Brenden's story

Our oldest child, Brenden Shea Kelly was born October 14, 1995. He came home from the hosptial on our 2nd anniversary- the 16th.

When we found out we were pregnant we had come home to VA for my dad's Army Retirement (surprised him!). I also learned that I get horrible morning sickness and that Army C-130 planes DO NOT help. 4 months of worshipping the porcelain god multiple times a day led to great relief when it passed- as well as several times in the hospital for dehydration. One of those Lance decided he could not take the blood spurting out of the accidentally loosened IV tube in my arm so he went down and had to be admitted to make sure he did not have a concussion... remember this when you get to the epidural part, k?

Labor was long and intensive with him. I had what is called Latent Labor (if I recall right). After they admitted me it was another 56 hours before he was born and for 3 days prior I had spent all day at L&D as they kept thinking it would kick in. No dice, so they would send me home because they HAD to by regulations.

I had horrible back labor. HORRIBLE>I was black and blue over my whole back for several weeks afterwards from mom and Lance pushing on my back to help. They could not lift their arms for several days afterwards due to sore muscles. Oh- and when they did give me the epidural I had one area it did not numb- so all the pain went there. Apparently that happens with every epidural I get.

When I got my epidural (which Lance does not remember because he tried to get all the attention by passing out from the vision of that nice short needle going into my backbone! lol) they lost all of my vitals and Brenden's too. I remember coming to with O2 on my face and people all rushing around me. Close call to C-section number one.

Later, I did a reversal in my progression. I went from 7 to barely a 5. They said that rarely turns itself around and they were going to give me one hour and then prep for c section. 40 minutes later I told them I needed to push- well actually I told them that 20 minutes later but they did not believe me and took 20 to finally come and check me.... to their amazement he was nearly crowned! 3 pushes and my little guy was here. We did not know the sex so we had several names chosen. I wanted Lucas and Lance wanted Brenden. I looked into my husbands eyes and had to cave- his son.... his choice for name. I was so blessed to have them both!

Unfortunately because they had broken my water over 30 hours before I had a reallllly bad uterine infection. (duh- all those people checking me for way too long!) So they had to take him to the NICU to make sure he was ok and monitor him for a few hours.

Of course the hospital had no running water and they had no water to drink- only apple juice- the one thing I cannot drink. The solution from the nurse was to go buy a soda up the hall! ARHGH! With an infection, high fever, etc and you want me to drink a SODA????
Anyone who has given birth also knows about peri-bottles. well when the water came on it was brown and they wanted me to use that in the bottle....with an infection. Nice, huh?
On the 3rd day, late in the day I was allowed to go home with our little bundle.
I found my friends had rearranged my house and cleaned it. I was exhausted but thrilled. Our marriage had brought its first blessing home.

Today that little boy is sprouting chin hairs, has a voice deeper than his dad's and is now officially taller than me... barely. And he turns 14. Not a baby anymore.

joes journey

Forgive me from the beginning; some facts might be a little off as memory or limited conversation may have altered them- where there are corrections I will come back (if I can) and make them or comment on them below.

Joe Iverson used to be our youth pastor in Tomah, Wisconsin at Gloria Dei Lutheran. Sadly, things started to go wrong and he was (mis?)diagnosed with a mental health disorder that made him step down. I wondered what was happening with him but we were off on our move to NY. After settling in I got the horrible news that Joe had brain cancer (thus the possible diagnosis for mental health? Joe can you update me on that one?). Our whole family was on pins and needles.
Joe had been on a cross country bicycling trip when he found out. He was actually in Kansas. I do not know the whole story yet but he had to stop his trip to return home for radiation therapy. He has now been cleared to complete his journey and he is off again. He has been chronicling this in his FB photo album and I love seeing things through his eyes. He had a good appreciation for life before, but now it is tempered with an experience none of us want to have.
He plays guitar and sings for churches along the way. Currently he is in Missouri and the Ozark mountains.
Pray for him and if you want more find him in my friends and ask to be his friend... tell him Julie sent you.

my grandma

For my Grandma T;

Upon this last breath I give her up and trust her to the Lord's embrace. She will feel no more of these worldly things that cause us hurt.

Her pearly white locks will be full of color and youth, her eyes sparkling with joy and excitement as she wanders her grandfathers shop of second hand goods on the end of eternity street. Her soft wrinkled skin will be firm with the color of springtime blossoms reflected in the perfection.

She will know the names of all those who passed before her- the ones she has poured over for years- and now she will have a face to go with. She can ask the questions of them that sit open in those books of history with no answer we know now. And we will envy this knowledge with a smile.

She will sit at a table with her mother and daddy; engaging in loving banter, laughter and joy. She will prepare a place for her lover, her child, her progeny, and wait patiently for us to join her- enjoining us to wait for our time and not come too soon.

