Growing Pains

There is so much to say since I last updated this blog. 

So much life has been lived, shared, and enjoyed in the past 6 months that I have scarcely had time to think about it - much less write about it. Living one day at a time has been my all consuming purpose. The weight of additional responsibilities and challenges this year has kept me grounded and focused.

But today I'm intentionally stopping in the midst of the chaos swirling around me to acknowledge this season for what it is. 

It's been a season defined by growing pains. Inward, outward, and environmental growing pains.

I cling to the belief that the best kind of growth comes through pain. And therefore "pain" becomes not a negative concept to be avoided at all costs, but rather a gift to be embraced. Ask any wise person in your life where they learned their wisdom, and you will likely find the answer to have the same source: Pain. Hardship. Difficulty. 

Why this is - I don't yet know. All I know is that I'm growing - and its painful.

This year, I've purposed to face some of the inward realities of my past through counseling and have been learning to focus on who I am in the present. I'm leaning into who I am created to be, who God really is, and am slowly finding my way from endless striving to please others --towards finding rest and comfort in the sacred space within. It's been painful. Turns out there's a lot of accumulated shit in the spaces that were originally created sacred. And letting go of that shit is --well, a strangely freeing yet difficult thing to do. And so worth it. 

Outwardly, I've also experienced quite the growing pains this year. The growth of a beautiful new soul to share life with and the physical transformation associated with her arrival is perhaps the most beautiful analogy of growth through pain. Pregnancy, birth, sleep deprivation, and so many emotions. So much pain and joy and chaotic upheaval. And so worth it. 

Our shared living environment has also experienced growing pains.  

At this time, we are preparing to move out of our Shared Living home. The home we have shared with two women with developmental disabilities for the past two years and eight months. It's a bittersweet transition. We have no regrets from our time spent sharing life with Sarah, Jodi, and Acacia. It's been a deeply grounding and enlightening experience for us as a family and we will forever cherish these years, "the ladies", and all the memories we have formed together. It's been an even ratio of experiences ranging from challenging to joyous, mundane to exciting, and frustrating to hilarious. And so worth it. 

We are grateful to be leaving Sarah and Acacia in the loving hands of our good friends, Michelle and Chris Jones. They will be replacing us as caregivers starting August 1st. We are moving at the end of July into our own space in the nearby town of Issaquah. We are excited for this new season for all of us.  

Looking ahead, I am primarily excited about spending more time focusing on my two amazing children. I will continue to work with Community Homes on a part time basis as the coordinator of our five shared living homes in King County. I'm eager to stay involved with this housing model and help develop it further. Recruiting, training, and supporting caregivers will be my primary responsibilities - so if you know of any good candidates please send them my way! 

Meanwhile, Jesse has one year left in his graduate MBA program at Seattle University, and is thriving in his work at a local marketing firm. In his spare time he likes to write business plans for his dreams. As a family, we are looking forward to many more camping trips, soccer matches, and Pacific North West adventures in the days to come. In the next few months I will also be submitting my applications to graduate schools for fall of 2017. Stay tuned...the growth has only just begun! 

Caregiving as a Lifestyle

It's been a full two years since my little family of three adapted our lifestyle to make room for sharing life 24/7 with adults who have developmental disabilities.

Two years ago we had no concept how this process would change all of us. We were aware of the obvious challenges and restrictions that becoming 24/7 live-in caregivers would likely bring. We were aware of how little we knew about people with disabilities. We were aware of our fears and the likelihood of being stretched beyond our limitations. We were expecting that this lifestyle would stretch us, grow us, and change us. We were expecting to give a lot.

But one thing that we were not expecting was how much we ourselves would receive and gain through this process.

Recognizing everything we have received has been the greatest surprise over the past two years.  In previous posts, I've written about some of the struggles and challenges of Shared Living. But right now --at the beginning of year three, I want to take some time to reflect on what we have gained as a caregiving family who provide 24/7, live-in care for adults with developmental disabilities.

