100 mph breakfast

buzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. WHAM! He literally hit the alarm clock snooze button. Every day was hurry, hurry, hurry. He dozed for those glorious ten more minutes and then he had to get out of bed. It was another hot and humid morning. He sat on the edge of the bed and then turned to look at his wife. She was looking at him sleepily, but she needed to get up and going, too.

He looked at his wife and said, "I should have taken out the trash last night like you told me to."

He got up and went to their bathroom. He had to hurry this morning there was so much to do: shower, shave, dress, breakfast, take out the trash-it was supposed to be curbside no later than 6:30 a.m.; "Why didn't I take it out last night," he asked half aloud.

She was making breakfast. Their four-year old son was off and running already this morning. He was playing with his cars on the floor of the kitchen and asking Mommy what was for breakfast. "I don't know yet," she replied somewhat annoyed. There never was enough time to think around here she thought.

"But what's to eat," her son asked again? "I don't know, I said" was her irritated reply, "What do you want for breakfast?" He was excited to have the chance to pick, "HOT DOGS!" She just looked at him and rolled her eyes, "Hot dogs are not for breakfast."

He entered the kitchen freshly shaved and ready for breakfast. He asked his son why he had to play in the middle of the floor. He said it a bit too angrily and he knew it, but he didn't apologize. He had too much to do this morning and no time to deal with his little four year old son, who at this moment was simply in the way.

Neither his mommy nor his daddy noticed that his feelings were hurt by their curt answers to his questions and comments. They were too busy to notice. He looked lost. Or was it that he looked rejected?

For the millionth time that morning, he wished that he had taken out the trash last night. He was busy tying the bag from the kitchen trash can. He had just emptied all of the trash cans from the bedrooms, bathrooms, living room, den and that should be it. "Shoot," he said angrily. He still had to drag a few things out from the garage to add to the trash pile. It was 6:45 a.m. "At least the trash collector is running late this morning," he muttered to himself.

She finished making a pot of coffee and buttering toast. Then she set out boxes of cereal and some fruit. She called her little boy, but he didn't come to the table. She went to make sure that her husband had taken all of the trash out of the garage, too.

He had left the front door open while he took out the trash and she left it open for him to close when he came back inside for breakfast. As she went back to the kitchen, she thought, "He should have taken the trash out last night."

He came walking back inside and went to wash his hands. The trash truck was rumbling to a stop in front of their house. He finished washing up and went into the kitchen. "Where's Jacob?" he asked his wife. She didn't know, so she called him to the table again. "Do you want to take a thermos of coffee with you to work?" she asked him after she called their son to the table. "Sure," he said and then he began to eat some toast.

Meanwhile, the trash man is tossing all of their trash into his truck. There were lots of bags. A duffel bag and some odds and ends. He was accustomed to the variety of things that people tossed out. This was his last stop on the street, so after he tossed all of their trash into the truck, he walked to the side and turned on the compactor. Then chills went up his spine. From inside the truck, he heard faint yelling and crying. He turned the compactor off immediately. Inside the back of the truck was four year old Jacob.

The little four year old had slipped out of his home and hidden inside a duffel bag that was lying by the side of the curb. The trash man: Inis Ramadani, stood beside his truck that morning to run the compactor. Many trash collectors sit inside the truck and operate the compactor. If Ramadani had done so, he would never have heard the faint cries for help from Jacob.

God must have whispered in Ramadani's ear Monday, July 11th. Ramadani said that he knew immediately that the faint sound was a child. Ramadani is the father of five. He doesn't think that he is a hero. He was only doing his job. Miraculously, Jacob was not injured in the incident. I bet he had hot dogs for breakfast.

9:11 a.m. Wake Up Call

What follows is a newspaper clipping about the death of an airman in Iraq and then an exchange of letters to the editor. There is a little bit of narration, but not much. My eyes welled up with tears when I read the exchange. My little sister, whose husband is an airman, forwarded this story to me. It is basically the epitome of the adage: don't judge a book by its cover.

I was very moved by this exchange and believe you will be too.

8 June 2005
Albuquerque Tribune

Air Force Capt. Jeremy Fresques, a Farmington native and Farmington High School graduate, joined a growing list of New Mexicans who have died in the war on terrorism, when the surveillance plane in which he flew crashed last week 80 miles northeast of Baghdad. Three of his U.S. colleagues and an Iraqi airman also were killed. Fresques was awarded the Bronze Medal posthumously Friday.

Fresques was 26. He left behind a wife — also an Air Force captain — and his parents. His sacrifice — and theirs — in the name of our nation's security and the cause of democracy was immense.

Col. O.G. Mannon, commander of the 16th Special Operations Wing, rightly called Fresques and his comrades "heroes." We regard Fresques and all men and women with New Mexico connections as family and hold them deeply in our hearts.

Capt. Fresque was killed in the line of duty on Memorial Day 2005, a month before he was to return home, and news of his death was conveyed that day to Lt. Col. Scott Pleus, commander of the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base in Glendale, Arizona, where Capt. Fresques had previously been stationed. Lt. Col. Pleus, along with a chaplain and a medical technician, drove that evening to Yuma, Arizona, to undertake the sad duty of notifying Capt. Fresque's parents of their loss. About a week later, Lt. Col. Pleus was notified that a memorial service would be held for Capt. Fresque in Sun City, Arizona, on 15 June and that a fly-by from Luke AFB had been requested as part of the service in Capt. Fresque's honor.

Lt. Col. Pleus quickly assented: "Of course we would do it. It's a four-ship formation. They fly straight and level over the gravesite and then, directly over the service, the No. 3 plane pulls away while the others fly straight ahead. Symbolically he's headed for heaven. It's the highest form of respect we can pay to a fallen airman. Everyone involved in such a service considers it an honor. The fliers. The honor guard. The bugler who plays taps. All of us.


While preparing to head from Glendale to Sun City (a distance of about 6 miles) for the memorial service, four F-16 fighter jets from Luke AFB flew a holding pattern over Glendale's Arrowhead Mall, prompting a local resident unaware of their purpose to send a sarcastic letter of complaint to the editor of The Arizona Republic:

A letter to the Editor
Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special?

