Adam's Big Day

Do you guys remember when I blogged about my nephew who was battling Leukemia? He's doing fantastic. But I wanted to share something with you that my brother posted on our family forum.

It's just another reason why I love this country and those who sacrifice to protect our freedoms.

One thing you need to know before you read--Adam LOVES helicopters. Which I find ironic since the only helicopter he's ever ridden in was the one who lifeflighted him to the hospital the day he was diagnosed. But from his hospital room window he would watch the helicopters come in and out of the hospital with other sick and mangled people.

Get your tissues handy 'cause here we go.

In Dos's words:

Adam's "Pilot for a Day" actually started on Monday. We met the program coordinator (Major. Rob Balzano) and his "host pilot" (1st Lt. Frank Gilliard) for lunch at National Harbor, where they presented Adam with a real USAF flight suit and jacket, complete with a patch with his name on it. They had also worked with the Gaylord hotel to put us up in a suite for the night (free) and with restaurants to feed us lunch and dinner. The hotel was amazing--




http://www.gaylordhotels.com/gaylord-national/



We also got to take Adam swimming for the first time in his life that evening, as he just got clearance from his doctors.



We got up Tuesday morning and met Lt. Gilliard in the lobby at 0830 and then we all drove over to Andrews. As we drove around the base, we passed a large LED sign on the main thoroughfare that read "Andrews AFB welcomes our 'Pilot for a Day' Adam Henshaw and his family and friends." Nice.



We arrived at an office building where they were flying a large sign that said something very similar and we were welcomed by several other pilots from the 89th Airlift Wing, the 459th Air Refueling Wing, and the 113th "Capitol Guardians" Air National Guard wing. They escorted us into a conference room where maybe twenty other people were waiting with breakfast. They kicked off the day with an opening ceremony, where the Commanding Officer, 459th, Col. Mike Allman had Adam (dressed in his flight suit) repeat an oath making him an honorary Air Force pilot and putting him under orders to "ask questions and have as much fun as military regulations permit."



Our first stop on the base tour was the 459th hangar where Adam got to watch the Andrews security team give demonstrations with a bomb-sniffing dog and a German Shepard attack dog. Adam loved the dogs. Immediately after, we got to board a KC-135 Stratotanker.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boeing_KC-135_Stratotanker



The unit had painted Adam's name under the cockpit window--P.F.D Adam Henshaw. Adam got to sit in the cockpit and Russell spent some quality time in the back lying on his stomach at the refueling boom controls. The KC-135 is a modified Boeing 707 that can carry 200,000 pounds of fuel--enough gas to run a family car for 30 years nonstop. Lt. Gilliard, btw, is a KC-135 tanker pilot.



Our next stop was at the 113th hangar. The 113th flies F-16 "Fighting Falcons" and is the unit charged with enforcing the airspace restrictions around Washington DC--they were the ones who were in the air on Sept 12, 2001 with orders to shoot down any planes trying to fly into the city. The 113th had an F-16 with Adam's name stenciled on it and we got to take some pictures next to the planes. We didn't get to sit in cockpit of that one, but our next stop was at the 113th training/office facility where Adam and Russell both got to fly an F-16 simulator, put on a real flight helmet, check out a night vision monocle, and see other kinds of pilot gear. One of the F-16 pilots landed while we were there, so he came in dressed in full pilot's gear and talked with Adam and Russell in the hallway.



The next stop was across the base at the hangar's of the 89th Airlift Wing. The 89th is a unit that flies Air Force One, and smaller aircraft to ferry around senior military officers (3- and 4-star generals, admirals, etc) and high ranking government officials (cabinet secretaries, Congressional leadership, etc). One their Tarmac, they had a special surprise for Adam--a medical airlift helicopter like the one that had flown him to the hospital the day he was diagnosed with leukemia came in and landed right in front of us. Adam ran up and gave the flight nurse a hug when she got out, and he got to spend some quality time in the cockpit of that one. Then, the Maryland State Police landed one of their larger medical helicopters and their pilot had another surprise--he offered to give Adam a ride! So Adam, Russell, and Dad got to fly in the helicopter. Adam was in the co-pilot seat while Dad and Russell were in the back. Then, without warning Dad first, the pilot asked Adam if he wanted to fly the helicopter. Adam, of course, said yes and the pilot took his hands off the stick and let Adam move the helicopter around the sky. The pilot then said, "Dad, that's your son flying." Dad was thinking that it was a good thing this was a medical helicopter, as he was about to have a heart attack.



