Friends, please join me in welcoming author Brock Heasley. The internet has a way of leading us down rabbit holes, and I’m glad one of those paths led Brock this way. He’s a gifted writer and awesome dad. His story reminds me of the kind of friend I want to be. 

Cami

by Brock Heasley

Talking about being the parent of a special needs child is just about my least favorite thing to do. Not because I don’t love Cami and don’t think she’s quite nearly the most brilliant and beautiful thing I’ve ever seen (she’s definitely in the top 4), but because conversations about Cami still have to adhere to the two-sided rule of communication.

I talk, then the other person talks. Repeat.

Monologue would be so much simpler.

Unless you’re the parent of a special needs kid yourself (and a lot of times not even then because the needs, being the special thing that they are, are as unique as the kids themselves), you don’t really know how to talk to a parent of a special needs kid.  Talking to a parent about their kid with the mental and physical handicaps is an almost universally uncomfortable thing for people to do. I know that because it comes across during even the simplest of exchanges.

And I know it because I wasn’t always the parent of a special needs child.

Cami, today. Photo provided by Brock Heasley.

Cami will be seven-years-old in March, but most people assume she’s about three. She’s very small and her muscles are so weak she expends twice as much effort being cute and amazing. She can say a few words, like “hi” and “bath” and, just recently, “I did it!” She also knows a few basic signs like “please” and “thank you” and “more.”

Cami is very social. She loves everybody and loves to give hugs. She used to wear glasses and need a walker. Though she’s still pretty wobbly, watching her walk on her own brings me intense joy, every single time. She is the sweetest, most pure thing on this planet. She has been the source of my biggest smiles and I’ve never cried harder than when I’ve wept for her.

They say that having a special needs child is like grieving. They’re right. You have so many hopes and dreams for your child and they all go up in flames in a fire that never stops burning. Over the past 6+ years, we’ve gone through all the stages of grief and it’s only recently, after all the experts and tops in their fields have weighed in and come up with nothing–no diagnosis, no treatment, not even any idea as to how long she can expect to live–that we’ve finally just accepted. We accept Cami for who she is.

My wife and I are Cami’s parents today. Yesterday has so much pain in it that we don’t think about it that often. Tomorrow we know nothing about and I’m tired of guessing and fighting against that. I accept, totally, who Cami is today. I love her for it. I don’t know what’s next and I don’t have to know. I don’t even really care any more, because now is when we have her and all the light she brings.

That’s what I want to tell people when they ask about her, but I don’t. Because that’s a lot, and, frankly, I know most people aren’t interested in hearing it.

Some people are arrogant. They let their curiosity get the best of them because they don’t know what else to say, vomiting their “educated” guess as to Cami’s condition as if the discovering of it will somehow allow them to move past their discomfort (it doesn’t). These people almost always have a third cousin whose kid has Down’s and are very quick to tell us how little they know about him.

Some people resort to platitudes. My favorite is the one that says my wife and I must be really special ourselves to be entrusted with the care of such a special spirit. As if we’ve won some secret lottery that they themselves are grateful they never got a ticket for. It’s a comforting falsehood meant only for the one speaking it. Special needs kids are born to both the loving and the crack addicts.

Some people have mental blocks when it comes to Cami. They see her, they seemingly recognize that there’s something not quite right there, but then it’s like they forget. They’ll go on and on about how their 9-month old just got up and started running one day. Meanwhile, my kid sits on the playground with the other kids running around her.

And she’s four.

Cami, at age four. Photo provided by Brock Heasley.

Some people just don’t talk to you at all. Sometimes, that’s kind of nice, but those people always stare. It’s weird and they’re weird for doing it and it makes you feel weird.

I get it. I know it isn’t always easy to know the right thing to say. Goodness knows my foot takes up such frequent residence in my mouth that I’ve given it a drawer. But knowing the right thing to say or do isn’t the most important thing when talking to a parent of a child with special needs.

