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

Wheelchair Down the Stairs

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Looks Like We Made It: Let’s Go Home 1.1

Let's Go Home

Looks Like We Made It

Chapter 1.1

Sergio

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.

I laid in my cell and stared out the square window from my bed. There was nothing to really stare at but the light posts illuminating the black asphalt. I watched as the wind blew an empty Big Gulp cup across the lot, until it slipped out of sight and into the unknown darkness. I was about to become that empty Big Gulp cup, I was to be flown far away from home, to land in a place that I had never seen before, empty. I wrapped myself tighter in the blanket as if maybe this would prevent me from being blown away. I didn’t want leave home, I didn’t want to make new friends. Why didn’t I tell the judge that I didn’t want to move?  Everyone was telling me that this was going to be good for me, that I needed a change, bull crap, they just didn’t want to have to deal with me anymore. This was as much for them as it was for me.

Why didn’t I run a different direction instead of trying to run through the parking lot of the mall. The cops were onto to me and knew the car I was driving was stolen. I thought if I could ditch the car I could out run them. I turned down a road so my friend and I could jump out and run. The car slammed into a big metal trash can and as I jumped out a loud voice told me get out with your hands up, my instinct was to get as far away as possible. I was close to my uncle’s house, if I could get there I could hide out. But I would have to cross the mall’s parking lot, it was too risky to try and go around. With my heart rate raising and my lungs trying to keep up with my running I stopped and hid under a tree until I could see the cops pass by, then I could make a break for the other side. I saw the lights turn to go around the side of the building and I darted out into the lot and ran as fast as I could go, behind me I could see a set of headlights turn my way and start to speed up in my direction. I was in the middle of the parking lot with nowhere to hide. In an instant I was surrounded by red and blue sirens. Busted. Get on the ground, get on your knees and put your hands in the air. At that moment I wondered how long my sentence to juvenile detention was going to be. It was my last night I would be able to walk around in Colorado Springs. I wouldn’t get a chance to tell anyone goodbye.

I had pushed the limits of the law and a long-term sentence was coming for me. I had been slapped on the wrist several times, but that was over. I was out of chances. I thought I would be sentenced to a juvenile detention center for at least a year. But my fate was different than I expected. I didn’t get another slap on the wrist but I didn’t get locked up either. Instead I was banished. My probation officer must have been on my side or he felt bad for me. He did everything in his power to allow me to move out of the state of Colorado and never to return. My parents took this plea and arranged for me to move to California with my oldest sister Angelica.

I was detained in Zebulon Pike before I could leave to California. I called my girlfriend to tell her I was leaving and didn’t think I was ever coming back. She had news of her own. I’m pregnant, the only words I remember her saying. The phone went cold against my ear and the chill spread throughout my body. I was in a situation I had no idea how to handle. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help her. I was struggling to take care of myself. I was being sent away and there was nothing either of us could do. After the chill I began to warm up and I calmed, instantly heading into denial. The baby wasn’t mine, she had been with other guys, was she actually pregnant? I couldn’t care for her, or the baby even if it was mine. I never thought I was hurting anyone but myself. I thought I could handle the situations I put myself in and they only affected me. I was very wrong. I was leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and broken promises.

The only light in my cell came from the window facing the parking lot and underneath my door. When my cell became slightly darker I knew it was because the guard was standing in front of my door. I heard the metal key being inserted into the lock of the door as it was being turned. It was an odd time for the guard to be letting me out. He was brief with his words and they should have sounded like freedom

“Mr Sanchez get your stuff, it’s time.” He said, but it wasn’t quite freedom, it was the start to an unknown life.   

It was so late at night I felt like he was sneaking me out, but it was so there wasn’t a big ruckus from the other youth. I was guided to the staff work station to get my personal belongings but before I was given my clothes I had to sign a form stating that all my stuff was there. One black muscle shirt, one grey hoodie sweater, one black pair of jeans, and one set of white shoes. Sign here and get dressed your mom is waiting to take you. As soon as I was ready the guard lead me to the front door where I could see my mom on the other side waiting, BUZZ as soon as I heard the door unlock I pushed it and walked through letting the door slamm behind me. My mom greeted me with a half smile and together we walked down the long hallway to the last door that had to be buzzed to open. As soon as my face touched the cool air of the night I felt an unusual chill come over me.

I could see my mom’s car, a fire engine red Ford Taurus sitting in the parking lot. I knew my dad had to be in the car by the exhaust coming out of the back tail pipes. I got in the back seat and no one said much except for my mom telling me my flight plans. You will fly to Los Angeles and your aunt will pick you up and take you to the bus station to Santa Barbara where your sister will be waiting for you. I stared out the window the rest of the drive to the airport. I was trying to grab one last image of the town, the place that I called home. The drive was normally thirty to forty minutes long but this night it seemed like it was more of a five to ten minute drive. I read the road sign exit to I-25 next right and when I heard the blinker come on I felt a pressure coming from deep inside my chest. I could hear my heart pumping every time the blinker sounded, if I wanted to stay this was my last chance to open my mouth and say something.  I needed to convince my mom that I could change my bad ways and start listening, I would have to convince her that I would stay away from my friends. But nothing would come out of my mouth. There wasn’t anything I could think of that I hadn’t said before and failed at. Mom please don’t make me go! I looked out the window trying to figure out what to say, the sign that read Airport 2 miles hit me in the face, come on Sergio think of something to say. I had to change my mom’s mind, that’s the only way this car would turn toward home. My mom was the leader of our family, she carried the weight of making sure we had food, clothes and shelter. Even if it meant that she had to work two jobs and that she went without. Her past had conditioned her to work hard and provide. She taught her kids there wasn’t any room for wishing or hoping, if you wanted to make something happen in your life you made it happen with hard work and sacrifice. There was no room for showing love by hugs and kisses she showed it by providing. But in that moment I didn’t want a strong mother, I wanted my mom to stop the car, pull me out of it and give me a hug and kiss and tell me let’s go home.

 

 

 

Sergio

Sergio

The guy in the chair, who lost his ability to walk, but found his mobility through a change in his heart. A change when his mind was awakened by the gift of Purpose.
“And your life will be brighter than the noonday.
Its darkness will be like the morning.” Job11:17

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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Ain’t Too Proud To Beg

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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

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Reflect Don’t Regret

Do you ever have those times in your day when you start to reflect on your past and before you know it you venture down the road of regret? This week I had to dig deep into my past. Sergio, Ashley, and I spent hours this weekend editing our book. We made it a goal...
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    I am Sergio’s Wife. The name Sergio is not a very common name, and My Sergio is very unique. Once you meet him you cannot help but smile. I hope that most people remember him by his bubbly personality and his desire to make others laugh. I know that...
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Writing Our Book Part 4

We are getting closer and closer to our goal of finishing our book!  We wanted to share a little bit more about what out book is about.  Watch below for our story!

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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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

Thankful

    Psalms 107:1 Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his love endures forever. Lord,  I want to take this time to thank for for all that you have done for me and my family.  Thank you for all the ways you take care of our needs.  I thank you for...
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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

The Image of Me

Forgiveness what does it mean? The definition of forgiveness is to stop feeling angry or resentful towards someone for an offense, flaw, or mistake. This makes sense when you’re the one giving forgiveness, but I lived on the other side. I was looking to be...
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My Son

I felt the need to write about my oldest son and some of the hard times we have faced as a family lately. He was 6 years old when we were blessed to have him be a part of our family. Norah and I adopted him and his brother because we wanted our family to grow and...
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Lord Hold Her

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Reflect Don’t Regret

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Forgotten

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Being Thankful

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