Asking for a Miracle, Join Me Won't You?

The Energizer Bunny. 
Medical Miracle. 
Happiest Human Alive. 
Innocent. 
Survivor.
Truly Wonderful. 
Fighter. 
Overcomer. 

Above is a list of what I classify, "The Nathans." Not just any Nathan though, our Nathan. My oldest brother who just turned thirty-five on December 18; the man who wasn't 'supposed' to live much past the age of eighteen. Born with a severe blood disorder, later diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy, this guy has seen it all. 

I'm the youngest in my family. Nathan is the oldest, and then there's Sean, who is the middle. Many of my earliest memories consist of me reading to Nate, playing cards, watching movies with him in his bed, and playing school with him. I have always loved him dearly and have been super protective of him. Once in middle school, I punched a boy in the chest because he referred to Nathan as my "other brother." I defended, bragged, prayed for, and loved my brother. Once though, I can remember running down our stairs yelling at my mom, "I WISH I WAS HANDICAPPED TOO!" [NOT my best moment as a daughter or sister.....] I just write that to show you it wasn't always sunshine and roses. As the youngest, there was a lot I didn't understand. How he required more attention for instance; I mean, I got it, but at the same time, I didn't get it. Not fully. I didn't understand his medical needs or list of allergies, I couldn't fully grasp what HIS life looked like, nor did I have a great respect for it in my adolescent years. And then I grew up. 

Throughout his ENTIRE life, Nathan has fought to live. And so far, he's overcome. He has beaten the odds so many times I can't even count. Blood disorder as a baby, countless seizures including a Grand Mal, acute liver fail with NO WAY TO LIVE but miraculously his liver regenerated and came back to complete normal function. His heart has stopped, he had total organ failure (which includes the kidney) in Toxic Mega Colon (doctors said 1% chance of survival with that one)...I mean seriously guys, he really has been through it all.

Every time that something has happened, I find myself asking God why. Why NATHAN, God? If anyone deserves goodness and happiness and peace, it is him. And then I stop to wonder, if I have always believed that everyone has sinned, do I believe that Nathan has? No, I suppose I don't. He doesn't understand what it is to be mean or have hate. He knows what those things look like though--Nathan went to school just as we did, and I'm sure he endured many uncomfortable stares and conversations. He has sat in hospital beds with doctors, nurses, and surgeons conversing with my parents, speaking and acting as if he is not even present. He's had many good medical staff by his bedside, don't get me wrong. And several amazing home helpers, but frankly and bluntly, not enough. Not enough whatsoever. 

People have given up on Nathan, walked out on Nathan, and refused to treat Nathan. But yet he doesn't give up. 

One of my favorite things about him is the way that he laughs. When Nathan laughs, you KNOW it is genuine. It is the most heartfelt, innocent, contagious sound that as I type, I wish I could hear. However, currently, my big brother is kicked back [insert sarcasm as I attempt not to cry] in yet another hospital bed, being poked and prodded, talked over and talked about. 

He has pneumonia, again [something he has fought MANY times], and really needs our prayers. My heart currently feels so emotional, so drained. It was December 21 when I hugged him, telling him we were headed back to Kentucky the next morning and we wouldn't see him then. He gave me a head hug, said, "Bye," then continued flipping on his laptop going through endless photos [one of his favorite past-times.] I've talked a lot about Nathan here, which is the sole purpose of this post, but I feel it's equally as important to fill you in a little on my parents and their role. 

My mom had Nathan when she was twenty-four years old. Her first born, her first baby. Her first son. She and my dad were only married for three months when she got pregnant, and I don't think she'd mind me telling you that she wasn't exactly excited [heck, would you be??] For the last thirty-five years though, she's devoted her entire life to caring for him. She fought so that he would have a good education, she made sure he walked down the aisle at his high school graduation, and she worked as his advocate, always. On top of that, she raised my brother Sean and I. She kept extensive baby books [my first tooth, all my report cards, handwritten notes and countless pictures] and she made gigantic scrapbooks for our high school graduations. I mean seriously, these things are so WELL done, you'd think she took classes or went to school for design. (She didn't.) When I had my two kids, she packed all the bags and got in the van with Nathan and my dad, I'm sure telling him to HURRY the entire six hours. She gave me endless back tickles, massaged my sore calfs when I entered the sports stage, helped fuel my passion for horses, never doubted me, and didn't bat an eye when I told her I was moving to Kentucky to pursue my dreams.

My mom is my superhero, there's just no other way to put it. 

Then there's my dad...the guy that I think can literally do and make ANYTHING. He is a master plumber and HVAC guy by trade, but he also helped build the house I grew up in from the ground up with the help of my grandfather. He can build anything, tile floors, repair leaks, and it always makes me laugh how good at math he is [I am TERRIBLE]. Most of my memories are that he worked, a lot, to keep a roof over our head and provide for our family. But he also found the time to take me to horseback riding lessons and shows and to leave me notes in my car that read, "Love you, Myrtle," with a $20 bill for gas money. I got in a pretty bad car wreck freshman year of college and totaled it; my first car, a silver Dodge Stratus. I was hellbent on having another Stratus, (why am I so weird??) and he and my mom found me a navy blue one. He drove it six hours to me in Louisville and took a 1-way flight back to Michigan the same day. My brother Sean and I are pretty concerned in that we don't think he'll ever actually be able to retire...my parents need to still pay off the home, and Nathan's medical bills are well, as you can imagine, pretty intense. My dad is sixty-four years old and when he comes home from a full day's work, he does his best to pitch in with Nathan. 

