God has blessed me with three amazing children. I love each of them very much. And I love each of them differently.

Kayla was my lifeline. I owe her my life. 

Christopher was my miracle.

Kaitlyn . . . my free spirit.

All loved dearly and all made uniquely for a greater cause than I could ever imagine. I hope and pray the Lord allows me to see and experience what He has in store for them all, including the two beautiful grand babies my Kayla has given me. 

Yet in the mist of God blessing me with my children, and while I believe all pregnancies and births are miracles, God saved Christopher through a rough pregnancy.  I’d like to camp out here for a minute before you read the reason of this post . . . every month my body would go through the process of trying to abort Christopher. In fact, one horrible appointment the ultrasound showed the baby that was there the previous month was no longer there. The doctor was shocked and Chris and I were devastated as we were facing our second miscarriage. But that odd pain and bleeding I was having continued for two more days and the doctor had me come back in, did additional blood work and then another ultrasound. She was shocked to see that the baby that was not there two days prior was still there. I will never forget those two appointments. Then he decided to make his grand entrance two days after Hurricane Ivan devastated Pensacola. My labor went very fast. Christopher was born with very low apgar scores. He was very purple when they laid him on my chest. Hours went by before I got any answers. He had been placed under a heat lamp and was connected to a lot of wires. There was a spot on his lungs that they thought was pneumonia. He was started on antibiotics and by the next morning he was only on I.V.’s.   The early years were very hard on me with Christopher. We knew something was “wrong” but we couldn’t get answers. “He is fine,” they would say. But I knew differently. By eight months Christopher was running. He cried a lot but also smiled a lot. He would bang his head on the floor and scream and scream and scream. Oh those days were so hard. He didn’t talk and at age 2.5 he was diagnosed as developmentally delayed and entered speech. MRI’s were ordered, specialist were seen, one therapist told us Christopher would never play a sport . . . ever. She said he had a mid-line problem where his left brain and right brain were not talking to each other. She recognized this because he would start writing with his left hand until he reached the middle of the page, would then switch hands and would go to the middle of the page where he left off and continue to write until he reached the right edge of the paper. (For the record, Christopher loves sports and if it’s in our budget, he plays every sport he can.)  Finally after years of appointments God gave me an “ah-ha” moment to record what was happening . . .  it took videos of what I had been saying for years for the doctors to see what I was telling them was occurring in our home. It was then we received the diagnosis of Asperger’s. He has the sensory disorder, anxiety, ocd, a brain apnea (his brain doesn’t tell him to sleep) and he takes high dosages of medication for that as well as has yearly sleep studies, as well as a mood disorder. He has Tourettes and while it was in remission for several years it reared its ugly head just last year and has continued to worsen.

And yet he continues to thrive . . . . 

He was home-schooled until we moved in to a county that has classes for kids on the spectrum that are high functioning. You know, kids like Christopher  . . .  but different . . . because no child on the spectrum is the same. This is his second year in public school and he is in the sixth grade. Christopher struggles with writing but it has improved greatly. He types his essays and some homework instead of writing. He is 12 but his head to hand to pencil abilities are that of a 6 1/2  to 7 year old. When he writes, he is brief and to the point (unlike his mother), but his points are spot on. Christopher’s classroom consists of ten students this year. Over the last week they have been preparing for an election within their class. And while Christopher made it VERY clear he does not want to be the President of his classroom and went as far as to tell every one NOT to vote for him, I believe this little boy is going to change the world. 

Here is his speech. It is in the format he wanted and I was instructed I could altar it in any way. 

The Class Manuscript

There many things that I feel a class president should have. One of the reasons is that a class president listens to the class. The second reason is that the class president is to be kind. And the third reason is to be helpful. In the following paragraphs’ I will be talking about these three things.


If someone who doesn’t listen to the class Gets elected then he/or she can’t tell the teacher what we would like to get on our I-Pads and/or in class room. If that happens the whole class will be upset and we may get in trouble. If I get elected I will do my best to listen to all of you for the whole year.


If a class president is not kind he/or she shouldn’t be elected. One reason if you need him/or she to ask the teacher something for you. He/ or she snaps at you, Go Do It Yourself. Would you like that person to be class president? If I am elected class president I would do my best to be kind.


If someone gets elected and he/or she isn’t helpful by not doing something someone asked him/or her to do and plays his/or hers i-Pad  all day. How would you like that? I won’t be that way if I get elected I will help you.


In the end I feel I will fit being class president. I feel like everyone in my class is all of these thing to. I hope you all vote on who YOU want to be class president but also think about who will fit best for class president. Thank you for listening.

What a great way to live our daily lives.

To spend more time listening. 

To be kind.  The universal language is a smile. And it’s contagious. Try it. 

To be helpful. To serve others takes our focus off of ourselves and our sorrows as we redirect our attention to the needs of others. We often find during our time of serving others that what we were dealing with wasn’t all that bad.