Orphaned, Rejected....Redeemed

Millie's story is continued from HERE and from HERE.

********

Around 1914, my sweet Millie was committed to an insane asylum.  With no family and no advocate on the outside, her life appeared to be over.

She entered her institution at around the age of twelve, and never left it for thirty years.  Thirty long years. 

Millie never told me any stories about her time at the mental institution.  She didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to pry.

I do know that her time in the institution was a time when such institutions were woefully underfunded, so that there were never enough staff members to care for so many residents.  This was especially true during the Great Depression.

I do know that her time in the institution was a time when overcrowding, poor hygiene and poverty were common for most of our society's hopeless, committed misfits.

I do know that her time in the institution was a time when all kinds of abuse were rampant at such institutions.



I do know that her time in the institution was a time when the science of eugenics was in vogue: A time when some states forcibly sterilized inmates in the sick, sadly mistaken belief that by doing so, they could rid our society of unwanted classes of people: the blind, the deaf, the mentally disabled and the physically disabled.

I also know that Millie remained institutionalized throughout her teenage years, then her young adult years, then her middle years. She missed so much of what was happening in the world outside, some of it fun and interesting, some of it dark and deadly: The advent of airplanes, World War I, the Roaring Twenties, the advent of radio, the Great Depression, Amos 'n' Andy, FDR's New Deal and much of World War II.

Just about anyone who heard Millie's life story would have said that there was no hope for her.  Anyone would have figured that she would never leave her institution-- and that even if she did, she would be too damaged, too institutionalized, to function in society.  Her life was so broken that she couldn't possibly pick up the pieces.

Millie's future seemed grim and certain. 

********

Then, by God's grace, Millie suddenly received an unheard-of reprieve: Amazingly, her institution released her.

When Millie was in her early 40s, she finally got her chance to live in freedom again.

The bits and pieces that I know of her story don't explain why Millie's institution decided to release her, but I have an idea why:  During World War II, the government needed places for conscientious objectors who didn't want to serve in the army. Some conscientious objectors were assigned to civilian public service, where they served in mental institutions like Millie's.  The conditions that those conscientious objectors found in these institutions horrified them so much that they began speaking out about the abuses they were witnessing.

It may be that the advocacy of conscientious objectors helped set Millie free. And it may be that when the Amish family who had committed Millie heard about all of the abuses in institutions like Millie's, they regretted committing her and decided to get her out. I don't know.

All I know is that when Millie was in her early 40s, she was born again into a new life outside the insane asylum.

Millie was set free.

She had been in the asylum for 30 years.

How does a middle-aged woman leave a place of horror where she has spent 30 years of her life? How does an institutionalized inmate re-enter a cold, hard world where she had never really lived in in the first place?  How does anyone survive a drastic change like that without support from a family?

The Millie that I knew accomplished all of these things with toughness, resolve, faith and courage.  And she didn't do it alone: God surrounded her with His presence and His protection.   She survived-- orphaned, abandoned Millie survived.  She got her bearings, then rose to the challenge of living in the cold, hard outside world of the 1940s.

"Unskilled" Millie got a job, supporting herself by working as a seamstress at a textile factory.

"Unteachable" Millie passed the test to receive her driver's license. She also managed her own finances, poor as they were.

"Institutionalized" Millie joined a church that she would attend for decades, until she was too old to drive herself anymore.
********

 And sometime in her mid-40s, Millie did something that almost no one would have thought possible: She met a man and fell in love. Poor, orphaned, abandoned Millie finally got a chance to be part of a family again.

This part of the story always cracks me up because she told it so many times, always in her squeaky, high-pitched voice and accompanied by her funny little trademark grin:

When Millie met her future husband, he told her that he was twenty years older than she was.  That would have put him in his mid 60s.  Millie thought about that, then shrugged her shoulders and decided that age didn't matter.  She still wanted to marry him, even if he was a 'little bit' older than she was.

It was only after they were married that Millie's new husband dropped his bombshell.  He wasn't just twenty years older than Millie-- no, he was thirty years older. He wasn't in his mid 60s, he was in his mid 70s when she married him. He was a very old man to be marrying a woman in her 40s.

Fortunately, Millie's husband would live a long life: Millie and her husband would live together in their little house on their small farm in southern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania for about 20 years.

For twenty years, Millie was part of a family again, and knew love again. Her husband loved her, she loved him, and they were happy together.

  Not everyone was as happy about the situation as Millie was: Her widower husband's five children from his first marriage were horrified when their father decided to marry a woman who was closer to their age than to his.