Part of our original motivation for signing up for this lifestyle job was to stabilize our finances. In 2012, we moved across the country, our first child was born, and we made the painful adjustment to one income and a higher cost of living --needless to say, all of this was brutal on our bank account. Savings quickly drained. It seemed impossible to make ends meet with one paycheck. I was desperately searching for a job that would pay enough to cover the outrageous cost of childcare for an infant. Jesse felt stuck in a dead-end job full of empty promises and poor compensation. We quickly realized that we both needed and desired more education in order to reach for our dreams and provide for our family.  

But how do you go back to school when you are barely able to pay bills at the end of each month?

We first needed to reduce our expenses, pay off our debts, and stabilize our income. So when a woman at our church told us about her three year experience of providing live-in care for adults with developmental disabilities through Community Homes, we thought that this could be a possible solution for our immediate needs. We asked her to connect us and everything quickly came together from there. 

Financially, this job has been a huge blessing. Although it doesn't pay much considering that we technically work seven days a week; it does offer free housing in a desirable neighborhood, free health insurance, no need for childcare, paid time off, and enough paycheck to cover the rest of our needs. With Jesse also working full-time, we have been able to live comfortably off one income, pay off all of our debts, and save the rest. I don't know many other young families who have this privilege. We are grateful to be on both the giving and receiving end of benefits for sharing life. Our lives enable Sarah and Acacia to experience integrated and vibrant lives in the context of community, and their lives enable us to experience financial stability, a simple lifestyle, and meaningful work while pursuing our dreams. 

Don't get me wrong - it hasn't been a cake walk. Getting to this point has taken a lot of discipline, grit, and hard work. Shared Living is no multi-level-marketing gimmick nor fast-track to big bucks. It is a simple, all-consuming lifestyle that has immensely helped us prioritize what is really important in life and forget about competing with everything else. 

Our housemates are inspiring in this area. They don't need a lot to be happy. They need to know that they are safe, they need to know what's for dinner, and they need to know that they are loved and cared for unconditionally. And sometimes an occasional soda. Everything else is pure joy. The simplicity of their lives and their routines have been oddly refreshing to live with. Odd, because simplicity is counter-intuitive to my busy and distracted nature, but refreshing in the way that only the simple things are. Contentment comes from the acceptance of who we are and what we have. Believing that we are enough and that we have enough. Everything else is pure joy. 

The evidence of pure joy can be seen in the shared life of our three year old son. Caden learned how to talk and walk in this home, and I believe that our years with the ladies are having a profound impact on his young life. Although my eyes might be mom-biased, I see a depth to his precious soul that I don't think he'd have without the influence of sharing life with people who are different than him. While he is a completely normal three year old with melt-downs, moods, and misbehaviors, he also has an amazing capacity for empathy, understanding, and concern for others. He lives a primarily joyful life with lots of freedom to imagine beautiful things. It's every parents desire to give their child the absolute best that they can, and its been a beautiful surprise to see that this lifestyle has been a really good thing for everyone in this home. 

Shared living is a beautiful, new model of care that gives me hope for future options for people with disabilities. And beyond that, it has given me hope for my own future and my family's future! Caregiving as a lifestyle has been one of my families best choices. It has taught us that life is best lived as an equal exchange - all giving with no receiving is a recipe for co-dependent disaster. We as caregivers cannot do all the giving while the ladies do all the living. Our household thrives on shared living and shared giving. It is a mutually beneficial dynamic.

I'm grateful to be supported in my caregiving efforts by Community Homes, an organization who cares about my personal thriving as well as the residents in their homes. This year, they have a big dream which is to see the number of their Shared Living homes triple --from four to twelve! As they are expanding this housing model, I am stepping into a new part-time role as the coordinator for their new Shared Living homes. As a coordinator, part of my expanded responsibilities include recruiting, training, and supporting new caregivers. 

The need for housing and care options for adults with disabilities in Washington State is immense. The reality is that there are are very few options. And there are literally thousands of people on waiting lists. The greatest need in this gradual movement away from institutionalized care is YOU. We need more awareness of the need, we need more financial partners, and most of all we need more amazing people for the hands-on work of respite and live-in caregiving. We aren't looking for mediocre, half-hearted, laissez faire people who kind of care. We want people who are passionate, eager to give and receive, ready to teach and learn. We want people who desire to make a difference and be part of something that is greater than themselves. Consider this an open invitation to explore the possibilities of beginning a journey towards the simple, rewarding lifestyle of caregiving. 

