Looks Like We Made It 1.4: Pregnant at 13

Please note that while we are sharing our memoir it is a work in progress.  The title “Looks Like We Made It” is a working title.  The words in the chapters are are also a work in progress.  This is not a final copy, but rather a chance to share our story.

Pregnant at 13

Looks Like We Made It

Chapter 1.4

Norah

This new relationship became everything to me. In it I felt the voids in my life begin to fill. He was the kind of guy I would imagine every pre teen girl would want to date. He was older, had a car and always had enough money to take me dates. At thirteen there was something to be said about a guy that had a wallet with cash, a driver’s license and a set of car keys. When his car pulled up to the middle school navigating around all the little boys on bikes my heart would flutter, I’d look around to make sure that my friends were close enough to see me float into the passenger’s seat of his car. I would never rush my walk towards him, I sort of awkwardly glided to his low rider Monte Carlo, giving my peers an opportunity for making me the subject of their conversations. Not the negative kind of talk I normally expected and at times engaged in, teenagers were nasty. Nasty as in belittling one another with pure gossip, a shared secret with someone you thought was a friend would quickly be told and spread like wildfire across the school. A small social infarction would spark a flame that grew as it left one gossiper’s lips to the next. Wildfire! The conversation about me I imagined would be to my benefit and I smiled thinking about it “Hey did you see her boyfriend picking her up, he has a nice ride” one would say as the other replied, “She is so lucky.”  

My boyfriend and I spent much of our time going to the latest movies and frequenting our favorite fast food spots. He was so attentive and wanted to spend almost every waking hour in my company. His family took me in as their own and in a short amount of time I was completely lost in a new world. When I entered this new world I was greeted by people who seemed to have an interest in me, willing to invest their energy in getting to know me. When I answered the question of how are you doing they listened to me as if every word I spoke was important.  They may have always listened just as an polite person would, but with the gaping hole in the middle of my home where I fell in with my thoughts and fears, this hole with no ladder my encounters with this family felt special, they became the ladder I needed to get out. Unfortunately the times I was free from loneliness was in their home and not in mine. We spent little to no time at my house as I always suggested being at his.  Meal time with them also felt special, a family gathered around a table sharing stories of their day was what I missed the most at home. At my boyfriends house I didn’t stare at empty chairs that acknowledged someone was absent .   With the lack of attention, guidance and the hole that awaited me, I thought I was right where I belonged. As time passed I no longer wanted to be out with my friends, the time spent with them was time wasted. I would make excuses as to why I couldn’t go to birthday parties, school events and even sleep overs. Invitations to sleepovers were now used as a tool to get out of my house for an entire night without being questioned.  I even found a way out of my every other weekend dates with my dad. My mother was more than willing to help me come up with reasons why I needed to stay home and not see my dad. She would do and say whatever I suggested just to keep me happy and busy as long as my chores were done of course. She was so busy trying to find herself in the new single role while at  the same time avoiding my father at all costs. The less contact I had with him meant less contact she would have to have with him. In hindsight we were both avoiding the obvious hole in the middle of our house while searching for places where the attention we thought we needed lived.

On my boyfriend’s lunch break he stopped by my house and came with a pregnancy test, a Sprite the cure of all stomach illness, and a bag of pistachios, one of my favorite snacks. My initial reaction to his offerings was relief at the sight of the snacks and irritation to the test.  I could not allow myself to even fathom the possibility , for one second. He couldn’t stay long as he needed to get back to class, he was a month and a half into his senior year, missing school was not what he often did. He quickly left reminding me that he would call me later that day between classes. He left me wondering what to do. I ate the pistachios one by one. Each one I cracked open took my mind away from the pregnancy test. I tossed aside the shells in a pile in the middle of my bed where I sat with my legs criss crossed staring at my bedroom wall. I was careful not to make a mess. The saltness soothed me after throwing up several times that morning. I tried to convince myself that the whole thing was stupid because I honestly did not think I was pregnant. Where is no way I was carrying a baby, what would I do with a baby? Why would he continue to believe I was pregnant, he is finishing up high school and I haven’t even darkened the doorway of a high school. Was I going to carry a baby in my backpack? What a sight I would be. Yeah he has lost his mind and is trying to get me to fall into this crazy idea of his.  The last couple of months we had been intimate and for the most part used protection and I feel like we were smart. Well there was that time that maybe we weren’t being so smart. Maybe this was a possibility, no I was just really sick. This is why I keep throwing up. This was also why I had this terrible taste in my mouth and this nasty yellow puke keeps coming up in my throat. This is disgusting and I hope this bug doesn’t last long, I thought over and over again. Maybe I’ll just take the pregnancy test to prove that I was right and have him baby me a little longer while I recover from this stomach flu, I was not pregnant!

