Timothy, My Son . . .

Pasta For Dinner

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 00:26:00 +0000

Timothy has always maintained a rather robust passion for eating pasta, as clearly evidenced throughout his young life. Tonight's dinner proved to be of no exception.

Let me set the stage . . .

We had finally made our way to the table for supper. Spaghetti for dinner. Earlier in the day, Timothy had gone to his pre-school class (wheelchair and all) for the first day of school, so naturally, we were all asking how his day went.

Timothy began insisting his surgeon (Dr. Van Bosse) had privately and expressly told him that it was perfectly okay for him to go down the slide at recess despite the fact Teressa and I remember the conversation quite differently. He was lobbying for "slide time" on Thursday.

Throughout his iron-clad defense that would challenge any legal mind, Timothy kept shovelling pasta into his mouth at a feverish pace.

At this point in the conversation, I casually took out my phone and discretely started rolling so as to capture the moment. Unscripted moments like this one are the moments we have come to cherish with our kids.

Classic Timothy.

(Be sure to turn the volume up so you can hear his final comment. Priceless.)

(Email subscribers go to http://youtu.be/d0KNhNJQYXQ)

Touring Philadelphia

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 02:49:00 +0000

With our flight not scheduled until Saturday, we found ourselves with a full day to explore Philly.

Destination: Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Under normal conditions, there is no way we would turn our son loose in an building filled with rare, priceless fine art, but with Timothy confined to a wheel chair, we stood a fighting chance of getting out without breaking something! Opportunity seized.

Of course, no visit is complete without running the steps. Rocky never did this with someone on his back.

Now I'm not a big fine art fan like my wife, but I must admit, it was an amazing experience to stand in front of a painting from the 1400's and to see individual brush marks on the canvas. The Renoir exhibit was impressive. I was personally drawn to the art from the Reformation. Timothy was all about the swords and armor.

Of course, on the trolley over to Reading Terminal Market, we asked Timothy what his favorite part of going to the museum was. True to unimpressed four-year-old fashion, he simply replied, "Leaving."

Post Surgery Fun

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 02:46:00 +0000

A bowl of ice cream and a visit from a therapy dog at the Ronald McDonald House. What could be more fun?!

Toe Surgery

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 01:18:00 +0000

While yesterday held among the least complicated surgeries for Timothy, it proved to be one of the most difficult days for me. Let me explain . . .

Teressa finally fell asleep at 3:30am and I woke up at 3:30am and couldn't get back to sleep. One would think surgery would become easier for mom and dad, but it doesn't. Emotions churn.

We hailed a cab at 6am and were in pre-op by 7am. All was going smoothly until it was time to sedate. Timothy wasn't having it.

Seven people held him down and he fought them all off. Medicine was placed in his mouth and he spit it out. No go. The doctors told us he is at the age where he knows just enough to know something's coming . . . but not at the age to know what's coming is good for him in the long run.

After a brief huddle, the doctors came up with plan B. Next thing I knew, I was dressed in scrubs and carrying Timothy into the operating room.

The plan was for me to hold Timothy in my lap on the operating table while he would be asked to "blow up the blue balloon" through a mask. The old balloon-gas switcheroo.

The moment we entered the O.R. the entire mood changed. Folks were all business, as they should be. I sat down on the operating table, put Timothy on my lap and held his arms against his chest. On went the mask and he began to breathe. After a few seconds, I could hear and feel him let out a muffled scream, and then my son went totally limp in my arms. The medical staff directed me to gently lay him down on the table.

As I stepped back, I could see Timothy's eyes rolled back into his head. Then, someone took the place meant for a father, and I was gently escorted away.

Although I knew Timothy was in the best human hands possible, I cannot articulate how unnatural it was for me to leave. On the outside I complied . . . on the inside I revolted.

No sooner than I walked through the doors, I crashed emotionally. I could not put two words together without weeping.

I'm thankful for my wife. She was the strong one, as for the next hour, I cried. We sat, I cried. We walked, I cried.

On the way to get things settled in Timothy's room before he arrived, we "randomly" ran into Joe (Timothy's physical therapist who got him walking after his spine surgery). I made my best attempt to keep it together, but Joe could sense I was struggling.

