Instead of watching me, please keep your eyes on the Monkee sitting next to me. MUCH funnier that way.

Love You So.

GDo

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.”

- TINA FEY- BOSSY PANTS 

Never before have I been more excited to hit this blank page and reach out to each of you precious Monkees. This is because just like I love having written and having parented, I really love Having Flash Mobbed. PHEW. It’s done. Love Flash Mob Week is intense. Mostly for the Monkee “behind the scenes” Team – Lou, Sister, and Amy. Lou is the head of Monkee See Monkee Do. She is in constant contact with the families for MONTHS before the mob, then she and Sister execute the plan after the mob is done. Now they will spend hours upon hours haggling with van dealers to get the best possible deal for our beloved families. Their work has JUST BEGUN. Behind every magical thing is a hell of a lot of work. FAITH AND SWEAT. Kristi- I need that sign, please. Heard it in a country song, and it’s one of my life mottos. Reminds me of the tension we live in, the tension between working and resting, Being Still and Here I Am-ing! And/Both. Life’s gotta be And/Both. Faith and Sweat.

Anyway, this “team”- Lou, Sister, Amy (computer guru), Allison (creative cat), Liz (businessy person who knows letters like 403BC) and Melissa (head of international Monkee Tribes -coming your way soon! Do you have a Tribe you’d like to create in your community? We’re preparing the tools you’ll need to create your own Monkee group!) work SO hard and they work for nothing. I hope and pray that someday they WILL get paid for their Momastery work, but for now- I just send them bananas every once in a while, and they seem to stay happy. I just want to say THANK YOU, thank you, thank you to them. THANK YOU.

**Now I shall to reveal to you my secret motivation for Flash Mobbing. Hint- it’s not really for the recipients of our money and gifts. A little, but not really. Here’s what the Mobs are really about. Here’s a comment from Jenner:

I am embarrassed to admit that I usually don’t donate money. My family struggles so much to make ends meet that my excuse has always been that there was nothing we could spare. What little I could give would be meaningless. But momastery is changing me. It’s making me realize that I am not the only one out there who struggles. That we all need to stick together and help each other out from time to time. And that maybe that little bit that I CAN sacrifice might be bigger than I realize. So this time, I donated. And I must say I felt so much joy and freedom clicking that button. I think you’ve started something in me, Glennon. Thank you for that.  – Jenner

Jenner-
You just described  the magic of the Flash Mob. Because YOU are what this is really about.  It’s for the givers. It’s for all of us to learn how powerful we each are, how much we have to offer even with the little we have. We are all in bits and pieces and when we offer our bits and pieces -MASTERPIECES are created!!!!
Bless you – LOVE!!

That’s why we have the $25 limit. Because we want to emphasize that it doesn’t matter WHAT you give, just THAT you give.

Last week, I was so sick. I was in bed all day and barely had the energy to stand. I hadn’t seen my babies all day. At bedtime, Tish walked in to my bedroom and stood by my bed. I didn’t have it in me to say much, but I smiled, and hugged her big. And she smiled back and said “I love you, mama.” And then she left. I didn’t have the resources at that moment to offer her much, but I offered what I had, and it was ENOUGH. Enough to make a difference to her and to me.  I rested in that. What I have is enough to keep and enough to share. Even if it seems like I have just a little teeny bit. I just have to trust that what God has given me is enough for me and enough to share. I have to remind myself that these resources I secretly believe are scarce – love, hope, energy, money –  they’re really not. They’re renewable resources.

And so giving isn’t just for rich people or Tigger-like fundraising folks. It’s for all of us. Giving and receiving are not scary burdens, they are our purposes down here. Identifying our resources and letting them flow into us and back out…in and back out- allowing ourselves to be nothing but vessels of love and hope and energy, in and out. Accepting blessings and then letting them go . . . Not wasting the precious gift of energy by hoarding, by holding on too tight. That’s the stuff. Accepting blessings and then Letting them GO. Freedom. And when you start to trust this process, you become less afraid. Love casts out fear. What that scripture means to me is: When you let go whatever it is you are most afraid to let go , you learn the law of nature, God’s law of love, whatever you want to call it. It all returns to you ten-fold. It returns to you, in renewed hope or that power and joy that Jenner described. You learn that this is the LAW of this place we live in. Science/God same- same.  It’s just how things were designed.  Risk free giving. Everything inside of us or given to us is a renewable resource. For a perfect example- check this out.