They landed the helicopter and we all got to eat lunch aboard a Boeing C-40B (a modified, *very* swanky Boeing 737). Then, to get us to our next stop, Adam was asked to be the Captain of the plane while they taxied us across the airfield to the Air Traffic Control Tower. Adam got to make the announcement over the intercom--"This is Adam Henshaw. I will be the pilot on this flight. It might be a bumpy flight. I'll do my best." (Something to that effect). We taxied over, deplaned, and got to climb up to the top of the ATC. While there, we watched some F-16's take off. Once that was finished, our final stop on the tour was the base Fire Department. Adam, Russell, and Mom got to ride around in a real pumper truck, fire the water cannons, and handle other fireman gear. That unit gave Adam a blanked and a real fireman's helmet (used, complete with fire damage).



At that point, we were all wearing out pretty good, but we were almost done. They took us back to the 459th conference space for the closing ceremony. A professional photographer had followed us around all day and he and Major Balzano had put together a slide show of pictures from the tour. Then all of the units that had taken part on the tour and some that hadn't gave Adam presents--unit patches, challenge coins, toys (all airplanes, naturally), t-shirts, stickers. And then the capper--Major Balzano had started a foundation to help out these kids with cancer. Noting that Adam loves helicopters, they presented him with a gift to help his dreams of becoming a pilot come true--a $500 check to help pay for flight lessons. Janna is going to open a bank account in Adam's name to deposit the money so he can use it for that or something else important to him when he's old enough. After that presentation, we had an informal reception. The 89th Airlift flight stewardesses brought in a cake with Adam's name on it and the "Pilot for a Day" logo.



So it was a busy day, and we left with so many presents that we had trouble cramming them all into the trunk. I haven't included everything we did and saw, just the highlights; but Janna and Major Balzano should have some pictures posted soon for everyone to see. It was an amazing day, and was a great reminder why the US has the best military in the world--it's populated by some of the best people the country has to offer. It was fun to feel the "military is a big family" feeling again and to see how willing the military is to adopt people into that family.


-------------------------

When Adam's mom posts photos on her blog, I'll link over so you all can take a look. I know I'm dying to see how much fun they all had.

Today I am Thankful for this great country, and for those men and women who serve so we can be free. And I am thankful for those people who must know how hard it was for Adam and his family to overcome this terrible illness. And thankful that they worked so hard to make the day a good one for them.

This country rocks.

Giving my Thanks

If you've been wondering where I've been, well, here it is: I was called as Young Woman's President of our ward this past Sunday. I've known for a while it was coming, and my brain has been broken ever since. And since I can't write or blog worth a dime this week, I'm going to list.

Thankfulness

1. I'm thankful for a husband that works very hard, every single day. He has a testimony and can fix anything that's broken. Just about.

2. I'm thankful for my parents who, though I'm grown, continue to help in any way they can. They buoy me up and let me know that I will never be left hanging.

3. I'm thankful for four adorable children who do kind things for each other like: turn a brother's bedroom into Sherwood Forest because he's on a crazy Robin Hood kick. Or who play outside with their little sister because their mom has a presidency meeting and really needs their help. I'm thankful the most when their plump little arms encircle my ribcage and they squeeze with all their might. What will I do when they grow up and move away? I'll miss those squeezes so much.

4. I'm thankful for three awesome brothers who inspire me, each in their own way. I'm very thankful that one lives very close by, and that his wife is cooking the turkey this Thursday. Not me.