I opened the box and read the instructions several time, he bought a box that had two test in it. Why in the hell did I need two tests I asked myself as a pain in my stomach over came me? This was not the stomach ache pain but the stomach anxiety pain. The kind of pain that was so deep that it made my heart palpitate faster than normal.  Was he right, was I possibly pregnant? I asked myself once again as I prepared to take the test. I have always been very precise and I knew the importance of making sure I took this test correctly. I peed on the test stick, set it on the toilet tank, and waited three minutes as instructed. If the line in the little indicator window at the end of the plastic test stick turned pink I was pregnant, if it remained white this meant I was not pregnant. I came back three minutes later into the bathroom to find a pink line. As pink as pink can be, dark pink. I was in shock and refused to believe that I was before me.. I convinced myself that I simply had the flu. The test was wrong. It was an error, it had to be.

Scared of the truth I hid the test in my bottom dresser drawer and covered it with clothes. I took the instructions out and reread them. I read the instructions front to back, Chinese, Spanish, whatever was printed on that paper I read it. I wanted to convince myself the results were incorrect, that I had took the test incorrectly. Can I not pee on a test correctly? In reading the instructions over and over again I could take the test by peeing in a cup and placing the test sick in urine allowing it to saturate and wait the three minutes. Praying I screwed the test up the first time I took it again, hoping the test stick would remain white. I gathered my urine in a small paper cup, placed the tip of the test in the cup,watched for my urine to saturate the new stick and waited longer than three minutes just in case the test needed more time to indicate the correct answer.  I thought if I waited long enough this test would show its true colors. Meanwhile, I went back to my dresser drawer and took out the original test. I set the test on the instruction pamphlet were it showed a positive test reading and it looked exactly as pictured.  I stared at the test while my heart pounded with my mind clouded. I was not fully able to comprehend the magnitude of what this result meant for my life as a whole, I closed my eyes and hoped when I opened them the test would be negative. After a deep breathe I opened my eyes and looked at the second test to see an even brighter pink line! The window of the second test burned pink. I did not have the flu, I was pregnant. Not knowing what to do I took the second pregnancy test paraphernalia and hid it in my dresser drawer along with the first one .  How did I get here? I can go back can’t I? This was the last possible thing I thought would happen to me. I have no idea how to care for a baby. Mom is going to kill me and oh dad is going to kill him. Dad can’t know not just yet as a matter of fact I am not going to tell anyone. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I need him to come back over here to figure this out. Why am I alone right now? I need someone to talk to, I have no idea what to do. I never in a million years thought this would happen to me. This never happens to girls like me. What kind of a girl am I? I am the kind of girl that gets herself in trouble. Why am I alone? I am not alone, wait I will never be alone ever again. Ever again. I sat at home all day by myself, by myself with a tiny human being to grow inside of me. A tiny human that would change my life forever. I was pregnant at thirteen.

 

 

 

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Norah

Norah

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.  Follow me as I tread through.