Joe is a brother in the faith and a devoted follower of Christ. We have shared in many conversations about the Gospel, and sensing my need to be reaffirmed in Christ, Joe asked if he could pray with us. Joe led us into a room, and simply prayed over my wife and I -- reminding us of our Father's sovereignty and care. I know beyond any doubt that Joe was God's provision for us in such a weak moment. Thank you Joe -- and thank you Father.

Soon after we went back to the waiting room, we were called to post-op. Timothy was out.

The doctors warned us: the way a patient goes down is the way the patient will come out. They were right. Timothy went down swinging and he came out swinging!

Among his first words were, "Somebody call me a cab. I'm leaving!" That was followed up by, "Stop talking and get me a pair of scissors so I can cut my cast off" and "You better let me go by the count of three -- 1 -2 -3!" Seeing no results, he resorted to holding his breath. Classic.

Once we were able to redirect Timothy's energy toward meeting the qualifications for being discharged (and a touch of morphine), he became more manageable. His objectives were simple: drink, eat, and pee.

Surprisingly, by 4pm on the day of surgery, Timothy had done all he needed to do to get sprung. One more hurdle: physical therapy.

Timothy was given a walker and while giving it a whirl, he banged his foot and blood started dripping out of his cast. Not good.

The surgeon was summoned, and after inspection, all was deemed incidental. After consulting with the surgeon and therapist, we decided the best course of action is a wheelchair for four weeks.

All in all, we were told we would be in the hospital for 3 days, yet we got out in 11 hours. We were told Timothy would walk out when he left, yet he wheeled himself out. That's a wrap.

A special thank you to the many people who prayed for our son, and for the expertise and grace of the staff at Shriner's. God goodness on display.

Pre-Surgical Playtime

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 00:22:00 +0000

Here in the Ronald McDonald House, we always meet so many special people going, coming, and staying. No better way to meet folks than during playtime . . .

Going
Tonight we met a 3-year-old girl (Heather, pictured with Timothy) who is going back home to Missouri after having brachial plexus surgery.

Coming
Arriving for surgery was a family from Reading, PA, whose daughter (5-months-old) will have heart surgery to repair a few holes and a valve. Pray for Alexia and her parents.

Staying
Met a family who had twins prematurely two months ago and have been here for that duration. One of the babies is out of the hospital, but the other is still gaining strength and will hopefully be discharged soon.

Out Of Line

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 02:04:00 +0000

Ten little toes all lookin' at me,
guess which one gets surgery.

Yep. The third one from the left. Middle toe. Timothy's right foot. The one curled under. All of Timothy's toes are contracted to some degree, but the "middle man" needs to straighten his act. On Thursday, Lord willing, this little toe will get back in line.

While I am not looking forward to seeing Timothy laid out for a few days in the hospital (the process of surgical recovery is hard for our little guy), I am grateful for the many surgical options we have been given over the years.

Do pray for Timothy's surgeon, Dr. Van Bosse, along with Timothy's other doctors who will share with us more about what steps will be needed in the future to address various other orthopedic issues.

Boys Will Be Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 00:29:00 +0000

Three weeks ago, my wife and daughter left for a one-week faith journey to Guatemala. Their departure meant Timothy and I were on our own. I think this fact made Mama more nervous than flying, leaving the US, and possibly contracting Typhoid fever all combined!

As providence would dictate, our air conditioner gave up the ghost and temperatures began to soar. Not to fear. Male ingenuity kicked in as Timothy and I sat in front of our open refrigerator wearing boxers while feeding from the door -- whipped cream, pickles, butter, olives. No challenge was too great for us. Eye of the tiger, baby.

While I clearly received no parting instructions on nutrition, my wife did provide one simple task for me to accomplish while she was out of the country. Potty train Timothy.

Bye bye Toy Story Pampers. Hello Spiderman Underoos.

I seized the first opportunity to usher in this right of passage.

As Timothy and I lounged in the backyard, I said Timothy, "Now son, if you have to use the bathroom, you need to tell me. That way, we can go inside and use the potty."

He said, "OK Daddy."

After a few moments of playing, Timothy turned and said, "Dad, I think I have to use the bathroom." With that, he started to walk toward the house.

Seemed Project Housebreak was an instant success, and in a moment of overconfidence, I decided to call an audible and take things to the next level: Operation Pee Pee Tree.

