With My Heart in Their Hands...

Tomorrow is my last day of my last study placement as a Developmental Services Worker student. For the past 12 weeks, I have been supporting 9 adults with disabilities, all of whom live together in a local group home.

12 weeks ago, as I rang the bell of the large house for the first time, I thought I'd pee my pants, I was so nervous. I had no idea how these incredible men and women - some who walk, some who talk, some who do neither - would etch their way onto my heart the way they have.

.I can only hope that I have touched theirs in some small way and that they will somehow carry my gratitude with them always. For as much as I helped them to eat, to walk, to sit, to bathe, to sign, to scoot, to smile....the lessons learned have all been mine.

By holding another's heart in my hands, I must also be willing to offer them my own.

"Heart in Hand"
Courtesy of Pinterest

This is what that looks like, 12 weeks later:



Dear F,

Every day you asked me, "Will you be here tomorrow?" in a way that made me feel as though you hoped I would. Every day you made me smile. Thank you for your warmth, sharing the moments
you remember the best and for making me feel welcome in your home.


Dear J,

Sweet J. How I shall miss your mischievous smile - the one that made your eyes dance even as you danced just out of reach on your way to wreak havoc somewhere in the house. In your wake, I either laughed or wanted to cry, there was never any other way to feel and for all of it, I am grateful. For you, especially, I wish for peace and love.


Dear V,

Of everyone I've ever met, no one has ever been as happy to ride in the car as me...until you. Thank you for getting it. Thank you, too, for reaching for my hand and silently guiding me  to the next room so we could throw Lego undisturbed and for laughing so hard we both cried.

Dear R,

Yours was the smile I worked hardest to earn and when I finally did, it was like watching the sun come out on your face. I will never forget it...or you. Thank you for such beauty and for trusting me enough to lean.

Dear MB,

Thank you for teaching me the gentle art of helping someone bathe and dress, without uttering a single word. Thank you for your trust and the way your eyes never leave mine when I'm helping you and for reaching out to wrap me in spontaneous hugs. That first one surprised but delighted me and filled my eyes and my heart in equal measure.

Dear MC,

You are the voice of hilarious reason and the person I want to sit beside, always. Thank you for your grouchy honesty about your life, your home and for offering such candid opinions about my hair and my cardigan collection. Thank you for dancing as though no one was watching and for trusting me to make your coffee, your bed and your day, when I could.

Dear B,
It is impossible to know you and not love you, B. You are sunshine and open arms. Thank you for singing harmony, allowing me to learn some pretty cool medical stuff as your support person and finding the joy in being alive, for every moment of every day.

Dear L,
Thank you for resting yourself against me, letting me sit with you in companionable silence for long, lovely stretches each morning. Thank you for saying that I'm beautiful. I hope I told you often enough that you are one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever met. Oh and "I. said....NO!" Ha ha ha!

Dear G,

For moments of understanding, silence and absolute grace, I am so grateful. Thank you for all of them and for being you. From you, I learned the most important lessons of all:

Be still.
Listen.
Wait.
Love.



With all of mine,
Elizabeth

On Unexpected Joys and Blessings (A Guest Post)

Annie blogs over at Six Ring Circus - where she spends her days raising four - count 'em, FOUR! -children. Frankly, I think she deserves some sort of medal for that, and not just because she's funny and wise and blogs it all so beautifully, either.

I am delighted to feature her mad writing and raising-of-little-people skills here at Life With Bellymonster. Annie is a gifted writer and an awesome mum. Best of all, she is also my friend.

Here's Annie:

The Day My Baby Became a Preschooler

The phrase “Monday my school?” has been my 3-year-old’s obsession this summer.

Taz can hardly wait for his first day of preschool and is convinced every tomorrow is a Monday.

Early one morning, before the sun peeked through the curtains, he came to my side of the bed and whispered, “Monday my school?”

I didn’t even try to explain how it’s not. He doesn’t understand what Monday is, or how long a summer lasts. Instead of arguing with him I simply agreed.

“Yes, sweetie. Monday is your school.”

“I need to color my paper,” he whispered and I saw a gleam in his eye. He padded back

to bed. I think he must have been dreaming about it. All his anticipation and dreaming can finally end.

Preschool started this month. On a Tuesday.

I gave him the traditional back-to-school haircut. I watched the soft white fuzz fall on his shoulders and remembered how it stuck up all over on his head when he was born.

On Tuesday morning I cheered, “Finally! Monday My School is today!”

Taz grinned and quickly got to work preparing for his morning away from mommy.

He eagerly packed the mandatory change of clothes in his Lightening McQueen backpack. As I helped him, I wondered if I should feel a little heartbroken. This is the fourth time I have sent a child off to preschool and this will be my last.

I’m giddy. I’m ready. I’m dreaming of all the things I will accomplish in 3 hours of alone time. The deep cleaning and organizing that has taken a back seat to the baby and his three siblings can finally be tackled. The storage room might just get organized and I might make a dent in the scrapbooks I’m behind on. I’m hopeful, at least.

My baby is ready to spread his wings, too. He is happy and anxious, thrilled to become a Big Kid and have his own school just like his siblings. He knows his teacher and he loves her. She’s taught all of Taz’s older siblings. She’s practically part of the family, an extension of us.

As we drove into town I thought back to the baby Taz was, all chub and drool. His cowlicks created a spike of wild hair on his head. I blinked and he became a little boy,with bruises on his shins and a mouth full of tiny white teeth.

I’m happy in this moment. Every stage of life is full of blessings and challenges.

Embracing Taz’s enthusiasm, I joyfully walked him to the door and snapped a few pictures. We find his cubby and hang up his backpack. I turn, anticipating a final hug but he is gone. He is off to play and explore, secure in his role as preschooler.

I wave goodbye and slip out the door. The door shuts quietly but firmly. I feel one chapter ending and anticipate all the unexpected joys the next chapter will hold. A pool of happy tears well in my eyes and threaten to spill over.

 I feel blessed.

* * *

And you? Which blessings have you counted, lately?