Looks Like We Made It 1.4: Pregnant at 13

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Looks Like We Made It: Looking For Home 1.2

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Writing Hurts

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Writing Our Book Part 4

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Take Care of You in 2017

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Merry Christmas Prayers

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Writing Our Book Part 3

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Hands That Are Thankful

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We Are Meant to Change

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Writing Our Book

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Looks Like We Made It: Looking For Home 1.2

Please note that while we are sharing our memoir it is a work in progress.  The title “Looks Like We Made It” is a working title.  The words in the chapters are are also a work in progress.  This is not a final copy, but rather a chance to share our story.

Looking For Home

Looks Like We Made It

Chapter 1.2

Norah

I stared out the window on a crisp Colorado fall morning, the leaves changed in color and all had almost fallen to the ground, waiting for the wind to blow them away. Some leaves remained on branches, but very few. I often wondered how they hung on. I loved fall, it was always my favorite season. The sun shining through the almost naked trees and the beauty in the colors calms me. With the cold weather approaching some leaves would freeze and be held to the ground. I too had changed in color, but I was still attached to the tree by a small branch prepared for the wind to take me to a beautiful place not aware that winter would soon come and I would be frozen to the cold ground. I was headed in a different direction and speed I was not expecting.

That morning I thought I had the flu.  My mom went to work leaving me home alone even though I was throwing up. The morning air was cold and, I wiped the frost off my bedroom window in order to watch her drive away. I quickly got right back in my bed half mad that she left me alone and half glad that I was all alone. Even though at times I wished she was what I considered to be a normal parent I was safer spending less time with her. I couldn’t have a single conversation that did not include how tired she was and how I could be doing so much more to help her out. The more I did, the more resentful I became, especially when what I did was never up to her standards and she never thanked me. I quickly reminded myself she was now a single parent and could not afford to miss a day’s worth of pay.

This structure that once held laughter, good food and salsa music, this place that often smelled of pine sol and simmering sofrito was quiet, dim, and fragrance free. The year prior the place I called home became infested with sobs, angry outburst and bitterness. Salsa music no longer played unless my mother played it to pretend she was whole and happy. She was good at pretending. I no longer smelled the scents of my father’s favorite things in life, a clean home and his favorite Puerto Rican foods cooking. My mom’s way of showing love was through acts of service and she served my father in hopes to keep him happy and lacking for anything. He was her pride a joy, a service man. Growing up her eyes twinkled when he dressed in his class “A” army uniform. It had been a year since I had seen her look at him in this way. This house had changed not only in name but mostly in feelings. A year prior our home changed into a house when my father packed his personal belongs, when he was asked to leave. My mother could no longer live with a man that she could not trust.

When I sat in my bed, I was all alone. I felt out of place in this unfamiliar environment. All of the possessions inside looked familiar and even inviting but I was quickly reminded that the things inside are all for show. Being at our house made me feel desperate to exit.  Each one of my family members pulled in separate directions in search for a place to live, a place to call home. Our family house was a place that we each resided in, a roof over our head not a place we lived. A place where you live would imply that life was happening and it wasn’t.  We slept on occasion under this shared roof but we did not share the same family connection we had when our father was here.

I had to get out of bed before I threw up again, I walked passed my mother’s room on the way to the bathroom.  This once was my parents room, once a shared space. Now it felt like a dark cave. I avoided going in this room unless my mother would call me in there. Growing up my parents bedroom was where I would most often find my father under the blankets on weekend mornings. Being in the army we moved a lot, but my parents bedroom still held the same meaning to me, even if it wasn’t physically the same room. My dad loved to sleep in after a long weeks worth of work. It was known by all of us that as soon as dad got up we would be doing something fun as a family. It was a Saturday tradition to go shopping, to a movie and out to eat. Some mornings I would hear my parents talking through our bedroom walls, this is how I knew family fun time was approaching. I would jump in the bed with them both, if their conversation wasn’t over they would start to speak in spanish. They knew that I could understand most of what they were saying so they invented their own code language of spanish to discourage me from trying to figure out what they were saying. It was their own secret language. When my dad wasn’t moving fast enough for my liking I would start to push him with my legs. He was so much bigger than me so I would squeeze my body between my parents position both my legs, one his mid back the other on his butt and rock him back and forth acting as if I was going to push him out of the bed. I would continue this as I begged him to get out of bed, “come on daddy get up please, let’s go now, you take forever to get ready.” In time he would give in to my begging and sit up and off I would run to my room to get dressed. But there was no longer any signs of my father in that bedroom, nothing to show that an Army soldier once slept next to my mother.

