Sep 16, 2012 |
My friend Dan is one of those friends-for-life-no-matter-what type of friend.
He’s followed Frankly, My Dear from Day One. It was his encouragement that led me to start New Inklings Press. He was the first to buy The Unemployment Cookbook.
We talk smack about sports, politics, and humor. All.The.Time. He’s just a great guy with a great attitude and a great family.
Dan and I have known each other since grade school. He still lives close to where we grew up in Michigan.
His brother Patrick was a 12-year veteran of the West Bloomfield Police. And just one short week ago, Patty was the first officer ever at West Bloomfield to be killed in the line of duty.
I don’t know all the details. From what I’ve heard from Dan, from friends, and from the news, Pat and several officers were responding to a call that there was a suicidal man in his house. The officers entered, announced their presence, and began to climb stairs to the second story. The suspect opened fire and shot through drywall and a door. Patrick was shot multiple times. He later died at the hospital.
There have been reports and articles and messages and much information about the incident. So I’m not going to delve into any more details about that.
Patrick left behind a wife and four young children.
I owe Dan. I owe him a lot. For years of friendship and being so supportive of my writing endeavors.
I couldn’t get back to Michigan for the funeral. I can’t be there in person to tell them how sorry I am this has happened. I can’t share with him how I’ve cried for Dan, his wife, their kids, and Patrick’s wife and kids. How, from a distance I can’t make sense of it and so I’m overwhelmed with how it must be for Them, who are close. Who are In It. I can’t be there.
But I can be here. I can pray. I can share this post. And I can ask you to help his brother’s family.
A trust has been established to help Amy and their children.
I’m asking you to please contribute. Anything. Don’t drink Starbucks for just one day. Put one less gallon of gas in your car.
Please help this family. Please help Amy get on her feet and support their children. And please keep them in your prayers. Thanks.
Don’t worry if you can’t do anything just now. There’s a Button on my sidebar with this link. And it will stay there as long as the family needs.
Rest in Peace, Patrick O’Rourke.
Patrick O’Rourke Family Trust
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 29, 2012 |
Many years ago, when Dot was just an infant, I met a woman named Corrie. A remarkable young woman, named after another remarkable woman. My Corrie was named for Corrie Ten Boom. Corrie Ten Boom was a Dutch Christian who, with her family, hid Jews from persecution during World War II before being arrested. If you haven’t read her story, I strongly encourage you to do so. “The Hiding Place” is her autobiography, but she also wrote many other books and spoke often of her experiences in a Nazi Concentration Camp.
My Corrie is just as bold, outspoken, tender and friendly. Although we don’t see each other much, she still holds quite a dear spot in my heart. She and her family are integral to mine. My daughter and her niece have been close friends since before either can remember. They think they “met” each other in second grade, and a few weeks later I recognized the niece’s parents. The girls had actually been playmates as infants and toddlers before Corrie had moved to New Zealand and then Hawaii. After returning “home” for a number of years, her family has embarked on a new adventure near Las Vegas. Close enough to visit! It’s funny how God strategically places people in your life for years until you can really connect.
So you know I’ve been on a Housecleaning kick lately. That, and prayer. Boy, have we been praying. The new favorite motto around here is, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another!” On Sunday I woke up too sick to get to church. But I saw on Facebook from some friends that the passage Pastor Tom was teaching on was Jeremiah 29:11. This is my Life Verse. So it was comforting that a few people posted it online. With everything that’s going on around here, it sure is nice to know that God has a plan!
After a little while, I managed to get out of bed. I decided to check my emails, and had a Daily Verse sent to me by one of our Christian stations, Air 1. It was the same verse.
Then I checked my Daily Bible app on my cell phone. Guess what. Same verse.
I’m thinking God wants me to not worry about the upcoming week, yah?
As with every day since I cleaned house a few weeks ago, I try to accomplish one Writing Task (Not Blog Related). So far I’m doing well. Tonight I decided to sort through the last remaining paperwork. I had taken all my old notes and scraps and put them in the cat pillow decorative box.
But I hadn’t sorted it out yet. So tonight I did. While Dot printed off her Biology homework, I began a trip down Paperwork Lane.
And I’m so glad I did. I found a few cards and news clippings that I definitely want to keep. Tossed some old notes that are useless. And was reminded of several other story ideas for when Megan and I are finished with our nine (or more) book series.
And I found this bookmark. I’d been looking at the Pansy flowers often when I opened the box, but the bookmark was paperclipped to some old notes I hadn’t looked at yet.
Can you see how Pansies look like Angels with their arms outstretched, and their lovely flowing gowns?
Tonight, I unclipped and turned it over, recalling that I’d see a note from Corrie. I’d long ago forgotten exactly what she’d written. And tonight, I was reminded of love from her, and Him.