5. I'm thankful for prayer, and that when I pray, I get a peaceful feeling that reminds me someone is definitely listening, and loves me.

6. I am thankful for my small home, in this modest neighborhood where people wave when you pop your head out the front door, or who stop and talk when you're out walking your dog. There is no place like Virginia--in all the very best ways.

7. I am thankful to be in a ward where unity runs thick and testimonies are strong and service is plentiful. Every week they hand out free cartons of eggs. The man in charge of the 'egg project' realized I didn't get any this week. When I got home from church there were 2 cartons of 18 eggs each sitting on my porch. I've been in many wards, and the friends I have made here are not easily found everywhere.

8. I am thankful for a car to drive. I almost rearended someone today. I am thankful I looked up just in time, and that I didn't hurt anyone or anyone's car. Scared me half to death. That'll teach me to actually look in my rearview mirror. Sometimes I think those are more of a hurt than a help.

9. I am thankful for a Heavenly Father who never ceases to show my husband and I how much He loves us. I keep wondering if He'll stop. But He never does. Even when I'm sure we don't deserve it. I pray He never does.

10. And I am thankful mostly for my Savior. He offers me all that he has, and I'll tell you one thing--I'm taking it. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. If it weren't for him...

I can't even think it.

I will never forget to be Thankful.

What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

Golden

This has been an eventful week. Some of it good, some of it not so good, and some of it stumping. (Is that even a word?)

One thing I realized this week is how common it has become for people to let you down. (I'm not saying this to get lots of sympathy--I have a point I'm going to make.) And how easily offended people can be. Seriously, you can have every good intention in the world and somehow you still come out scathed. 

But that's not what I'm going to tell you about.

Oldest Son came home from school the other day and we got to talking. He told me something a friend of his said purposely to get under his skin, and he was so frustrated by this friend's actions that he was in tears. And not the two second tears that you wipe off and move on from. The kind that makes a mother ache. I hated to break it to him, but felt like if I didn't then who would? I said, "Buddy, this is just the beginning. Next year you'll be in middle school. Prepare yourself now for the possibility that the friends you have now may very well not be the friends you have two years from now."

But then he named a friend that he thought probably would never let him down, and I had to agree that he was right. This friend is so good and so awesome, he will probably never let O.S. down.

Well, it got me thinking about a friend I had in high school. To me, she is a miracle. I've never seen anyone quite like her before or since, and I'm sad to say that I don't know that I ever will. She is a rarity among common people, and this fact makes me very, very sad.

But I'm not trying to depress y'all. I'm not.

So let me tell you about her. I hope she won't mind because I find her very inspiring, and I think you will too.

From the time I was five until I turned sixteen, our family drove 45 minutes both ways to attend church. For seven of these years my dad was the Bishop of our ward (like a pastor, for those of you non-LDS folk). But during my sophomore year, a tiny branch of the church was started down in the 'Ham, and suddenly there was no 45 minute drive. As a matter of fact, to go to church all I had to do was walk into my living room. That's right. The church was now at my house. That first meeting there was a whopping sixteen people. In a way it was comforting. Most of those people were related to me, or at least very dear friends. But it also meant I was THE youth in the branch. There wasn't another primary kid or youth to hang with. Talk about lonely. Every Sunday I recited the Young Woman's promise in my bedroom to my teacher. Just she and I.

I prayed and prayed and prayed that some family with a hot boy would move in. But I didn't get it.

But I got something. Yes, I did.

My junior year, I played on the basketball team. I noticed a younger oriental girl on the j.v. team who was horrible at the game. And I mean horrible. As a matter of fact the first time she scored it was in the wrong basket for the other team.

That's all I knew about her--that she couldn't play ball. But then one day she showed up at church with her step-dad. He was a real character but that's a whole 'nother story and not mine to tell, really.