And so we do these Mobs and we limit the donations because we need to remind ourselves that this world is OURS to change. Little by little, together. No offering, no matter how small is wasted. I’m not convinced that the SIZE of the offering has anything at all to do with its power. Remember the widow’s mite? Offer what you have. Sometimes, it’s a smile. Sometimes, that’s all you’ve got. And that is ENOUGH.

I think we get paralyzed by the needs of this world because they are so many and we think we can’t even make a dent, so we retreat. But we must remember the starfish story. A Monkee is walking down the shore picking up starfish and throwing them one at a time back in to the sea. An old woman walks up and says “Honey- You can’t possibly save all of them. There are thousands of starfish here! Millions! Do you really think you can make a difference?” And that sassy little Monkee leaned over, picked up a starfish and threw her gently into the surf. She looked up at the old woman and said, “I made a difference to that one.”

When people suggest that the world can’t be changed, I don’t think they understand.  Because “the world” is just how each person perceives the world to be. So didn’t we “change the world” for Claudia? For Mindy? For Jenner? Of course we did. When you change ONE PERSON’S beliefs about the world, you change the world. Period and forever.

“Do for one what you wish you could do for everyone.” Yes. And let us not forget, that the first person we do for is OURSELVES. We CANNOT spill out until we are filled. First things first. We must find a way to fill ourselves.  Read, write, sing, run, practice yoga, knit, pray, socialize, hide, go to therapy, buy some shoes . . . identify the thing that fills you up and do that thing for a while. Then you’ll be ready to throw starfish. And if your whole entire life, you just throw ONE starfish -that is enough. I am sure of it. If your whole entire life, you just throw one starfish -you have helped to heal the world, and I am certain that’s what we were put here to do. Not to FIX the world. Just to help heal it and ourselves, a little gentle teeny bit. And you know what- maybe you ARE the starfish.  And if you are- your job is just to make it back to the water. Or to allow yourself to be thrown.

So – Mother’s Day is tomorrow. The Love Flash  Mob was preparation for tomorrow.

Mother’s day is an easy day for me. I have a mother who is as close to an angel as they come.  She is by my side, literally or figuratively, every second of every day. She believes that there is NOTHING I can’t do. I have three healthy kids, so far. As far as mothering goes, tomorrow is uncomplicated for me.

But I have learned that for most folks, tomorrow is NOT uncomplicated. Because there are Monkees who have mommies that are gone. Or were never there. Or were there, but hurt them. There are Monkees whose older children are lost to depression or addiction. Whose young children are sick and not getting better. Whose children have died. Who have spent decades trying but haven’t had their children yet. There are Monkee adoptive mamas who lost their adoptions this year. There are birth mamas who gave birth and then offered another woman the ultimate gift and went home empty- armed.  There are Monkees who this very year, gave birth to babies who were already gone.

Mother’s day is brutal for many people, and I’m not going to be able to change that here. I’m just hoping that acknowledging it will help a bit.

I do want to try to explain my evolving definition of the word Mother. I am starting to understand that the word works better for me as a verb than a noun. Mothering is a choice we make, like loving is a choice.  We do not need to have given birth or to have signed adoption papers to Mother. To Mother, to me, means to nurture. To heal, to help grow, to give. And so anyone and everyone who is involved in the healing of the world is a Mother.  Anyone who tends to a child, or friend, or stranger, or animal or garden is a Mother. Anyone who tends to Life is a Mother. Tomorrow is a celebration of all the healers and hopers and lovers and givers and tend-ers.  In other words- tomorrow is for every single one of you Monkees.

And if your mother did her best but it wasn’t good enough. Or if she didn’t even try… I think you need a mother anyway. I think we all need one. And so I think what we have to do is create that mother, that one we always wanted and needed. We need to change her voice from critical and hurtful to encouraging and kind. We need to create that woman who loves us above all others, who will catch us when we fall, who will soothe us and tell us that It Is Going To Be Allright. We must find the most encouraging, loving, forgiving, adoring voice we can imagine and put it in our hearts. And then we need to practice listening for Her voice. We must check in with that voice several times a day until her voice drowns out all the others. If we have not been mothered well, we need to mother ourselves well. It IS hard, near impossible, but we can do impossible things. The most important person to Mother is ourselves. Let’s celebrate that tomorrow, too. Let’s celebrate the Art of Mothering  - tending to ourselves and those around us –  whomever those may be.