All of this to say that my Dad is one strong fellow. He is a quiet man, but his heart is big. 

At the end of the day, our family is kind of a miracle. Life wasn't easy, but I doubt that most of you can say that yours was either. And ultimately, I am praying for something positive, something profound, something miraculous--to happen for my mom, dad, and Nathan. I have a healthy and happy family in Louisville, Kentucky. Two kids, a boy, and a girl; my husband and I are full-time teachers, I'm of course a professional photographer and blogger. My brother Sean and his wife [who was his high school sweetheart!] have been married for nine years and live a successful and happy life in Nashville. We don't need too many more blessings, but Nathan does. 

Whether you're a Believer or not, please just offer up prayers for him tonight, and continuously since you've now read this post and know his story. He needs another miracle to overcome the odds, to beat the hospital bed, and to make it home safely [and in good health] once again. Scroll through these few photos below to see how loved (and wonderful!) he is. 

Are We Different? Or Are We the Same?

How many of you have read the Sesame Street book, "We Are All Different, We Are all the Same?" Our eyes are different, our eyes are all the same... Our skin is all different, our skin is all the same...

Maybe you've seen this cover or read it to your children without really thinking, "What is different?"

I am the youngest child of three, and my oldest brother was born with a handicap called Cerebral Palsy. On top of this disability, he struggled with liver failure, Grand Mal seizures, Toxic Mega Colon, and more. Doctors didn't give him a high life expectancy and in Michigan medical books, somewhere he is labeled as a 'Medical Miracle.' Because he is. When the average person sees my brother, I guarantee that their thought is that he is 'different.' He walks differently, speaks differently, uses the bathroom differently... but compared to YOU, isn't he also the same?

You see, Nathan loves to laugh. One of his love languages is to be read to, spoken to, and to play the computer. He loves technology and to dance. If he could eat a dozen cookies or a birthday cake, he would at the drop of a hat. He enjoys movies and playing the iPad, he appreciates routine and structure and desires to be loved, just like you just like me.

My kids have been around Nathan every few months since the day they were born. He's Uncle Nate and never in their life have they loved him any differently just because he himself is "different." Now, our 4-year old who is really beginning to be able to rationalize some thoughtful questions, has recently asked innocent things like, "When will Nathan be able to talk?" or, "I hope someday Nathan will be able to walk without help from Mimi." And I've felt blessed to explain to him that Jesus created my brother and that in this lifetime, though it may seem difficult, Nathan will always live life this way. However, I explain, someday Nathan will be given his Heavenly body and he will be able to dance and run and walk and talk SO perfectly, because that's what Jesus intends for him. We come back to the here and now and I get to explain to my son that Nathan really isn't all that "different" from him and without hesitation, my son runs past my brother and says, "Hey, Nate!" just like he would run past my other brother who doesn't have special needs. Nathan is different, but he is the same.

Flash back a few weeks ago when our family was at the Waterfront Park. A young boy ran past my son and I and immediately it was obvious he had several quote on quote, differences. His head was very large compared to his body, he had a tracheotomy, his voice was altered because of it, and my 4-year old immediately pointed and said, "Mommy, what's wrong with that boy??" He seemed very concerned and I quietly and gently lowered his arm. I stooped to his level and whispered, "Let's go some place else to talk." I explained to him that though he didn't mean any harm, we really shouldn't point at anyone. I then said, "Pierson, you remember Uncle Nate right?" "Yes," he responded. "Well, Nathan was created differently, but you still love him the same. The same is true for this boy. I don't know his story, I don't know the reasons why he looks the way that he does, but I know that Jesus created him. I also know that we need to love him." I was wishing this boy would run past us again so that I could hop up and introduce my son and I, but he didn't. When we saw him though, he had a group of friends around him and I was so thankful that he did. My son dropped the conversation and just went on to play, but more questions came later that night.

He asked me again, "What was wrong with that boy." I haven't quite seen my son as worried as he seemed to be for this other child, so I told Pierson that I felt we needed to pray. I prayed aloud that God would calm his spirit, ease his mind and that the next time he saw anyone 'different,' that Pierson would be able to befriend him. We talked a few minutes longer and I left his room holding my breath. I exhaled as I shut the door, sat on my bed and began to weep. That was by far the most difficult conversation I've yet had to have with my son, and my heart wept for my brother, this boy, and for any other human who has gone through life wondering if they would be loved in spite of their differences.

This topic doesn't end at special needs. You ask any kid who has a learning disability, speech impediment, anxiety, a different skin color from his or her classmates, a different accent, who feels attracted to a different gender, who identifies as a different gender... ask them if the first thing they feel when they walk into a room is love. And what about me? At barely 5'2'' I stand shorter than most. As a teacher, I'm smaller than some of my own students! I've got pointy ears, get adult acne, and as a mom, I couldn't even breastfeed my babies as long as I wanted to. While I didn't choose any of these things, how different really, do they make me from YOU?

At 4-years old, my son's questions won't stop here. Our world is large and vast. He will go to school with trans-gendered children, he will grow up knowing and loving many same-sex couples. He (and I) will continue to see things we have never seen before, and we may not always have "the answers." But as a mom and writer, I am begging you to take a second and pause.

What is your reaction to different? And what message are you going to send your children, who someday you will send off to school, or at the very least, send off in to society. What legacy will you leave behind and how do you yourself wish to be treated?

We are all different.

We are all very much the same.