When Millie's husband died, he fulfilled his children's worst fears: He left most of his estate to her. Millie received the house, the land and enough money to support her until she died.  Her husband had cared for her in life, and he cared for her in death as well.  Although she was a widow, she was not destitute as she had been in her youth.  She was the sole owner of a plot of rich Lancaster County farmland.

Millie would live on the small farm that she inherited from her husband for the next forty years.

She worked. She drove until she couldn't drive anymore, and then she begged horse and buggy rides from the Amish family who lived next door.   She raised cats and worked long, satisfying hours in her garden.  Late in her life, she joined the local seniors group and began spending two or three days each week delighting in the company of people her own age.

When I met Millie, she was eighty-eight years old, and had been a widow for almost 20 years.  She was not bitter, she was not feeble, and she was most definitely not a moron.  Despite her frequent, morbid pronouncements that she was just "too old to be alive," Millie was funny, smart and full of life.




She loved having the opportunity to go church again. She faithfully attended until she finally entered a nursing home, where she lived out her last year or so.

The older ladies in the church used to throw big birthday parties for Millie every year, suspecting that she might not last another year.  Ironically, when Millie died at the age of 107, she had outlived some of those kind old ladies who used to throw parties for her.

Millie: Orphaned at a young age, committed to a mental institution at age 12, discarded and abandoned for 30 years.

Then released, married, living freely and independently in the outside world for more than 60 years.

********

Through all of the time that I knew her, Millie considered herself an old woman who probably didn't have many years left in this world. One of her favorite things to do was to tinker with her will: She wanted to express her love for the people who loved her by leaving behind financial gifts that would help them after she was gone. I had the honor of having a place in Millie's will.

There wasn't any money left when she died, but that matters not a whit to me.

To me, my place in Millie's will means that she adopted me, as I adopted her.

When we look at the hundreds of orphaned or abandoned kids who are listed on Reece's Rainbow, we find it so easy to assume what seems obvious: That most of them have no hope and no future.  It is so easy to believe that their lives are over.  This seems especially true of the older kids: It is so easy to assume that they are too old and too institutionalized to make it in the outside world.

  


The story of Millie's life proves otherwise.

Millie's story shouts "Hope!" to the hopeless.





She was institutionalized for 30 years, and demeaned as a moron.

Then she emerged from that institution to live a successful life that touched the lives of so many others, including me.

Millie's story gives hope to all of the Lost Boys and Lost Girls who are locked away behind institutional walls.



Her story is a reminder that God, in His infinite mercy and love, cares for the orphans and the widows. 



Millie was both.

Orphaned and widowed.

Rejected and abandoned.



And yet, Millie was loved, forever loved, by the God who created her and drew her to Himself.

I miss Millie.  I miss sitting in church with her wrinkled old hand safely in mine.  I miss listening to her fuss at her cats.  I miss walking in her weed-filled garden.  I miss my sweet Millie.

I know where she is, though.  And I rejoice that I will see her again.

And I am forever grateful that she lived long enough so that I could have the blessing of knowing her. 

 I thank God for Millie.

Orphaned, Rejected and Alone

.....Millie's story is continued from HERE.....

This is Millie's story as I pieced it together from bits and pieces of different conversations I had with her.  I cherish every single fragment that she handed to me.

My dear sweet Millie was born somewhere near Strasburg, Pennsylvania in 1902.  

Her mother was unmarried, which meant that Millie was an illegitimate child born into a time and place where illegitimacy was particularly shameful.

Both Millie and her mother were misfits in a society that shunned people like them.

Although Millie's mother wasn't Amish, from what I understand, she lived and worked on an Amish farm.   I'm not sure what schooling Millie received there, but it must have been sketchy and poor.  Millie wasn't a quick study; she apparently struggled a good bit with reading, writing and arithmetic.  She told me often in her little, high-pitched voice that she just wasn't very smart.

Then tragedy struck: Millie's mother died, leaving poor Millie alone.  She had no family to call her own.

At the age of only about 10 or 12, Millie became a member of one of the most unwanted classes of people in the world: She wasn't just an orphan, she was an illegitimate, unskilled orphan.  

It seems that after Millie's mother died, the Amish family took Millie in for a time-- but not for long.  Millie soon became an unwanted burden to the family: She was a poor student who couldn't do enough to earn her keep, and she was an "English" girl who didn't fit into the Amish culture.  