Any response would be appreciated.
Tom MacRae, Peoria

The correspondent received a response from Col. Robin Rand, commander of Luke AFB's 56th Fighter Wing, in the pages of The Arizona Republic the following day:

"Luke Air Force Base was asked to respond to a letter writer's question about a "morning air show" he observed recently ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, Thursday)"

"The "wake-up call" witnessed the morning of June 15 was a formation of F-16 jets from Luke Air Force Base lining up for a memorial service in Sun City at the gravesite for Air Force Capt. Jeremy Fresques, an officer assigned to Air Force Special Operations."

"Fresques gave his life in defense of our country while serving in Iraq. It is unfortunate that at a time when our nation is at war someone would believe we have less than honorable and professional reasons for such a mission."

"The commander of the fighter squadron was given the difficult duty of informing the family of Capt. Fresques on Memorial Day that the officer, a husband, son and Arizonan, had died in Iraq. On behalf of the men and women at Luke Air Force Base, we continue to keep Jeremy and his family in our thoughts and prayers."
-Col. Robin Rand
Luke Air Force Base

Four days later, newspaperaper also publisheresponseonse from Lt. Col. Pleus himself:

Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets": On June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day.

At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend. Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the president of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured.

A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects.

The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives.

-Lt. Col. Scott Pleus
Luke Air Force Base

To his credit, the complainant, Mr. MacRae, tendered a written apology which was published in The Arizona Republic on 9 July:

Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade" (Letters, June 28): I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known.

I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise.

I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.

-Tom MacRae
Peoria

God's speed, Captain Jeremy Fresques. We've got your back. For your service and sacrifice for your country, we thank you, G, R, 18 year old, Number One Daughter & Little Big Boy

"Me, My Girl and another on the way!"

Go see the news!!! Check out the news!!!!! http://chocolatemakesitbetter.blogspot.com/

Nightmares

Number One Daughter came into our room overnight. She was bawling her eyes out. She told me that she had a very, very bad dream. I asked her if she remembered what happened. I was hugging her tight and she replied, "Little Big Boy died." I held her tighter and tried to soothe her broken heart. I told her the things that you say when a little one has a nightmare.

Throughout the day, the nightmare bothered her. She would shake her head from side to side to get rid of the thoughts. She explained the dream to me in great detail and it was very bad. I do not know why she would have such an awful nightmare.

I do know that I need to pay more attention to what she watches right before bedtime. The kids are very in to Power Rangers. I think that the kids do better when we all read books. Number One Daughter read a whole book to me on Friday. All by herself! She did it and I was in awe.


Then Little Big Boy said that it was his turn. He "read" it to us and it was as awesome. He looked at the pictures and told the story that he thought was being told. Each time it was time to turn the page he would say, "Then..." It was adorable.

It is easy now that summer vacation is here to break out of the routine, which is actually what they need more than ever. Routine is a cue of what is supposed to be happening and when. Books are a great part of the routine because they have to use their imagination, but it doesn't make their imagination runaway with them.

It is too convenient to let the routine fall apart when something is amiss, like illness or unexpected surgery or the like. It is easier in a moment of pain or something to shoo them off to the television. That is the sorry way of it. Sigh.

In all actuality, it would be just as easy to coax them into the bed with me and have them read books with me or to me. It would be so much better for all of us. I don't know why I get lazy at parenting.

I take my love of children very seriously and my intention to be a good parent very seriously, too. There are those times when I feel like pushing it to the back burner. I want to be better. I want to do better. Even when I am ailing, I want to be better at parenting. There is a saying that before you can fix a problem, you have to recognize it. Early Saturday morning, the problem slapped me in the face.

The tears that were falling were not mine. Number One Daughter and Little Big Boy deserve my undivided attention even when I am not feeling up to it. She had a tough time going to sleep tonight. We kept telling her to think about Christmas or horseback riding lessons or any number of wonderful things that she enjoys, but the nightmare kept invading her mind. The loop. I hope that she doesn't have the loop. I have to try to help her fight the development of the loop.


Tonight, the television was off before bedtime. Tonight, she was tucked in among her beloved dolls and stuffed animals. Tonight, I pray that she finds light and life in her dreams. Tonight, I hope that she changes the channel if nightmares come knocking. Tonight I pray that she will sleep in peace and comfort. Sweet dreams.

Some day...

After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, I wondered why I was having children. I was three months pregnant with Little Big Boy at the time and Number One Daughter was two. I was devastated by the attack on the World Trade Center. It shook the foundation of everything that I believed in. I, like most people, believed that we were safe.

Here on the shores of the United States, we are supposed to be safe from such heinous crimes. Yet, here it was, a terrorist attack so brazen and well planned that it took our whole country by surprise. Never mind that signs and warnings had existed prior to that fateful day. The fact is the warnings were ignored because no one realized that it was possible to bring terrorism to the United States of America. How wrong we were.

No one was immune from this ignorance or maybe it was conceit; we could not fall victim to such awful terror-WE ARE THE UNITED STATES. It was accepted from the White House in Washington, D. C. all the way to the little white house on the end of my block. The sad fact was terrorism was here and apparently it is here to stay.

Yesterday terrorists attacked London. I think that we identify with it so much not only because of September 11th, but because it is our homeland. In a way, we are tied more deeply to Europe than we often admit. That, of course, is not the sole reason that we identify with the tragedy in London, but it is a part of it.

As I watched the pictures of survivors leaving the site of the explosions, I recalled the soot covered faces of September 11th. I recalled the empty gaze that the survivors wore and the throngs of people in business suits who were walking toward home. A place that I'm sure seemed farther away at that point in time than any time prior. A place where family members were no doubt huddled near the television for word of the extent and impact of the attack.

Yesterday was another day that will be remembered because "soft targets" are the only language that terrorists speak. The terror that exists in the world does make me wonder why I have children or why anyone would want to bring children into this world. Today, I discovered the answer to that question.