I was hunched over the toilet wishing my dad was there. I wanted someone to take care of me. But my dad became the parent I saw every other weekend. Some of our weekend visits felt long and drawn out, we were growing apart as father and daughter.  I dreaded hearing his car pull up and tried to prepare myself to act as if I were excited. My parents separation and divorce came right at a time that I believed most girls grew attached to their fathers, at thirteen years our relationship suffered. It was uncomfortable being alone with him. Our time together felt unnatural and forced. Our conversations lacked closeness. I grew up watching sitcoms like The Cosby’s and Growing Pains and I would often dream of my family sharing that kind of closeness. Why couldn’t we sit around a dinner table and share conversations that were relevant to a pre teen girl. These television families would always find a solution to whatever disagreement they had. My family’s lack in good comunication forced me to close myself in, I couldn’t share what was really going on in my life, I couldn’t be the real me, instead I pretended to be his innocent baby girl. A obedient child that always did what she was told.

My mom became distracted and disconnected in her newfound freedom. She wanted to prove to my father how she didn’t need him any longer. She was working full time and started to make friends. Most of our conversations were based on whether or not I had done my chores. She did not react well in an untidy home. So to her a clean house was priority even over homework. This became a task that was mostly mine. Deep down in her Puerto Rican upbringing it was the woman’s “job” to do the household chores not the men’s. We had a big house at the time my parents separated. They bought this house to make a permanent home for our family. Growing up we had lived in several army bases, I could only recall one other time we lived in an actual house. It was a house my parents built from the grown up in North Carolina. We did not live there long, I often wonder why. So this being the family home my parents chose after building a home, was very spacious. It had three stories and we each had our own bedrooms. I loved this house, I especially loved the stairs, one lead to my bedroom and the other to the family room. I loved the stairs mainly because prior to this home stairs only lead to basements. Basements for mostly storge, nothing fun. These stairs lead to rooms that reflected each occupant’s personality, rooms that once were filled with the laughter.   

I would pass my brothers in the hallway that separated our rooms as we headed out to school, or at least they were pretending they were going to school for my mom’s sake. When school was over they were always out with their friends and girlfriends. The saturday mornings in our pjs eating Captain Crunch watching Tom and Jerry were long gone. Waking up I would pass by empty bedrooms. Not only was my dad missing from his bed but if my brothers had come home in the evening they would be long gone before I had much of a chance to interact with them. I had no idea where they went and they never included me in whatever they did. Being the youngest of us and a 13 year old girl I required the most guidance. The kind of guidance that would prepare me for life, love and relationship. I was not prepared for any of the above and I set out to find a place where I could feel connected to someone where I could share who I was, I wanted to belong. I did not want to feel alone in the world, unloved, or uncared for.

As the distance in my family grew wider and wider. I continued to search for the attention I desperately needed. I found every reason to not be at home because inside those walls resided only people and not a family. There was a huge void in my life that my boyfriend instantly filled the day I met him.  He became my entire world, he became my home.

Norah

Norah

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.  Follow me as I tread through.

Keep Rolling On With Us On Social Media

Today marks 22 years of marriage and to many more! #keeprollingon

A photo posted by @thewheelsofgrace on

We share our stories not so you know what we've been through, but so you're not afraid to share your own. Tell us, what's your story?