It might just change your life in ways you don't expect. 

We need your help to reach our goal of 12 Shared Living Homes in 2016! Here are some simple ways that you can be involved:

* Share this information with anybody who you think could help us achieve our dream of opening 8 new homes in 2016

* Watch this 4 minute video about the story of Community Homes

* Email me directly with any questions or to schedule a meeting: ruth@community-homes.org

Stillness

BE Still

even in the most full days of life 

                            and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the smallest joys of everyday 

                            and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still 

even in the places between difficult and impossible

                             and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the most gut wrenching anguish

                             and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the loneliest places that no friend can fill

                             and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still 

even in the chaos of change and uncertainty 

                             and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the tiniest glimpse of curious wonder

                              and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the sight of breathtaking beauty

                               and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the presence of those who have lost your trust

                              and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the funeral that doesn't feel fair

                               and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in and among the flowers that mark the grave

                                and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the reality that looks very different from the plan

                                and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still 

even in the routines that become most mundane

                                 and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the rare moments of rest and reprieve

                                  and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the loss of another, of one who loved you well

                                   and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the flooding of memories that are all you have left

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the rain that won't relent

                                   and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still 

even in the pain in the present

                                   and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the shortness of your own breath

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still 

even in the burning heat of anger with nowhere to go

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the experience of injustice and delusion

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the heavy silence that no words can fill

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the yearning ache of longings unfulfilled

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the miracle of new life emerging from within

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the faintest glimmer of hope

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the embrace of the one who loves you intimately

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the worries and fears that can consume your being 

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the nights of restless tossing and turning

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the elusive places of peace

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still
even in the pursuit of growth, healing, and change
                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

BE Still

even in the waiting of promises yet to be fulfilled

                                    and KNOW that I AM GOD

Be still and know that I am God.

Psalms 46:10

This Shared Life. Year Two.

It's been two years since our lives merged with the lives of two women who have complex developmental disabilities. 

We began this journey with little experience with adults who have developmental disabilities; but with open hearts, willing hands, and a commitment to share life for at least two years. 

Two years ago we didn't know what was going to happen when we put five people with different backgrounds, ages, abilities, and personalities together in the same house. 

It's been an adventure.

In these two short years, both Sarah and Jodi have impacted us in ways that we still don't have words for, but will forever remember. 

  

These two ladies are truly remarkable people. 

They are people who live with resilience, grit, and joy in the midst of daily challenges and struggles. 

Their resilience has become an inspiration for Jesse and I in the face of our own challenges.  We have collectively come to depend on the routines and structured life we have built together.

 

In one sentence, I would sum up these two years of sharing life with Sarah and Jodi as "an amazing learning opportunity full of unexpected life lessons." 

Lessons in both giving and receiving patience, grace, and love to each other and from each other. None of the five of us will ever be the same. Lives change when they are shared with people who are different from yourself. 

Pictures are worth a thousand words, but there are always a thousand unspoken words behind the pictures. Although full of lessons and growth, these two years have by no means been easy. We weren't expecting easy. Honestly, we didn't know what to expect. Our time with Sarah and Jodi has been a strange mixture of joys and challenges, laughter and frustration, routines and flexibility. The first year was really unique. Full of new discoveries, new joys, and new growth. 

Hearts full. Hands full. 

This second year has been more defined by struggle. The novelty has worn off. Routines have set in. Grieving of losses in our personal lives. The development of dementia's rapid digression. 

Hearts heavy, and hands heavy.

Dementia is no joke. Two years ago, it was apparent, but not incredibly severe for Jodi. She still had her job at the recycling center, and she still had a lot of independent skills for daily living. But dementia is an unpredictable and progressive disease with a mind of its own. 

  

 

This has been a really tough year for Jodi.  Her story is worth telling. 

As a younger woman with Down Syndrome, she used to enjoy a lot of independence. She used to take public metro buses all over King County. She relished having this freedom and endless amounts of soda. She's always had a strong work ethic and has taken a lot of pride in having a job. One of her more prestigious jobs included working for King County Council delivering mail, but her all-time favorite was handing out programs at the Mariners games. Like most adults, she's always enjoyed seeing her bi-weekly paycheck with her name on it. Being a contributing member of society has given her a lot of strength and dignity as a person. 