We have children because there is good in the world. There actually is more good than bad; we just hear so much more about the bad. That is an old story, I know, but the fact is that there is more good in the world. There is a lot of evil, too. Yes, so much evil, but God has promised us that he will purge evil from this world. He promises that he will wipe evil out of our lives so that we can live in peace and harmony together without a care, concern or tear. This is HIS promise.

So we have children because HE wants us to. He wants us to go forth and raise our families. He wants us to live the life that he has planned for us. I struggle some times with the fact that we are taught that we are following a plan that has been laid out before us. So many awful things happen along the way that I question why that is part of the plan.

But if I examine the truth: He will deliver us from evil. The questions fade away. There will be a day in Eden once again. Everything else we just have to live in His name, in His honor. We live the results of the terror in His name and one day it will end and be purged forever and we are charged with teaching our children about this good news. We are trusted to teach our children about God.

Maybe we have children and teach them about God, so that they can spread the word. If we tell enough people about God, then they will discover Him and His love. Then evil will die on its own. Maybe that is what He is awaiting. He is giving us a chance to share His word and see if we can learn the lesson ourselves. Like a parent. You teach right and wrong and then ultimately, your children have to make their decision about what to do. So he watches and lets us stumble and stub our toes on the evils. Hopefully, we will win, but if we don't, He will pick us up like a proud Daddy who is lifting his child away from any danger.

Today I realized just how deep his love is. You have to let your children make their mistakes and stub their toes. You have to let your children fight their own battles. When it gets to be too much, our Father will step in. Some day we will win the fight or He will win it for us. Some day peace will reign forever. By bringing children into the world, we are carrying on God's promise of peace to us..."let the children come..." Teach your children the value of peace and harmony. That is HIS lesson for us. Teach children to love and honor life. Teach children to understand his desire for us to be happy and peace loving. Teach children not to hate for any reason.

We are hear to spread that message. Live for HIM. Bring children into the world for HIM. Some day we will win. We will win. WE WILL WIN. God bless children everywhere. AMEN

Insanity

The images from London are very disturbing. I will never get used to the idea that civilians are targets of terror. It makes no sense to me. Obviously, no terror attack makes sense, but to target mommies and daddies who are doing nothing more than earning a living for their children is insanity.

Last night 18 year old announced that he was enlisting. He has considered it from many angles. I am concerned to say the least. However, I am a military raised woman, who knows that the military is necessary.

How many "wars to end all wars" will it take?

God bless England and if you have family there for any reason, God bless you, too.

My nephews were born in England. It breaks my heart. I also thought immediately about the images of Tom and Katie in Europe. It would send chills down my spine if I had just been in Europe.

My children are awake now and I am just thankful that we are where we are. I hope you are safe and well, too.

God bless America and God bless the free world.

I've lost my voice

I have not been able to find my voice. I can muddle through a post or invent a post, but in reality, I have lost my voice.

My thoughts won't gel. I am stunned, I think. I first learned of Lexi's plight six months ago. A group of women had made a Winnie the Pooh comforter to raffle off for some charity and instead of using it for the charity, they gave it to Lexi. They wrapped her up in a homemade hug.

I know that she is healthy and wants for nothing now. I know that she is better off. I know that she wasn't my child. Yet, in the back of my mind, I can hear her parents' sobbing. I can hear her siblings crying for her. I can hear these things and I cannot speak.

I do not think that it is about Lexi. It isn't about Shasta Groene, who was miraculously found alive in Idaho or the mystery in Aruba. It is not about children dying of cancer or at the hand of their parents or someone else. No it is not about them.

It is about me. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I am supposed to stop things like these from happening. I know that I want to help protect children. I know how much I love children. I do not know how to use my knowledge or abilities to help them.

So my voice is gone. My dad and my husband try to tell me that I cannot save the world. Well that may be true, but I cannot figure out how to do something meaningful in my little corner of it.

I used to earn my living with my voice. Right now, I feel like I have opened the mic and that my mouth is open, but there is nothing for me to say.

Have a safe 4th

:)

Live 8 Hunger

What About Me

Well there's a little boy waiting at the counter of the corner shop
He's been waiting down there, waiting half the day,
They never ever see him from the top
He gets pushed around, knocked to the ground,
He gets to his feet and he says...

Refrain

What about me?
It isn't fair
I've had enough,
now I want my share
Can't you see,
I wanna live
But you just take more than you give

Well, there's a pretty girl serving at the counter of the corner shop
She's been waiting back there,
waiting for a dream,
Her dreams walk in and out, they never stop
Well, she's not too proud,
to cry out loud
She runs to the street and she screams...

Refrain

What about me?
It isn't fair
I've had enough,
now I want my share
Can't you see,
I wanna live
But you just take more than you give

More than you give...
Take a step back and see the little people
They might be young, but they're the ones that make the big people big
So listen as they whisper:"What about me?"


And now I'm standing on the corner,
all the world's gone home
Nobody's changed,
nobody's been saved
And I'm feeling cold and alone
I guess I'm lucky, I smile a lot
But sometimes I wish for more than I've got...

Refrain

What about me?
It isn't fairI've had enough,
now I want my share
Can't you see, I wanna live
But you just take more than you give

What about me?

What about me?

What about....me?

What about me?

What about me?

For Lexi and her family...

There are many websites dedicated to parents who have lost children. One is called Bravenet, where I found this quote:

"Most people dream of Angels,

I held one in my arms."

You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,

Who abide in His shadow for life,

Say to the Lord, "My Refuge,

My Rock in Whom I trust."

Refrain

And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun,

And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

The snare of the fowler will never capture you,

And famine will bring you no fear;

Under His Wings your refuge,

His faithfulness your shield.

Refrain

And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun,

And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

You need not fear the terror of the night,

Nor the arrow that flies by day,

Though thousands fall about you,

Near you it shall not come.

Refrain

And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun,

And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

For to His angels He's given a command,

To guard you in all of your ways,

Upon their hands they will bear you up,

Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

Refrain

And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun,

And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

Update~Love for Lexi

It is with sincere regret and a huge lump in my throat that I inform you of the death of a very brave girl. Lexi Georgeff died last night during transplant surgery. She was pronounced dead at 9:30 p.m. Eastern. After two previous tries at a transplant, she was undergoing the procedure when the surgeons discovered an infection that they were unaware of. Once the transplant was begun, it was too late to turn back, so they pressed forward, but it was too much for Lexi. She was 14 years old.