So Millie's Amish farmers did what everyone else did with unwanted, burdensome people back then: They transferred their burden to the state.  Millie became a ward of the state of Pennsylvania; and, because she was an under-performing student, the state placed her in a mental institution.  

Around 1914, Millie went to live in an insane asylum.

From every angle, it looked like Millie's life was over.

She had no one to advocate for her release: with her mother gone, there was no one on earth who cared what happened to her. The only people on the outside who even knew that she was living in an insane asylum were the ones who had committed her there.

Millie faced what many, many other poor, destitute people faced during that sad time in our nation's history-- a life sentence in a mental institution.

********

I have some personal experience with such mental institutions: In 1984, while I was in college, I spent a summer working in a privately funded mental institution in New Jersey. This particular institution had been established in 1906, when the so-called "science" of eugenics was coming into vogue.

The founder of that institution, a renowned psychiatrist of his day, coined the word "moron" to describe people like Millie. This psychiatrist was a leader among those who believed that "morons" were unfit to be part of America's great society.  He advised locking them away so that they wouldn't taint the rest of the world.

At that institution, I helped care for dear, elderly men and women who had been committed for life at around the same time Millie was.  Most of them were there because, like Millie, they had been diagnosed with mental disabilities.  These diagnoses had condemned them to live their entire lives in isolation.

During the early 1900s, it was fairly common for families to get rid of burdensome relatives by dropping them off at mental institutions. Adult children committed their elderly, cantankerous parents. Parents committed their rebellious, out-of-control children, especially teenage girls who had shamed them by behaving promiscuously.

Governments also used such institutions to get rid of their troublesome citizens. Cities rounded up homeless "tramps," then locked them away in state institutions. Cities also institutionalized prostitutes. Several classes of people were particularly likely to end up in mental institutions: the orphans, the learning-disabled, the physically disabled, the mentally disabled and of course the mentally ill.  Institutionalizing the unwanted was a popular way of getting them off of the streets.  

Once a person had been committed to such an institution, his or her chances of leaving were slim at best.

Millie was one such person. The state committed Millie at around the age of 12, for two crimes: She was an unwanted, destitute orphan, and she was an under-performing student. The state declared Millie a moron, then locked her away.

Millie's future was over.

Orphaned, rejected and alone, she seemed destined to spend the rest of her life as an inmate in an insane asylum.


....to be continued....

She Stole My Heart

When I first met Millie, she was 88 years old.

It was love at first sight.

She stole my heart with her funny little hats, her old-fashioned clothes and her impish grin.

She lived in a tiny, run-down house on a small farm in southern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.   

A little old widow living all by herself, except for her cats and her plants.

I met her while I was canvassing the neighborhood, inviting strangers to a week-long, county-wide church revival meeting.  She was one of the few who said that she would be happy to go.   She didn't drive, so she hadn't been able to get to church for years, and she missed it. 

I adopted her on sight.

For the next three years, as long as I lived in Pennsylvania, Millie sat next to me in church every Sunday.  Most of the time, she held my hand.  When I started dating Rob, he just moved into our pew with us.  Then I had two hands to hold.  

My adopted Grandmother.

She had no children of her own, but she had 5 step-grandchildren, 19 step-great-grandchildren and several step-great-great-grandchildren. Only a few of them ever took the time to visit her.

Whenever I visited her, we would always wander outside to check on the happenings in her garden. She loved growing things. She wasn't fussed about weeds, and she didn't care about having a pristine yard. Her pleasure came from seeing the spinach bursting out of the ground. Or from pointing out the squash and the watermelon. Or from watching her tomato vines sprawling over the garden soil. We waded through the crooked rows of her garden, her cats following us wherever we went. She'd pretend to be annoyed with her cats, but her reprimands didn't bother them in the least. They knew that her bark was much worse than her bite.

My sweet Millie. Eighty-eight years old when I met her.

She often remarked in her quavering, high-pitched voice that she was just "too old to be alive."

Oh sweet Millie, I'm so grateful that you were not too old to be alive.

Millie turned 90 on the day when Rob and I married.  She attended our wedding, and sat up front with our other grandmothers. Little Millie in her funny hat, wearing the grandmother corsage on our wedding day.  I still cry to remember her sitting there.  My adopted Grandmother.  We sang happy birthday to her at our reception.  From then on, we were always able to chart her age by our wedding anniversaries.

When we moved to Virginia, I wanted to take her with me.  I begged her to go.  She thought about it for a while, but her life was in her little house in Lancaster with her cats and garden.

