Stomp and the Angel-Usher

I bought five tickets to see the broad-way show STOMP.  All five of us would go, have a wonderful time, and every one of us would be equally entertained.  I was sure of it.  So the big day came yesterday.  I could hardly contain my excitement...we don't often do things like this.  I packed bags, made sure we had the appropriate provisions and we waltzed in to the middle of the orchestra section with our small children in tow.  They seemed amused with the lights.  Everyone was rather loud anyway...in fact, there were people with cerebral palsy in wheelchairs all around us making funny noises...we would hardly be noticed.

The show started and my kids were mostly captivated and literally on the edge of their seats.
Everyone except June.
June was squirming around, waving her arms in the air, being unusually loud.  She ended up on the floor.  I thought...fine, she won't swat someone in the head.  Not ten minutes in, she started crying...the crying you can't ignore.  I picked her up and very inappropriately shoved my way through the audience making my way for the sidelines...where all the people in wheelchairs sat.  I thought we'd feel at home there.  I was wrong. The door-usher informed me that we couldn't stand and she opened the door and basically shoved us out.

I exited the show area and realized right then and there I had forgotten some very important things:
June's shoes and socks
My purse and cell phone
Which had diapers and wipes in it.

June had poopy pants.

I tried to be strong, I did, but as I rounded the corner I burst into tears uncontrollably.  This wasn't how things were supposed to go.  We were supposed to do something as a family. For fun.  Without attendants. June was supposed to love every minute of the thumping and tapping of the show, not hate to be in there.

At that moment, a very kind  angel-usher appeared, grabbing both my hands and telling me that there were televisions we could watch and that he would help us find a seat in the back...I smiled and nodded and followed June as she was heading up the stairs.  I knew where she was going...to obsess over lines, angles and light bouncing off of glass.  The angel-usher meant well, I thought, but he doesn't know my daughter.

I pulled myself together and followed June up to the second floor where we sat in a chair, and June stuck her legs over the railing.  The lady-usher below told me that she couldn't do that.  I whisked her away to the third floor.  She made her way in between a bench and the side of the glass wall where she felt secure, I guess, looking around at all the lines, squares and rectangles.  Again, an usher came up to me and said we couldn't do that. Well what in the world can we do without shoes, socks and a fresh diaper?

By now I was crying hard.  Mascara was running down my face, my hair was all disheveled and I was positive I looked crazy.  I told the usher that I really needed to get my purse (I didn't tell him that my daughter has a history of eating poop).  He sent me on the elevator down to the first floor where the bless-ed angel-usher was waiting for us.

He took both of my hands again and said, "Don't you worry about this. Everything will be okay.  I will watch your daughter while you go find your purse. Then we will find you seats in the back."

I left my daughter with the angel- usher-stranger while I made my way back into the pitch-black sea of sitting bodies.  I couldn't see.  Plus, the door-usher was getting irritated with me.  I came back out.

The angel-usher saved the day and busted  into the show with his flashlight,  miraculously finding my purse.  He handed it to me with a big grin, totally acting like he was Superman...and he was.  Thanking him profusely, I grabbed June and found a bathroom where I could change her pants, wipe my eyes and pray for vision...the vision to see why my afternoon was spent in The Sandler Center Atrium...not watching the show.

I came back out and watched some of the show on the TV and when it was almost over, I ran again to find the angel-usher.  I asked him his name.  He said,  "My name is Joe."  He went on to explain to me that he had a 14 year old profoundly autistic grandson and he knew how hard it was. It had gotten to the point where they were putting him in a group home.  He believed it was the best place for him.  I understood.

I said, "Thank you for blessing me today. I know why I had to leave the show now.  So you could bless me."

And then I walked away...

The Gift

A couple of weeks ago my friend said to me, "Katie, I don't know how you do it, because honestly, I would possibly think about institutionalizing my daughter if I were you.  I don't think I could handle it." She looked me in the eye and tried to back paddle and said she was sorry if she had offended me.  I nearly cried.  I was not offended at all.  I was actually deeply touched.  Finally.  Someone empathized with me.  Someone understood that it was HARD raising this little girl of mystery. Yes, I told her.  I think about it almost weekly.

This person who said this was my dear, dear friend.
The same person who gave me a gift three years ago that I will never forget.    

The gift was her Nanny.

Kat, June and James, 2012

I've been dreading this day for a while.  June's "Miss Kat" is leaving us.

Kat has been working very hard and recently earned her nursing degree and is taking a job as a psychiatric nurse.  This was not originally her plan. She wanted to do something more glorious like work for labor and delivery, but just like God prepared my heart long ago for loving a child with profound needs, Kat's heart was prepared for this new job through the unexpected gift of June.

February 26, 2015

June has grown to love Miss Kat with her whole being.  She practically squeezes her as if to say, "Don't leave me. Not now..." June will wonder where her friend has gone...the one who keeps her safe, feeds her, braids her hair, bathes her meticulously, reads to her, gives her music to listen to, holds her tightly, and soothes her weary soul when she is anxious.  She is the one who protects her when she is thrashing violently, who tends to her when digestion is rough, resulting in back-bending pain.  She is the one who sings to her, prays over her and kisses her so that she knows she is loved.

James will wonder who will take him for "treats" on gloomy days, and who will lie in his bed at night, listening to his dreams and plans, and hug-tackle him when he pretends he really doesn't want it.  It wasn't like this at first...but now they have an inseparable bond because Kat refused to give up on this little guy.

And Charlotte has never known life without Miss Kat. While she was in the womb, echoes of Kat's laughter filled her chamber and it was music to her very being as she was christened with JOY.  It was as if Miss Kat's personality was etched into her DNA.  Charlotte doesn't know the difference between a black person or a white person.  She doesn't know the difference between Miss Kat and her Mommy either.  It is likely that when she wakes up from her nap, the first thing she will call is, "Miss Kat! Miss Kat!".  
And Miss Kat sadly won't come running with June-bug on her back.

But perhaps the one who will mourn Kat's loss the most is this Mommy right here.  Yes, Miss Kat is excellent at what she does with all her child-watching skills, flexibility, role-playing abilities, patience and treat expertise, but one fact remains.  I am losing my best friend....my friend who spends half the days of her week gracing me with her presence.

And maybe what I needed all along was not just someone to take care of my June-bug.

Maybe I needed someone I could talk to and share all my deepest secrets with.  I needed someone who would uplift my spirit and encourage me to be a better person.  Maybe I just needed someone to listen to all the things I've been scheming about in my head.  I needed someone to tell me how awesome I was. And then maybe I needed someone to tell me God loves me even though awesome I was not. I needed someone to just show me some really cool new songs, or bring me a salad from TASTE or an ice cream treat. Maybe I just needed someone to go on a walk with.

Maybe I just needed a friend who would learn to understand and empathize.

Someone who would choose to walk in my shoes, choose to grab hold of my family and not give up on the hard ones.  Because the hard ones are the easiest ones to give up on.

Thank you my dear friend.  You are the gift that I am passing on to Norfolk General.  You are entering the dark and weary land with all the hard ones.  But I know you.  You won't give up on them until you have won them over with your joyous smile, engaging personality and your contagious laughter. You will pursue them until you have found a thread of hope, pulling it gently until they see a glorious rainbow. You will nurture and nourish their souls until they feel full, understood and even loved.  You will set their feet on a higher place where they can reach out and possibly touch heaven.

You have turned my world upside-down, Katharine.  I love you forever.
I refuse to say good-bye.