You can send a message to her family via: angels@l4lfund.org

Fields of Gold~Sting

You'll remember me when the west wind moves

Upon the fields of barley

You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky

As we walk in fields of gold

So she took her love for to gaze awhile

Upon the fields of barley

In his arms she fell as her hair came down

Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love

Among the fields of barley

We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky

As we lie in fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so

Upon the fields of barley

Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth

Among the fields of gold

I never made promises lightly

And there have been some that I've broken

But I swear in the days still left

We'll walk in fields of gold

We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days

Among the fields of barley

See the children run as the sun goes down

Among the fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves

Upon the fields of barley

You can tell the sun in his jealous sky

When we walked in fields of gold

When we walked in fields of gold

When we walked in fields of gold

Landmines

A while back, there was a great controversy about a public service announcement. It showed a little girl's soccer game. In the middle of the game, a landmine exploded. Several girls were injured and one girl died. The controversy was raised by network big wigs who thought that the PSA was too graphic.

The PSA was too graphic?

The above picture is the reaction of the mother to her daughter's death on the soccer field. I have watched the PSA. I did not find it too graphic. I found it enlightening.

We sit in our wonderful USA often oblivious of the tragedies that occur each day around the world. Starvation, landmines and illnesses that are easily prevented continue to occur especially in third world countries. Dogs have been trained to smell unexploded ordinance and other animals are being trained, too.


For example large African Pouch Rats have been trained to clear landmines. Remember Princess Diana spent many, many, many days traveling to increase the awareness of the danger of landmines world wide.

Princess Diana died in 1997; eight years ago it seems our attention to the danger of landmines died with her, but we can help. Every child should be able to dance in their yard or in a field without the danger of unexploded ordinance. It is very difficult to imagine it happening here on our shores. I cringe at the thought of Number One Daughter or Little Big Boy being injured in such a violent manner...imagine what mothers in the countries where the danger exists feel. Helpless. How can they protect their children from ordinance? They cannot, but we can. WE can.

Than what is life?

Landmines are claiming the lives or limbs of children every day. Please visit www.landmines.org You can adopt a mine field and sponsor the removal of landmines.

We are fortunate that our children do not play on playgrounds where landmines can take their lives and limbs. Thank God for that. We can help make the world safer for everyone's children. It is our responsibility because we have the technology to do so. We owe it to all children.

Ozone Action Day Number 2

We are being held captive by heat, pollution and dew point. BUT!!!!! My wonderful G bought me an AC unit for our room. It is HEAVEN...HEAVEN....HEAVEN.

It is not however, good for sleeping alone. The kids come in. Number One Daughter wants to know why they don't have one in their room. 18 year old wants to buy one for his room. Hard to please everyone when you need major renovations!

Have a good day. Please keep Lexi in your prayers. Can you imagine being flown to another state, get prepped for surgery, get into the operating suite and then having to shut it down because the organs aren't viable? NOT ONCE, BUT TWICE. That poor girl...the poor family.

A group of pilots are rotating being on stand by and can fly her back to Pittsburg at a moment's notice. They took her both times and flew her back home, too. People are good.

We are so blessed with health in our home. People are good. God is good. Life is good. Yeah, life is good.

Love for Lexi

Update-Last night, Sunday, June 26th, Lexi's transplant was once again postponed because the organs that doctors were going to use weren't viable. She was on the operating room table for the second time in as many months when doctors realized that the organs could not be used. Please join me in prayer for her complete recovery.

She's 14 and she's dying.

She needs a multi-organ transplant. Her intestines do not work and her stomach cannot accept food. She and her family live in Cedarburg, WI. Today, she was flown to Pittsburg Children's Hospital for a transplant. This is her second trip. The first time she went, she was on the operating room table when surgeon's discovered the organs that they were going to use were too damaged to use in a transplant.

The family's fingers are crossed and the entire community has been helping raise money for her. I have a link to Lexi's website to the right under "You Can Help". You can also click on the title of this post and it will take you there. You can read about her struggles. More importantly, if you are so inclined, you can make a secure online donation to assist with the cost of the transplant and the medications needed to help her body accept the donor organs.

I know that you will be blessed many times over for your help. Thank God for my healthy children. I pray that your's are too. Thank you for your help.

Hoobastank-The Reason

I love this song. I love music and always have. G and I met when we were both radio personalities at the same radio station. I miss radio, but it is a life that is very hard to live-especially when you have a family. But I miss it because of the music. Imagine being paid to play music, interact with people on-air and record commercials. In many ways it was Heaven, but not as much a Heaven as raising a family. Family and home wins over radio hands down. But I do so love music and this song speaks to my heart...


I'm not a perfect person
There's many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That's why I need you to hear
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you
and the reason is you
and the reason is you
and the reason is you

I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you
I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you

Hodge podge

We bought our first home in October. It is old...over 100 years. The electrical is the old fuse kind. We do not have AC. It is 93 degrees outside, 110 inside and we are going hunting for an efficient AC unit that we can put in my room for these kinds of days...

Little Big Boy is potty training himself!!!! He just all of a sudden started to tell us that he needed to go potty. We tried earlier, but he didn't get the hand of it. Well they say that when they are ready they just do it.

We are all sunburned. I never understand how we can burn when we use the highest SPF that we can find. Number One Daughter tanned. That is it...she is the only one.

Last night, 18 year old bought dinner for all of us!!! Then about two hours later, he bought ice cream for all of us, too. WOW-huge progress.

We are off to seek treasures at garage sales. Have a happy day.

Freak out

Last night G, Number One Daughter, Little Big Boy and I went out to dinner. It was soooo hot and humid. A family was sitting at a table across from us and they had a little baby boy. I love babies and was admiring him from our table. One of the women explained to me that she was the baby's grandma. Then she said as she pointed at Little Big Boy, "You are his grandma?" {Freak out!}

"The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be. Ain't what she used to be. Ain't what she used to be..."