"Timothy, come back here, buddy," I exclaimed. "Good job heading inside, but let's try something different. Instead of going to the potty in the bathroom, let's see if you can use the potty on that tree over there."

Timothy responded, "OK. I'll try my best, Daddy." What more could a proud father ask for?

Now in my defense, I did have a plan. You see, not only was I going to potty train Timothy, but I was going to impress my wife by teaching our son how to stand while using the bathroom. Made perfect sense at the time.

When Timothy arrived at said tree, he looked back at me as if to say, "What now?"

I said, "OK, bud, now use the bathroom."

He hesitantly dropped his britches and asked, "Like this Daddy?"

"Perfect. You got it bud. Now go ahead and use the potty," I replied.

Yet, out of habit, Timothy began to squat.

"No, No, Timothy," I interjected. "Today, we're going to use the potty like a big boy. You gotta stay standing up and use the potty on the tree."

Although looking rather puzzled, Timothy took a deep breath and said, "OK, Daddy. Here I go."

And in a moment of grand accomplishment, my son stood tall and used the bathroom . . . out his back end.

"Timothy!" I yelled, jumping from my chair. "You're supposed to pee pee on the tree!"

Timothy stated what had become obvious. "But Dad, I don't have to."

Operation Pee Pee Tree had failed. My wife was unimpressed. And now, we're all having to teach Timothy to sit down when he goes to the potty.

Surgery Next Week

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 01:07:00 +0000

A quick update to say we have confirmed surgery for next Thursday.

Problem: One toe curled under.

Solution: Cut tendon. Shorten bone. Fuse joint. Insert Pin. Set Cast. Wait Six Weeks. Cut Off (the cast, not the toe).

Prayer: Obviously for Timothy's procedure and surgical recovery, but also opportunities to encourage and serve those whom we meet in the hospital.

The Overcomer

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 03:57:00 +0000

A few days ago, Timothy seemed to realize he couldn't move his hand like his Pops. No problem, I gave him the assist.

Last night at bedtime, Timothy decided he would assist himself, thank you very much. Looks like I'm out of the picture . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMPMdlF4teg

The High Dive

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 20:39:00 +0000

First day attempting the high dive . . .

Will he freeze up . . .

Drumroll please . . .

Tonight's Bedtime Prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 01:46:00 +0000

(Lights go out. Bed time.)

Timothy: Dad, we forgot to pray.

Dad: OK, buddy. You pray first.

Timothy: OK. God, thank you for my dog, thank you for chicken
coops, and thank you for Jesus. Amen.

(I don't even bother asking anymore.)

The Dreaded Day And The Grace Therein

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 03:10:00 +0000

Shortly after Timothy was born and we learned of his genetic condition, I almost immediately began dreading two days in the future. The first was the day Timothy would realize he could not physically do something others could. The second was the day Timothy was picked on by someone else. I was convinced the first day would put a tear in my eye, and the second day would leave me slugging someone in the eye.

Although I suppose these are natural concerns any father would have after learning his newborn son has some "disabilities", I've since learned that living out of these concerns leads no where other than sinful worrying. There's no point in fretting about what might be, as I'll only end up missing the grace of what is.

That being said, one of those days has arrived.

On the nights I'm the one who puts Timothy to bed, the two of us will lie on our backs next to each other looking up at my fist raised in the air. Slowly, beginning with my thumb, I will then extend each finger one-by-one until my fist has been fully opened. As each finger extends, I will say these words: Jesus - died - for - my - sins.

Five fingers. Five words. Just as these words transform a closed fist into an open palm, so too, the truth of those words transforms a closed heart into a freed life.

After saying these five words and opening my hand, I'll once again close my fist. This time, Timothy will grab each of my fingers and straighten them one after the other, saying the words as he goes.

Jesus - died - for - my - sins.

If there is one truth I want my son to know, that is it. Hence, our little routine . . .

But last night, our routine changed.

Rather than helping me open my fist one finger at a time, Timothy decided he was going to open his own fist one finger at a time.

And he couldn't.

He had a hard time extending his thumb. When he finally did, he wasn't able to hold his other fingers down. His fist seemed to burst open, yet none of his fingers could fully extend.

Timothy intently studied his own hand as if to be thinking, "Why doesn't my hand do what my daddy's does?"