She will no longer roll beside us in her scooter, will not guide us over the phone, will not chide us lovingly for a poor choice. She will not holler "Worth" with that disapproving voice when he tells an all too colorful family story... nor will she call out, "Worth" when she seeks his guidance, his voice, his wisdom to balance with hers.

She will not dance with her granddaughters for now. She will no longer crochet an afghan to wrap around us on cold nights when we cry our tears over her passing and her personalized patches sewn with love on each one will become a legacy to future generations.

She is tiny again, a wraith of beauty that no one needs peach colored glasses to see clearly- they will all see her as her beloved did for over 58 years. She now lives in our memories as all too human and frail- not the woman of strength and character we knew- but one whose strength we only now begin to grasp.

Her loving arms will not hold another generation and her missing birthday cards will be the most painful moment of each of our birthdays for years to come. There will be no more PTA baths- instead her lithe heavenly form, slipping gently into sweetly scented pools of crystal clear water that slide over her skin like silk and she breathes deeply and swims with no effort as far as the eye can see.

We will catch our breath as we feel the tears run down our cheeks, struggling to swallow, grasping for solace in words that right now are so lacking in solace... and yet.... we are filled with joy for her- with love that words cannot express our respect, honor, awe, tribute and adoration.

Instead of locked to a chair, taking each breathe from a tube, she will run, ski on one ski, rebuild an engine, climb to a roof, and never, ever need to worry that she cannot breathe.

Now she will dance with cousins long gone, fish with her daddy, walk with our Jesus and know a peace we could not give her here. She will be free, glancing back with a loving expression as if to say- "you will be okay, I taught you well. It is time for you and me both to fly."

And then she will.

who I am

This morning my friend Will posted his status as this:

...R. Foster: "...who we are - not who we want to be - is the only offering we have to give." So thankful God wants us more than our effort.

As I sat there trotting through announcements, emails, status updates, etc. this gave me pause. I sat for a moment and pondered it. I am still pondering it. I keep stopping and re-reading it.

I have decided to use a little trick from my 11th grade AP English teacher, Pat Sperry, with a twist. I am going to somewhat free write my questions and thoughts. Please feel free to converse. How does Will's statement strike you in your heart? Bear with the ramble as I am not going to proofread unless those little red squiggly lines show up.

Who am I and what does He want with me? What is my purpose and am I just grooving along to my own song not paying attention? Or am I so focused on this purpose that I am making it into something it is not? Can we get too caught up into becoming someone we are not and also not meant to be? If I am trying to become someone else (a better person) then is it good or bad? How do I know when it becomes a bad thing and no longer serves the purpose of improvement? What if I do not change and stay the whiney, broken, judgmental, thoughtless, drama queen that I am? Is that still good enough for Him? Well thank heavens it is- not that I want to admit it is ok- because then maybe I will give myself permission to quit trying and stagnate. Then again, there are so many times in my life I feel like I am already stagnant and do not know how to fix it. Does God use those stagnant times to create something beautiful too? I sure hope so. Last night Graham, our youngest twin, told me that he thought God created wheat on accident since it makes some of his friends very very sick if they eat it in anything. I told him God did not create ANYTHING on accident but then had no answer as to why He would make something that could make so many people sick. Here he is at 10 asking questions of faith that are timeless and I sit asking different ones that are no less timeless but still have no answer to either.
I want to be a peacemaker. I want to avoid chaos and drama and confrontation, yet my life teems with it. Am I adding to it by picking this recent vote to pieces and asking so many questions? Am I avoiding it by hiding in my house as a student, not singing in the choir under the excuse it is too late a start time? Are those real distractions that are valid or my subconscious attempt to subvert God's will in my life?
Am I even helping those who come to me with questions or a needed conversation to bounce ideas around while they figure out faith and relationships and God?
Am I really meant to go into ministry? How can I ask that when I know I am- but know I am asking only because I am afraid that I will not be "enough" for it or Him.
And then along comes Will's status. I cannot offer God what I will be when I am all educated up and ordained... that is an egg that is not hatched. Instead I can only offer him who I am today. All my faults, weaknesses, fears and doubts are a part of that person right here and now and no matter what I think I am or am not worthy of is pointless- because he can use me just like this. Thank heavens, as I sit here with unbrushed hair and coffee breath, that even if I do not meet what I think is the social standard, I am still meeting his by simply trying to come to Him... that He will more than meet me half way- He will pick me up and carry me.
I need to stop trying so hard to become that future pastor, to become that person who will counsel others and instead focus on just coming to Him- abiding in Him. If that means I need to step up now to do things then I need to get off my hidden introverted duff and do it. And if it means I need to stay home and focus on Him in some weird type of extended sabbatical then that is what I need to do as well.
Now... if only He would tell me which to do right now?
*smile*

track tragedy- unnoticed and forgotten

Dear Editor, Principal, Coach and Reader, May 21, 2009

Today a tragedy occurred at the track meet in Ossining. This tragedy will not make the evening news in fact it will be lucky to make the editors column and all the more is the pity. Today a young man thought he was unseen. We look at all that is happening in society noticing events like the 10 year mark of Columbine and wonder how kids get to that point. I can tell you how: they believe they are unseen.