Truth be told, I cried after we left the restaurant. Boo Hoo. As Bugs Bunny would say, "Ehhhhhhh, Shut up!!!"

I have my 18 year old, but I never had a family. I never had a good man. This is my "second time around." I was 42 when I had Little Big Boy. You know what that's okay. This is the best time of my life.

I look at my little ones and my husband and I think, I am so lucky. I am trying to concentrate on that. I am trying to keep my face to the sunshine. I am trying to make myself over.

Yeah, it hurt when she said that, but so what? I have the best of both worlds. I struggled with my Oldest. Single mom and all that comes with it. And now, I have a great husband and help. I have children who are loving, creative, compassionate, soulful, happy. This is the life. I'm one lucky mommy and I know it.

I wish that she hadn't said that, but I will be okay because this really is the best time of my life. They keep saying 40 is the new 30! I AM ONLY JUST BEGUN!!!!!


Now, step aside Deary, I want to look in the yellow pages for a good cosmetic surgeon. F, f.... F-a...F-a-c. F-a-c-e-l-i-f-t. Oh and then, b-e-a-u-t-i-c-i-a-n...color the gray... sigh. Vanity wins.

You are amazing

I watched you from afar
While you played in the sprinkler.
You had a big smile on your face...Both of you.

I love to watch you play.
It is the best way to learn your capabilities;
Your talents.

Oh, my Number One Daughter,
You are an artist.
Painter. Etcher. Singer. Dancer.
People will be enchanted by your crafts.
They will utter, "Ooooh." and "Ahhhh."
As they look at the dreams behind your creativity.


Oh, my Little Big Boy,
You are an artist.
Builder. Charmer. Constructor. Novice speller.
People will be enchanted by your compassion.
They will utter, "Awwww." and "Wow."
As they see you interact with people and build your buildings.


You, my children, are amazing.

Anxiety attacks

I have anxiety attacks. I have for years. One of the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is the most debilitating thing.

I actually feel like I am dying when I am having one. A few times they have been so bad, that they mocked a heart attack to a T. I had to take nitroglycerine, but it wasn't a heart attack. Stress tests proved that. Well, you would think that logic would solve the issue. You would think that I would be able to tell myself that it is ONLY an anxiety attack, but that isn't how it works.

Anxiety attacks defy reason. They defy symptoms. They defy me. I continue to fight the battle with them. This morning for example, I had myself convinced that I had a brain tumor. It is funny when I write it. Literally funny, but during the panic attack, the short circuit in my brain tells my reason that the headache that I have between the right ear and the right side back of my head is brain cancer. It tells my brain this and the brain reacts with alarm.

It is the fight, flight or freeze instinct. I know this so well. I freeze when I am scared. It comes from being told to be quiet or I'll kill so and so. Or I will hurt so and so or I'll kill you. Well we all have the instinct, but mine is hypersensitive. Don't you LOVE that word: hypersensitive. Therapy-speak for you rely on it so much because you relied on it for survival. There were several bogeymen in my life and it made my brain act like one. WOW. That is a revelation. My brain 'learned' to act like a bogeyman was always here. That way, I would always be on alert and nothing could ever hurt me...Thus, I am hurting myself, now. How can that be? How can something so wrong be inflicted on you and then you learn to inflict it on yourself. It doesn't make sense; yet, it makes perfect sense. And that is the sad truth of it. It is a loop without end.

Well this morning was such a morning. Pain in my head. Fear in my heart. Couldn't breathe. Well, I am supposed to talk myself down from it. The problem is I have always countered the problem with eating. Stuff it down. It is also a survival instinct. "Don't tell. Don't tell. They will be killed if you tell. You will die if you tell." That is my brain on trauma; no panic room to run to-no safety net. Just pure fright. Want to know what my battered brain is thinking? Where were the lions when I needed them? Why didn't lions come and chase off the villains? Ah, but that is the loop getting going again! S-T-O-P! I am in control.

The self-talk doesn't always work, so I have to enlist someone to help talk me down or just listen. In a way, it is better that I have to TELL someone what is happening. I was told not to tell and now I have to tell. It is calming. It doesn't always work, but when it does, I am filled with a sense of peace and well being. I wish that it would last longer. That is my immediate goal: make the peace last longer...More than an hour...More than a half a day...More than a day... More than two....And so on.

Some day I will feel good for stretches. Is that normal? Do people really feel happy and peace for stretches? That is what I want to experience. Nothing extraordinary...Just a stretch of peace and calm. No worries. I just want a stretch without worries. It could happen. It can happen. It will happen. Self-talk engaged. Have a happy day.

Lions lay down w/the lamb

It is hot in Ethiopia...hot, dark, quiet. For ages tribal marriage rituals include kidnapping pre-teen girls and forcing them into marriage. To get the young girls to accept their fate, they are beaten unmercifully and raped. Then beaten and raped again and again. All this to get her to accept a forced marriage.

Such a case took place in Ethiopia. The 12-year-old girl was beaten, cut, bruised and who knows what else. Then a miracle took place...

Four lions came to the girl's rescue. They drove off the seven men who where abusing the little girl. They chased off the men and then they surrounded the girl. No one knows why. No explanation can be found; after all, lions don't speak. There is speculation that the lions heard the little girl's cries and they thought that it was a lion cub. Yet, is that really what happened?

Then another miracle took place: the girl's parents, accompanied by the authorities located the girl in the middle of the four lions and the lions left. Just left the girl there for her parents to envelope with comforting hugs and kisses.

The lions didn't eat the girl. The lions didn't attack her parents; didn't attack the authorities. The lions drove off the bad guys. Rescued the little girl and returned her to her parents where all little girls belong.

Yes, it was a miracle and another miracle in a place where God is sorely needed. God must cry when men kidnap little girls to force them into a marriage. God must sob when little girls are raped and beaten to get them to submit to a fate that they have no choice in. Indeed, God must slam his fist on the clouds because anger overflows-yes, even God gets angry at these awful abuses to his babies. HE must rage that it happens again and again and abuse isn't limited to Ethiopia, which is a real tragedy. We pride ourselves on being so civilized, but we aren't because children are abused and murdered every day. (BTW, no pun intended.)

