Aunt Maki

If you've been around long enough to hear many "Gretchen" stories then you know I grew up thinking I was part Japanese. I was embaressingly old when I realized that while my beautiful, exotic, and exciting cousins were half Japanese, I had absolutely no Japanese blood in my veins. (Well, techniquely our family trees all have the same root, but that's an arguement for another time.)

I grew up very proud that I had a Japanese Aunt. Complete with the inability to speak English (when I was younger). I loved every moment spent with this fascinating woman. Everything from the way she spoke, the words I didn't understand, the strange smells from the kitchen, and the colorful way she decorated. Growing up I thought she was the most exotic and exciting woman I ever met...she even smoked...AND she was related to me!

It's been years since I heard my aunt's voice. I settled for my brother's excellent impersonation of her. I regret not being more proactive in maintaining a relationship with her after my uncle passed away several years ago. She'll never know the impact her presence made on my life. I have so much to be thankful for because of her. I am amazed at how God has truly blessed me through this woman I can't claim to have ever really known. For one thing, she gave birth to 3 beautiful girls who grew up being my mentors and my reason for wishing I too was Japanese. I love my cousins like sisters. My uncle, their father, died when I was in Junior High and they were newly weds. I've always felt like our families meshed in a special and unique way at that point through my father.

I'm writing this blog today in honor of my Aunt Maki who passed away in my cousin's arms early on Tuesday morning. I do not have words for the sense of awe, imagination, excitement, and pride I derived from this strong woman. Thank you, God, for your wisdom in geneology, for your guidance of a young service man so many years ago, and for the servants who were born out of that union.

ge

神はあなたが植えた種およびあなたを賛美する。

God bless you and the seeds you planted.

Squirrels: A Story for Hinson

Most of you know I worked in the admissions department at ACU for 5 years. I had several interested things happen to me during my tenure, but perhaps none more disturbing than my accidental peak into, then subsequent taunting by, the secret society of campus squirrels (SSCS).

Have you ever wondered why ACU has so many squirrels? How they seem so bold, like they run the joint? It's because they are union.

What I am about to share with you may put my very life in jeopardy. I write this with the blinds closed and my doors locked. I can only hope they haven't figured out how to access the internet or that they aren't gnawing through my cable wires as I sit here unaware in the safety of my home.

It started on a beautiful Spring day, not unlike yesterday. I was helping escort visitors to their appointments for the campus visits office. As we approached McKenzie Hall, a squirrel ran out to the end of the big wooden cross. One of the visitors pointed to this fluffy creature, and said look how cute. At that point I looked up and our eyes locked. It was as if the world was suddenly in slow motion. I think he thought I could read his mind. Suddenly, he began lurching forward and barking, this loud, shrieking, high-pitched and rabid bark. We all jumped back. I immediately led the family away from this obviously deranged squirrel. He continued to bark at us until we were safely inside Foster Science building. I remember our quick pace as we silently rushed to the building. I remember my heart pounding, wondering if he'd be there on my solitary return. I decided to take an alternate route back...I didn't want to find out. I was troubled by this incident throughout the day. I couldn't get that squirrel's knowing and fixed gaze out of my head.

A couple days passed and as the trauma began to fade, I resumed my normal behavior. I typically left for lunch alone and I was usually somewhat in my own world thinking about everything I needed to get done, etc. On this particular day I remember I was walking with my head down, deep in thought. The next thing I saw was...a squirrel. Yes, a squirrel. Right there in front of me, on the sidewalk on my way to the parking lot. He stood there, frozen in this challenging stance, all four feet firmly planted on the sidewalk, as if to say, "Walk around, this is my sidewalk". I mean he was maybe a foot from my foot. Again, mistakenly, I made eye contact. The world again slowed way down. We stared, frozen, neither of us moving. Suddenly, I had a flashback to the barking and the rabid lurching, and my adrenaline started pumping. I thought, don't be like the dumb kids in a horror movie! Get off the path! So, I walked around. He didn't move. In my head, I could sense him saying "Boo!"

Needless to say, at this point I am somewhat freaked out by our campus squirrels. My awareness of them was keenly heightened. They seemed to be everywhere, chattering, mocking me, taunting me not to share their secret.