There are the people who just listen. Who ask honest, simple questions and remember to let you talk about how you feel about your child instead of telling you how you should feel. These people accept your child and you at face value, without comparison or judgement. They aren’t always going to know the right thing to say, but they’re in tune enough to recognize when they haven’t.

Cami, at three. One of Brock's favorite photos.

We call these people our friends. Because they speak to us with love.

Brock Heasley lives in Fresno, California with his wife and three daughters. Brock’s memoir, Raised by a Dead Man, a coming-of-age story between two shootings, is represented by Bonnie Solow of Solow Literary. Visit him at BrockHeasley.com

When Lurenda Avery left a comment on this post, I asked her if she would share her story with you. She graciously agreed. As we enter the season of Thanksgiving, I’m reminded that the “good” in our lives doesn’t always sprout from good. Sometimes our blessings emerge from loss and tragedy. Please welcome Lurenda. 

On May 29, 2006 my entire world changed forever. At 24 weeks into what seemed to be a completely normal pregnancy, our first child, Olivia Nichole, was born weighing only 1 pound 8 ounces. My husband, Ben, and I were given grim statistics of her chances for survival. We were told she would likely only live a couple of hours. Devastation, shock, grief, anger. The feelings were so overwhelming that I truly couldn’t feel any of them. I was numb. How does this happen? Why did this happen? What had we done?

Olivia went on to surprise the doctors for a few days, but after one amazing week of life our precious baby girl went from our arms to Jesus’ arms. The heartbreak and grief were beyond comprehension at times. However, even in my darkest moments I always had a sense of peace. I always knew deep in my heart that I would one day be able to smile a real smile and laugh a real laugh, I just didn’t know when that would happen. Looking back on those first few weeks and months, I can say with confidence it was His peace which gave me the courage to face each new day.

Our lives have since moved forward. Ben and I have been blessed with two beautiful children, Jeffrey, 4 and Chelsea, 18 months. The day Jeffrey was born I can recall feeling true happiness for the first time in more than a year. I carried him to 36 weeks and 1 day! He was the happy, healthy baby for whom we had prayed so faithfully to hold in our arms. After he was born I felt the need to give back and I began volunteering with The Footprints Ministry, whose mission is to share Christ’s love with families in the neonatal intensive care unit. Being a Footprints volunteer gave me the opportunity to connect with families like ours and provided a great sense of healing.

On June 5, 2010 my entire world changed again, but for the better. This was the day Chelsea was born; four years to the day from when Olivia passed away. God gave us the gift of life and hope on a day which had been one of loss and sadness for several years. Her birthday was made even more special because the same doctor and nurse that delivered Olivia just happened to be on call that day and were with us for Chelsea’s birth. Needless to say, tears of joy were flowing in that delivery room.

Soon after her birth, Chelsea was admitted into the NICU for slight breathing problems. At the time it seemed like a cruel joke. I was back in that dark place all over again, asking God why this was happening and imagining the worst case scenario. However, Chelsea was okay, she just needed some help adjusting to life outside of the womb. We spent five days in the NICU with her. On our last day there, I was spending time holding my new baby girl and praying. I wanted to know what He was trying to tell me through all of this. As I sat in silence an ever still voice said, “Do more with Footprints.” I thought to myself, “I already volunteer, what else am I supposed to do?” I’m thinking that was when God just laughed.

Two weeks later I was at home with Chelsea and my phone rang. It was Kim Wilson, the director of Footprints Ministry. She called to tell me our Birmingham chapter coordinator needed to step down and she asked if I would be willing to take on the role of leading our chapter. I just laughed and told her that I believed this is what God was calling me to do.

Since that day I have been blessed to meet numerous families who have journeyed through life in the NICU. I’ve prayed and cried with families as they watched their babies struggle. I’ve laughed and rejoiced with our miracles who have gone on to prove the doctors wrong. I’ve hugged the grieving Mommy whose world has just stopped. Through it all, I’ve seen God at work. I’ve seen the amazing love He has for us even in life’s toughest storms. I’ve experienced what He can do with our sadness and grief if we will just let Him. I’m grateful He has given me the willingness to listen to His calling and my prayer is that I will always have the longing to follow.