I believe God became angry and sent in four kings of the jungle to defend the defenseless. How I wish it could be so where ever crimes happen against children. God was there though and it was miraculous. God escorted the girl's parents to their daughter and then he called the lions back home. My God, how wonderful YOU are. Amen.

Father's Day awakening

Little Big Boy said, "Happy Father's Day, Dad!" Then a pause- "Happy Father's Day!" to his sister and then to me:)

Do you want to know what your present is G? A NAP!!!! I read it on MSNBC and it said it was the one thing that all dads want. Then Little Big Boy said, "What's my present?" "No, Honey," I said, "we give presents to Daddy on Father's Day." I moved on to the next subject and all of a sudden, Little Big Boy burst into tears! This IS a special day, his little mind told him and he should get a present. A little gift. After all, he hadn't gotten a gift at the last special day, which was Number One Daughter's kindergarten graduation.

I looked at my Little Big Boy as tears streamed down his face and his lips formed a frown that I had not seen before. His heart was literally broken...and by me. "Oh, Little Big Boy," I said with great concern and affection, "I am so very sorry. You are right, you should have a present today."

He wiped away his tears and looked at me. It took several minutes to stop the tears from flowing and the frown will be etched on my heart forever. His little pouting face and broken heart are my fault and it hurts like only a parent can understand.

After a few minutes more, he asked me what his present was. I replied a new kite! His heart soared. Yes!! A new kite to cast our cares upon and toss into the wind...way up like Mr. Dick. The perfect heart-mender-a kite. All was forgiven and forgotten right then.

Now Little Big Boy doesn't know yet that he has the greatest gift of all already on Father's Day. His daddy is a good man, a provider, student, coach. On Father's Day, Little Big Boy will always have a present, the best present on Father's Day and when he is old enough to recognize it, he will be about ready to have children of his own.

A little of this and some of that

Today I received a go blog urself mouse pad. It made me smile. There is something interesting about the reaction that you have to something that a celebrity had a hand in. Anyway, thank you, Rosie...thank you. I appreciate your gift.

The kids have been making cards for their Daddy for tomorrow. Cute pictures and colorings. They just want to get out of the house. It has been a dreary and chilly few days.

Things to deal with weighing on my mind, so I don't have much to say.

That is it.

God bless you tomorrow. Have a good weekend and take care.

Out of the mouth and minds of babes

Last night we were in the backyard. The sprinkler was on for the kids to play in and for the second night in a row, the kids were filling up the top to the sandbox with water. Their homemade swimming pool was small, slippery, but functional. After playing in the water for a while, Number One Daughter came up to me as I was tending the tomatoes and asked, "Did Jesus really walk on water?" Yes, I replied, "he did." I thought, "WOW! She is having a moment of realization about God and Jesus. Child's play is a prayer. Offered up in little moments of play and awareness. She then stated, "I WANT to do that and I want to crawl on water like a baby, too. Or maybe crawl on it like a kitten." Yes, child's play and Jesus is smiling because a child wants to imitate Him and play games with him.

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This morning, Number One Daughter is playing with bubbles. They are from a small ring that she can wear. Little Big Boy is chasing the bubbles. (Aside: when my family has flatulence or rather, when the kids were babies, I would say, "YOU POPPED!" Thus, that is our reference to the body's expulsion of gas.) So Number One Daughter is blowing bubbles and Little Big Boy is popping them...before he can get to one, it lands on my face and explodes, with Number One Daughter calling the play by play, "Mommy! That bubble farted on your face!" Obviously, she had learned a new word in school and found the appropriate application for it. The bubble popped. Therefore, it farted. So much for mommy's 'bright' ideas.

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Yesterday evening, I watched a part of the movie, Now and Then-female coming of age story with Rosie, Rita Wilson, Melanie Griffith and Demi Moore. The character that would grow up to be Melanie's character stuffed her bra. She was very concerned with appearances. Later, I was making dinner. Number One Daughter kept asking me to look at her, but I was annoyed and telling her I was busy. After I realized that I had been mean, I apologized and called her back and under her top, she had stuffed construction paper to form size C cup breasts. Ah! In such a hurry. Such a hurry, indeed.

Butterflies

"Mommy, look! A butterfly," Number One Daughter exclaimed. Big Little Boy said, "WOW!" (Wonder where he picked up that whopper of a phrase? Hmmmm????) Number One Daughter wanted to catch it.

"No let's not catch it. Butterflies only live for three days." Oops! What was I thinking?

"Three days? Why Mommy?" She asked. "Yes," I replied, "three days, but to a butterfly, three days is like 100 years."

I have explained to my children that people die when they are about 100 years old. When someone dies, Number One Daughter asks me if they were 100. I always say that they were. It saves them from some of the worries that they would have. It all began when Number One Daughter asked me if Mommies and Daddies die and how old they are. Well, I decided to protect her from worrying about us. Then if a case comes up about a mommy or daddy dying before they are 100, we can address it as such.

Well, a young mommy died. And Number One Daughter knew that she wasn't 100. So she asked me why she had died if she wasn't 100. Well, I told her, God needed an Angel to watch over all of the babies in Heaven. "Oh, the ones that are waiting to come to our family?" she asked innocently. "Well, we aren't going to have anymore babies," I replied, "I think she might be watching over the babies that will come to your family."

I think she was happy about that. I think that she realizes that she has a way to go before her babies are ready, but for a moment and several moments prior, I have seen her playing the role of Mommy. She is good at it. She is gentle and loving and concerned. She will be a fine mommy and it makes me happy. She will point out the butterflies and keep them safe for her babies...and so on and so forth...the circle of life goes on.

There were no Mirrors in my Nana's House

There were no mirrors in my Nana's house,
no mirrors in my Nana's house.
There were no mirrors in my Na's house,
no mirrors in my Nana's house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

I never knew that my skin was too black.
I never knew that my nose was too flat.
I never knew that my clothes didn't fit.
I never knew there were things that I'd missed,
cause the beauty in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun);
...was in her eyes.