This young man ran one of the longer races at the meet. He fell behind fairly quickly and stayed behind, far behind. Did he stop? No. Did he slow down? No. He kept running- he worked until he finished. When he crossed that finish line, his coach stopped his watch and walked away. This child cooled down, waiting for his timer to come up to him and write his time on his card… and no one came. He walked around some, looking at coaches and adults- anyone who might have noticed that he FINISHED the race. No one came. No one saw. Tears began to roll down his cheeks, this young man on the verge of adult, trying not to cry, struggled, choking back the tears and kept looking and searching faces. Only when I came running to him did someone start asking and paying attention. He was ready to walk off the field, believing that he was so far behind no one had bothered to stay and see him finish, that his time mattered so little that he was forgotten. Forgotten.

Yes, he was timed and yes, at least 2 of us watched him finish, but he was heart-broken. He busted hump, kept on going, and kept on trying in front of a lot of people. He could have stopped. He could have given up. He didn’t. His parents raised a finisher. Someone should have cheered him for crossing that finish line. He should have been patted on the back for holding his head up in moments of adversity. He should have been celebrated for holding to an age old belief that it is not where you finish, but the fact that you do finish. But no one celebrated him and no one cheered him.

His courage to walk up to his coach and ask, “did you get my time coach?” is on the level of David and Goliath. In all of this, he overcame fear and asked for his time, knowing there was a chance that there was none. He kept going and he did not stop- no matter what. I don’t think I would have had that courage at that point.

After leaving his coach I caught up with him and he turned to me, silent tears still streamed down his cheeks. I will never forget that face. The cheeks of a child wet with sweat from effort and tears of unspoken sadness. The eyes of an innocent who felt the sting of being invisible- I believe for the first time. I do not know his name but he is a hero in my book today. What I said to him is not important and I am not saying I am a perfect mother; I fail to notice my own children at times. However, we need to start taking the time to notice the ones who work ten times as hard as the winners to even finish. We need to celebrate the everyday person who still puts in the effort and finishes- mostly unnoticed. Please, notice someone today and if you read this and you know this is your son, hug him. Then tell him that blonde lady who spoke to him will never forget that he kept going, that I saw him finish, that he is not invisible, and that he is a hero to me.

Julie Kelly
Proud mom of 4 Croton-Harmon students

when is it too much? (tiger mom rant)

Question of the millenia....
When do we as mom's cross the line into neurosis over our children and their health?
When am I going too far by starting to push people to DO SOMETHING for God's sake and my daughters????
How do we make them understand that the point we are at is not one that has been lacking in patience to maintain?
When do we know it is okay to jump on someone's desk, to call a commander, a hospital commander, a post commander... anyone who can do SOMETHING to make SOMEONE move to do even the minimum necessary?
When is it worth it to embarrass our children and risk our husband getting a call to tell him to rein in his wife?
When do I stop waiting and being polite, waiting for calls to be returned, asking nicely for yet ANOTHER call to be returned? When do I file complaints and know they are worthy and not me just being a neurotic high strung mom?
And while I am at it, since when did bothering to return a business call become common medical practice? When did it become okay for mental health SPECIALISTS to IGNORE a call for information and at least a direction to head in? When did it become normal for medical persons to lie, to not bother, or to treat a potential client with disrespect and flat out rude behavior for us simply asking a question?
Since when did telling someone their information is listed incorrectly become offensive?
I know I am high strung... I get that. I know I can really make a big emphasis on something only to later understand it was not quite what I thought... I know I tend to be dramatic.... I get that. But does that mean that I have a different standard for raising a fuss? Does that mean I do not get to raise a fuss at all? How is it I don't know when to be that person at the right time for my family?
I may be a neurotic mom. I may be a strong personality to the point of overwhelming others.... but I want to know when it is okay to let myself me just that... strong. And isn't there a time in everyone's lives that they wished their mom had been a little more neurotic about something in their defense or for their care?
I finally had it today. I am tired of leaving yet another message to have yet another far less than professional medical specialist not bother to call me back- even to say No. And since I have hit the WALL on this I know now I am at risk of offending or alienating someone who may actually be useful and helpful on the "new" path I am taking to get what my girl needs.
Still... when is too much???