a manic miracle monday

Mondays are often a rough start after the leisure and liberty of the weekend. This Monday was guaranteed to be a corker. The moon was nearly full, the weather had been schizophrenic over the weekend and I over slept by an hour. If not for the jingle on my cel with the gregarious "rize and shine!" from my big hearted friend, I'd have been climbing out of a deeper hole to start the day. I had field trip duty for my twin boyz and if Graham is to enjoy the event, a parent must be along. So the morning prune and prep ritual for me with a fast and furious feeding for the horses and I was bolting to the school to assume my place among the parent chaperon club...with 15 minutes to spare. Awesome, not pretty but awesome. With my grinning escort in hand, we trooped out to the bus and took our reserved seat at the front. Graham likes to see where we are going. I like to chat with the driver, a long time neighbor and friend. Probably, they shouldn't let me sit there. When approaching the fork in the road on our day's journey, I persuaded him to take the "road less traveled".... back roads meandering the countryside of five towns, bisecting farms and villages unfamiliar to our teachers, fellow parents and the driver. It took us a bit out of the way, 2o minutes longer and revealed the nature of the captive grown ups along for the ride. It's always a study of humanity to observe people who have no choice about their circumstance nor the direction they are being taken. For me, it was a chance for a scenic adventure through Vermont's famed wonderland. Like Alice in a world of green velveteen, I was enchanted by the Vermont vernacular. Small towns unscathed by strip malls and box stores. While I was happily navigating the country-way to town, fellow adults were filling with angst, venting their disquieted thoughts and busily counting their perception of wasted minutes in this frivolous route of travel and not in lines at the destination. Blame me, I'm a type Z personality, barely on the scale of measure for predictability. In my world, its all about the journey, not so much the destination. The rest of the 46 passengers seemed to be type A. After a few barbed jokes, quips and quirks, we arrived only 15 minutes behind schedule to the beautiful Shelburne Farms in Shelburne Vermont. A spectacular farm of the Victorian Era which is now open to the public for survival sake. It is magnificent in architecture, both man and God's. We all got on the tractor driven wagon with barely an inch of bench space to spare. Graham loved the windy ride. Spanning the easterly shores of Lake Champlain, this farm offered wind and lots of it. This is Graham's favorite element. He played with chickens and even a draft horse with an ample blond mane and then it was time to remount the bus. Upon arriving at the fork in the return journey, the driver was directed with a chorus of "LEFT!" leaving me a meek "no comment" for the return venture home. It was faster, but heavy traffic and too many unkind drivers to suit me. Time being of the essence, we had to make hast to the end of school day for children's return to their homes. My quiet remark to the driver, "at least they saw some real farms on the way in, real herds of cows and real mud and manure..."Dismounting the yellow field trip bus, Graham was directed into school only to remount another bus home; this time with out me. He was devastated, not his expectation and inconsolable in his disappointment he spiraled into an aggressive meltdown. I've seen this all too frequently this school year. As a non-verbal child, he cannot speak his thoughts. He can only act on his purest impulses. As I watched four staff people surround him, I watched my precious boy in crisis. Tears, screams, self injuries. I entered the school meeting awaiting me and asked, "now will you come and see this! He is in crisis, it happens almost daily, he needs help, we need a plan... don't say that you haven't seen it because you see it now...." Not one of the premium priced "professionals" left their comfortable chairs to even observe my child in crisis. Any respect I had for them, evaporated in that moment. A child in crisis, a parent pleading for help, and a room full of unresponsive experts. God sees everything, by His grace, they will be gone by next school year. After trudging through that hour long meeting of their self lauding and blaming of the victim, I headed home to hug my boy and face my neglected chores of the day. Just to make the Monday more manic, my round bale hay supplier phoned to say he had no way to deliver as he was stuck in Canada. No hay, eleven hungry, bickering horses and the end of a stressful afternoon. Breathe in ~ Breath out... I'll make some calls, grab some small square bales for the night... Wishing for the day to simply end, the farm phone rang; my neighbor "had some hay to hot to put in his mow...could I take it..." yes! Some hay was 100 bales of premium first cut, delivered and stacked in front of my barn. Hungry horses calling for their portion and five adults to stack the hefty bales. My Monday started lovely, ran a bit off course with me and ended beautifully. God is good; He has surrounded me with loving, caring and giving people. It makes the rough days doable; it reminds me to visit the same kindness unto those in need of such... "only the poor understand the luxury of giving..." ~ George Elliot. I will do as I can to help... God showed me the difference between those who see by His glory and those who see by their own... "to live every day in the service of Jesus Christ..." that is my mission... it was a manic, miracle Monday, perfect in every way.
luv and peace ~ ell