The following week I was on the first floor of Zellner fixing my morning coffee. The coffee is located under the stairwell beside a big glass exterior door that faces McKenzie Hall. If your wondering, yes, it faces the big wooden cross. I was tearing open a packet of creamer when I heard a knocking sound. I look around and didn't see anything so I continued my ritual. Next, I tore open a sugar packet. Again, I heard a rapping, an ever so slight rapping upon a door. This time I didn't turn my head. I just moved my eyes to the right, then to the left. My heart began to thump in my chest and I couldn't explain to myself why the reaction. I reached for a stir stick, then I heard a "Rap, tap, tap". This time I turned my whole body and looked out the door. Surely, someone wants to come in! I looked and no one was there. I stared in disbelief. Am I hearing things? All of a sudden I had this intense feeling I was being watched. I stood there looking through the glass. Do I dare? Do I dare look down? I dared. Slowly I allowed my gaze to move down the pane of the glass door. There at the bottom, back feet firmly planted on pavement, and front paws defiantly pushing against the door, each pad pressed with confidence against the glass...was a squirrel! I jumped! I mean literally, jumped. I did not dare make eye contact. I put my head down, backed away, then, I threw caution, and my coffee, to the wind, and ran up the stairs.

It took over an hour to regain my composure. Not only was it disturbing...I knew no one would ever believe I was being stalked by squirrels. That was my last encounter with this secret society. I only hope I haven't angered them.

God bless & whatever you do, DO NOT make eye contact with the squirrels!

Gretchen

Autism Awareness Day: A Post for Madelyn

Madelyn was born on September 3, 1997.
She was diagnosed with a Pervasive Developmental Disorder-NOS in December, 2000.
On June 28, 2007, she was diagnosed with Isodicentric chromosome 15 & Autism Spectrum Disorder.

I want to share one of my most precious moments with my daughter to honor her and all the other sons and daughters who triumph through autism everyday.

Jim and I use to take turns dropping the kids off at school and picking them up. This year they starting riding the bus together. I'm blessed with this wonderful memory from that time we spent together in the morning. The routine of the morning was to drive Ethan to his school first, then drive a few miles over to Madelyn's school. We'd pile into the car, Ethan chatting up a storm. He'd tell me stories about the dream he had the night before or what he was going to do on the playground later. Madelyn would usually just sit in the backseat making occasional noises and repeating her favorite knock knock joke (knock knock, who's there, banana, banana who, banana peel, hehehe). I know it's not very funny, but it brings her comfort several times a day. It also gives her a way to interact with people and feel connected.

I'd drop Ethan off and he'd say "Bye, Mom, Love you, see you later!" then he'd run like lightening to catch up with his friends getting off the bus. At that moment, I would turn on a CD of Disney princess' low in the background and make my way towards Madelyn's school. I began this habit of sliding my hand behind me on the backseat beside her leg. She sits directly behind me so it wasn't very comfortable, but I wanted to reach out. I wanted to show her love in an unobtrusive way. So, every morning I'd gently slide my hand back there palm up. At first she would push it away or hit it with her knee. Then, after a few days she would try placing her hand on top of mine. Several times she would place it there, then quickly move it away. I could feel the anxiety running through her arm. I couldn't see her, only hear, feel, and sense her. After a couple weeks she was able to lay her hand on top of mine for most of the short drive. On days she was really struggling, I may only get a quick pat, then she would just let it sit there. This was our ritual. This was how we communicated. In her way, she was telling me about her night, her morning, and her attitude toward the day.

One day (etched forever in my mind), she was having a particularly tough morning. She had several OCD mannerisms that had us running quite late for school. I dropped Ethan off, then slowly slid my hand behind me. I was half expecting a swift knee hit. However, she roughly tried to hold my hand about 3 times. I felt her trembling. I could almost feel the internal battle between her heart, her head, and her body. After the third attempt, I heard a soft voice behind me, "Mommy, I love you too." I drove silently with tears streaming down my face. It was an unexpected gift to hear the words we'd been expressing through ritual for weeks.

God bless your day! Remember, you never know what you might get just by reaching out...and waiting...