Speechless

Yes, it's full...and then some.

Neil and I tried to lend a hand yesterday.  We went to help some friends pump out the flood waters from their home, and to assist with clean-up.  What would have been a 15 minute trip before Irene ended up taking much, much longer.  Power outages are widespread throughout our area.  You can imagine what that does to traffic when most of the signals are out.  Many roads are closed, but you won't know that until you have almost reached your destination and you are suddenly faced with the dreaded barricades.  I already learned on Monday when I took Neil up north to Chester for therapy, that often times you can go around the road blocks and you'll be just fine.  But that isn't so in every area.  Yesterday we took many detours.  When we finally neared our friends' home, we passed through a police stop and verified that we were there to help friends and that we knew their address.  When we entered the stricken community, I had to choke back sudden tears.  The streets were lined with the sodden belongings of families resigned to a long recovery.  

 AP Photo/Mel EvansPhoto source:  http://www.newstimes.com/news/article/NJ-cleanup-starts-amid-more-flooding-evacuations-2146941.php

Our friends had had their basement flooded before, so they knew to bring things up before the storm.  What they hadn't expected, was the sudden rise of water four feet or more into the first floor.  The flood line was visible on the side of the house above my head.  

Scott snapped this picture on Sunday in another neighborhood where he was helping out.

What impressed me most about my friends, their neighbors, and most of the people we know who've been affected, is their attitude.  Everyone is helping each other.  People are sharing their homes.  Generators and pumps are being passed around.  I've seen a spirit of cooperation and a lot of reaching out to help one another.  How else could anyone maintain hope through such trials and devastation?                        

What Happens When You Sow Your Garden With Joy?

You reap happy vegetables!
(See the smiley faces?  Give it a minute... there they are!)

Youngs + Stones = Summer of Love

 We attended two reunions in July.  Lucky us!  Here are some pictures that make me smile.

The Youngs in Utah:

The Originals

Grands and Great-Grands

The Dutch Doll Always Visits

Camping Out in the Porch Room

Previewing the Family Photos

Grandpa and Cousin Mitch on the Kiddie Scooters

Thirty-three of Us at the Folk's House

The Stones in Oregon:

Big Stones and Little Pebbles

Feeding the Multitude

Ladies' Man

Piggyback

Alison Practicing

Loving the West Coast

Grandma Nadene and Two of Her "Kids"

Special bonus video, "Sumo on the Beach":

Making Your Way

In preparation for an upcoming race.  Neil and I recently discussed our differing training strategies.  Neil prefers to imagine he's going to run 10 miles, when actually, he knows he's only going to run 4 to 6.  That way, he ends up feeling like the run is shorter and easier than he planned.

That doesn't work for me.  I have to keep myself motivated throughout my run by focusing on what's immediately in front of me--small goals.  Because my longest distance so far is just over three miles, I tell myself I'm only going to run one mile and when I reach that point, I'm allowed to walk the rest of my route.  I've found that gets me through the "knees aching" part that hits just before the half mile mark, and carries me to when my second wind hits.

When the police told us to drive carefully to Morristown as we left the house for the hospital to find Neil, all I let myself think about was where we were going to find an open gas station for our empty car at midnight.  Too hard to think about the unknown and the possibilities we would find when we reached the emergency room.  Just think about which exit off of 287 will take us to the station at exit 33 on 78 which will surely be open.  It was.    

So at one mile, I usually feel like I can keep running.  "Fine" I say to myself, "then go another half mile".  One and a half miles on my route happens to hit in the middle of a hill.  I know this.  I know it's going to be hard, but I push for it.  When I reach that spot I can see the top of the hill.  That motivates me to at least get to the summit.  Yes, there will be more hills to come, but this one I'm looking at right now is the only one that concerns me.

When we finally reached the Morristown Medical Center parking lot, we received a call from a nurse wondering where we were.  "Right here!"  I said, and hung up as we ran inside.  But Neil wasn't there.  There'd been no helicopter arrivals that night.  Now the task in front of us was to locate the correct hospital.  The Morristown receptionist verified that the prefix from which the call came was Robert Wood Johnson Hospital which was 30 miles in the opposite direction.  As we jumped back in the car, I tried to call back again and again, but no one answered.  I called a number the police had given us if we needed help.  They finally helped us connect with someone who told us it was bad, but not much else.  Little help when you're a long way from where you want to be.  At this point Scott called his dear friend Stan to meet us at the hospital to help administer a Priesthood Blessing.  It comforted us to know that we would not be alone.   