Do you know what that's like? To be the only girl in a branch and then another girl walks in one Sunday? Talk about manna from heaven. You want me to friendship her? You got it! I was going to friendship her so good she'd never want to leave. And I did. Sat in on all the missionary discussions with her (which I think every teenager should do. What a testimony builder!), had sleepovers with her, drove twenty minutes out of the way and lied about it to my parent's just so she could go to seminary with me.

When she got married in the temple, after she got home from her eighteen month mission to Korea, I thought, "Man, I'm good. Look what I've done!"

Back then, I just thought that was how it was done. I was so naive.

Knowing what I know now, I'll tell you this.

That girl was golden.

Sent straight from Heavenly Father above to be an example to me.

Here's what you need to know about her. When I met her, her mother was on her fifth marriage (hence the father in law who brought her to church). They lived in a trailer out in the woods on the other end of the county. Her older sister, who was a year younger than me, was pregnant, which was pretty scandalous back then. My friend lived in Soddom, yet the worst thing she'd ever done was say the D word. No drinking, no drugs, no sex. No kidding. When I would spend the night over at her house, I was tense the entire time driving over. Seriously, I can't believe my parents even let me go. There's no way my daughters would ever be allowed into that house. But my friend and I would just slink past all the craziness, into her bedroom and shut the door.

And it was like heaven.

I remember she'd strung some Christmas lights around her ceiling, and we'd lie on the bed talking about how hot our husbands were going to be (FYI--we two 'Ham girls married guys that grew up ten minutes apart out in buzy Southern California. How crazy is that?) and laughing about how dumb the guys at our school were, into the wee hours of the night, gazing up at those lights. Those are some of my happiest high school memories.

As the years passed, her home situation dwindled. Her mother got divorced again and became a tattoo artist. Her sister struggled. My friend ended up staying at our house quite a bit. She was the sister I never had, and boy could she get under my skin. But I loved her anyway.

Like I said, I realize now friendshipping doesn't always go this smoothly. In fact, I bet it rarely does. What this friend was, was a gift to me. She would have joined the church without me. All she needed was for a missionary to knock on her door.

Now I know this girl was the amazing one, not me. She came from the worst situation and rose above it. Today she has four boys and an awesome husband. They live in Utah where she teaches school, and probably inspires those kids every day.

She wasn't what I asked for, but thank goodness Heavenly Father knew what I needed. Most important, I realize now, He was trusting me. She is precious to Him. There's no way she couldn't be.

And He trusted me to lead her back to Him.

To let me be a part of that--there is nothing better He could ever give me.

Mama Bear

As a writer everything you write is, at least in part, a reflection of yourself.

There's a line from my book: "Sometimes, I really hate myself. I always get too upset about stuff. I make scenes in places I have no business making scenes..." The line continues, but that's all I needed to steal today.

So like I said, sometimes, I really hate myself. 

Today is one of those times. 

Today was the last game of Oldest Son's soccer season. Granted, my Oldest Daughter and Youngest Son both played soccer as well, but their seasons ended last Saturday. Let me preface this--because trust me, you need a little background info here--by saying that I was sad to see their seasons end. Oldest Daughter's team went undefeated, and while that's amazing and was so fun to be a part of, it has nothing to do with the reason I loved every minute of it. (Okay, maybe it has a tiny bit to do with it.) Her coach was spectacular. He taught them their positions, utilized every minute of practice time, and got down on his knee to talk with them when they needed help or simply to encourage them. These girls came from a rinky dink little school that used to be the worst school in the district, and they kicked butt! They trusted each other. They passed. They helped each other score. It was a lesson in charity to watch them out on the field. It was like a mini version of Hoosiers. 

Seriously, I'm tearing up just writing about it. 

You may think I only loved her team because it went undefeated, but that is not the case. You see, Youngest Son was also on a stellar team. And they only won one game all season. But their coach was also magnificent. He did his best to teach them as much as he could. He was patient and kind and helped them love the game. Their last game of the season, they finally came together as a team and dominated. You could see that this team of first graders were buds. They passed. They scored. They gave each other high fives. I was so sad to see it end.