His wheels were turning, and my heart was sinking. I knew what was coming . . .

In his dimly lit room, Timothy turned his head toward me and said, "Daddy, I can't do it."

Oh how I hurt inside, yet outwardly I didn't seem to hesitate.

"Here, let me help you."

And with that, he made a fist, and I opened his fingers for him one by one.

Jesus - died - for - my - sins.

Since last night, part of me has avoided thinking about that moment, and yet part of me has been chewing on that moment (if that makes any sense). While I still ache inside, I'm struck by the grace of that moment.

Timothy's "I can't" was instantly met with "Jesus - died - for - my - sins." It's as if Timothy's disability was eclipsed by the reminder of Christ's ability. Timothy caught a glimpse of something he couldn't do at the same time he was hearing about what only Christ can do.

Timothy, little buddy, what you can or can't do . . . in the end . . . is not important. Christ has done what you and I could never do. He lived the life we were to live and didn't. Through his death and resurrection, he earned for us the forgiveness we couldn't. My greatest prayer is for you to trust in the Savior who died for your sins . . . and that despite what you may or may not be able to do . . . you will rest in what he has already done.

Until that time, I suppose our routine has changed. Rather than having Timothy open up my fingers, I'll gladly help him open his. Besides, it somehow seems more fitting that way, as with each finger, we'll together say, "Jesus - died - for - my -sins."

Dancing In The Minefields

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 23:56:00 +0000

My wife and I met when I was 19 and she was 21. She's always quick to point out she's only 14 months older than me. I'm quick to point out she started out dating a teenager. Either way you spin it, our 16 years of marriage are nothing more and nothing less than a testimony to God's radical grace.

I love my wife. I am proud of who she has become and who she is becoming, particularly as we walk this road with both or our children.

As I watched the video release of Andrew Peterson's new song "Dancing In The Minefields" (off of his upcoming album Counting Stars) I couldn't help but think of where we've been, where we are, and ultimately . . . where we are heading.

Enjoy . . .

email subscribers, go to http://youtu.be/NtTa81LyuQM)

Watch & Learn

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 00:29:00 +0000

Some things never change.

Tonight's Timothy "watch and learn" moment . . .

The Boys Of Summer

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 15:39:00 +0000

As I was leaving for the store the other day, Timothy came running up to me in the yard.

I casually asked, "What' going on, big man?"

His reply: "I'm just throwing poo poo but it's too mushy."

I don't even want to know.

Oh to experience summer as a little boy.

Always dirty. Never wearing shoes. Falling asleep exhausted.

While I can't recall taking part in the past time of poo tossing (which doesn't mean I didn't) . . . I do recall spending many hours playing with my Star Wars action figures. Seeing this video brought back some of those memories (with a rather updated twist)!

Tonight's Prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 03:10:00 +0000

If there is one thing Timothy insists on, it is praying at meals. He will allow me and/or others to pray, but he insists on having the final word in prayer.

Tonight's "solo prayer" was priceless.

Timothy: "Dear God . . ." "Dad, your eyes are still opened."

Me: "Sorry. I was closing them."

Timothy: "OK. Dear God . . . thank you for going to the pool. Thank you for our kitchen . . ." "Mom, there's a fly on your head."

Mom: "Thanks son."

Timothy: "OK. Dear God . . . thank you for Jesus. Amen."

The Next Chapter

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 01:40:00 +0000

Last Monday, Timothy and I headed out to Philly for a quick round of appointments in hopes of discovering what's next with Timothy's medical care.

Each time I travel with my son, I become more and more convinced he could make it from our doorstep to Shriner's Hospital without any assistance. I simply let Timothy lead the way through the Philadelphia Airport in order for him to hail his own cab. Although routine, every trip has its nuances . . .

As we exited the plane after having landed, Timothy stopped and turned back, only to say to the flight attendant: "Oh, thank you mister for my drink." To the plane itself he said, "And thanks plane for landing good." I witnessed the most weary of travellers crack a smile.

At the top of the ramp, Timothy pulled on my hand and said, "Dad, I have to pee-pee." I was proud of him for telling me, as we have been working to get him fully potty-trained (or house-broken as I say). Unfortunately, when the moment arrived for the "pee-pee party" to begin in the bathroom, aim was not much of a priority . . . and I got . . . shall I say . . . hosed down.