I wept to leave her.

I drove up to visit her a few times, and she got to meet both Ben and Elijah.

She lived almost long enough to meet Aaron: When she finally died a couple of years ago, she was 107 years old.

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN.

My dear sweet Millie.

She stole my heart and I will never be the same.  I loved her.  My Millie.

She's been gone for a little over two years.  I miss her.  I rejoice in the fact that the Lord granted her long years, so that even though she was eighty-eight, I still had the privilege to sit by her side every Sunday for three years, holding her wrinkled little hand in mine.  I am grateful that she was not "too old to be alive" so that I could hear the story of her life.  

She only ever shared bits and pieces.  When we were rummaging through old boxes in her house, or searching her attic for some what-not that she couldn't find-- then she would share.  Bits and pieces, glimpses of a past life that was filled with pain and wonder.  

It was a surprising and very shocking story.  It was a story that bore witness to God's faithfulness toward one widowed old lady.

It's something that I want to share: the bits and pieces that I know of Millie's Story.

To be continued....

Fortunately - Unfortunately

Last Monday Aaron and I made our weekly trek to Shriners.

Fortunately, we made it up there in record time!!

Unfortunately, I tried the blindfold trick on Aaron to get him to sleep in the van, but he wasn't buying it and spent most of the way up to Philly peeking out of the blindfold, so he could watch the cars and trucks on the highway.  Sigh!!

Fortunately, we got to see a couple of sweet girls while we waited our turn.

Unfortunately, I got in trouble when I snapped these pictures.  Does anyone else ever get in as much trouble as I do with their camera???  I mean really... It always tends to be ME that gets the wagging finger and the tongue lashing for my favorite hobby!!  

Fortunately, both moms just rolled their eyes and laughed while I was being fussed at for snapping pictures of their sweet ones.  I am such a renegade!

Unfortunately, the Friday before our appointment Aaron tripped over the threshold in our garage.  It was a hard fall.  

Double unfortunately, it broke his cast in two.

Triple unfortunately - it meant that EVERYTHING we had been doing so far to get Aaron's hand up to his mouth was lost.  

Fortunately......Aaron's joyful spirit was not quenched by the bad news.

Unfortunately, up until this point Dr. Z hadn't been putting an extra layer of fiberglass on Aaron's cast so that it wouldn't be so heavy.  

Fortunately, he will be doing that from now on.  Hopefully the extra layer will protect the cast against any further breaks.

Fortunately, Aaron got to spend time in one of his favorite part of Shriners!

The train table in the therapy department.

Fortunately we were in and out pretty fast on Monday.  

Even so, doesn't this little guy look a bit ragged out?

He was.

Unfortunately, he fell asleep about 30 minutes before the van decided that it needed gas and our drivers decided it was time for lunch.  

The little man's nap didn't last very long.

Fortunately, we didn't get caught in any traffic and were home in time for supper!!

Double fortunately - God is Forever Good!!

P.S. We drag back up there on Monday again... the weekly saga continues....

Fatherless Friday

I'm re-posting my Fatherless Friday kids from last week.

It isn't a cheat.

These kids need to be seen over and over and over again.

They are desperate to be seen.

IGOR

After posting about Igor last week his link went down.  Break my heart!!  He became a TRUE Lost Boy.  He wasn't where he was supposed to be.  This morning... He is again found.  They know where he is.  I weep to type those words.  Please pray.  Please pray for Igor.  Pray.  Please donate to his fund.  God is moving for Igor.  Please Pray!!

LAUREL

Laurel is desperate, people.  The months are literally ticking away for her.  Please put her picture out there over and over and over again.  Help her find a family!!  WILL YOU BE HER FAMILY!! Oh she is laying heavy on my heart.  Will you please donate to her fund???  If you can't adopt her will you help to pave the path for someone else??  Please let us not make money stand in the way for this child to find a family.

SWEET ALEXIS

Everything I am hearing about Alexis makes me want to go get her myself.  (No we do not qualify)!!  How in the world can this sweet one still be over there???  She is smart and even-tempered and so desiring of a family.   

BEAUTIFUL VICTORIA

I was directed to a post today about sweet Victoria and a LINK with even more pictures of her.

I love her.

How can I not??  She and Igor are in the SAME PLACE.  Please.

 

Where is her Mama??  How much longer must she wait?

Tyler and Emmitt...Two amazing boys who both desperately need a family. Tyler is in the same place as Alexis.  If they are in the same place they can be adopted together!!

