A magic lamp full of memories

We just returned from a fantastic two weeks of all six of us together for the first time in a long time. It was amazing, and hard, and fun, and stressful, and so so good. Really just so so good. In full disclosure: The airline forgot to load the wheelchair onto our return plane. And then when we finally had the manual chair brought from baggage claim and loaded with Benjamin and made it to our van, it would not start. But such are the perils of traveling. Car batteries die. And sadly, just as frequently, airlines mishandle wheelchairs. There is no excuse for the latter. But tonight I am choosing to file the hard, stressful yuck away and focus on the really really good. 

So often these days, I sit down to type and realize with grown adult children, I am no longer the writer of their stories. Oh they still let me share, but more often than not, I am on the sidelines at best (cheering of course), and a casual by-stander at worst (still cheering though.).

But I am still -- and hope I will forever have the privilege to be -- the keeper of their childhood stories. And so as I sort through the hundreds of photos, I am struck by this one that makes me smile and remember:

The triplets were 4 the first time we had breakfast at Cinderella's Castle in Walt Disney World. When Aladdin came to our table, he immediately sat down in the floor with Benjamin who had watched that movie on a continuous loop for the longest time. When Benjamin told Aladdin he hoped one day to have a magic lamp, Aladdin told him perhaps one would appear during the trip. Wade and I fairly panicked. Benjamin never forgot a thing....we knew he would be waiting for this lamp to appear the rest of our trip. We were not sure what to do.

We didn't need to worry. We walked in to our room that very afternoon to a lamp waiting for Benjamin, and Genie dolls for Mason and Claire! And scribbled on a little notepad (with a Genie on it no less) was a note asking us to sit in a particular location for the next day's parade. 

We had no idea what to expect, but we rearranged our day to include being in that spot for that parade. My little trio were so excited when the parade started. Wade with his video camera was taking it all in. I was -- naturally -- snapping a million photos as I tend to do of parades. Then the strangest thing started happening. Cast members accompanying floats started stopping to speak to the triplets telling them they must be Aladdin's friends! They had heard all about them. It happened several times and the kids were just delighted.

Then all of a sudden, Aladdin and his float were upon us. He was waving and we were all five waving back. The cast members accompanying that float were swordsmen. They stopped and spoke to Benjamin and Mason and Claire and then looked at me and very solemnly informed me that Aladdin would like for us to meet him at Town Hall following the parade. 

We assumed there would be a meet and greet with Aladdin following the parade and so we made our way to Town Hall on Main St. but could find no trace of Aladdin. We waited for several minutes before I went inside. I was pretty meek as I explained how this might sound crazy, but Aladdin had asked us to meet him there. I was quickly assured that I wasn't crazy and we were escorted through the door and to a waiting Aladdin -- who legitimately just wanted Benjamin, Mason, and Claire to be able to have photos with him in his Prince Ali costume! 

That lamp did not leave Benjamin's hand for years. He loved the shine right off and it still has a featured space on his bookcase.

But that was far from the only gift Aladdin gave our family that day. With his kindness, with his going-the-extra-mile attention to our three, he taught two young parents who were unsure what the future would hold for their kids, that no matter what there would be kindness. He taught us that no matter what their abilities -- or inabilities -- our crew would have good people come alongside them. He taught us that there would be those willing to go over and beyond to befriend them.

So as soon as we heard about the photo opportunity afforded us before the Aladdin show on our cruise,  I knew we had to be there! Such precious memories of a young man who went out of his way to give a little magic to a little boy -- and a lot of hope to his parents -- once upon a time!!

Should he roar or quack?? What a hard decision!

My little family has been scattered this summer from the jungles of Mexico to the mountains of North Carolina and several spots in between. But this week we are reuniting in our happy place -- Walt Disney World!! I might be feeling nostalgic, mixed in with all the happy!!

An Ewok hat -- or so cute!!

My Indiana Jones-loving family thinks this is very clever!!