Posted by The Wheels of Grace on Monday, February 22, 2016

Watch Your Toes

Watch your toes, my dad says to me as his wheelchair wheels towards me. Watch your toes, my dad says as he is trying to get by and I’m in his way. Watch your toes.   I’ve heard it a millions times.  I know to watch my toes, I’ve had them run over before....
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Norah’s Story

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Orphan Sunday

Have you ever been involved in so many ministries and organizations that your calendar is full? Your servant’s heart longs to be it’s best in all of them. Each ministry shares a part of your passion and you want to do them all justice. Many times you...
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October 15, 1994

  Our relationship was one that was not supposed to last.  So many bets and side bets were placed against us.  To believe in our relationship was a risk not many were willing to take.  I smile when I think of all the money that was lost because of our...
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Back to School

Back To School The passed few weeks at the Sanchez house has been filled with the noise of mom telling our kids to clean out their closets because school is around the corner and the junk needs to be cleaned out.   They’re instructed to take out all the clothes...
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Hi, I am Jason and I am going to be writing this as a guest writer for The Wheels of Grace. This is going to be the story of how adoption has changed my life to what it is now.  I was taken by the state of Kansas at the age of 2. Not because my parents were...
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Writing Hurts

This week I spent some time editing our book, which is almost always an emotional endeavor.  I reached back into my past when I was 13 years old, the time in my life when my parents were separated and I became pregnant.  During this time so much of my life changed in rapid speed.  

I have read, reread, and edited these pages numerous times that they have became familiar, but I must push passed the just telling my story stage, into navigating my heart. While venturing my heart I was able to spill my emotions on paper. I do not want to leave out any details that would show how far I have traveled to get where I am today.  I made one promise when deciding to write a memoir, that I would open myself up fully by being transparent and honest with who I was and who I have become.   The desire has always been to share the good, the bad and the ugly with the hopes of inspiring others to do the same. For others like me to believe in themselves and fight to gain control of whatever situation they may encounter.  So why did this process bring me to tears even when I have already exposed so much of myself for years now?  As I continued to write I am pained by all this character endured.  As if I am an entire other person empathizing with my 13 year old self.  This part of the book is leading into how my path changed.  As I continued to type I started to sob uncontrollably and not able to read my own words.  

My family and I have been working on our book for years now and we get together and read aloud some of our edited work, I almost always cry at Sergio’s and Ashley’s words.  This week was a challenge for me, I wrote for the most part alone and there is something about writing out your feelings of loneliness.  I cried more than usual, actually shocking myself when my cries turned into sobs.  After talking to myself and doing some self reflection I realized where these feelings were coming.  I initially started crying because I was grieving my past.  I was treading down the dark road with no light and I was alone. In time my tears changed to tears of joy.  I am grateful that I gained the ability to break away for the chains that held me down.  I am now free to live my life with an open heart.  A heart willing to receive grace and mercy.  This is who I am today,  I am no longer a confused young girl, I am a saved woman.  I cried this week because I am still living out my dream of one day seeing a completed story full of loss and pain come to full circle to becoming one of compassion, grace, love and overcoming hardships.

When I felt that I was weak for getting so emotional over my past I realized that I was actually being strong and brave by allowing my emotions to naturally grieve the person I once was and to celebrate with tears that I am not her anymore. I am proud of myself for wanting to open up my life for others to read with the dream of one day inspiring and touching lives.  When we started this process I knew that at times it would get hard.   That was an understatement as I quickly learned how emotional writing about your own life can be.  I push myself through and in the end of the each writing experience I am able to see why I survived, and why I had to endure so many obstacles in the first place.
I encourage you to share events in your life that have made you stronger.  Start by sharing the tough stuff that has shaped you and that has opened your heart.  As you navigate your heart stop and reflect on how much you have changed.  Think of those times when you felt that you were at your lowest and how freeing it feels to see yourself come full circle.  So many of us have experienced similar situations and yet we do not know it.  Someone we may encounter is going through hardships right now.  Reach out and share your story, you never know who you may inspire to Keep Rolling On.

Norah

Norah

 

 

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.  Follow me as I tread through.