Has something good in your life blossomed from something terrible? Please support Lurenda on her journey and share your stories in the comments. 

by Giulietta “Julie” Nardone

I’m an inspirational quote junkie.

And from the tweets on Twitter, I’m not alone.

Many of us seem to be searching for ways out of our ruts, the ones we’ve been conditioned to hunker down inside. So, we send each other quotes said by folks who came before us, folks who, perhaps, found a way out of their own ruts.

Here are a few of my favorite rut ejectors.

Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. “

~ Cadet Maxim

Most people can do extraordinary things if they have the confidence or take the risks. Yet most people don’t. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever.”

~ Philip Andrew Adams

You must do the things you think you cannot do.

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

I especially love the Eleanor Roosevelt quote because it saved my life.

No jest.

Someone left her quote by accident (or on purpose?) on a subway car. It tumbled onto my lap, so I tucked it in my purse and brought it to work where I taped it on the hideous beige wall next to my desk. Prior to that quote confrontation, I’d never thought about quotes. I didn’t know someone else’s words could speak to me. That’s how shut off from inspiration I felt.

I’d been slowly dying in my work rut, rotting from the inside out, with seemingly no way out.

It wasn’t a lack of what’s commonly called education. I’d gone to grad school. It wasn’t a lack of good colleagues. They were fun. It wasn’t a lack of a good location. In the beautiful city of Boston.

It was a lack of freedom, an inability to call my own life shots, a feeling that I had to obey my boss’s stupid orders or I’d lose this job I hated. How ironic was that?

The Eleanor Roosevelt quote attracted more quotes. Pretty soon they covered most of the wall. I listened to what they had to say, which enabled me to listen to what other folks had to say, which eventually allowed me to listen to what I had to say.

I wanted out.

I developed a loose, semi-plan and made the leap. Within one year, I had a much better paying job with flexible hours and the best boss I ever had. Other than taking a few classes, I didn’t even go back to school to get this job. I decided to be something and just became it.

Who knew?

That decision snowballed into many other decisions. I saw for the first time that my rut had a ladder out of it.

All it required from me was the courage to climb out one rung at a time.

By the time you get out of school, you’ll probably be blinded to the fact that every rut comes with a ladder. Otherwise, how would you have gotten down there? We’re taught to obediently climb down and stay down, held there by nothing but the fears and insecurities drummed into us.

I’m here to encourage you to look around until you see that ladder.

See it?

Why not test out the rungs? They’re stronger than you think.

Giulietta “Julie” Nardone is an inspirational rebel, graphic designer, essayist and karaoke singer. Please visit her blog at giuliettathemuse.com.

Elizabeth Horton & Family

I enjoy featuring women who’ve taken inspiring leaps of faith. So today, I introduce Elizabeth Horton, creator of Nostalgic Graphic Tees. Elizabeth has great insight into what it takes to be your own boss, and she’s offering one of her creations to a lucky reader of this blog. If you have a special child in your life, read on:

Angie: Why did you leave the corporate world to start your own business?

Elizabeth Horton: In 2000, I married my “dream guy” and landed my “dream job” as a senior art director for a Charleston-based company. The position was fast-paced and glamorous, but, on the flip side, it required very long hours, a lot of time traveling away from home, and a lot of stress. After a few years, a strong desire to start a family emerged. I began to think about starting a home-based graphic design business that would allow me the flexibility to raise my children while earning an income doing a job that I loved.

What are some of the most valuable lessons you’ve learned as a small business owner?

Find partners who understand your business and share your vision…and form lasting relationships with them. I have partnered with the same printers, programmers, and vendors for the past 8 years. I trust them to provide me with great quality and service so that I can provide the very best product to my clients. Keep your promises and provide a quality product so that the same lasting relationships can be formed with your clients.