Yesterday five of us arrived and made our traditional first stop at Downtown Disney -- or Disney Springs -- as it is called today! As we meandered taking in all the old sites and enjoying some of the new shopping experiences, it was just like every other time we have been: we found unique Disney merchandise that we made a mental note to return to purchase. I couldn't help but be transported back to when we brought our then just-turned-five-year-olds there.

Five-year-old Mason, Benjamin, and Claire with Hercules!

We had decided having them pick a souvenir on the FIRST day would alleviate all the obsession with souvenirs for the remaining days of the trip. We strolled into World of Disney and they were immediately enamored with the wall of stuffed animals. Benjamin grabbed a Mickey Mouse within minutes. He knew this was the souvenir he couldn't live without. That Mickey is still in his room.

Claire grabbed a Dumbo and hugged him tight. She was absolutely certain this was the toy for her. Today, that Dumbo sits front and center in a case that holds several she has collected over the years. We love that "special needs" elephant!

But Mason, oh Mason. He picked up Simba and then put him down and picked up Donald Duck. Oh, how he loved them both. He put down Donald, and picked up Simba again. He went through the reasons he loved each. He went back and forth for no less than half an hour, until we finally strongly encouraged him to make a choice. Simba, he said. And so we proceeded to the check-out with Mickey, Dumbo, and Simba. Great purchases, we thought. Wade and I might even have been patting ourselves on the back for this brilliant solution to the souvenir obsession unique to preschoolers.

We had no sooner left the store -- I mean we weren't even fully back to the main side-walk for Downtown Disney -- when Mason began to cry, "I made a mistake! I should have bought Donald. I really wanted Donald!!" And the tears began to flow.

I picked him up from his stroller and asked him why he thought that. He could barely catch his breath. "I. want. Donald."

Back into the store we went. I explained to the cast member what had happened. They were so gracious to let him go get the Donald Duck and swap Simba for it.

To his credit, Mason has never wavered from his devotion to this stuffed Donald Duck. The toy accompanied him to multiple vacations, several surgeries, and more nights than can be counted. His tail feathers are far from white. He wears a hospital band. And has a bandaged incision on his spine. He was loved well. Today, that Donald resides in a glass case of honor in Mason's room.

My young adults know that all decisions aren't as easy to undo as the day we accidentally purchased the king of the jungle when we really wanted the duck with the cute sailor hat. They have witnessed their dad and I make life-changing family decisions for all their years. They had to make all manner of decisions this summer on their own. 

And yet, I think their take-away from the day we purchased their "guys" is that if we are ever in a place to offer grace -- grace is definitely the choice we should make!

We can't wait to get our whole crew here -- and that includes Len, Stephanie and Olivia for part of our trip!! I'm sure I'll have a few more walks down memory lane....but we'll also be busily making brand new memories and yes, hugging some certain 20-year-olds as tight as I can!

That is me singing Newsies at the top of my lungs.

To be a member of this family means that you have a movie line and/or musical song to accompany any and every situation.

For example:

The night before my wedding I was singing "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" uncontrollably. I mean, it is after all what the nuns sang when Maria married Captain Von Trapp!

When it rains, we have an entire repertoire of songs we work our way through -- usually starting with "It's raining on prom night!" and ending with "If all of the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops" with a healthy dose of Carpenters and "Singing in the Rain" thrown in!

And last week when a gentleman at indoor softball practice held up a piece of equipment and said "What does this do?" I couldn't resist saying "It makes you beautiful." (Truvy, "Steel Magnolias")

And y'all, I am not even scratching the surface here.

So keep that in mind as I tell you that we have been spending a lot of time listening to "Newsies", Little Red's soundtrack of choice for the ride to school. And every time I hear the song "Brooklyn's Here" I cry. I mean real tears, can't talk for a second cry. Even as I am swallowing deep so that I can sing along with Cate, I have been wondering why in the world the song is affecting me so strongly.

Today it hit me.