I love you, Monkees. Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for making dreams come true with me this week.

Love,

G

The totals are in. The Love Flash Mob is done.

Our total: $82,874.93

In 51 hours. With a $25 maximum donation. I’ll have to double check our numbers, but I think 5,000 people donated. We will be able to buy both vans. Top of the line vans. We might even be able to throw in some gas money.  Maybe we’ll add hot pink Monkee rims, not sure.*

We need to take some time to let this sink in . . . to think about what that last 51 hours says about us, about people, about the world. I know I need some time. I’m stepping away from the computer, walking outside, raising my face toward that warm sun and repeating THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

Then I am going to do no work for the rest of the day. None at all. None for the blog, none for the book, none for my house. Just resting and happying. We work and then we rest.

I’m going to post my official thank you tomorrow morning. For now, let us just Be Still and Know that LOVE WINS.

My Love and Respect and Eternal Gratitude,

gdo

*Please know that we will not really be spending your money on hot pink Monkee rims for the vans. I might get some though.

TO  SHE WHOM MUCH IS EXPECTED, MUCH IS GIVEN.

(Visitors: What we have here is a LOVE FLASH MOB. It is a celebration of LIFE and LOVE and HOPE that we Monkees hold once in a blue moon. We come together here to support a Sister, a Sister who might need a reminder that She is Loved and Watched Over.  In short – We Make Magic Happen, Baby.  We do it by showing up, giving what we can (up to a $25 maximum), and trusting that the money raised is the least of the miracles that result. Join us, EVERYONE IS INVITED!)

Everyone, meet Claudia.

Claudia is a single mama diagnosed with ALS,  also known as Lou Gherig’s disease. She has three children, all of whom have Fragile X syndrome. She currently lives with her youngest son, who has autism, and his caretaker, Amy.

After suffering through a difficult childhood and young adult life, Claudia found her passion in saving the lives of others. For nearly two decades, Claudia served her community in emergency services. She was a volunteer firefighter and EMT, a paid-reserve firefighter, paramedic, Emergency Department RN and helicopter flight medic. Her second full-time job was advocating for her special needs children and other families with similar challenges.

Claudia says:

“I began having slurred speech in October 2004. In August I was diagnosed with ALS. I went from being “gregarious” and “articulate” to being presumed to be mentally impaired. My voice is weak and sometimes I can barely speak above a whisper. I’m frequently very short of breath. I use a wheelchair full time. I’m in near constant pain from my increasing spasticity. I sleep using a breathing machine. All my symptoms are progressive and eventually, while mentally alert and with intact sensation, I will become totally paralyzed.

 My ALS Progression is VERY slow. My slow progression is a blessing and a curse. The blessing is obvious: I have more time with my children and friends; I treasure this time with my children. The curse is that I will pass through the stages of losing function in slow motion. With the loss of functioning comes an increased need for resources that I simply don’t have.  Life is often hard, but I feel blessed. It is amazing to think that coming to the end of my physical, financial, emotional, and relational resources helped me learn to truly rely on God!”

Kay. Well, I  believe God can be depended upon, but I also believe that that God shows up through other people. And today, WE ARE THE PEOPLE, PEOPLE. We’re the ones who are going to show up for Claudia and remind her that God loves her and her family, that the Universe is on her side, that she has not been forgotten, and that We Belong To Each Other.

Here’s how we’re going to do it:

We’re going to buy Claudia a (fully loaded, fully outfitted) handicapped accessible van that will accommodate her special needs as well as those of her youngest son. Right now, Claudia has no vehicle that will hold a wheelchair, so she is not able to attend her son’s frequent doctor’s appointments or even her own. She’s not able to visit her oldest son, who lives thirty minutes away. Amy, the angel caretaker who lives with Claudia, can’t take Claudia to museums or parks or even outside to see the beautiful world that Claudia spent so much of her life saving and loving and serving. Clearly, this is unacceptable.

So the times, they are a changing. Today. Today we raise the money needed to buy a van for Claudia. To give her back some of her freedom, her love of adventure, and her ability to nurture her children – all of which are the stuff that makes Claudia, CLAUDIA.

OH….. ONE MORE THING.

Meet Paul and Mindy and their gorge kiddos.

