Falling Spring

What does a mermaid-wanna-be like me do while smack dab in the middle of the Midwest? Look for water, of course!

Thursday, Little Bit and I ventured over towards the town we will be moving to. On the way, after a right turn and a couple of left turns down on some forest roads, we came to one of the most unique places I’ve ever seen.

And, we had it to ourselves! It. Was. Amazing.

It was homesteaded in the 1850’s and has a wonderful log cabin and mill. It’s almost like some scene from a story. The water is crystal clear, under the mill is sand, and the whole area just screams “history.”

After poking around in the building for a few minutes, I stepped around back. We could hear water gushing and I expected to see something similar to what we’ve seen in the past few weeks- water either coming up from the ground or pouring out of rocks near the bottoms of caves.

Wrong!

Instead we saw nature truly putting on an incredible show. A gorgeous gift, aptly named:

Falling Spring.

Full Circle Again

We are moving, finally. After a year and a half of trying to move, things finally worked out.

My husband was offered a job in a new town on the opposite side of our state and after some heartfelt contemplation about the benefits of moving vs staying put, we grabbed onto our new adventure.

He started working over there three weeks ago and Little Bit and I are trying to get our two properties ready to sell. Last week, we went over to visit him and have a look around.

Oh my gosh!!! You guys are going to LOVE this area. I was so worried that we were leaving our clear water streams and land abounding with nature behind, but guesss what?

Over there, the rivers are clear, there is a National Scenic Riverway, and thousands of acres of National Forest land. I am absolutely sooooooooo excited. Just think of all the new places we will have to explore!

In fact, we’ve already started. Within this past week, we’ve already ventured down several pine tree lined mountain roads, looked for wild horses, hiked around a gorgeous mill, stood on an old rickety wooden bridge, rung the bell at an old schoolhouse, and seen water the color of a stunning blue ocean in an Ozark stream.

Oh, and get this. There is a fishing lake just north of our new town which is pretty cool. You see, about twenty two years ago, my husband and I lived at a lake and went fishing almost every night after work.

When we moved to Marshfield seventeen years ago, things came full circle (you can read about it here, if you like) and as crazy as it seems, my heart just told me, they are coming full circle again.

Dear Miracle Mommas

Dear Miracle Mommas,

I know the word miracle in front of mommas is going to throw some of you off, but stick with me for a few minutes and I think you’ll understand.

For the past decade, I have been just this side of Special. The first 3 years were beautiful baby bliss. The next 4 years were test results, IEP meetings, studying Special Education rights, and juggling therapist filled days.

These 3 recent years have been about finding balance, being a voice, and learning to trust my own God-given mother’s intuition.

I am feeling a nudge to write you and tell you that no matter where you are in this journey, that you can absolutely do this. Whether you are a veteran momma 30 years in, somewhere in the middle, or one of the new “1 in 36” mommas, this letter is for you.

Back in the beginning, I identified myself as a special needs mom. But, the more I’ve been in it, the more there’s been a shift. Right now, I see myself in a different sort of role and I’m really at home being a Miracle Momma.

Every kid on this planet is a genuine miracle. Every single one. Do some kiddos have bumps along the way? Maybe. But, those bumps can ultimately make life more endearing and memorable.

I decided not to sit here and fill your time and space with “don’ts.” That sure would be easy to do, but we are each on our own paths.

What I would like to do is share some of the up-sides of this journey. Because, let’s face it, if a kiddo has a medical issue, any sort of delay, or even a learning difficulty, those aren’t generally portrayed as gifts. In fact, the connotation with them can be quite the opposite sometimes.

Looking back to when we got the news of a severe language delay, I wish someone would’ve looked me in the eye and said, “Ahhhh, you can totally do this,” in a super nonchalant, tip their head to the side, while waving their hand, kind of way.

Well, I didn’t know anybody at the time, and that’s ok. I figured things out. What would really be cool is, if something I learned could help you, even the tiniest bit.

Here goes:

  • Be open to the idea that someone, somewhere understands what you’re going through.
  • Be open to the idea that you are enough, exactly the way you are.
  • Be open to the possibility that you may know more about your kiddo than anyone does.
  • Be open to the idea that your intuition is a wonderful guide.
  • Be open to the possibility that even on hard days, the answers can still be found. Keep looking.
  • Be open to the possibility that you may find your authentic, genuine, amazing self at any moment.
  • Be open to the idea that even in those lonely moments, there is a possibility that true friendships will spring forth from unexpected places.
  • Be open to the idea that your child is learning about faith, love, and determination by watching you.
  • Be open to the idea that everything you need is already inside you.
  • Be open to the idea that you are stronger than you think.
  • Be open to the idea that by being your child’s voice, you may find your own.
  • Be open to the absolute 1000% possibility that you will, without a doubt, find your way.
  • Be open to the idea that 10 or 20 years into this, you may be holding out a hand of support to another momma just like you. (That’s a pretty humbling thought, isn’t it?)

I thank you for your time. Thank you for reading this. I’m going to leave you with one final thought. You know that light that shines so bright in your child?

I bet there’s one just like it that shines in you.

Sincerely,

Jessica Adam