But Oldest Son? When I walked away from that field today I was split on whether to be livid or relieved. I made a silent idiot of myself. Maybe in no one's mind but my own, but an idiot all the same. His coach is a perfectly nice man. As a matter of fact, he has been nothing but encouraging to O.S. who was a first timer on the soccer field. But. And I mean a big butt right there--I do not agree with his coaching style. At practice there is more fooling around going on than practicing. In games he lets the kids play whatever position they want, for the most part. He's super laid back and keeps saying 'this is just rec league' in an effort to support his lackadaisical coaching methods. 

I knew before today that I wanted O.S. on a different team, mostly because all the other boys boss him since he's a rookie. He needs to be on a team where he's treated as an equal, and where the other boys trust that he can get the job done. He needs to feel that he can get the job done, and that can't happen when he's treated like he doesn't know anything. 

But today clenched it for me. 

I look out onto the field and all I see are boys running around telling each other what to do, hogging the ball, not passing, bickering over who's going to throw the ball in because they all want to get their hands on that ball. They are not a team. Heck, I don't even think they like each other. Some definitely think they're too good to be there, and play like they are a gift to the game. I am generalizing here. This is probably only a handful. There are other boys who, if guided correctly, could really be amazing. But that's my point. There's no guidance. 

The moment of truth came when we were up 4-2 with only five minutes left. The coach told O.S. to switch from defense (his position of choice, and what he thrives at) to goalie. Goalie! The kid doesn't play that position, and he doesn't play it for a reason. He's no goalie. You have to have a certain mentality to play that position, and O.S. is just not that kind of kid. I swear, I thought this man had lost his mind. My heart dropped into my shoes. I knew exactly what was going to happen, because I know my son. He clenches under pressure. He gets that lovely trait from me. In time he will grow out of that, but for now, he's sensitive and spring-loaded. Seriously, he was so stressed he couldn't even get the goalie shirt on, and I had to walk out onto the field and help him pull it over his head. He literally just froze and quit, while everyone was yelling at him to hurry up already. 

The game starts back up.

So what happens? The defense collapses and O.S. gets scored on twice. It wasn't for lack of trying. The child tried, he just couldn't get to those balls fast enough. 

So what, you're saying? They still tied. Yes, they did. But they could have won. They've only won 2 or 3 games this whole season, and they easily could have won this last game but my kid caused them to tie. Or I should say, the coach caused them to tie, but it looks like it was my kid's fault. Do you understand why I was seeing red? My child got into the car and started to cry. 

What was this man thinking? I'll tell you what he was thinking. No one else wanted to play goalie, and because he lets the kids play equally everywhere (a kindergarten soccer tactic in my opinion) and wherever they want to play, he shoved Will in a spot no one else wanted, no matter that he was severely inexperienced. 

Talk about pressure. 

So here's why I hate myself. Did I bless this man out? No. I did yell at the defense and tell them to start playing their positions. They all looked at me like I'd lost my mind. But I yelled it because I knew if they didn't play Will would clamp up even tighter and we would lose. The coach gave me one look as I walked away, and I looked right back. He made this Mama Bear very angry.

I'm sure I looked like the witchiest mom in the world. And maybe I am. I came straight home, emailed the man man who drafts up the soccer teams, and told him that under no circumstances should O.S. be on this team in the spring. Our nerves can't handle it, and neither can his self-esteem. I also told him my husband could coach if he needed someone, because I don't like people who complain without offering solutions. Guess what? Not only will O.S. be on a different team, Dear Husband is going to be the coach of that team. 

I hope he'll forgive me.

Last story. I played basketball my last two years of high school. The last year I was co-captain. And we sucked. Oh, yes we did! The year before I started, the team was fabulous, but the whole starting line up and the first girl off the bench all graduated, and we were what was left. But you know what? We played our hearts out each and every game. During those two years, we won two games. One each year. While that was kind of humiliating, I didn't feel bad about it. My coach taught us everything he knew. I mean, the year before they won championships. We were just the hand he got dealt. But he still coached us like we were winners. And when the season was over, I was sad to see it end, and happy that I'd been a part of it.

