Stacey Laho

“We expect too much from people,” my mom said. These words are some of the last my mom spoke to me before she died from cancer. From diagnosis to death was a mere four months and I craved more words from her than these. I wanted her to cram in all the words that would cover every pain, every disappointment, and every question for all the days I would be without her. There were not enough words to meet my expectations. I expected to have my mom until she was very old, not until she was a young fifty-eight. We. Expect. Too. Much. Over twenty years later and these words prove to be more than enough. That little word too. It means over, more than enough, noting excess. If I expect someone to be there for me over what I can receive from God than it is too much. If I expect a friend to figure out my problems without seeking wisdom from the scriptures, then I have noted people in-excess of the Word. When I expect someone, anyone other than Jesus to give me...

The word of the week is love. I stepped into Alisha’s room this morning to get her ready for school. She was already awake at 6:00 a.m., which is common. As soon as I turned the light on, a giant grin rose on her face. That too is common. “Good morning sunshine,” I greeted her. Her mouth and eyes parted wide, legs and arms shrunk close to her body as her head pushed down and up in the pillow before she released a shriek of joy. “Shhh,” I told her, placing my finger over my mouth to signal ‘quiet’. Louder eruptions beamed. I did not feel amused like her. I walked into the kitchen to check on the coffee brewing. Still not ready, I returned to Sunshine. As soon as I entered the room, her eyes found me, following me around as I tended to her needs. Jeff always says it’s ridiculous how much she loves me. If we are both in the room, she won’t even look at him. “I’m here too Alisha,” he will tell her. He will even stand in front of me to block her view. She'll turn her...

Gentle - mild (kind, compassionate, merciful, calm, tranquil), meek (humility, opposed to pride, arrogance), soft, bland, not rough, harsh or severe; as in gentle nature, temper or disposition; a gentle manner, gentle voice Alisha kept reaching for me as I sobbed. Slowly her clenched hand found me, despite cerebral palsy always pushing its way front and center. No, it couldn't stop her from gradually going where she was needed. Entirely absorbed in my brokenness, I didn't notice her attempts to soothe me. My friend, Jacky, did though. Jacky sat across from me also offering a soft ear to the raging pain I was in. Kodey, my son, had been ripped from my life weeks earlier. I sat in Jacky's office at Arbor Hospice desperate to find my way out of the nightmare I was in. "I'm just watching Alisha as you're describing your pain, Stacey. She just has this tender concern for you," she mentioned. I glanced to the left, through a haze of tears, remem...

The meaning of the word peace is quiet, tranquility; freedom from disturbance. The root word of peace implies to stop or press. I’ve been spending a few weeks on the word peace . Last week I hurried to form my Word of the Week post and then stopped to say aloud, “It’s my word! I can take as long as I want pondering peace .” I mentioned to my friend Tara how funny it was that I tried to rush peace. She said, “Yeah, that’s sort of missing the point isn’t it?” Yes, it is! When I turn my Word of the Week card over (I don’t peak until it’s time to meditate on it), I am astounded how that word shows up all around me. I know I have turned up my awareness, but I also believe the Spirit unveils the word for me to have insight and application. This process is not to be rushed! Out of curiosity, I looked up in the bible to see how many times peace is mentioned. 429 times. Love is only mentioned 310 times. Is this because G...

“Real isn’t how you're made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. ” ~ The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams A blond-haired little girl stood in t...

“I’ve never had anyone speak to me like that before. I can’t believe she said that when all was trying to do was help, “I quietly griped to Jeff. We were at the airport preparing to fly home from a restful, celebratory, trip to Florida. Twenty-five years of marriage definitely deserved a little celebrating. Jeff looked puzzled at me as we stood in line at the gate to check our bags.I mumbled, “That lady. She was mean to me. I’ve never had anyone talk to me like that .”  “What lady?” Jeff asked me to explain after we sat down to wait for the plane to start boarding “See that old lady with dark hair, standing next to the tall old man? Well she just bit my head off! I saw her walk briskly up to the gate with her husband and bark at him to get their tickets out. I thought I would ease her anxiety by telling her the plane wasn’t boarding yet and I was merely checking my bag, eyes of hate pierced into me with a snappy ‘ I know that’ . She paused to let the mind-your-o...