TYLER

 

EMMITT

And a few add on babes who break my heart daily!!

BRENT

He is also in the same place as Victoria and Igor.  He has been there almost a year now.





HANSON

Hanson is in a laying down room in Aaron's old institute.    The picture below was when he was a the baby house.

SPENCER

Oh my sweet Spencer.  So many have asked and considered but so far no one has stepped forward.  So he sits and waits.

They ALL need families.  Won't you pray with me?  Will you give?  Will you consider adopting one or two of these precious treasures???

Spinning

I'm spinning.

I have much on my heart.

Too much on my mind.

I don't know which way to go.

I have unwritten blog posts in draft mode and even more in my head.

I am a jumbled mess.

Struggling with what to say and how to say it.  The need is so great.  In so many areas. 

Praying that clarity will come.

Praying for the words to convey.

Praying that God will take my jumbled heart and direct me in His Way and not mine.

Praying.

Until then....

Here are a few people whose blogs are worth checking out....

This is Jane's blog.  She is doing what I had the privilege of doing a number of years ago in India.  She is crossing the ocean with a friend to help her bring her treasure home.  When you aren't adopting and are a fellow traveler.... you are able to go to some places that the families who are adopting just don't have the energy or time to do.  When I was in India I was able to take a couple of days while my friend chased papers and go visit our Compassion International son.  THAT WAS AMAZING.  I was also able to visit a ministry for abused women in India.  THAT WAS ALSO AMAZING.  God opened my eyes up in India and I have never been the same.  Jane is not only going to see the orphanage where her friend's child is located but she is also going to be able to visit another one where a number of the Reece's Rainbow children are living.  It is a remote place and the need there is great.  Please go check out Jane's blog and consider making a donation so that she can take some much-needed supplies (a week's worth of diapers) and some musical instruments to the children at that orphanage.  Please!!

My friend Adeye has filled her blog with links to 99 children who have the most desperate need for families right now.  I love Adeye and her heart.  Please go over to that blog and re-post it so that the kids on there get as much coverage as they can get.  MANY MANY MANY of those kids have been on this blog over the last weeks, months and years.  Please get their pictures out!!  They are desperate to be seen!!! 

Chaos to Order

We are using Math U See for Aaron's math studies. 

He absolutely loves it.  It is very hands-on, and it teaches math in a slow but steady way that allows him to grasp his math concepts.  

We are using Sing, Spell, Read and Write for Aaron's reading.

Again, he loves it.  It, too, is very hands-on.  It, too, teaches one thing at a time, constantly building on the concepts that Aaron's already learned.

Both Math and Reading must be taught in order.

You don't ask kindergartners to solve Algebra problems, or expect a child who hardly knows her alphabet to read War and Peace.

You start them at the beginning.

Just about everyone who is reading this post would almost certainly agree with me.

Why, then, do we treat history differently?

Why do schools and homeschooling curriculums jump kids all over the place when they're teaching them history?

Why?

This teaching strategy is CHAOTIC.  And quite frankly, kids don't get it.  

They may remember certain events from history. They may be able to recall certain dates in order to pass their tests. They may even be straight-A students in their social studies or history classes.  But in truth, very few of them actually GET very much of what they're studying.  

In the schools where I grew up, our history curriculum was a hodgepodge.  One year we studied about U.S. history, and then the next we jumped over to Ancient History.  Then back for more U.S. history, and then maybe we jumped over to Asia for a unit or two.  I remember a few whatnots from Africa and other exotic cultures, with perhaps a bit of Geography mixed in; but it was all a hodgepodge.  The vast majority of the time we studied U.S. History but never in the context of World History.  I memorized dates, took tests and never learned to love my history classes.  Ever.

Instead, I spent my spare time reading books.  Most of my favorites were history-related.  I read biographies and autobiographies.  I read historical fiction. I read some classics.  I read some memoirs.  I read dozens of books about World War II and the Holocaust.  I read and I read.

When I reached high school, I enrolled in a World History class for the first time. 

This class was my first introduction to the idea of studying the events of history in the order in which they happened.  It was first time in my life when one of my courses actually followed the Queen of Hearts' droll advice: "Begin at the beginning. Proceed until you come to the end; then Stop."

But it was too late for me.  By that time, I hated school.  History was a jumbled mess in my mind, and I suffered through the class showing as little interest as possible.  

How utterly sad.

I KNOW that I am not the only person who has experienced this.  I have spoken to too many people who have shared my experience.