Do you know the story of "Newsies"? The young boys in New York at the turn of the century are outraged when the newspaper raises the rate for their bundle of papers to make more money. They revolt. And at first the rag tag bunch is just stirring things up and getting people hurt and thrown in jail....right up until the Newsies from all the surrounding boroughs show up in solidarity and support.

Just glance at the lyrics:

Newsies need our help today (Newsies need our help today)

Tell 'em, Brooklyn's on the way (Tell 'em, Brooklyn's on the way)

We're from (Brooklyn)

We are (newsies)

We are Brooklyn newsies

Just got word that our buddies is hurtin'

Facing total disaster for certain

That's our cue, boys, it's time to go slummin'

Hey Manhattan, the Calvary's comin'!

Have no fear (you know we've got your back from way back)

Brooklyn's here (we'll get your pay back and some payback)

We're the boys from the beaches of Brighton

Prospect Park and the navy yard pier

Strikes ain't fun, but they sure is exciting

Loud and clear - Brooklyn's here!

SPOT CONLON

Borough what gave me birth

BROOKLYN NEWSIES

Friendliest place on earth

Pay us a visit, you'll see what we means

And when you do (when you do)

We'll kick you halfway to Queens

Now them soakers is in for a soakin'

What a sad way to end a career

They's a joke, but if they thinks we're jokin'

Loud and clear

Manhattan's here

Flushing's here

Richmond's here

Woodside's here

So's the Bronx (Bronx cheer)

ALL

Brooklyn's here

Loud and clear, we is here!

Read more: Newsies-Original Broadway Cast - Brooklyn's Here Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Brooklyn. Manhattan. Flushing. Richmond. Woodside. The Bronx. All those young boys came together to support their friends. They came to stand with them and fight. The story is beautiful and the show fantastic -- even the top-of-our-lungs-singing that happens in my van on a daily basis bears witness to the great music. But please don't miss this -- the best part for me is that when times got tough, those kids pulled together and fought the fight in solidarity.

I know. What in the world does this have to do with me?

Some days I feel like I have been fighting for almost 20 years for my boys to have the rights and opportunities afforded to able-bodied children in this country. I would attend IEP meetings with some dear teachers and principals who with one unhidden eye-roll could speak volumes about the effort that they felt providing an education to my boys cost.

This week as confirmation hearings for the new administration are held I have heard over and over again how challenging compliance for giving children like mine an equal education can be. I feel so sick listening.

As most of you know who have been with me here for long, we love Disney. Going to Walt Disney World or Disneyland has been a privilege that has allowed us to feel less different. More included. And we adore the memories we have made at both places.

But even there, I am fully aware of the eye-rolling going on as we enter a wheelchair loading zone and the line is held up momentarily. I am embarrassed to tell you that I work hard to keep our Fast Passes visible to all as we enter so that they can not judge us harshly. I am all but shouting, "We waited too, we played by the rules".

I see the disgust when the bus driver asks people to get up because he has to fold seats up for my boys. I try to apologize always and thank them repeatedly. I feel it is my job to entertain crying overtired children on the buses because I somehow need to pay for the "luxury" of taking those seats in order for my son and his wheelchair to have a spot on the bus.

But I always assume that those feelings are from my exhaustion -- that I am overtired and over thinking things. I assume that people are good and when they see my son having to drive onto the bus that their hearts are tender to him and they don't really mind that they have to give up the seats. I hope that it is my exhaustion. I pray that it is my exhaustion.

Sadly, today Wade was looking for the answer to a question on a Disney discussion group and found these two posts -- really he found this first one and felt a need to respond -- something he never does -- thinking his gently telling them about Benjamin would remind them to be compassionate.

Wade responded by telling them how much "ADA Compliance" meant to his Disney-loving son in a power wheelchair, the one for whom the ride has to pause briefly.

This was the reply to CP Dad, my husband.

Oh wow Vectrex and Barb, you just confirmed all my worst fears. 

In recent weeks I have had private messages, emails and texts sent from friends wanting me to know that they would stand with my family to defend the rights of the disabled if necessary. Friends that recognize we need to move forward with making this nation accessible -- not stand still or God-forbid move backwards.