In recent years, she has been diagnosed with early onset dementia, and has seen a rapid decline in her ability to make wise decisions, be safe, and care for herself. This was recently accelerated by losing her job earlier this year at a recycling center where she had been employed for the past eleven years. Jodi doesn't like change, doesn't like being unemployed, and she does not like receiving care from others. Her dementia has continued to digress rapidly and she has become increasingly challenging to care for, especially in this past year.

Dementia is becoming a  prevalent issue for the aging population of people with Down Syndrome. According to the National Alzheimers Organization this is what some of the early symptoms of dementia with down syndrome can look like:

In people with Down syndrome, changes in overall function, personality and behavior may be more common early signs of Alzheimer's than memory loss and forgetfulness. 

Early Symptoms may include:

• Reduced interest in being sociable, conversing or expressing thoughts

• Decreased enthusiasm for usual activities

• Decline in ability to pay attention

• Sadness, fearfulness or anxiety 

• Irritability, uncooperativeness or aggression

• Restlessness or sleep disturbances

• Seizures that begin in adulthood

• Changes in coordination and walking

• Increased noisiness or excitability

• (other sources also include increased anger and depression)

With the exception of seizures, and the addition of many other challenging symptoms not listed, this is what life with Jodi has come to look like this year. Her increasing need for attention and care and the challenges that come with providing her care, have been intense. Especially intense when her increasing needs are so evident to those who live with her, and yet the computerized assessment that determines her eligibility for services recognizes no need to increase her personal care hours. 

People with disabilities need a small army of strong advocates in order to receive the appropriate level of care and services. Their own voices are not well heard or understood. Even with her incredible and involved step-mom, and a team of influential people advocating on Jodi's behalf for well over a year, the necessary increases to compensate for her increasing care needs were not approved. The current DSHS system in the state of Washington is grossly inadequate for the aging population of people with disabilities. For example, according to Jodi's most recent assessment, she is approved for receiving only three and a half hours of paid care per day. If you know anyone with dementia you know this is ridiculous. If you know anyone with both Down Syndrome and Dementia - you know this is absurd. 

This is a big issue for our generation to be aware of. To know and consider the needs of our fellow human beings who are most often overlooked in our society. 

State operated mental health institutions are thankfully becoming increasingly scarce, but what isn't as commonly known is that good housing and care alternatives are equally as scarce. Funding ongoing services for adults with disabilities is a struggle. Parents need good options for their adult kids who have disabilities, and frankly in 2015 the options are few. Adults with disabilities want to - and have equal rights to - live independently in our communities. Independence gives their lives added meaning, value, and worth. More caregivers and advocates are needed in addition to changes in legislation if real change is going to be seen in our lifetime. 

I want to see this change happen. My passion is partially born out of love for my three nieces and nephews who have developmental disabilities. I want to see a different future with better options for them as they grow up. I haven't stood passively by the side-lines as Jodi has struggled this year. I've written pages of appeals, I've documented in very specific spreadsheets the amount of actual hands-on care that Jodi requires --which is three times greater than the amount she is currently approved for. I've spoken with case-mangers, supervisors, psychologists, and anyone who will listen or offer guidance. But the results always return the same: on paper she looks "healthy" and you can't change the assessment. The assessment is the tool used to define the need for services. End of story.

Sadly, this has become the end of the story for Jodi in the context of our Shared Living Home.

 

The weight of Jodi's complex dementia and the ongoing struggle against her assessment has become to much for us to bear in the setting of 24/7 live-in care with five people to think about. We are completing our two-year commitment with Jodi this month, and then she is moving on to hopefully find housing in a different setting with rotating caregivers. 

The rest of us are staying for at least one more year. A third year with Jesse, Ruth, Caden, Sarah and a new housemate who will be joining us in December.  Stay tuned for more adventures yet to come. 

Plans and open hands.

Awhile ago, Jesse and I decided that we needed a five-year plan.