Keep Rolling On With Us On Social Media

Today marks 22 years of marriage and to many more! #keeprollingon

A photo posted by @thewheelsofgrace on

We share our stories not so you know what we've been through, but so you're not afraid to share your own. Tell us, what's your story?

Posted by The Wheels of Grace on Monday, February 22, 2016

Lighten Your Bag

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Looks Like We Made It: New Start 1.3

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Me Facing the Incline

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The Mental Illness Ride

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First Year Anniversary

Yesterday, September 15th marked the first post on The Wheels of Grace. We have each learned so much in the past year.  We have grown as individuals and as a team.We wanted to take a look back at the past year and reflect on how far we have come. Our very first...
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Writing Our Book

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Take Care of You in 2017

2017, What in the world!  How are we here so quickly?  They say with age years go by faster and faster.  Does this mean I am getting old?  Who came up with this conclusion anyways?  Slow down life, just a little would ya please?

While I am thinking about putting away all the holiday decorations I instead reminisce about this past year and plan on the year ahead.  I love fresh starts, and clean slates not only for myself but I also love to hear what others have in mind. What will they make of this new opportunity, what will they be writing in this new chapter of life? I am always excited to hear about others ideas and their plans of new adventures.  I love to share on a personal level. Not the hey I am going to lose weight and exercise more kind of list but the more person stuff, like spiritual growth and spending time with loved ones.  I am not saying that the getting healthy stuff doesn’t matter and that a desire to be physically healthy is not a good thing.  Go on eating well, exercising and drinking that water. I plan on that too.  What I am saying is that any growth and change comes from the inside.  It comes from the mind.  Our minds are the most powerful source of energy.  The kind of energy that can transform.  Being well in our minds takes care of being well physically.  If we take time to take care of ourselves on the inside we can move mountains.  At least conquer them.  One step at a time.

So before I set out into this new year I pledge to take care of myself in the inside and this is how.

Rest (I struggle in this depart that is why it is first)

Read meaning words

Visits with people that inspire me

Watch movies that touch my soul

Do devotions

Meditate

Read scripture

Listen to music

Take baths

Pamper myself a little or a lot

Laugh (not a giggle but a full belly laugh)

Say positive things about myself

Say positive things about others

Pray daily

Listen with my heart

Speak kindly

Give myself and others grace

Forgive often

Show love

Respect others

Share my heart

Be a good friend

Encourage others to share their story

What are your plans for the new year?  What will the words in the 2017 chapter read?

Remember that no matter what comes your way Keep Rolling On!

Norah

Norah

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.  Follow me as I tread through.

Keep Rolling On With Us On Social Media

Today marks 22 years of marriage and to many more! #keeprollingon

A photo posted by @thewheelsofgrace on

We share our stories not so you know what we've been through, but so you're not afraid to share your own. Tell us, what's your story?

Posted by The Wheels of Grace on Monday, February 22, 2016

Unspoken Love

In 1992 my boyfriend, my soulmate was shot several times and left for dead.  In 2016 my husband, my best friend lives and “stands” proud.  Today in the noise of life we have learned to sit in silence and hear our unspoken love. When I found out that...
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Looks Like We Made It: Let’s Go Home 1.1

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The Loss of My Legs

Sergio reflects back in his life to the loss of his legs.  
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My Free Will

It is obvious that Norah and Sergio are great people, and I’m lucky enough to be their daughter. Growing up I never realized I was a free spirit until I heard people described me that way. It was not a trait I knew I possessed. I know my parents didn’t...
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October 15, 1994

  Our relationship was one that was not supposed to last.  So many bets and side bets were placed against us.  To believe in our relationship was a risk not many were willing to take.  I smile when I think of all the money that was lost because of our...
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The Day I Found Out I Couldn’t Walk

Being a man that’s lived in a wheelchair for over 20 years I’ve learned a few things. I’ve witnessed and experienced that one can have a successful fulfilling life while still living in a wheelchair.   I find that I am in a good place now,...
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Merry Christmas Prayers

Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday Jesus. What a beautiful time of the year.  

