[some how this didn't get posted when I meant to, so you get a two-fer today]
Last weekend at church, the lovely and talented Rev. Erin said something that has really stuck with me (yes, Erin, some of us do listen. :)) She was talking about the urgency of sharing the Good News. We all know the kind of people who are sure that you are going to hell if you don't accept Jesus into your heart and be born again. Like literal actual factual burning in hell. Like my friend Erin, I don't much believe in an afterlife hell. Hell is here on earth. And the Good News is that it doesn't have to be that way if we just love one another unconditionally.
How's that for hope? Starving? Don't worry about it, someone will feed you. Sick? No worries, someone will heal you. Too sick to watch your kids? No problem, someone else will. We're not there yet, but we can be. How awesome is that?!
What I'm learning, the hard way, is that those people are out there, willing to help, but most of them aren't actively seeking out people to help. So I'm advertising for them. Not kidding. I have been advertising for people to volunteer in Crackle's playroom, doing Son-Rise therapy with him. And they're coming. Really good quality people made from chocolate covered awesome. They're responding to my ad asking them to come and learn how to play with him in a way that helps him learn. I've got 2 fabulous volunteers right now, I interviewed a new one today [addendum: she's amazing! I love her], and am meeting someone else tomorrow [also freakin' amazing!]. I've had several people come and try and it didn't work out for various reasons. But they tried. and that's truly wonderful.
I have people who are willing to commit to a minimum of 4 hours per week for 6 months. I have one who spends countless hours with them because it's fun, and she loves the amazing little gains. She was screaming with glee yesterday because he said "poop". And because of my amazing volunteers (and one paid worker), my kids are making huge strides. Pop wouldn't even get a diagnosis today, I'm willing to bet. Crackle? Crackle spoke. He. Spoke. I cannot tell you what a miracle that is. That's the kind of miracle Jesus spoke of. The good news that it doesn't have to be that way. He spoke. Oh sure, he just said, "poop" and "Dad" and "hey baby" and "up room". But he's 7. And they told me if he didn't talk by five, he never would.
So those are my miracles. That my kids are recovering (miracle 1) because strangers are volunteering their time to help (miracle 2). And that I found out about it in the first place!