"Caleb where is the "For Sale" sign?" I yelled to my ten year old boy who let me know multiple times how much he didn't want to move. The "Sign" making a ten minute debut disappeared as quickly as it went up. "I TOOK IT DOWN BECAUSE WE'RE NOT MOVING!" Caleb unabashedly confessed. "WELL, GET OUT THERE AND PUT IT BACK IN THE GROUND. IT'S NOT YOUR PROPERTY, " I retorted knowing darn well he could care less it wasn't his property. Out he slumped and stomped. I expected him to storm back through the door within a minute, carrying on about his fierce resentment toward me for making him move. Minutes went by and he still hadn't come in. I peered out the front window to see what was taking him. There he was straining to shove the poles back into the dry yard along with help from the red-headed, assertive six year old neighbor girl, Kamrynn. (I know that's how you spell her name because she spelled it on my d...

I constructed a bulky black binder filled with letters from doctors, test results, lists of medications, questions for medical professionals, and divided it neatly by tabs to keep order in my life. It followed me to every appointment I had with my baby, my severely multiply impaired baby. The binder held my tears and my sanity while granting me a sense of order during a chaotic period. I wish I would have had Jolene Philo's The Caregiver's Notebook: An Organizational Tool and Support  twenty years ago. My eclectic style binder did a decent job of holding the craziness of caring for a disabled child but Jolene's new book is an organizational idea on steroids.   I think the cover is absolutely lovely!   Jolene has thought of every detail of caregiving. It includes twelve sections concerning the care of a loved one, plus a section in the beginning instructing the best use of this tool. From medications to legal ...

Many have asked how Alisha is since her surgery last week... She has amazing rebound. The docs prescribed some hefty meds for pain. The pharmacist told me if we didn't use them, to dump them into a kitty litter box and if we don't have a cat to find someone who has one. I said, "Can't I just pour them down the sink." Her response, "No. That would contaminate the water supply." Well, I certainly don't want to be on the front page of the local paper as the one who tainted the Wayne County Water System. I do care about the environment. She then gave me the more convenient option of pouring them into coffee grounds. Glad to report the patient did not need much of them and into the "grounds" they went. This surgery has to be deemed the best ever! Alisha being in peak health had absolutely no complications. Thank you Jesus! The surgeon believes the procedure worked and after we get through this transition period of splinting/casting Alish...

Here's the "red button" version of our Memorial Weekend. I say "red button" because Alisha has a red button switch she travels back and forth to school with for communication. Every day I record on the "red button" what she did the night before. It's brief but informative. Friday delivered the long awaited Prom event. Our daughter, Hannah, looked stunning in her wedding prom dress. I keep reminding myself I get to spend more money one day when she weds, which I anticipate happening long after we have financially recovered from prom. She felt like a princess, danced like a princess, and looked like a princess. Priceless. Later that evening the rest of the Fam went to Caleb's baseball practice. We don't usually all go to practice. Matter of fact, I strategically work the schedule to see this rarely happens. I always say to our kids, practice is for you to show me in a game what you learned. But alas it made more sense to stop on our way ...

Recently, I received a large envelope with letters to our family. These letters were from children who spent a week at Kids Kamp last summer through Ward Church. This particular camp holds special meaning for our family as it is a way we remember our son, Kodey, who died in October 2002. To honor Kodey's love of Kids Kamp, we set up a scholarship to help children attend who may not otherwise be able to, due to financial strain. Although not required, we often receive letters from the kids who go.   Here is the brochure. The Camp is at Center Lake Bible Camp in Tustin, MI. The hovering fog over the lake in the early morning hours appears mystical.       Here is my boy. I love the grin and eagerness in his eyes to throw that water balloon. It's a perfect image of him as almost everywhere he went became a celebration.     Here is one of the letters we received. I kept the writer's name hidden. But I could not resist sh...

  Fifteen years ago I awoke on Mother's Day crying. My mom was gone. It would be my first Mother's Day without her present. To say I miss her is like leaving this page blank.   I spoke to my mom everyday after I married and had children. Everyday. And I wanted to. She would call it, "Just checking in calls". There was always something to talk about. She was a busy woman volunteering, on bowling leagues, golf leagues, her card club, and being the Proverbs 31 woman with attitude.   On Mondays I talked to her late in the day because Mondays were her days at Angela Hospice. She volunteered with hospice for over 17 years. She began serving with hospice upon their inception through Hospice of Southeastern Michigan. I would hear stories of patients my mom took care of. Some had AIDS. Some were young, like a mom who had given birth few months earlier and suddenly became terminal. Most were old. All were important. It was never an effort to check off a list ...