And so, when those Newsies from Brooklyn show up and say "We are here. We have your back," I cry. I cry. Because so much of this journey has been isolating. So often it has been me on one side of the table and a grade of teachers and school administrators on the other. So often it has been me at doctor appointments and seating clinic visits trying to find the best orthotic to help Mason walk, to help Benjamin stand. So often, it has been Wade and I sitting across a table from each other searching for the right surgery, the right surgeon. When all our "experts" wanted to bow to Wade's expertise but that meant making the decision alone, himself, for our children.

So often the bus for the school field trip was inaccessible which meant Benjamin and I rode alone in the van while everyone else rode together.

So often we sit alone in the back of the theatre, the church, the movie because the best seats are elsewhere and no one wants the accessible seats -- or those near us.

So often. Alone.

In the Fall the elevator broke and Benjamin could not get to the theatre for opening night of the show he had served as Dramaturg.  After feeling like our efforts might be exhausted, I ran up the stairs to tell them it wasn't possible to get him there. The beautiful ticket coordinator looked at me and said, "The cast says they will not go on until Benjamin is in the theatre."

I cried.

My Benjamin was not alone. Those kids might as well have been signing "Brooklyn's Here" when we rolled in!

And so I will focus on those stories and will re-read my messages of solidarity. And will pray that those who would eye-roll and those who will post on discussion boards will be few. And I will pray that friends will come alongside us and say NO to the eye-rollers and REPRIMAND those bothered by Haunted Mansion pausing. I pray for friends who will throw their fists in the air and sing with me "Brooklyn's Here!"

Honestly, we should probably go on and learn the dance!

Expectations, Entitlement, and a mom named Grumpy.

The Triplets' Epic Senior Trip has continued to Orlando and Walt Disney World. And in our state of utter exhaustion -- I mean we have moved our belongings across country, lived out of a bare-bones-air-mattress-filled-house for two weeks and graduated our three amazing teenagers from high school before spending several days in Disneyland -- we have emotions flying all over the place.

The airline damaged Benjamin's wheelchair. It is working now but we lost an hour and a half in the airport dealing with the paperwork involved in reporting the damage. And could lose more time if the airline requires the necessary repairs to be made here. Sigh.

When the triplets were little, we stayed at Port Orleans Riverside during our Disney visits. When we began planning this trip, Benjamin asked that for nostalgia purposes we spend the first part of our trip at Port Orleans. So we planned accordingly. Unfortunately, the resort did not plan as well as we did. The rooms were not located anywhere near each other. And so after the airport, we spent another hour and a half dealing with the front desk and the manager that had to finally get involved to try and sort things out -- she didn't until the next day by the way. But it was close to midnight and we had to get supper still and get luggage and get four overtired kiddos and two half-crazed parents to bed!

We are trying to save the magic -- Mason looked at me Saturday morning and asked, "Mom, why do you think those Vacation movies are so popular?? Vacations are hard. They don't always go as planned!"

Ah, he is absolutely right. Things go wrong. They do. And today, a couple days later sitting in a hotel room next door to my other reserved room, it does seem a bit funny. But the reality is the Griswolds did not have to battle special needs. Things can be a bit harder to laugh it off when special needs are involved.

Standing on the jet way watching the airline agent deliver a wheelchair that from my end of the jet way looked like it was falling apart, I almost lost it. I could not stop my mouth from spouting everything my brain was thinking:  "These agents should have to spend time with a child that can only enjoy a vacation if the airlines take incredible care of the wheelchair."  "They should be limited to a wheelchair all week -- one that they handled on a flight."

I was so mad. I was so scared that this big huge celebratory trip would go down the toilet if Benjamin had to ride in a manual chair the entire trip. I was so sad that we couldn't just walk off the stupid airplane and get our luggage.