Another lesson: having your own business doesn’t mean you get to create your own schedule. I’ve spent many nights working after the children are tucked into bed, and many weekends locked away in my office while my husband is on “kid duty” to get a job completed on time.

What scares you?

The unpredictable economy. I wasn’t prepared for it. When my biggest clients all seemed to shut their doors at once, I was left spending a lot of time staring at my computer screen, trying to figure out what I should do! With the extra time on my hands, I decided to try out an idea that I had been thinking about for a while…designing vintage-inspired silhouettes for children’s clothing. Branching out has kept me in business.

What inspires your designs?

Seeing my children grow and develop their imaginations made me feel nostalgic about some of my own childhood memories. I remembered the joy in picking a flower, playing on a see saw, twirling in a tutu, catching that first firefly of the summer, looking at clouds against a blue sky, blowing bubbles, fishing in grandaddy’s pond, riding a bike. I loved reliving those simple moments with my own family and wanted to capture them in some fashion.

Also, I’ve become more conscious of what I buy, and I try very hard to buy things that came from a person…another mom, just like me…rather that something mass-produced in a foreign factory. Etsy has been a great resource and the perfect way to showcase my products worldwide to others who are also interested in buying handmade.

How do you balance working from home while staying home with kids?

I have a tough time with balance. Home life and work life are always intertwined. Sometimes, I just force myself to turn off the computer, promise myself to leave it off for a full day, and take the kids to the beach. I never regret doing that, though sometimes it’s very hard to do.

What have you had to let go of in order to make it happen?

I have had to let the housework go! There is always a big pile of laundry to tackle.  And I don’t get quite as much sleep as I would like.

Any advice to someone thinking about going into business for themselves?

Research your idea and surround yourself with supporters who can help you make it happen. There will always be nay-sayers. Don’t let them squash your dreams.

Elizabeth has set aside a Nostalgic Graphic Tee for one of you. For a chance to win, just include who the gift is for, and why, in your insightful and lovely comment. I will draw the winner’s name from the proverbial hat.

And, if you’d like to subscribe to my blog, click here.

photo credits: Christine Hamrick Photography. Wagon photo courtesy of Danette Kay Photography and baby photo courtesy of  Ellie Bean.

by Shauna Heathman, Owner of Mackenzie Image Consulting and one of the Charleston Regional Business Journal’s 40 Under 40.

You’re at point A. You know what point B looks like and even what it may feel like. But the in-between — the getting to point B from point A — is the hard part. How is it possible to have such a distinct vision of your prospective future, but the path is such a blur?

I launched my company in 2007, starting at point A.  As any entrepreneur or self-starting individual knows, you typically don’t have all the answers up front. When you set out to do something with a sense of passion and determination, the path doesn’t matter as long as you have the ability to visualize point B. This intention to do something, to be something, to end up in a more positive place, is ten times more powerful when you do have that distinct vision of the future.

My first few months in business, I filled an entire notebook of ideas, notes, and brainstorming scribbles and then filed it away. Two years later, I came across it as I packed for a move. I flipped through the pages of those “point A” moments of my life and while most of the memories of those notes were reminiscent, others were completely forgotten; like the second to last page of the notebook. At the top of this page it read, “My professional life in April 2009.” Following the header, there were bullet points after bullet points of intentions for the next two years. I had outlined exactly what my professional life looked like two years after inception. I was stunned as I read them. Finding this forgotten page of intentions was not the biggest surprise, however. I found that out of 43 items listed on that page, by August, every single thing except for one had been accomplished.

It wasn’t until earlier this year that this idea of setting intentions really came full circle. A speaker at a workshop I attended shared with us the idea of setting intentions rather than goals. A goal is not the same as intention, she explained. A goal is an aim, a desired result. An intention, however, is one’s purpose or a design for a particular end. Setting intentions allows you to feel the success even if it hasn’t tangibly happened yet. The bullet points on that page of my notebook were not written as if I didn’t have them; they were written as if they already existed. They were intentions that allowed me to be okay with the in-between haze of point A and point B.