"A crippled child ain't no less sweet. Keep it up." Some old man approached me while our family spent the evening out for pizza. I smiled and said thank you. Alisha five years old at the time, sat in her tiny wheelchair. Some people speak with eloquence and then... The words lingered with me as we carried on with our family fun night. I kept saying he meant well. And he did. I don't remember exactly how it made me feel but as I read about this stranger's words in my journal from years back, I smiled again. Apparently I knew he peered at our family with eyes of understanding. One of the lessons I've learned over the years of being a mom to a child with severe disabilities is it is not my role to make others understand my world, Alisha's world. Believe me this lesson soaked in slowly. A bit of a social justice in my bloodstream led me more than once to chase down the need to gain understanding. At Target years ago, with Alisha, provided one of thos...

Thoughts of school tomorrow make me giddy. The Chiclets attended a total of eleven days of school since December 20th. But really who would count. I do love a snow day once or twice a year but five in three weeks? Crazy. (That's me, right now.) In case you haven't been outside in, um mm like three weeks, here is a photo of our back yard. Seriously it's been a good week. Lots of good reading instead of picking up after people. I finished a book called, "Riding the Bus with My Sister". Highly recommend it. I'm thinking it should be mandatory high school reading. Today, Caleb's friend Max saved my day. He occupied Caleb for several hours. I sort of felt like I should do laundry and menial work since I took a "snow day" the day before. I stopped to watch them play for a few minutes. I overheard, "How do you like your farts to sound?" followed up by an array of disgusting noises and proud laughter. I quickly retreated to my work. ...

Last month I flew to Charlotte to visit a friend. My father dropped me off at the airport about two hours before my plane departed. He must have been worried I wouldn't know what to do with a chunk of time. He kept suggesting things like, "When I'm waiting for my plane to depart I take a long walk, go get a bite to eat..." I needed no prompting as to how to utilize a break from life. I sent this pic to Jeff immediately upon settling in at my gate. He took the day off to handle the home front. Silence while sipping my coffee. Ahhh.     Next, I sent him this one. He responded, "I'm driving." Wasn't sure if this jargon meant he was jealous I was sitting at an airport reading uninterrupted or I was distracting him because he was driving . Definitely jealousy. Officially on my vacation, I disconnected. My phone off, I engaged in "light" reading, a memoir, about a woman who grew up with a drug addicted mother. I probably...

The Santa Clause: Caleb announced a few weeks ago he's over it. Santa. In whistle blower style, Caleb blabbed the truth so others would recognize his superior perception for the truth, "Santa isn't real. It's you and dad. Hm mph" I responded how I always respond when I one of my kids tries to take this leap into the humbug land, "Fine. But if you don't believe in Santa why would he bother to bring you a present? Hm mph." Because Caleb belongs to a different breed, my words meant nothing, even though Hannah piped in that she believes. Santa and his sleigh flew out of the imagination of my nine year old. The end. Seeing is believing: James, the boy down the street, possesses some overwhelming evidence in favor of Santa. He owns a photo of Santa in front of his fireplace near the Christmas tree from last year's Christmas Eve. Caleb returned from playing at his house last week slightly perplexed but eager to give this Santa guy a second chance. He ...

Snowing. Thanks to God I'm snuggled on my brown, worn couch with my resale-deal down pillows, tucked under Grandma Ramberg's hand-made afghan we've had for 23 years. The hole in the middle no determent to being the favorite blanket. The feeling of warmth more than physical. Gratefulness bigger than circumstances. Worn couches. Used pillows. Holey blankets. It's the best way to experience gratitude. Life without rough stuff doesn't lead me to need God, know God and long for God. I really didn't know what our holidays (holy days) would look like this year back in September. I trembled at the thought of walking through them with one less family member, again. Thanking Him to be where we are at. Thanking Him, Alisha wakes up every morning with squeals of joy and is physically so much stronger that she slides half-way down her bed through the night by all the kicking and wiggling she does. Thanking Him, I am present to make meals for my family, hea...

Today is The D's birthday! He's 9! All week he's been asking  SI if he can open an early birthday gift, persistence being a strong trait of The D .  SI told him he already did. She gave him the rubber band kit last week and two weeks before that he got the Ronaldo shirt to wear for Halloween. His responses, "The kit wasn't really a gift. It was a project." D's think in purposeful ways. And "The Ronaldo shirt wasn't a gift it was my Halloween outfit." SI  really stayed strong but last night decided maybe she could give him something teeny to open. A pack of gum. Guess what? D liked it. He said this meant he didn't have to keep taking C' s (his dad) gum out of his car. Other notes from the week... IS (Hanah) fell on the ramp off the front door of our house, racing C to the mailbox. SI announced anyone who ran to get the mail for her would be her favorite. She didn't mean literally run to get the mail. Apparently the competi...