Wow how this year has flown by! I will admit that I haven’t been as prepared as in the past. Somehow July ran into December without a pause. Where did the time go?  I gave myself this pep talk Norah you will not freak out, you will remain calm, you will enjoy your family and you will Not lose sight of Jesus. After all isn’t this a time to enjoy life and reflect on the upcoming year? As I began the process of centering myself in preparation for the busyness of Christmas,  I received another request for prayer for yet another loss.  My heart quickly shifted and I though oh no not right before Christmas Lord, not right before the best time of the year.  I remember getting that unbelievable call right in December years ago. That memory is still so vivid.  Sergio lost his mother suddenly weeks before Christmas, this left our family in shock for years to come. No one even wanted to think of Christmas and no one was feeling the faintest bit jolly, instead we were mostly feeling guilty at the thought of engaging in any kind of delight.  Can we please cancel Christmas this is too painful, was what I remember thinking.  We couldn’t cancel Christmas for the world but we did in our hearts. That year I can honestly say I don’t remember Christmas at all.  It’s all a blur.  A couple of years ago a dear friend of mine lost her young son right before Christmas and my tiny community mourns this loss so deeply. His family is missing him in ways that cannot be explained. With this prayer request I am reminded once again how the holidays can be something less than jolly.  I reminded to offer up prayers and to reach out to those who have an empty seat at their holiday table and an empty space in their hearts.

I am not meaning to be doom and gloom, but this reality of pain during the holidays is one that my heart has asked me to address.  Not everyone feels Jesus during this time of year.  Some in fact are questioning everything about Him. They cannot bear the thought of even getting out of bed during this time much less celebrating anything.  I am almost positive that they wished they could push these feelings aside for the sake of others and often wear that fake smile all the while wanting to crawl in a hole and cry until this time has passed.  Until they can be reunited with the one they so badly miss.

The reminders of the one they have lost rings loudly.  All the special tender and quick way they celebrate with their loved ones are now gone.  It’s just not the same for them it will never be the same. Pushing through the pain requires strength beyond measure for an unknown time.

This year remember our friends and family that struggle with the sting of loss.  Extend an invitation, a smile, a hug and some quality time.  Be gentle and comforting.  Let them know that not only have they not been be forgotten nor has their loved ones. Acknowledge that their lives have forever been changed, share stories of their loved ones.  This can be your gift to them.  Honor the ones they have loved and lost. Most importantly pray.

 
Dear heavenly father I ask that you comfort my dear friends and family as they are so badly wanting to enjoy this season. Help them with their pain and agony over this huge loss.  The hole they carry in their hearts is unspeakable.  Help me to speak your will into that hole.  I ask father that you help me not get so caught up with life and preparing to celebrate your birth that I forget why you came.  You came to bring us hope and salvation.  Please help me to remember that as I wrap each gift someone near and some one far is wrapping one less gift this year.  Someone near and far needs me to reach out and love on them.  Lord I do not always understand why pain happens but I do understand that even before we were born you had our lives planned out. That with faith in you, you will in your time reveal why events happen the way they do.   Lord help me to keep my eyes open to the needs of other, help me to see that I can make a difference by getting on my knees and by the giving of time.  Help me to not get so wrapped up in my life that I forget the ones that are struggling wanting this time to pass.  Lord give me the words to speak comfort and give me the ears to listen.  Guide me to the places I need to be and guide my thoughts.  I ask that you make me a person that reflects comfort and compassion. Please Lord help them to see you and to seek you during this hard time and the years to come.  Help them to feel the spirit of their loved ones,  and to honor them in a way that helps fill the hole in their hearts.  Lord please guide each and every one of us to reach out to one another in need, letting your presents be felt everywhere.  Fill my home, my community, my church, my work place and my heart with you.  Happy Birthday!

Norah

Norah

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.  Follow me as I tread through.

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Posted by The Wheels of Grace on Monday, February 22, 2016

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