That grumpy spirit is fighting for control of my attitude. I won't lie. I gave in to it several times today. And then tonight, we darted in to a line at the last minute to meet Tinker Bell. We hadn't planned that, but the line was unusually short and we decided it was a great time for Little Red to pose with one of her favorites. As we stood waiting, an official Disney tour guide (as in paid tour guide) escorted a man, a woman and a little girl no older than three past us for VIP access. I wondered what that little girl was learning about instant gratification in that moment. What kind of adult will she grow up to be if she feels entitled to special treatment that prevents her from standing in a 10 minute line?

Not all Grumpy...a highlight of today was watching the parade in the exact location we did when the triplets were 4....

A half hour later we were waiting in the bus queue for our resort. When the driver lowered the ramp for Benjamin and Mason, he spoke harshly to the girls and I about waiting to board. I was furious. Loading the buses is my least favorite part of our Disney experience. We have to go first so the wheelchair can be fastened down. We are often sighed at by bus drivers who don't want to make the effort and by other guests who hate waiting for us. It is my inclination to dart on as fast as I can and get out of "sight" of the waiting line. In my anger/embarrassment, I realized I might be battling some entitlement issues of my own.

So help me here. Really, is it an issue of feeling entitled when you expect the airline to treat the equipment your child requires gently? We do pay the airline a hefty fare for the right to fly. So, IS that an area where we are entitled to feel...you know, entitled?

My family trying to help me find my happy place by riding my favorite ride -- DUMBO!

Tomorrow I will work on my bus loading etiquette. I should not feel the need to dart on the bus -- I can wait. While my son should be loaded first, I do not require that same service and should not expect it.

Little Red wants Dumbo to fly higher!!

Perhaps as parents, we look at entitlement differently. I don't feel I deserve special treatment, but man, I think my children overcome enough obstacles every day to warrant some. Sheesh. I want them to learn the value of delayed gratification. I want them to understand that things worth having are worth working hard to obtain. And yet, I also want to pave the road a bit, make life a tad bit easier.

It is a fine line. And I am the first to admit that I don't always get it right. But tomorrow, I pray I won't be harsh to judge others but just diligently attend to my own heart, my own attitude and get about the business of banishing grumpy! My job is not to teach others how to parent. Or bus drivers how to load. My job is to ensure my children's needs are being met -- from wheelchairs to attitudes -- and the best way to do that is to model a good attitude myself.

But just in case....if you see a crazy-eyed woman who refuses to get off of Dumbo....you'll know it is going to take me a few more days...

My Dumbo buddy -- Mason!

My turn to talk about Disney's new accessibility.

Dear friends have reached out to me by email, Facebook and phone this week wanting me to know about the changes Disney is implementing in regards to how my special family will ride their rides. I appreciate it. I felt your love and concern. And as a result, I have pondered. I have contemplated. Wade, the kids and I have discussed it. And I feel I need to respond. But perhaps not like you think I will....

Cause, what I  really want to do is tell you a story. Will you listen?

Benjamin woke up in the recovery room after his second surgery -- his first orthopedic surgery. He was wearing double leg casts and yet smiling at his Dad and I from ear-to-ear as the amazing three-year-old usually did. Dad asked him what he could do to help him feel better -- precious boy replied, "I want to go to Disney World."

Now, ya'll, we were in the midst of residency with less money then we had mouths to feed. A trip to Disney was not in our plans. But we began to scrimp corners. We began to save pennies. And we began to plan a trip to the most magical place on earth for the triplets' 4th birthday celebration the following year.

We started the trip with a visit to Cinderella's Castle. I told a sweet story about our time with Aladdin earlier this year -- you might remember. But what I did not say in that post was that Cinderella had torn her dress that morning and was not available for pictures. We were given a pass to return to the castle later in the day for a photo opportunity.

When we returned, the line was snaked back and forth, back and forth in the queue. We assumed our position in the back. The lovely Fairy Godmother saw us -- the boys were standing in their little standers beside Claire who was fully decked out in her Cinderella garb -- and motioned for us to come to the front of the line. Wade and I shook our head no. We did not want special treatment. She motioned again and this time the other families did this incredible, amazing thing: they parted like the Red Sea, urging us forward. I am bawling even as I type this. It was a moment that I will never forget. It was a moment where I realized sometimes my boys would receive special treatment and when it happens it is a testimony to human kindness and we should graciously accept it and feel the warmth of the blessing. It was a big big moment in my motherhood. It was a big big moment for my little family.