 From the top of the hill, the two-mile mark is not far.  Very doable.  After two, there's a bit of a respite as the road takes a slight decline and there are plenty of shade trees.  But just before three miles, a steep hill rises up in the path.  It's a stinker.  Really hard, but how can I come this far and not keep going?  I know I can do it.  I'm almost there.  I huff and puff my way up.  Yes, I'm very slow, but that hill is mine.  There follow a few more downs and ups, and then I'm home.  Success!  Now to rest up for tomorrow's run.

  When we finally arrived, the doctor wanted to prep us first, before we were brought in to see Neil.  Prognosis was bad, he said (why did they keep using that word?), but there was some hope.  Our journey had taken so long that he was already in the ICU when we saw him--intubated, attached to countless wires and tubes, and deeply comatose.  He was bruised and cut on his face, and the swelling had already started.  I still find it hard to talk about what it felt like at the moment we saw him...So much love, so much sorrow.  Hurt beyond belief.  Ache and grief.  We sobbed until there were no more tears.  And then we cried some more.  But we were finally there by his side.  There was some relief in that.  We were where we needed to be.  

Many days and nights of pain and trials lay ahead of us still, but there were prayers and blessings.  There were friends and family.  There were support, caring, and hope.  And there still are.

Neil ran his 10k on the 4th of July in 56 minutes.  Apparently his strategy worked for him.  He tends to reach for the stars, that boy.  He was positively glowing.  What a long way he's come.  What a long way he wants to go.

My out-of-shape middle-aged body ran the 5k in 35 minutes.  Not bad, I say.  Time to train for some more races.

     

     

Certificates of Achievement

Oops!  Guess I'm a little behind in our family chronicles.  It's going to take a few posts to catch up, so let's get started:

Neil had a wonderful time at Camp.  As you can see, he was honored for two different skills, each with a story.  If you know Neil at all, the second one won't surprise you, but you may need to ask him about the first award.  Go ahead, ask him!  He loves to tell the story.

Here, Neil is finally receiving his diploma.  The date reads 2011, which is the official graduation date because he was enrolled until June of this year.  He considers his graduation year as 2009.  That's when  he would have been done, if not for the minor inconvenience of a car accident.  Besides, you just can't top that standing ovation he received as he walked with his original class.  We considered the school work after that as education therapy.

Presenting his diploma in our casual commencement service is the amazing Dr. Porter--school psychologist and case manager extraordinaire.  He headed up Neil's child study team and orchestrated his tailor-made course schedule.  

There are so many other school personnel I'd love to thank, but if I made a list, I'm sure I'd leave someone out.  Suffice it to say, the list would include teachers, specialists, assistants, psychologists, secretaries, therapists, department heads, and on and on.  We always felt that we were part of a winning team whose only goal was Neil's success.  Thank you all!

     
And finally, here's a picture of Neil with his "literacy support specialist".  That was Dr. Spingarn's official title for the last two years.  We considered her our caring friend and Neil's head cheerleader.  Lot's of thanks and love to you, Doc!

No Phone, No Lights, No Motorcars

With fellow campers and counselors.   Can't tell which is which?  Awesome!

I'm suffering a bit of separation anxiety.  Yesterday, I dropped Neil off in the middle of Pennsylvania for five days of fun at Camp Cranium.  Phones are not allowed, so I won't be receiving the typical texts or calls that come while he is at school or work (the only times we're separated).  This feels so weird.

Obviously it's good for Neil and it's good for me.  He was smiling hugely when we said our goodbyes. I waited until I turned for the car before I started crying.  Yep, it's going to be good for us both.

Thank You to the Family of Andrew J. and Dolores C. Hudec

On Monday night Neil received a memorial scholarship on behalf of the former educators named above.  The description of the award reads:  "Awarded to students who exhibit tenacity, social and educational growth, and service to the school".  What an honor.  We are so proud of him!