This is why I tend to be very very passionate about teaching kids history in order, just as we teach math and reading in order.   

Not just once.  This is what is so important: They need to see history unfold OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Once is not enough.

Most children will only begin to see the patterns in history when they hear the stories in order more than once.  They need to see kingdoms rise and fall over and over again, and they need to understand WHY it's all happening.  They need to see God's story and the stories of His people woven into the pages of their history books.  They need to see the seeds of philosophies like communism and fascism planted before they can understand how they grew and bore fruit.  They need to understand the value of our United States Constitution over and against those philosophies. They need to watch the world map change and see geography unfolding in the same way that history unfolds.   

They need to see all of these things over and over again.  They need to see them presented in a way that teaches them to love history, and creates a hunger for more understanding.

BiblioPlan is one way to teach history in order.  There are numerous other programs also.  If you are not using the classical approach consider it.  If you have questions or need some advice on homeschooling - please feel free to FB friend me or e-mail - covenantb@yahoo.com.

I'd love to chat.

Zumorrow

Aaron has his own unique version of  "Tomorrow," the song from the hit musical Annie. Aaron's version isn't a song; it's not even a line from a song. It's just a simple statement of Aaron's undying optimism:

"Zumorrow will be better."

Whenever Aaron's disappointed because he's failed at something or something hasn't gone his way, he brings out his special version of "Tomorrow":

"Zumorrow, we'll try again.  Zumorrow will be better."

Things will always be better Zumorrow.

How does a child live in hell for an entire year, yet still retain an undying faith that says "Zumorrow" will always be better?

How?

Only by God's Grace.

Aaron's optimism comes from God's unfailing grace and love for one little boy. Somehow, God wrapped a barrier of protection around our son's heart and mind during his time in the Lost Boys' world.  Because of God's protection, Aaron never lost his optimistic spirit, his ready smile,or his unwavering faith that "Zumorrow" will always be better.

Oh, the lessons we have learned from our "Zumorrow" son. Aaron has taught us that God can plant Zumorrow optimism in His children's hearts. He has taught us that God can also protect our hearts from attitudes of defeatism, disillusionment and depression.

Every day, we watch our son approach life with a joy and love that seems to burst from deep inside him, no matter what challenges and setbacks he may face.  Despite everything.  What an unbelievable privilege to experience God's grace every time we see our son look toward zumorrow.

Zumorrow.

It will always be better.

Take it from one little former Lost Boy who knows. 



The Doctor is Where???

Last Monday Aaron and I dragged ourselves out of bed at 2:00 am for our weekly trip to the Shriners Hospital in Philly...

We ate breakfast when we arrived and then headed to the waiting room.

Aaron zombied himself in front of the TV (we don't have cable so Aaron has to get his cartoon fix at the Shriner's hospital).

I enjoyed chatting with several Moms with their sweet babes....

(these pictures were taken a few weeks ago but they are on the same weekly schedule we are so we get to chat every week)

Aren't these the cutest kids in the world???

Ariana 

Landri

I love getting to know the other AMC parents and kids!!!

So there I was... waiting for Aaron to be called back to see Dr. Z.

The nurse had already called another little one back who was seeing Dr. Z so I was just waiting for them to call Aaron back.  She came out to tell me Aaron was next.

Since Dr. Z wasn't on the floor, she then called him on his cell phone to let him know that his patients were on the floor and waiting for him to arrive.

HE WAS IN BELGIUM

BELGIUM

At a Conference.

He was NOT in the hospital.  Not in the country.  He was far far far away across the ocean.

We traveled 6 hours to discover that our doctor was in Belgium.

No I did not throw a fit.  I actually laughed.  It was honestly funny.  I mean BELGIUM???

Of course the reality of a wasted trip was NOT lost on me.

12 hours in a Shriners Van is not my definition of fun.

But we have been given SO MUCH from Shriners.  They have taken care of Aaron is such an amazing way this past year.... We just can't get too upset over a TINY blooper like not realizing that the doctor is in Belgium!!

Of course we are definitely hoping that it will be a one-time incident... I mean... how many times do you go to Conferences in Belgium???

The intern tried to step into Dr. Z's shoes.

And though he was as nice as could be and did his very best...

Dr. Z IS Dr. Z!!

We missed him.

We go back up on Monday.  

Yes...we have double...triple...quadruple checked.  

Dr. Z WILL be in the building!!

Good thing... Aaron fell yesterday and busted his cast apart.

Sigh.