Paid In Full

I got a call from the director at Assert today. "Hi Kathryn! I just called with some good news. An anonymous donor just paid for Carter's program fees for the rest of the year. If you've received a bill, ignore it, and we won't be sending you any more." On the spot, all I could manage was, "Oh! Well, thank you! Um, have a good one, ok?"
I hung up the phone and sat for a minute, lost in thought. I was thinking about how we were a month behind in those payments, how understanding all the staff had been already. I was thinking about how I found a $5 bill in my coat this morning, probably from last winter. I thought about the mortgage being late this month. About how in the world we were going to afford Christmas. I remembered that a few days ago, I got a call from an old friend, asking if her girls could take piano and voice lessons from me. She wrote me a check for $80. I thought about the guys at the AT Lab at USU. I took them a pumpkin pie.
The next thought I had has stuck with me in a big, humbling, yet empowering sort of way.
I am loved. And I am expected to show love in return.
I can't take a pie to the person who did this for us. I can't even send a thank you card. But I can pay it forward. I can thank the Lord on my knees for His goodness, and pray for the insight to help out someone else in a meaningful way.
My heart is full. My tears are sweet. Thank you. SO much! Now it's my turn.

Meet Big Blue

So guess what? WE GOT A SPECIAL CAR SEAT FOR CARTER FOR FREEEEE!!!!!!  Compliments of the Assistive Technology Lab, USU.  I love those people.  Can I just say, I LOVE those people? You know why we live where we live?  To be close to USU and the programs they offer to my children.

So, on a whim, I called the AT Lab and left a message about my situation.  I received a call back the very next day and set an appointment to come in with Carter and see what they had on hand or what they could work out.  When we got there, they had a brand new seat in storage that worked almost perfectly.  We did a little adjusting, lengthening straps, etc.  and got her installed.  Then we tried her out on Carter.  He loves his seat.  Every morning I tell him, "Ok, let's get in Big Blue!"  He says happily, "Bwoo!" and climbs right on in.  We named the seat Big Blue for two reasons.  First, its big. And blue.  Second, we got it from Utah State, whose Mascot is lovingly named "Big Blue".  Perfect.  Here's a picture.  We couldn't be happier.  Or safer.  And we keep the seat until Carter's grown out of it, and then we return it.  How freakin' awesome is THAT?!  See? Prayer works.  Pray, people.  Just pray. 

Ok, so I couldn't get it rotated the right way, but you get the idea.....

A Bite Like Gollum's

So, Carter tried to bite off my finger the other day.  I've never been bitten quite like that. OUCH!   He had taken a bite of some soft bread and gotten it stuck behind his front teeth.  He couldn't figure out how to work it out with his tongue, and apparently it was driving him crazy, because he was crying and whining, chomping like a horse at the bit. I told him to open his mouth, and got some of the bread out with my finger.  I went in for a second go and BOOM! His teeth clamped shut.  I don't know if it was just reaction or what, but he bit down, and bit down HARD.   I yelled out loud and told him to let go! No luck.  I screamed at him to "let go NOW!" but to no avail.  I squished his cheeks together.  I even slapped him upside the head.  Nothing was working and I was just about ready to pass out from the pain.  In desperation, I leaned forward and bit him on the forehead.  It worked.  Don't ask me why.  Don't ask how I even decided to do that.  I just needed relief! I know, I know.  Not the best way to teach your kid NOT to bite, right? *sigh* Well, my finger is still in tact, though a little the worse for wear.  And he hasn't tried it again.  No more soft bread in THIS house!  I won't have Carter going Gollum on me anymore. Ouch. Yikes.  

Daddy

I had the privilege to go sing at a funeral the other day.  My great uncle Ross had died.  I didn't know him.  But I am friends with some of his children and grandchildren, and they thought of me when the time came.  I sang in a family choir of about 12 people, and felt very much at home and in awe of the talent around me.  Music runs deeply in my family.  I sat next to my Dad during the service, and my Mom got the wonderful task of tending my screaming baby out in the hall.  (Sorry, Mom!)  As I listened to all the memories, all the stories and cherished times, I couldn't help but think about what I would say about my own Dad when life demanded it.  "How well do I really know him?" I reflected.  And I realized there is much  that is still a mystery to me.  Things I haven't taken the time to ask about.  My turn came and I got up to sing a version of "Danny Boy" and "Homeward Bound".  When I sat down next to Dad after I was done, I noticed a tear in his eye.  I looked closer at him.  Then I noticed how old he really looked.  The skin around his eyes thinning and wrinkling.  Those blue eyes still bright and knowing.  His hands a little bit shaky now.  How he kept repositioning himself, to try to find a comfortable spot for his aching bones.  I realized for the first time that my Dad is mortal.  Growing up, he was always there.  Always.  He could do anything.  If there was something hard to be done, Dad was your guy.  Even now, he's the first to ask me if my car is running, if I have enough money.  He brings my bags in from the car when I come to stay.  He kisses me goodnight and I'm 29.  And it just hit me, right then and there, that I wouldn't have him forever.  That he's mortal like the rest of us.  Like uncle Ross.  He noticed my gaze and looked over at me.  He smiled and put his hand on my leg. I looked at those fingers and remembered when my hands were small enough to wrap around just one of them.  I held them all in my hand now.  I held his hand and tried to look forward instead of back.  There's still time.  Time to make time count.  I love you, Daddy.