There were no mirrors in my Nana's house,
no mirrors in my Nana's house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

I was intrigued by the cracks in the walls.
I tasted, with joy, the dust that would fall.
The noise in the hallway was music to me.
The trash and the rubbish just cushioned my feet.
And the beauty in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).
...was in her eyes.

There were no mirrors in my Nana's house,
no mirrors in my Nana's house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

The world outside was a magical place.
I only knew love.
I never knew hate,
and the beauty in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).
...was in her eyes.

There were no mirrors in my Nana's house,
no mirrors in my Nana's house.
There were no mirrors in my Nana's house,
no mirrors in my Nana's house.
And the beauty that I saw in everything
was in her eyes (like the rising of the sun).

"Chil', look deep into my eyes."
"Chil', look deep into my eyes."
"Chil'..."

There is a version of this book on Nick, Jr. Navigate to Nana's House on Nick, Jr. go to the link and click on "Play Now". Then click on stories. You will find five thumbprints. On the right there are four small ones. The top right is the link to There Were No Mirrors in Nana's House. Visit...it is a beautiful song and I fell in love with the little animated girl. She is adorable. That is how vivid my imagination is: she seems real and huggable to me.
ENJOY!

K-5 Graduation

It is official: Number One Daughter is a first grader! Yesterday morning, the kindergarten teachers played Pomp and Circumstance on kazoos as they marched the graduates before us. Then as we sat on the bleachers in the gymnasium little kindergarteners in four classes came up to accept their certificate diplomas. They wore hand crafted caps and were cute as buttons.


Some forgot to shake hands with their right hands and some looked embarassed beyond belief, but all of them looked proud.

There were four classes of about 20 graduates, which means there were about 80 mommies in attendance. And there were grandmas and grandpas and daddies. And when the principal announced that he was presenting the Class of 2017, I burst into tears. The ONLY mother in the house who was crying. The ONLY mother with tears running down my cheeks. I smiled as I applauded. Then I looked at G. He had tears in his eyes while he was clapping, too. Out of all of the fathers in attendance, he was the only one moved to tears.

Then, I looked at Number One Daughter's teacher and there before 80 mommies and 80 daddies and numerous aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, our daughter's teacher was crying. She smiled through her tears and it confirmed something that I had known all along: she loved our Number One Daughter and her classmates. It was comforting to see her cry. Not just because no one else was, but because I gave her charge over my precious girl and she took the trust seriously and to heart.

You know that book, Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten? Well, our daughter's teacher gets it...she understood this all year long. What a blessing.

Our only girl is now a first grader and I wish Mrs. B could go along for the ride.

Trans-plant

Number One Daughter had a fever today and didn't go to graduation eve today at K-5. Her tummy hurt and it was worse when she walked, so I thought it might be that doggone pink finger of an organ that no one knows the purpose of. After G got home from work, she settled down and finally ate something. Then she said, "I think I was just hungry." ahahahaha. Well that came after the emergency phone call to G to ask him if I should run her into the doctor. He suggested that we wait it out and if she began vomiting that we should go to the ER. Thankfully, we didn't have to make that trip.

Later on, I went outside with the kids today and I let them water the tomatoes. They had much fun squirting me with the hose and "accidentally" getting wet, even though today they weren't supposed to. Well, to know me is to also know that when it comes to fun-it usually wins out over silly restrictions, like 'no getting wet today.'

I was talking about transplanting the tomatoes, which G had done yesterday and Number One Daughter asked what it meant. I explained that it was moving something from one place to another. She thought about it for a moment and then said, "Oh! Trans-plant-tomatoes. Trans-walk-to the park. Trans-ride in the car to the store." Well I had to chuckle, though I was trying hard not to out right laugh, which I knew would hurt her feelings. I like her definition of trans-moving something, though.

Meanwhile, Youngest decided that he would water everything with the hose, himself, me, Daughter Number One, plants, chairs and then he washed "Heaven." He said simply, "For rainbows."

We picnicked outside tonight as it is hot and humid again...my kingdom for central air! Well, my kingdom for a lot of things right this minute, but truth be told, I like my little kingdom. It's filled with golden moments and little firsts that will be gone all too soon. It is filled with love and struggle and all of the things that make me appreciate the trans-moments. My kingdom is little, but it is surrounded by a very large heart and soul.

Early Daddies' Day

One of the great aspects of reading blogs is that there is an opportunity to be surprised. Charmed. Entertained. Reminded. Yeah, that is it r-e-m-i-n-d-e-d. Reminded of surprises and firsts.

Children are angels and I mean REAL angels. God's angels. Gifts from Heaven with wings. Angels love children. I believe that angels surround children at all times. Unfortunately, there is little an angel can do to intervene when a child is being hurt, but they surround children and I think children know this. I think they see angels. They can because they do not have all of the doubt that we accumulate over time.

Lately, though, I have realized that we all see angels. We all do and some of us write about them in our blogs. Sometimes we become angels, too. These are the blogs that I like to visit. I know that my blog has been overwhelmed with issues lately, but my true joy is writing about the wonderful things that happen with my children.

It is easy to find blogs written by mommies. We share easily and freely. I have come to enjoy visiting two blogs by daddies...one a daddy with one year's mileage: Me and My Girl and the other a brand new daddy: Amateur Dad . They are filled with wonder and awe. These daddies are funny and charming...as charming as their children.


G was as charmed when Number One Daughter and Youngest were born. He is a good daddy and I think witnessing the birth of his children via C-Section influenced his decision to be a neonatal RN. It is where he will do a lot of good. I am unable to separate myself from other's pain, so I could never witness sick babies and their parent's struggles. He can separate himself enough to try to help babies and parents live life...even if that little life lasts only for a few minutes.

G is a good man and when I visit Me and My Girl and Amateur Dad, I am reminded of the awe that he experienced when he became a daddy. There are angels among us and sometimes they spell their name: D-a-d-d-y.