You’ll remember these folks from this miracle post. Mindy’s family is so beloved by her neighbors that one of them, Matt, sent us a letter asking us to help fix Paul and Mindy’s aging car. Matt told us that he loves Momastery but finds the label Monkee too feminine, so he refers to himself as a Donkee. Donkee went on to explain that Paul and Mindy’s family deserved a break, like, yesterday. You see,  Mindy’s been diagnosed with stage 4 lung, bone, and liver cancer. Matt said that their medical bills get so high that sometimes Mindy and Paul just can’t get their car out of the shop.

Mindy defies her diagnosis. As she told us:  “I have so much to fight for, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.  My “baby” is 5.  He is full of life and for that I am thankful.  I look at my beautiful children and my wonderful, supportive, and handsome husband, and remember that I too am alive and will be alive….my fight has to be great! I’m not going anywhere!”

And to that we say, No ma’am, not in that clunker, you’re not. So we’re gonna go ahead and buy Mindy and Paul a new van, too. They’ve got enough to handle without car trouble. Just, enough said.

So . . . .Two Vans.  Eighty- five thousand dollars. No problem.

 Here are the Love Flash Mob Rules:

1. EVERYONE IS INVITED.

2. There is a $25 dollar contribution limit per person.

Please remember that the Croyles were sent on a vacation of a lifetime largely due to 5, 10, 15, and 20 dollar donations. Because of all of your five and ten dollar bills, Kristin Croyle, in the wake of her treacherous diagnosis, was able to put her feet in the sand, feel the warmth of the sun on her shoulders, stare out at the big, big ocean, and listen to Lance and her children play in the surf . . . for the first time.

We can do no big things, just little things with great love. Each of our offerings will be little but together, they will become great.

EVERY donation makes a difference. BE the change you want to see in the world. Don’t sit this one out. Jump in. You are worthy. You are powerful. You can change the world. WE ARE THE PEOPLE. YOU ARE THE PERSON. NOW IS THE TIME.

Press the Van-tastic Button on the right of this page to donate to the Claudia/Mindy Van Fund. It has a Monkee and a van on it, and when you press the button it will direct you to our paypal account where you can donate.

I’ll update you frequently as the miracles unfold.

And while you’re at it, think of five friends who have a heart and twenty five (or five)  dollars and invite them to share in this miracle, too.  Share this on Facebook, the car pool line, wherever there is SOMEONE TO INVITE.  Love Flash Mobs are as much for the givers as they are for the receivers – and we want as many human beings as possible to be part of this miracle. We want thousands of souls invested in these families . . . thousands of people praying and sending healing energy and loving on Claudia and Mindy and their families.

Love, LOVE, LOVE!!!!!!  TWMF

(The Whole Monkee Family)

Now…..GO!

ATTENTION!

MONKEES AND ALL LOVERS OF PEOPLE AND HOPE AND JOY:

EVERYONE, EVERYONE, EVERYONE  IS INVITED TO THE BIGGEST, BOLDEST LOVE FLASH MOB IN MOMASTERY HISTORY.

INVITATION

If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire,
For we have some flax golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

-Shel Silverstein

DATE: TOMORROW, MAY 9, 2012

TIME: 9 AM EST…BUT WILL CONTINUE FOR 48 HOURS!

PLACE: THE MOMASTERY

REASON: WE BELONG TO EACH OTHER

HOSTS: THE WHOLE WORLD

Pray-ers start praying, Yogis start posing, atheists cross those fingers, Catholics start your novenas, energy senders start energy sending. We will need every ounce of love and hope available tomorrow. And the thing is, since hope and love are infinite – it’s ALL available. Tomorrow is going to be MAGIC. Flax golden tales will be spun.

COME IN!

Love,

G

Courage

It is in the small things we see it.
The child’s first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you’ll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you’ll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.

~ Anne Sexton ~

(The Awful Rowing Toward God)

This is one of my favorite little miracles, because it reminds me how creative and playful God can be. It reminds me that this world we live in, this world that seems soooo big is actually quite small. It’s tiny and all of us are connected to each other in a big glistening messy intricate God-web.

You know that Sister and I went to New York recently to meet with all the fancy publishers. Since you also know me, you can probably guess that I was VERY NERVOUS. I applied twelve layers of deodorant and kept saying, “it will be okay” to no one throughout the whole train ride. I also kept repeating “Be Still and Know” which is my favorite scripture, but I kept hearing Be Still and know that this is going to be INSANE,” which is less helpful than the original.