The whole trip was packed with magic. The boys had spent nine months in physical therapy preparing for the moment they would see Mickey Mouse. We entered the Animal Kingdom and immediately ran into Pluto. As I was packing up autograph books, my Benjamin disappeared. Disappeared. For about 30 seconds my heart stopped as I scanned the crowd for the little red walker. One glance in the direction of Mickey confirmed my suspicions -- Benjamin was exercising the very thing he had worked so hard to do. He was headed straight to Mickey Mouse!

It was not a perfect trip. We had not begun to use a wheelchair for either boy but Disney gave us a Guest Assistance Card that told ride-operators that the stroller doubled as a wheelchair. We had a third stroller for Claire and the boys' walkers were packed on top of the double stroller along with all the various and asundry supplies that three 4-year-olds required for a day in the park.

We were not without out moments:

We encountered people who wanted to fight us about the stroller. Not Disney employees, but guests of the park, who were angered by our use of a stroller instead of two wheelchairs. 

We had moments where waiting for parades and shows, we encountered other parents with special children, older than our's. And so received the hope that receiving a glimpse of the future offers.

We have been back often -- as anyone who knows us knows. We love the park. We love the magic. We love the way we can relax and enjoy.

But here is the thing: We love this because IT IS A PLACE WHERE WE HAVE EQUAL ACCESS. Please, read that again. And again, if you must. Because I am still the Mama shaking my head at the Fairy Godmother. I don't want or need special treatment. I just want to also enjoy the magic.

A few years ago, a well-meaning friend told me we were awfully lucky to be able to go to the Disney Parks so often. We hear this a lot, actually. And while we know it is true, we are blessed. I also know that this particular friend has a houseful of children in various sports costing a small fortune in fees. I desperately want him to hear my heart that we use all that money that we long to spend on sports-participation-fees to take our boys to a place where they can play too.

So these new rules. Well, I am not shocked. Remember when I talked about those wicked people  who felt the need to "hire" disabled adults to accompany them so they could cut the lines? I blame them. Disney had to respond. Disney had to try to fix a system broken by those who exploit it.

Will it make it harder for us? Possibly. Wade and I will be doing more running back and forth getting the appropriate ride passes for the kids. But know that we are used to hard --life with special needs is hard. And we don't go to Disneyland or Disney World because it makes special needs easy.

We go....and I'm sure ya'll can say this with me now, because it is the one place on earth where my boys can do everything your children can do. 

I am not looking for easy access. I just want EQUAL access. 

And when those special moments happen -- when people go out of their way to make magic for my family -- we will continue to be just as we were on that trip in 2001. Grateful.  Extremely, exceptionally grateful.

Joy comes in the morning.

I know you know. I know I have talked about it. Written about it. Whined about it until you might want to skip this post entirely. But I have to write once more. I have to share one more time -- because maybe in the telling, someone will hear the promise that Psalm 30:5 offers: "...weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning." (ESV)

Almost ten months ago, the week of Thanksgiving 2012, my Benjamin had his annual spine x-ray. We knew from his outward appearance that he was leaning a bit more. We knew the news might be concerning. But we had no idea that his curve would have changed so drastically that he would require spinal fusion surgery. 

3-D image of Benjamin's curve.

At Benjamin's request, we scheduled the surgery after his theater semester -- the week following his production as a matter of fact. Wade and I felt it was important to honor his desire for the date, even though it meant we would be waiting six months.

Six months. The weight of all my fears, worries and concerns hung around my neck like the tinsel draped on our tree as we entered the Christmas season. And yet, I did not want to color our season with my fear. So, we prayed for joy to replace the fear. We prayed for joy to replace the worry. We prayed for joy.

