the bad. It is quite possibly my second favorite Southern book after my all time favorite To Kill A Mockingbird.

And lastly, Thank you God for sending us Martian Luther King. And the misspell in Martian is my way of honoring the fictional hero Aibileen. My hat goes of off to our civil rights activists…especially those who lost their lives. Whenever I meet another racist in TN, I am going to leave them this book on their porch, but we all know that those racists probably don’t read.

View all my reviews >>

Who is Mormon?

I was mesmorized listening to the stories of other Mormons this morning. My church has done an amazing job with their site Mormon.org. I really love this page that features small videos of different Mormons and how they define themselves.

Here is a video to a mom named Rochelle that really touched me. I loved how she ended her 30 seconds. “I’m Rochelle. I’m a redhead. I’m a Texan. I’m a mother, and I’m a Mormon.”

Being a mom is so wonderful, but I have always had a soft spot in my heart for the mom’s of special needs kids. I am almost jealous of them. No, I AM jealous of them. God has given them a great gift. A special reminder that stays with them constantly that God is love.

Check out this video of Jane Clayson. You remember her from her job as a Network Journalist. You know, the one she gave up to be home with her kids.

Go and check out the videos. They are amazing. I love hearing people’s life stories. I will be watching videos the rest of the day. So far I have been introduced to a guy who works at the Library of Congress, a successful brilliant singer in England (who happens to be black and was left by his mother who went back to Nigeria when he was 11), a professional surfer, a Harley Davidson sculptor, and a several other professional artists.

I love Mormons. They are all so amazing. But, you know what? All people are amazing. Everyone has a story. I wish I could learn the story of each and every person I come in contact with.

If any of you ever want to meet some Mormons. Come to church with me anytime.

What’s your addiction?


So, as I have mentioned before I have been spending one night every week at a Codependent Support Group. It has been so eye-opening, supporting, and validating. The ladies range from being in physically abusive relationships to those who have had complete mental breakdowns. Many but not all have significant addicts in their lives in the form of a spouse or a child. The addicts are addicted to drugs, alcohol, sex, or they have personality disorders or just plain have character flaws that keep them from living normal lives.

We, the codependents, come to our meeting to get support on how we are supposed to deal with the chaos in our lives. We come to get support on acting like we know we should. We come to find our voice. Codependents are addicts too. We have everything very much in common with the people that society refers to as “the real addicts.” We come to our meeting to take responsibility for our part of the cycle. We come to recover from our own addictions, even if they are more socially acceptable.

The women in my group are all addicted to love, for that reason, they are also called codependent. You don’t know them, but I am sure you know somebody like them. It may even be you. You may be unaware that people like this can actually have an addiction too. Codependent people are self described as SuperHuman. They get it ALL done and more. They take care of everyone which means that they also attract needy people. They take self sacrifice to an all new level. Even though they are the ones that everyone goes to when they need something done, they are really a total mess, and should be the one seeking support, not dishing it out. They have no voice, except “do whatever it takes to keep the peace, to help people, and to stay loved.” They are totally unhealthy. Sometimes the people on the outside start to catch on to their problems. Why are they on their 20th loser boyfriend? Why do they stay with that man that beats the crap out of them? Why do they complain about so much yet do so little to change it? Why do they go crazy at the slightest turn of events? Why can’t they set boundaries?
This link was interesting to me this morning. It’s an article from Psychology Today about new thinking in regards to addicts. In the past we have all just thought that addicts were spiritually weak, or mentally ill, wired wrong, or maybe just given “the gene”. But, the more time that goes on, the more the experts realize that we are all addicts. Every single one of us. Humans have a mentally evolved reward system. We find things that make us feel good and we gravitate to those things. Some people choose exercise. Some people use food. Some have preferences for shopping, online gaming, pornography, tobacco, caffeine, alcohol, drugs, sex, or feeling loved by other people. So, you see, those of us who have in the past loved pointing fingers, are now stuck with only one option..turn that finger around, and evaluate yourself.
What is it that you are addicted to? Addictions can be rated at different levels of problematic. Your addiction may not be a problem because you have learned to control it. Everybody has something that attracts them. Some things are just more socially acceptable. We all put on the pedestal those people who have amazing bodies, but to look like that, they are probably more than likely addicted to exercise or body image, or both. Funny, that those model bodies have always been praised while the overweight have been ridiculed, and they really have the same problem deep down inside…addiction. One has chosen exercise and one has chosen junk food, but really it’s the same problem. They are looking for love in all the wrong places. Sorry I couldn’t resist using that lyric. They are both getting a mental feel good moment from whatever their choice of drug happens to be.
The thing we all hold in common is that we are each looking for things that reward our brain. Things that make you go OOOO. Things that make you go OOOOO. Some of us (OCD) find that fix in a clean house or an immaculate yard. Some prideful people are addicted to making their children perfect or at least having everyone think that they have a perfect little family. Many addicts are addicted to work. Again, one of those socially acceptable addictions. I think my kids are addicted to making messes. I don’t know how this makes them feel good, but it must because they do it all the time.
I love that of course, once again, my church was ahead of the game. Look here for the manual they put out on how to use the 12 steps to overcome addiction. They have a class at church once a week for addicts to attend. If they want help overcoming a weakness, they can use the class, the manual, and the 12 steps, to personally apply the atonement in their life and to let God help them overcome their addiction, no matter how socially acceptable. On the part of the person who wants to change, all that is required is the desire and commitment. Then when you seek out help, you will be given the tools to apply the grace of God and makes weak things strong.
The scriptures are true. The verses from the Bible that talk about moderation in all things were God’s way of telling us to bridle our passions, control the feeding rewards to our brains. We have to avoid our natural man telling us that we NEED the good feelings caused by our worldly passions. Get our rewards from God because there is one place where we can never have too much and that is God’s love.
Let go and let God. That’s what they teach in AA and it is gospel truth.