When we finally arrived at Penn Station, Sister and I walked out into the bright sun and THIS was the first thing upon which I laid my terrified eyes. A Monastery.

Crazy, Insane, Right? Calmed me. Completely calmed me. Emmanuel. The rest of the week I was like EASY BREEZY….EAAAASSSSY BREEEEEZY. COOL as a CUCUMBER. Which obviously means juts a teeny bit less insane.

But when I came home and wrote about this monastery, all the monkees starting freaking out. They said: LOOK AT THE MONASTERY NAME. IT’S THE CAPUCHIN MONASTERY. IT’S A MONKEY MONASTERY!!!!

And I was like NO WAY.

So I googled, of course.

Capuchins are considered the most intelligent New World monkeys. With the exception of a midday nap, they spend their entire day searching for food. They are also used as service animals, sometimes being called “nature’s butlers.”Some organizations have been training capuchin monkeys to assist quadriplegics as monkey helpers in a manner similar to assistance dogs. After being socialized in a human home as infants, the monkeys undergo extensive training before being placed with a quadriplegics. Around the house, the monkeys help out by doing tasks including microwaving food, washing the quadriplegic’s face, and opening drink bottles.- Wikipedia

I MEAN C’MON.

-       Super Smart. Naps. Eating  AND Assisting ALL DAY LONG. OPENING (baby or wine) BOTTLES, WASHING FACES, MICROWAVING DINNER??? Are these not OUR MONKEE SPECIALTIES????? Tell me they’re not.

Kay. Now here comes the crazy miracle part.

So a couple of weeks ago, my agents called and said, “G, we just got a message from the FRIARS OF THE CAPUCHIN MONASTERY IN NEW YORK CITY. THEY WERE TICKLED BY YOUR POST. THEY CAN’T BELIEVE THERE ARE OTHER MONKEE MONKS OUT THERE. THEY’D LIKE TO RUN YOUR POST IN THEIR MONTHLY NEWSLETTER. IS THAT OKAY?”

IS THAT OOOOKAAAY?????? THAT IS FAN-DAMN-TASTIC!!!

People: The Monkey Monks contacted the agent of the Monkee Mama to ask permission to run a story about the Momastery Monkee Mama seeing the Monastery of the Monkey Monks.

Just, please.

Happy Friday, Monkees. And Monkey Monks.

The world can be such fun.

Love 4-evah.

G

“On Sunday morning, the gospel choir would walk by my cottage in their robes, singing Oh shout it out! The first time I heard them, I ran to the front porch in my bathrobe and started crying. They pulled children in wagons, their voices visible in the cool air. Every Sunday I waited for this.

All I needed of religion, I realized, was the beautiful sound of someone else’s faith.”

-Megan Mayhew Bergman, Birds of a Lesser Paradise

Sometimes, Love Doesn’t Win. Or that’s how it feels anyway.

Sometimes we desperately need a miracle that never comes. We pray, we hope, we believe, we KNOW and we are left empty handed and broken hearted. Beloved parents and sisters and brothers and children die. Where the hell is God? We hold up our WTF? billboard prayers to the heavens. We wonder why other people got their miracles and we didn’t get ours. When we hear people say that PRAYER WORKS or that LOVE WINS or that IT ALL HAPPENS FOR REASON, we feel, well, a tad homicidal. None of it makes sense. Anybody worth talking to will admit that from the human perspective, life makes no sense. As my minister friend Anna – who lost her husband in a car crash- would promise us,  it’s all just ABSURD. GREAT word to describe life, one of my favorites. ABSURD!

For twenty years I knew I would adopt a baby. I tried actively for seven years. Craig and I poured  our hearts and energy and time and bank accounts into this dream time after time after time. We never gave up hope. We trusted in God. We followed the signs. We fully expected miracles.  As you know, our third adoption- this time from Rwanda- fell through last month. We were so close this time that I could actually FEEL that baby in my arms.

After a few weeks of mourning, we decided that maybe our fourth baby would be biological. We talked to my doctor who said, in so many words  . . . “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FREAKING MIND? You are chronically ill. You can barely take care of yourself. No. No, no, no, no.”

When we left I said to Craig: Hm.What do you think she meant by that?

Honey, he said. You know what she meant by that. Everyone in the office knew what she meant by that. She was YELLING.

Right. Optimism and delusion are sooooo close.

