Our kids believe in Santa Claus. Why shouldn't they? He exists.
He lives in the hearts of those who have prayed for us.
He resides in the corners of the communities that extend their collective hands to us.
He takes his place in the reassuring nod or wink one of us may receive at any given moment.
He falls into our lives when e-mails find their way to our computer offering encouragement.
He swoops in as strangers generously give to our children.
He leaves his mark when a hug is exchanged or a shoulder is leaned upon.
He exists. In so many ways.
As Christmas Day brings itself closer to us we, as a family, have been reminded that this has been quite a year...not just for Lindsay and myself, but for our children as well.
Ava and Henry have struggled with the emotional waves that bombarded me and Lindsay. They have been shuffled from one caregiver to another in a moments notice. They have been challenged, at their tender young age, to figure out how to best cope with having a sister who has special needs.
Ella has worked so hard at simply surviving. She has been hooked up, plugged in, and monitored more than most people have in a life of 85 years. She has been forced to reconcile her inability to move her legs and other parts of her body as she watches kids her own age run free. She has battled frustrations that are compounded on top of the typical frustrations of a two-year old. She has been working on coping with her special needs.
The holidays are different this year than last in the simple fact that we are in a better place than before. We have done considerable growing and accepting of what is.
Our kids are miracles for the simple fact that through the past year they have been through so much...we are grateful for the Santa's out there that truly exist.