Say farewell to our teachers

What a year! My family was blessed with the best teachers and administrators. Sure we had our glitches, too, but all in all it was a great school year.

Number one daughter is having growing pains. She wants to stay in kindergarten, "forever." Sigh. Youngest just wants to GO to school...And Oldest has an appointment this summer with school.

Youngest can't wait to get in. Number one daughter wants to be there forever. Oldest can't wait to get out.


Life is like that. We, "hurry...hurry...hurry" to get where we are going. We rush to move forward and get a move on. Full-steam ahead. Full throttle.

Today, I just want to try to take it at 35 m.p.h. I know that I can fly through a day, but what I REALLY want to know is if I can glide through one. Can I not gloss over the special things and take time to appreciate them. Keep the television and computer off and give my undivided attention to my family. No distractions. No barriers. Just us.

Youngest can't wait to get in. Number one daughter wants to be there forever. Oldest can't wait to get out. And I want back in.

The zoo

Number one daughter and her kindergarten class went to the zoo on Friday. Husband was one of the chaperones. I had been concerned about Number Ond Daughter going all the way to the westside of Milwaukee and I was glad when I convinced Husband to go with her.

Her favorite animals were the goats and the giraffes. She saw my "pet" polar bear Zero, too. He holds a special place in my heart because I met and played with him when I was a midday radio personality. He was swimming in his pool and made a great impression on her. She also enjoyed the sea lions. They are dependable. They are always on the move, so she was treated to their antics.

Youngest wanted to go with them, "so, so, so bad," but of course he couldn't. He and I spent the day playing and creating. We painted and colored and played outside with the soccer balls. We have lawn darts, too and those are fun.

Oldest is going by school today. The senior class exited yesterday. Sigh. Time does fly.

Yesterday we grilled out. Worked soil for the garden...I have 11 green tomatoes!!! Whooooo hoooooooo. Zucchini, cilantro, oregano and spinach round out the vegies and herbs. I wanted to plant so much more, but spring never happened and we went from frost to 77 degrees...and a dew point near 70, which means that I am dying. I hate humidity. It makes my asthma flare and I cannot breathe. But there is a cure:

Yesterday in the heat of the garden tending, Husband found our Blues Clues sprinkler. The kids loved it! Oh Blue's ears twirl and she has a watering can and there are a million little fountains that shoot water into the air. Oldest came out and sat with us for a while, too, so it was especially nice. The kids ran and played and I enjoyed the millions of little rainbows dancing around Number One Daughter and Youngest.

The rainbows danced as if they knew without a doubt that my children are the pot of gold. Yes, I am rich, indeed.

He's home

There is a lot of tension. There are a lot of consequences. He came home yesterday. There are rules.

I am also glad to have him home. It is very hard to relax, but we are trying.

Pedophile on the loose

Former teacher guilty of sexual abuse released Stephen Wierenga was convicted of assaulting student at South in 2003

By Eric LaRoseSheboygan Press Staff

A former South High School teacher who was convicted of sexually assaulting one of his students has been released from prison.

Stephen Wierenga, 59, was sentenced in March 2003 to four years in prison for sexually assaulting one of his students, child enticement and possession of child pornography.
Sheboygan Police Department officials said Thursday that Wierenga was released on parole May 3 and is living in the 500 block of Erie Avenue. Police said they would have notified the public sooner but they just received notification of his release.

Wierenga had 70 to 80 sexual encounters with a male student, beginning when the boy was 14, over a 3 1/2-year period, according to the criminal complaint. After allegations surfaced, investigators seized and searched Wieren-ga’s computer and found eight images of child pornography. He pleaded no contest to charges on four of them.

A 35-year-veteran of the Sheboygan Area School District, Wierenga resigned in February 2002 from his language arts teacher post at South High.

Because Wierenga's offenses pre-dated Wisconsin's truth in sentencing law, he was eligible for parole after a quarter of his term and was up for mandatory release after two-thirds of his sentence.

He will be under 24-hour electronic monitoring.

As part of his parole, Wierenga is to have no contact with minors or the victim, he is not allowed to consume alcohol, he must comply with all sex offender rules and he must comply with the Wisconsin Sex Offender Registration Program for the rest of his life.

Police are stressing that Wierenga has served the sentence imposed on him and he is not wanted by police at this time.

For more information on Wierenga’s release, call the Sheboygan Police Department Community Policing Unit at 459-3341.

Reach Eric LaRose at elarose@sheboygan-press.com and 453-5167.
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READERS RESPOND

“I am stunned that a pedophile has been released into our community after serving about half of his sentence. Stephen Wierenga was in a position of trust and authority when he sexually abused a 14-year-old South High Student. The student was abused for 3 1/2 years. The sentence handed down was only four years. Wierenga is already out of prison. Who knows how many more years of therapy and help the youth will need to make sense of his abuse? The real crime is that so little punishment was required for robbing a child of his peace of mind. Shame on our judiciary. Shame on the law. Indeed, shame on us for allowing this to happen.”
— Mountain Lover

Re-framing it...

My younger sister sent this to me yesterday:

A little girl walked to and from school daily. Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were forming, she made her daily trek to the elementary school. As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with thunder and lightning.

The mother of the little girl felt concerned that her daughter would be frightened as she walked home from school and she herself feared that the electrical storm might harm her child. Following the roar of thunder, lightning, like a flaming sword, would cut through the sky.

Full of concern, the mother quickly got into her car and drove along the route to her child's school. As she did so, she saw her little girl walking along, but at each flash of lightning, the child would stop, look up and smile.

Another and another were to follow quickly and with each the little girl would look at the streak of light and smile. When the mother's car drew up beside the child she lowered the window and called to her, "What are you doing? Why do you keep stopping?" The child answered, "I am trying to look pretty. God keeps taking my picture."

May God bless you today as you face the storms that come your way.

Kicked out

I have just kicked my 18 year old out of my house. He walked away with a black duffle bag in his hand. The pain is so white hot that I cannot breathe. The tears are burning my cheeks like they are acid and not salt water. My soul is crying an ocean of tears.

Dedicated to Lightfeather...

I love you, Lightfeather...