No adoption. No pregnancy. No miracle.  And we know, in our hearts, that it’s time to let that fourth baby go. I’m not healthy. It’s time to stop obsessing about that miracle- it’s time to take off our miracle blinders, and use our peripheral vision.

Because sometimes we don’t get our miracle, and that hurts like hell. But the way the world works is- if we turn our heads, we can still find one. We can share someone else’s miracle. We can enter into it and claim it as our own. It takes some work and humility and a STRONG WILL, but it can be done.

Look. I’m not going to get that Rwandan baby for whom we all prayed so hard. But turn your head. Use your miracle peripheral vision and CHECK THIS OUT.

Look at her. That’s my baby Sister. That’s my lobster. Who was crumbled on the floor, three years ago, with no hope, no GLIMMER of hope, facing a divorce that would leave the faith of our entire family in shambles.

She moved in with me after the divorce. I hung a sign on her wall that said, “For I know the plans I have for you says the LORD . . . plans to prosper you and not harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11

And we would both look at that sign, crying together in a Sister heap on the floor, and we would silently say to the sign, to God - BULLSHIT.  Just, BULLSHIT.

Now please look at her. Eventually . . . . after a while – she stood up off that floor. She trusted the absurd world again. She found her other lobster, John. He is as kind and as gentle and as strong as a human being can be. And he loves her so much that I can finally, for the first time in my life, relax. For the first time in my life, I KNOW that my Sister is cared for by a man in a pure, deep, forever way.

And now she’s seven months pregnant. We are having a BABY, MONKEES!

For John’s sake, I hope that the baby’s not Rwandan. But I’m not gonna lie- it’d be nice for me.

IT’S MY PERIPHERAL MIRACLE.  Do you see? I didn’t get my exact miracle, the one in my direct line of vision. But sometimes PERIPHERAL MIRACLES are even BETTER. Because you can love them and love them and love them but you don’t have to send PERIPHERAL MIRACLES to college.

I am so in love already.

We’re HAVING A BABY!!!!!!!!!

See. Still. Love Wins. Just gotta keep those eyes wide open and sometimes –  turn our heads.

Love you forever.

G

This essay will be shorter than it deserves to be. Like me, actually. I’ve got ten minutes till Amma wakes and tells me her stomach hurts horrifically and she can’t go to school, so instead she’d like ice cream for breakfast and to spend the day at the petting zoo.

MONKS-

Please flashback to our Love Flash Mob for the Croyles.

You gave TWENTY SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS in ten hours so that we could send this suffering family on their first family vacation.

Here is how your money was spent:

You bought thirteen (10 family, 3 friends) roundtrip airline tickets from Pittsburg to Florida.

You paid for a luxury beach house in Captive, Florida for ten days.

You rented two vans for the duration of their vacation.

You rented a golf cart for the beach house for easy travels to the ocean and around the island.

You rented baby equipment like a jogging stroller and high chair for the home.

You paid for seven hundred dollars of groceries to be delivered to the home.

You sent papa Croyle and his oldest son on a fishing expedition.

You gave them $2000 extra dollars to use for vacation spending money.

You sent a professional photographer to travel to Florida and take pictures. She volunteered her services, you just paid for her hotel room. She traveled SEVEN HOURS to be there and gave all of the incredible pictures to the Croyles free of charge. A picture blanket was made for Kristin out of the pictures to keep her warm.

Lou and Sister organized EVERY DETAIL above, down to the stroller rentals, so that all the Croyles had to do was show up and put their twenty-six feet in the sand.

When all was said and done, we had $1000 from the Croyle fund leftover, so we sent it on to the family to ease medical burdens.

Please remember that this miracle happened because each of you gave $25 dollars or less. That was the maximum donation allowed. It happened because each of you believed that your small act of love could make a difference. AH. It DID.

Now here’s the thing. None of that is the miracle.

Here’s the miracle:

Kristin was given a 3% chance that her chemo would work.

SO YOU’RE SAYING THERE’S A CHANCE…all the Monkees said.

It’s working. The chemo is working. Kristin’s cancer is SHRINKING and noone can explain it except for Kristin, who always knew it wasn’t her time, NO MATTER WHAT THE DOCTORS SAID.

Listen to me Monkees: there is no diagnosis stronger than the human spirit, stronger than Hope.

Look at them. They’re looking at THE FUTURE.

Love Wins.

SPEAK HOPE BOLDLY TODAY.

Love,

G