That's all I want for my kids. To feel that they did something great and that, win or lose, they gave it their all. I want them to feel how amazing it is to be on a team full of people who are all united toward one goal. A team that likes each other.

So why do I feel so torn? I almost want to apologize to this coach, but I think he was wrong. I think he's been wrong the entire season, and I think I'm just starting to realize that sometimes we just have to walk away and not look back. 

Here's my point. I look at myself, and though I am much more mature than I was back in the day, I still have so far to go. Why can't I be more laid back? Why can't I just say, 'oh let's just play soccer and have a good time?' Why do I expect perfection from my children when it comes to sports and academics? 

I really haven't figured this out. The only thing I'm certain of is that I still have a long way to go. Because today, I don't like myself at all.

One eternal round

The warm weather has run away and, I think, taken my muse with it.

I'm not going to wax eloquent here. More than likely, I will ramble, but there are some things I need to throw out there regardless.

You know that scripture about God's time being one eternal round? I think I've got that whole thing figured out. This is about as deep as I get, but here goes.

I think God is this stable center of the universe and we kind of swirl around him. In other words, time is relative to him. At any given time he can see what's going to happen, and when it's going to happen, and how it's going to happen, etc. You get me?  It's like a time line wraps around Him and He knows all because He has an all access pass.

Just think about it. It's kind of comforting.

My heart is pretty full right now. A friend of mine, someone I haven't seen in twelve years, passed away this week. He wasn't a best friend, but a boy I went to college with, someone who made me laugh almost every time we were together. We were totally platonic, not even a hint of anything more. But I could always count on seeing his short little, twerpy self, red cheeks framing a toothy grin, chatting it up with any one of his hundred friends at the old LDSBC mansion.  He was born with a heart defect and was the longest survivor on record. Because of this he was not able to serve a normal mission at the age of nineteen. En lieu he served a full time mission in the temple where he lived.

I lost touch with everyone at LDS Business College after I graduated. And then Facebook happened. Though FB can be a life wasting, time sucking, celebrity wannabe, breeding ground for affairs with your ex boyfriend, it also has its good points. Like getting in touch with old friends you never, ever would have spoken to again, otherwise.

But I never friended this guy. I meant to. For six months I meant to. I even looked his name up a few times, but I couldn't find him. I should have dug deeper, stalked some of my other LDSBC friend's walls to get to him, but I didn't. And now. Now I'm so mad at myself. You see, this eerie, yet totally fantastic thing happens on FB when someone dies. Suddenly, this living breathing wall of status updates and family photos, becomes a memorial to that person. People posting all over about how great he was and how much they love him and how he made their life happy and how they'll miss him. But guess what? If he didn't add you as a friend before he took that last breath, you can't leave him a message.

It's like the ten virgins parable. I didn't have my oil, but I'm ready now. Please let me in? But I knock and no one's there. Nobody can let me in. It was something only I could have done for myself. And now that option is closed.

So I'm sad. But not desperately so. Because it was just FB, not the real second coming. I'm ready for that. Got my testimony nice and filled up to the tippy top. And I know God knew this was going to happen. That's why I felt like I should friend this guy six months ago. I also know that somehow though my words will not be etched on his FB page for eternity, Heavenly Father can get my message to him even faster and more clearly. That is comforting. Yes, indeed.

So here it is:

Jeremy, you will be missed. Thanks for being my friend. Now's your chance to serve that mission your heart stopped you from serving. Nothing will ever hold you back again.

God be with you 'til we meet again.

________________________________________________________________

PS: I didn't write this so I could get condolences. I really didn't. What could you do for me? Pray for this man, and for the three kids he left behind. And for all those who love him, that they will feel peace.