I encourage you to convert your goals into intentions. Write them down to help you visualize your point B, whatever that may be. The stress of the unknown path will start to fade as you step into your intentions and live them on a daily basis. No need to force the faith, because faith in the result comes naturally when your intentions are genuine.

What sort of intentions do you set for yourself? Have you noticed a difference in outcome when you’ve set intentions rather than goals?

Connect with Shauna on Twitter and Facebook. If you’d like Angie’s blog delivered to your reader or inbox, click here.

by Doretha Walker, author of We Can Fly

I think I have always been waiting for my THING to come, but more recently the search has become much more urgent since I no longer have a full time job. I am learning, however, that the THING will not be rushed and I hope will not be delayed. I cannot tell you exactly what my THING is because I have yet to obtain it. I will know it the minute it arrives. Don’t be jealous because my THING is not the same thing as your THING. We all get our own. That is how the universe works. Everyone gets at least one THING. Your THING is coming. The key is to recognize that and not settle for less.

How do I know we each get our own thing? I know because whenever I get something that someone else raves about, rarely do I feel euphoric. I want what I want and you want what you want, and our wants are rarely the same thing. I can be happy when you get your THING and maybe a tab bit envious, but generally that THING is not on my list of things to do, and therefore it is not mine.

Although I do not know exactly what my THING is, I do know what it isn’t. It does not involve math, steel-toed boots, hard hats, safety glasses, or swimming in open water. It will probably include writing, speaking, empowering others, smiling, and traveling. In all honesty, I would love a regular column.

I told the placement counselor that I was looking for an out of the box project.  That is because I do not want to discount any of my skills and experience. I just want to apply them in a different way. He said he understood. I am glad because there is no way I can know all of the potential job possibilities that exist and maybe my THING is everything I think it is woven with something that I never knew existed.

My thoughts on the subject are not always rosy. Waiting for my THING brings some bad days. When McDonalds advertised that it was hiring 50,000 people across the nation, I was tempted to head to there and apply to be a French fry cooker. There is a story in that, but that is for another time. Long story short, I did not go. I will admit that I think about applying at every establishment I pass that says hiring. I even had an interview for what I was so sure was my THING, but it did not work out.

I am sure that I will find my THING because I deserve it. I have put up with some pretty crappy jobs, situations, and paid my dues too many times not to get it. Plus, I believe in it. It is coming. I may have to take another detour in order to put food on my table, but I promise not to sell my soul to the devil in the process this time. It is so hard to get it back.

In the meantime I will continue teaching part-time at the Art Institute, training for my third triathlon and working diligently on finishing my dissertation. Check back with me in a month or so, and I will give you an update.

Are you waiting for your Thing?

By Becca Rowan, author of Becca’s Byline

For the past 10 years, I’ve had a great part-time job, working in a small office with an amazing group of women. It offered flexibility, decent pay, an easy commute, and, yes, those amazing women who made the work environment lots of fun.

Sounds perfect, right?

Yet, two weeks ago, I resigned.

In spite of all the positive things about my job, I realized something was missing. While I had started out as strictly a technical writer, I eventually became “head of the department,” which in reality meant I was doing more paper shuffling and organizing than actual writing. I’ve handled that pretty well for several years, because it was routine and required minimal effort. But in the last year, our business has taken a decided upswing – in fact, it’s growing by leaps and bounds.  That’s fabulous of course, but it means I have LOTS more paper to shuffle.

I just turned 55 years of age, and I’ve realized I don’t want to shuffle paper anymore.

Many years ago, every Wednesday night I would run down the basement stairs in my piano teacher’s house.  I’d take my seat at her Baldwin grand piano, and she would settle into the dining room chair placed just slightly to my left.  She would lean back against the chair, close her eyes, smile, and say “alright.”