 And we made it our theme. Our Christmas cookies spelled it out -- literally. JOY. We knew the season -- not just Christmas but the entire pre- and post-surgical season -- would require us to CHOOSE JOY.

Baking cookies...

Trying to ensure we had the same numbers of Js, Os, Ys!

Between the close of their show and the surgery, we took a quick weekend trip to our happy place, Disneyland. We wanted to hug in close as a family and make some fun memories before the surgery. We did have fun. But the weight of the surgery was bearing down heavy and gross. And as much fun as we had we were anxious, and a bit angst-filled. It was hard to celebrate.

By May, he was leaning more and more.

Our family pic in the shirts Benjamin chose for the weekend -- Oswald was Walt's first character. Oswald was stolen from Walt and Disney has only recently re-purchased the rights to  him. For us, Oswald represents perseverance and the strength to overcome the hard stuff! It was a perfect choice for our Trip Of Benjamin!

Today, more than 3 months later, the surgery and subsequent hospital stay are becoming a distant memory. And yet, walking out of the operating room after he was asleep and sitting by his bedside during his painful post-surgical nights, have left their scars. Those moments change me. Those moments require my faith to reach down deep, to tether to the great I AM in a way that holds fast when I am hurt, sad, and angry at our circumstances. I was all of those things in the days following surgery.

Benjamin has amazing siblings who love and support him!

His incision was from top to bottom on his back.

The dramatic before and after spine x-ray.

We didn't break out the cookie-cutters again. But we knew in the days following surgery that choosing joy would be more important than ever. It is hard. It is hard to choose joy when the sleepless nights have left you short-tempered and cranky. But we did our best.

And now...now, that recovery is complete, now that rehab is progressing, we were able to take a celebration trip to our other happy place, Walt Disney World.

Oh Snow White....

Look how tall he looks now on Dumbo!

And ya'll, it was no coincidence that as soon as we booked our trip, Wade discovered that while we were there, Christian artists from all over would ALSO be there, performing in Disney's NIGHT OF JOY! Did you read that? Night of JOY!!

My heart was full -- though soaking wet -- through Steven Curtis Chapman (my favorite!) and Michael W. Smith. But when Mercy Me took the stage  -- the stage in front of Cinderella's Castle -- and began to sing "The Hurt and the Healer," I knew it was a gift for us. A gift from God because we chose JOY. A gift that fulfilled His promise in Psalms -- joy comes in the morning.

Bart Millard and Mercy Me

It's the moment when humanity

Is overcome by majesty

When grace is ushered in for good

And all the scars are understood

When mercy takes its rightful place

And all these questions fade away

When out of the weakness we must bow

And hear you say "It's over now."

I'm alive

Even though a part of me has died

You take my heart and breathe it back to life

I've fallen into your arms open wide

When the hurt and the healer collide. 

(Mercy Me, "Hurt and the Healer")

Joy comes in the morning.

Look how straight he sits!

A straight spine. Hearts full of joy. And the promise of the ONE -- the ultimate healer -- who knows the entire story He has written for Benjamin, Mason, Claire and Cate. There is no greater blessing.

The 13th of September.

Because even in the midst of planning a family vacation, you take the time to plan dinner at our favorite spot -- because you know it will make me smile.

Because, even when the elements are against us, you stand in the storm to make memories that your children will never ever forget.

Because you teach us how to be loyal, loving and devoted.

Because you support us in our every endeavor -- wrapping your arms tight and making sure we can handle whatever comes our way.

 Because you don't have hobbies where you don't include all of us!

And let us love those hobbies every bit as much as you do...

Because you take the obstacles that face your family and use them to help so many other families -- not just for all of your patients in Arizona, but through all of your dedication to researching the best way to care for kids with Cerebral Palsy, the best way to care for the siblings of kids with Cerebral Palsy, and even the best ways to support the Moms of kids with Cerebral Palsy.

 Because of all of this and so so much more, we celebrate your birth today; we thank God for your life; and we praise Him for allowing us to be yours.

Happy Birthday, my wonderful Wade!! We love you!!