I don’t remember exactly when Corrie made that bookmark for me, but I know it’s been at least 15 years. It’s always been one of my treasures, and now it’s holding my place in my Bible.
Thank you, Corrie.
With (heart),
Molly
What a wonderful way to end the day.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
More or Less: 29 Words
What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Dear God, Did You Forget About Me?!
A Good Name
God is Unfair!
I’ll Fly Away
“He loves me. He loves me not.”
Aug 11, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Kate is a valued friend of mine. We haven’t known each other long, but she’s become important to me. She supports me. We talk almost every day. She never fails to uplift and encourage me. She trusts me. So when she asked me to proofread this essay, I asked a favor in return: to publish it for her here on my blog.
This is Kate’s Story.
Living with Tourette Syndrome there are many things I have come to accept. I accept that there is no cure, I will always be “different”. I have learned to deal with the aches and pains that often accompany my incessant tics. I have learned techniques to minimize my symptoms though I will never fully master them. I have accepted that others will always stare, that some find my loud “wah ahh” sounds funny. I have even accepted that because I am different, being bullied is just a part of my life. As much as I try to educate everyone I come into contact with about Tourette’s, not all will be understanding.
My life is what it is and I had accepted that until my friend Jeromy suggested I read “Twitch and Shout: a Touretter’s Tale” by Lowell Handler. It was great to read that someone else had a similar experience with not being diagnosed until early adulthood. I was enjoying the book until I found myself suddenly enraged by the fact that we faced such similar tales of a lack of understanding about our shared condition, twenty years apart.
Has nothing changed in twenty years? After venting my frustration to my Facebook friends I realized that something has changed. In the 1980’s Handler met very few people who had even heard of Tourette’s. By the time I was diagnosed in 2001 just about everyone seemed to have seen the movie “Deuce Bigelow: Male Gigolo” and while I’ll admit I did find it funny and I love the way he took his “client” with Tourette’s to a ballgame where it’s OK to swear, that perception that Tourette’s is a “swearing thing” made life with Tourette’s even harder. Where Handler encountered people who had never heard the term “Tourette” before, I encountered people who said, “Oh, you mean the swearing disorder?” Or the oh-so-memorable incident in the grocery store when a teenage girl said, “Oh my god, you are sooo lucky, you can just, like, swear all the time.” (She’s sooo luck I didn’t punch her!) In the twenty years between our experiences, Tourette’s had gone from being a little known neurologic disorder to being the punch-line of a joke; one that’s not very funny to those who suffer from it.
The night I read the book, I had a nightmare. I was out with my young friend Ryan. She also has Tourette’s. We were in a crowd when someone started mimicking my vocal tics. As always happens when I feel self-conscious, my tics increased in frequency and severity. The mimicking turned to taunts and my tics got even worse. I had no control of my body and was even unable to get myself and Ryan away from the situation until someone else stepped in to help. Once out of the crowd my rescuer asked if I was okay. I responded with, “I’m used to it, this is just part of life with Tourette’s .” Ryan exploded. “How can you accept this? Is this what my life will be?” While I’m thankful it was “just” a dream, it was actually more than that.
How can I accept that as a normal part of my life? Even before I knew what Tourette’s was, I was always “the weird kid”. I knew I wasn’t normal. Other kids and adults who saw my behaviors as a discipline problem constantly reminded me of that. The bullying I experienced as a child just continued on into adulthood. The guidance counselors always said that bullying was just part of life so eventually I just accepted it. I learned to handle it because I know who I am; those who pick on me, don’t. I never thought of my acceptance of my situation as affecting anyone but myself … until I met Ryan.
Tourette’s is hereditary so I’ve always know that if I have kids there’s a chance I may be the parent of a child with Tourette’s. I always thought of that in terms of fighting with schools and making the tough decision of whether to medicate. I never thought of how my current acceptance of the way things are would affect those who come behind me. But Ryan is behind me. Twenty years my junior, and very similar to me. At ten years old she is reaching that age where the comments will start being directed at her, not her parents. She will have to endure the same ignorance of our shared condition, but why should she? Shouldn’t my having been through it have some positive impact on her future? Is my not standing up and fighting back, not abandoning my own fears and stepping up to lead a campaign of Tourette’s awareness (similar to autism’s Autism Speaks), my accepting that this is just part of my life.. really me accepting it for Ryan? Am I accepting this for all the Ryan’s out there? Maybe it is time for me to move past my fears and do something so twenty years from now Ryan won’t be feeling the same way.
In a recent conversation with Kate, she told me that while there’s a lot of activity to research Tourette Syndrome, not much is being done in the way of actually helping those who suffer from it. She credits knowledge as a main staple in helping her, and enabling her to help others. If you know someone who suffers from Tourette’s, compassion and education is key. None of us are alone. And we all have something to offer. Thanks, Kate.
For more educational information, visit www.tsa-usa.org
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