We spent the first five years of our life together in blissful daydreams while pursuing education that we hoped would launch us towards achieving "world-changers" status. That season was awesome. We were super poor, living paycheck to paycheck in the great city of Chicago, riding our bicycles everywhere. We both went to school full-time and worked full-time. It was exhilarating in the way that running in place is. We had a lot of ideas of who we wanted to be, where we wanted to go, and what we wanted to do, and the busyness of that season was exhausting in an endorphin-releasing-good-way. But the reality was that we were grounded by sitting in hours of lectures, followed by hours of writing papers and preparing presentations, squished by hours of working retail and service jobs.

We longed for the next season. Where we could fly into the future and transform our surroundings.

And then we graduated. We did it! We were ready to fly!

But wings did not come attached to our graduation gown.

We floundered. We searched for different opportunities. We reached for our dreams. And doors were repeatedly closed on our eager faces. We felt stuck. We were discouraged. We had no plan. We realized we only had dreams. Those dreams made us feel like we were grasping at the wind. And the wind blew us across the country to the other side of the mountains.

The need for a plan was born in the same moment that our first born child took his first breath. Becoming parents profoundly impacted us with the necessity of becoming people who not only dream big dreams but who also commit to doing hard things in order for those dreams to emerge out of the embryonic stage of idealism. Viable dreams grow and change the person who bears them. Only after they change the person who conceived them can they be birthed and change the environment around them. 

So we stopped grasping for wind and sat down to make a five year plan. We wanted to see our dreams  come to life. In order for that to happen, we needed to face our dreams in their most basic form and develop some action steps. 

When we sat down together to write out our glorious plan to become dream achievers, there was so much that we could not have anticipated.  We only heard the happy buzz at the coffee shop where our pens scribbled on separate papers and articulated the essential elements of our individual dreams. Followed by the delightful rush of caffeine fully incorporated in our bloodstream while we combined our dreams into a five year timeline of shared dream making. At that time we were oblivious to the possibility of future struggle.

In that moment it felt as if we had found the key to success and happiness. The powerful combination of dreams and plans.  And the blur of voices around us seemed to confirm that all you need to do is have a plan and then do it. From great vacations, to having children, to excelling in a career - all you need is a plan. Well, buckle your seatbelt,  hold on tight, here we go! Or so we thought.

It didn't take long before the manifesto we had developed began to crumble and crack. In all of our eagerness to plan and take control of our lives - we had failed to leave space for negotiations with the sun, the rain, the wind --and the Maker of it all.  

This second year in our five year plan has been full of bumps and bruises and face-plants. Things aren't going according to plan. Little did we know that the essence of pursuing dreams is recognizing how little power we have. To hold all plans in open hands. To let go of perfection. To receive dreams as the precious gifts that they are.

We didn't plan on funerals, miscarriage, grief, and sorrow. We didn't plan on setbacks, delays, and changes. We didn't plan on uncertainty, discouragement, and upheaval. Within, around, and day to day - life is unpredictable. Even with a plan.

This visual is worth a thousand words:

So here we are. We're learning how to let go. And how to keep moving.

We've moved from spinning in circles and grasping at the wind to holding our hands in open surrender to the wind while taking one laborious and intentional step at a time. Trusting that there will continue to be enough grace for each day regardless of the circumstances.

Plans are good and essential. Without them we certainly won't go anywhere. We want plans because we want to go somewhere. But the plans aren't the destination. Plans serve only one purpose and that is movement. 

Dreams give us hope, and plans give us courage to keep walking. And joy is the bizarre gift that springs up whenever we stop to acknowledge the grace that has brought us safe thus far.

One step at a time. 

Thoughts From a Shared Table

The most formational experiences of my life have come from sitting at a table and sharing a meal with people who are different from myself.

When you stop to think about it, its really a magical experience to find deep connections with people who have very different life experiences. Its especially magical when the connection is forged over the visceral desire of hunger. I think of hunger as vulnerability at its most basic form. It is a daily, universal experience of neediness that all humanity shares.  In places where I haven't understood the people around me, I've been especially grateful for the way that hunger connects us. 