Then I would start to play. Perhaps it was Beethoven or Chopin, or the Brahms Rhapsody I worked at for such a long time. When I finished (if I was very lucky and if I had practiced very hard) she would sigh deeply and say, “That feeds my soul.”

Perhaps it’s selfish and unrealistic in today’s world to hope that your job will also feed your soul.  How lucky am I to work where I’m not only paid well, but respected and valued?  How happy do I really expect to be?  It’s a JOB, after all – shouldn’t I just suck it up and look elsewhere for soul feeding?

Well, maybe.  But then again, I’m 55 years old.  How much time do I have left for soul feeding?

So I took the leap, hoping and trusting that the universe will provide me with the right opportunity, as it has done so generously in the past. Already, I feel more excited about life in general than I have in a very long time.

In the five years that I’ve been blogging, I’ve met amazing women (like Angie!) who have set their sights on some pretty impressive dreams. In that span of time they’ve developed talents they didn’t know they had and parlayed them into successful business ventures. They’ve embarked on new relationships and embraced the changes those bring. They’ve taken great leaps of faith when it wasn’t logical or practical, and with hard work and commitment, they’ve made their dreams come true.

It’s the inspiration of family and friends that give us the courage move forward in this life, to do those brave and daring things that allow us to grow and change for the better. I’m excited about what lies ahead for me, and I have faith that with some perseverance and some willingness to open myself to opportunity, I will find that special something to feed my soul.

How about you? What feeds your soul? How have you made it a part of your everyday life?

What we learn on our individual journeys, no matter how big or small, can inspire others on theirs.

You can find that line on my “about” page. And that’s why you’ll begin to hear from new voices on this blog. My idea is to have at least one guest post per week. But I’m not going to make that a hard and fast rule. (Because I’ve already broken it. This week, there will be two.)

So I hope you’ll come back tomorrow and Thursday. To read, be inspired and participate in the conversation. Because it’s not just my story. It’s your story, too.

My grandmother, Frances, and my mom, Debbie, in 1973

Today is my grandmother’s birthday. She would have been 73. On a whim, I called my mom and asked her to write a guest post. It arrived in my inbox an hour later. Mom’s good like that.

When I read her words, it reminded me that we can’t always wrap our stories in a pretty bow. Sometimes, we must take the endings we are given and make our peace with them.

Yesterday, I had some fun at my mom’s expense and gave you a peek inside our west coast adventure. Today’s post reveals another side– the woman who’s quite brave.

So ladies and gentleman, here’s Mom. But you can call her Debbie:

As a young girl, I wasn’t that close to my mom. I was a daddy’s girl. When I walked into a room, his face would light up like a Christmas tree. But my mom and I really struggled with our relationship. We were always butting heads.

But, when Dad died in 1988, our relationship began to change. The love of our lives was gone, and now, all we had was each other. We had many talks to try to figure out what went wrong in our relationship, and finally one night over dinner, she told me she’d been jealous of my relationship with my dad. Quite a brave thing to say, I think.

And despite that, my mom was always there for me in a crisis, no matter what that might be. She stroked my arm while I was sick, wiped my tears when my heart was broken and had my back when I needed it. Maya Angelo has said, “When you know better, you do better.” And my mom did.

My mom married at 18 and had a life of extremes, in the relationship and financially. But there was plenty of love and laughter, even in the most difficult times. I lost my mom many years ago, on June 11, 1993– the day that would have been her 35th wedding anniversary. Instead, she met my dad in heaven.

As we approach Mother’s Day, I’ve watched on Facebook as friends change their profile pictures to photos of their mothers. It made me wish I had a scanner, because there are several I’d love to post and be proud.*

I love and miss you, Mom, every day of my life.

*Thanks to the ability to take pictures of pictures and email them to ourselves, Mom’s wish has been granted.

Mom’s moderating the comments today. Feel free to chat with her below, or tell her hi on Facebook.