To the class of 2012: Don’t Forget Your Markers

Today, I wandered around the high school gym, watching the class of 2012 give presentations about their two-week internships. This tiny taste of professional life has really whet their appetites for the real deal; the eagerness and enthusiasm was palpable.

So many of these beaming faces are familiar to me…I’ve seen them at my dinner table and on the swing set. They’re the faces from preschool playdates, kickball and Girl Scout camp. The boys now have sideburns and strong jaw lines where chubby cheeks used to be; mascara and lip gloss adorn girls’ faces that once wore chocolate frosting during cooking projects. They’re so grown up. So ready!

They’re graduating on Sunday, and yet I feel just like the mom of a kindergartener who is bounding up the steps of the bus.  I want to call, “Have fun! Do your best job! I’ll be right here when you get home…”

But that isn’t enough. I want to tell them just a few more things as they turn their tassels…

Dear Class of 2012,

From the time you were in preschool until now, you have been steeped in small-town security.  We live in a community that celebrates sameness. The seasons are punctuated by the very traditions that make our town unique…the Pumpkin Roll, the Lighting of the Green and Santa at Holly Hall, the Blossom Parade, Summer Concerts in Triangle Park.   When you return to Chagrin Falls for Thanksgiving break, you will find it vastly unchanged.

And, when it comes to home, “unchanged” can be a very, very good thing. Home should provide consistency and comfort…a slower, predictable pace,  with familiar faces and shared stories.

However, I don’t want YOU to be unchanged.

You’re going into new territory, with new people whose ideas and beliefs will be radically different from your own. You’ll be challenged to think about the world, and about your place in it. You’ll discover that finishing high school is, in fact, a profound starting point.

We’ve taught you well here in our little school district so that you’ll have the basic, essential skills you need as you move forward. You have worked so hard, and done well!You’ve learned how to read, add and subtract. You know about atoms and molecules and gravity. You can count money and make change. You discovered that pencil can be erased, but not markers.

I hope you will apply these skills at every opportunity…

Read…read people. Study them. Be interested and strive to understand them. Remember that the person next to you is more important than any text or tweet. And, best of all, learn to serve, because the best leaders serve humbly.

Add…Add friends. Add knowledge. Add a sense of humor.

Subtract… Subtract gossip and small-mindedness.  Subtract busy-ness that creates stress. Learn to balance your life well.

Apply what you have learned about atoms and molecules and gravity. You can’t see these things, but you know they exist…”Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” You were created by a loving God for a purpose. Cultivate your faith. Rest in the knowledge that God knows every hair on your head and understands the desires of your heart.

Make change…not with money, but with your life. Endeavor to make a difference with your work, your relationships and your community.

Don’t forget your markers. Consider, as you embark on this next adventure, how you want to be remembered. Choose your words and actions carefully; they can’t be erased. With this in mind, use your talents wisely, and with kindness. Make your mark.

And finally…Do your best job. Have fun.

We’ll be right here when you get home.

Love,

Mrs. Wetherbee

Messages from Moms: Ellen Stumbo {part 2}

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend! (I, personally, am glad to return to my routine; I find Memorial Day weekend e-x-h-a-u-s-t-i-n-g!! It was great fun to watch our kids march in two parades, though, and most importantly, a humbling opportunity to honor the brave men and women who have kept us safe.)

Today we return to our conversation with Ellen Stumbo. Ellen is a devoted Christian, and she is married to a pastor. She beautifully describes how their church rallied around them after their daughter’s birth, and continued to care for them as they discovered a calling to expand their family…

Looking back, I am thankful for a church family that celebrated the birth of our daughter. The women that held Nichole and awed over how beautiful she was.  I am thankful for the friend who took me to my husband’s office the first time I came to church after Nichole was born. She was the mother of an older girl with Down syndrome, and she gave me room to express my feelings and question why God would give me such a baby. She would show up at my house and tell me she was there just to hold my baby so I could spent time with Ellie or take a nap.  I am thankful for close friends who showed up at our door the day we received the genetic testing that confirmed the diagnosis of Down syndrome. Their 2-year-old daughter running to me to give me a hug, the little girl I had watched for a year so her mommy could take a part-time job, and a little girl who also shared a Down syndrome diagnosis. I am thankful for the “grandparents” that did not look at Nichole as different, but one more “adoptive” grandchild to love and to care for. Thankful for the sweet friends who watched my girls every week so I could still help with youth group, and the husband who would wear his yellow fleece sweater, “because Nichole likes how soft it is and she sleeps so soundly on my chest.” The family that would volunteer to spend time with the girls and how convinced they were every family should have a member with Down syndrome, and thankfully they had Nichole, their son promising to always watch out for her like a big brother. A friend who provided respite care and was available for me too, offering one of the most valuable friendships I have had. In our church Nichole was not defined by her diagnosis, she was simply Nichole. When we decided to adopt another child with special needs, the same church family rallied behind us, they helped us get Nina home. They were beautiful, so beautiful. The body of Christ loving on our family.