Hunger is one of the most basic human longings. Right along with the desire for love and safety - hunger is something that we all share in common.  We love it and hate it. Food carries with it both the power to make us whole or destroy us.  Abundance and scarcity, obsession and disgust, diets and binges, culture and home, processed and organic, allergies and sensations. Hunger draws out all of our senses, along with a lot of emotions, opinions, pains, memories, and longings from deep places within us. 

Ultimately, I believe that hunger brings us to the table in need of something more than just food.

We're all hungry for human connection. When I eat lunch by myself, I have to resist the urge to also check Facebook. Because sometimes, I need to connect with my own self. Words and activity aren't  necessary for deep connection, and neither are perfect place settings, decor, or gourmet food. The food itself does matter - a little love and thoughtfulness mixed into the preparations goes a long way - but I've discovered that even a shared box of Mac N' Cheese can be filled with love. Intentions are the only determining factor for connection with both my self and others. 

Sitting at tables with people who are different from me is where I have learned the most about myself and others. 

The big table in my parent's house which was always covered with homeschool books, bills, and fresh produce from my mom's garden. Racing to get seconds before my brothers ate it all. Seven kids, and frequent guests. Somehow, there was always enough to eat.

The terrifying and overwhelming school cafeterias, with unknown rules governing where you can sit and eat. Looking for a smile, a welcoming face, an invitation to be part of a group. Insecurities raged, appetites lost, new hungers emerged.  

The warm and fragrant homes of hospitable new friends recently relocated from Ukraine and Ethiopia. From deeply filling Borsch to full bodied spices infusing a hearty lamb stew accompanied with tangy fresh injera. Plates being refilled as soon as they were empty. Generous, endless, gifts of food and exchange of cultures.

The feasts prepared in Ghana, Africa. Prayers of gratitude for food on the table and freedom that is not taken for granted. We ate and were watched closely; our delight in their food was their greatest joy. Lip smacking, finger licking, clapping, laughing, story telling, and sitting at the table for hours. Fullness in stomach and heart. 

The tables in the cafeteria at the homeless shelter in Milwaukee. The choice to eat with the guests, or by myself. Thoughts about my own comfortable table to return to when I clocked out of my 8 hour shift. Hamhocks, meatloaf, baked beans, and cooked greens. The food of a non-profit budget subject to that week's donations.  Food that often tasted even worse than it looked.  The discovery that it's possible to leave a table feeling more hungry than when we arrived. 

The first table we called "ours" in our first apartment in Chicago. It was a small and perfect square with room for four. We wanted to learn to be generous and practice hospitality. We regularly invited and welcomed our co-workers, our neighbors, our classmates, and two teenagers that we grew to love. Regardless of ethnicity, orientation, or beliefs. We invited them to share meals with us at our small square pub table in our little apartment on Thorndale. What we didn’t initially realize is the extent that we would be sharing life with the people who came to our table. Big, beautiful, messy life. Full of diversity and complexity.  We soon realized that we needed a bigger table. Our perfect square was just too small for sharing life with others. So we exchanged our square on craigslist for a bigger one. A wooden rectangle that has been seasoned with impatient forks, hot dishes, and yet stands strong after 50 years of Thanksgivings. Imperfect, but handmade in Michigan in 1960.  

And now we share a table that isn't ours, every day, with people different from ourselves. Sharing life with Sarah and Jodi revolves around the table. We all get hungry, and we sit down together to eat. Breakfast and Dinner.  Pizza every Friday night. Tacos on Tuesday. And out for lunch on Sundays. The rest of the time we eat lots of broccoli, kale, carrots, salads, fresh meat, and legumes. We daydream about the juicy burgers and bubbly soda at Red Robin --the special occasion treat of choice. Dessert is a powerful potion containing motivational magic. So we have it every day: apples, strawberries, pineapple and occasionally cookies, ice cream, or chocolate. Sarah and Caden pray a simple prayer of "GANKS GOD" for a constantly changing variety of wonderful things. Jodi begrudgingly holds hands, and keeps one eye on her food. The "AMEN" is punctuated with a cacophony of burps, belches, grunts, toots, snorts, lip smacking, and reminders to wipe your face. Our table is messy and noisy.  But there's always enough to eat, and there's always room for a few more.