I never wanted to be the mother of a child with special needs. Now, the mother of 3 girls and 2 with special needs, I cannot imagine my life any other way. Sure there are times when things are difficult, and our battles might be a little different. But the joy and love that surround us has surpassed any dreams I ever had. We recognize even the smallest of accomplishments and we celebrate unashamedly. We clap, we jump, we cry with joy.

We are a part of something bigger than ourselves. Of men, women, children, and families that defy all odds and inspire me beyond what words can describe. A special needs community that I consider a privilege to be a part of. Having children with disabilities is not a burden, for me, it is an honor.

And Ellen…it is an honor for us to read your words! Thank you.

Messages from Moms: Ellen Stumbo {part 1}

Oh, I am so excited to introduce our next guest to you! Please meet Ellen Stumbo…

Ellen and I were connected by a mutual friend, Jolene Philo. Ellen guest blogs for Jolene, and also shares her wisdom and insight on her own blog. Please click on over there soon and enjoy the enrichment and encouragement she offers.

Ellen and her husband have three darling daughters. In addition to being a wife and mom, Ellen is an accomplished writer whose articles have been featured in publications such as Focus on the Family’s Thriving Family Magazine and at SpecialNeeds.com. She has a knack for discovering beauty in brokenness.

Today, Ellen shares a bit about coming to terms with her second daughter’s diagnosis of Down Syndrome,and how her daughter changed her life.

Three little bright-eyed girls hold my mother’s heart. They are gifts, treasured and precious lives entrusted to me. They love their bows and dresses, pinks and purples, dolls and castles. They play together, giggle, and hug. Yet, each of them is unique. If you were to come to my house, you would discover just how different they are from each other. Somehow, they fit together so well; they are perfect for each other; they are sisters.

Ellie is my almost-seven year old. She is my drama queen and creativeness pours out of her easily. She is advanced for her age at school, and next year she will most likely be joining that talented and gifted program.  Then there is Nina, my other six-year-old. She joined our family through international adoption before she turned 4 years old. At the time, her development was that of an infant, but with the love and support of a family she is now an average kindergartener and we are astonished at how much she has accomplished in life. Due to her background, Nina struggles with some mental health issues, some we hope she will overcome as she continues to grow, and some that will be a part of her life. Nina also has Cerebral Palsy and she faces the challenges that come from her disability. And there is my rascal, Nichole. She is four years old and she has Down syndrome. She is the reason we chose to adopt Nina. She changed our hearts forever, teaching us about what really matters in life and re-establishing our priorities.

Dealing with Nichole’s diagnosis at her birth was not easy, it brought on some of the darkest moments in my life. I grieved for the baby I never had, and ached for the dreams  that disappeared like a puff of smoke. I cried constantly and felt guilty for the sadness I felt. I did not dare share with anyone about my feelings because I was a Christian, and a pastor’s wife, and everyone expected me to be strong. “God chose you for a reason,” people would say. I resented their words. Why, why would he chose me?

In desperate moments I would talk to God:

Why? Why did you do this to me? Why would you give me a broken baby? I have served you faithfully so why would you do this to me? I gave you my life and I will walk this road because you have chosen this for me, but I don’t like it, I don’t want it!

Slowly and faithfully God began to work in my heart. Nichole challenged what I viewed as perfect, worthy, important, and valuable in life. I had received her as a broken baby, only to quickly recognize that I was the broken one. The treasures I have discovered along the way are not found in strength, performance, eloquence, character or confidence. They are found in brokenness, where beauty is found unexpectedly as a result of God’s love and compassion transforming my life

I cannot imagine life without Nichole, and I now consider Down syndrome to be a blessing. There is nothing about her that I would change, absolutely nothing.

In the next post, Ellen will describe how her church became a family who cared for the Stumbo family during a season of grief.