Strange. I packed Timothy an extra set of clothes in case of an accident, but I didn't consider packing myself an extra set in case of his accident.

With a devilish grin, Timothy said, "Sorry I pee-peed on you, Dad."

One stop at the airblower, and we were on our way.

Upon arrival at Shriner's, we went to the "splint shop" and picked up Timothy's new splints. From there, it was off to xrays before having our appointment with one of Timothy's orthopedic surgeons.

While waiting for the doctor to arrive, one of the nurses came in and with a commanding voice said, "Young man, where do you live?" It was obvious by her clipboard and pen, she was seeking to know our address.

Without flinching, Timothy replied, "I live at home."

Not to be deterred in gathering the basics, she continued, "How old are you?"

"Four", Timothy replied.

She probed further. "When did you turn four?"

Timothy responded, "On my birthday."

She gave up and summoned the doctor.

After the doctor examined Timothy, he broke things down for us into bite size chunks.

Hands
Coming along nicely. Keep stretching and wearing night splints.

Toe
Surgery in the next two months to straighten his middle toe. Cut a tendon, shorten a bone, fuse a joint, set a pin. One hour surgery. Six weeks in a cast.

Back
Lower back remains steady after surgical correction. Upper scoliosis is 39 degrees and holding (which is good news). The only option to correct things is surgery, so we'll take 39 degrees any day!

Knees and Hips
Due to contractures, Timothy continues to walk with his knees bent 15 degrees and his hips bent at about 20 degrees. While this requires his body to work a bit harder than most, Timothy simply goes and goes.
The doctor laid out a few options. One option was continual exercise and stretching.

And then . . . the doctor wielded his pen. He began drawing the lower extremities of a skeleton on a scratch piece of paper.

I admit, in that moment, I said a dumb thing. "Wow. That's a good drawing of bones."
Not only had I been peed on, but with those words being spoken to a trained orthopedic surgeon, I won the pea-brain award for the day.

He graciously thanked me for my compliment and then proceeded to draw lines across the femurs and knees, accompanied with these words:

"To straighten Timothy, we could cut both femurs in two here . . . and reattach them like this . . . and then we could put plates in his knees here . . . and tighten some screws here . . . and that should eventually help in straightening everything out."

After I regained consciousness, he continued: "These are relatively simpl surgeries for me, but they would be a bit hard on Timothy at this age -- so I'd rather pursue stretching and exercise and see how he responds."

I could not agree more.

If I had to sum up the trip, I'd say we know a bit more about what's next . . . and we know there are some helpful options available should we need them in the future. Through it all, God continues to remain gracious and true . . . and our son continues to embody an overcoming spirit . . . before all of which we stand amazed.

If you ask Timothy to sum up the trip, he'd simply say, "I flew on a plane, saw my friends, and peed on Dad."

(Below pictures: Timothy reading the flight emergency procedures. Timothy carbo-loading on a pretzel before x-rays. Timothy getting new splints. Timothy crashing in the cab after the carbs caught up to him. Timothy refueling before heading home.)

Come Fly With Me

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 18:26:00 +0000

Yesterday evening, we joined two other families in having a picnic at Pace Airport in Ridgeway, VA. Pace Airport consists of a 3/4 mile grass runway and an aluminium hangar. As one of our friends was taking folks up in his ultralight, another gentleman invited Timothy and I to fly in his 1940's Piper J-3. Between holding Timothy and holding down my supper, I managed to take a video of the take off. Timothy's expressions were priceless.

The entire evening was nothing short of a lifetime memory.

Tomorrow, Timothy and I fly to Philadelphia for a quick trip to his orthopedist. I'm thankful tomorrow's plane will be a bit more substantial!

Dr. Seuss Does The Beach

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 22:42:00 +0000

A summary of our recent trip to the beach, Suess-style.

Big fish,

Little fish,

Sissy's fish,

I'm a fish.

Song for Those with Disabilities

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 12:29:00 +0000

I stumbled across this song, written by Bob Kauflin, which wonderfully captures my heart for Timothy. Better said, this song captures God's heart for Timothy and the many who live with disabilites.

Here are the words:

Within the womb I formed you
I fashioned and made each part
I thought of your fingers, your hands and your feet
Your mouth, your lungs, your heart
Though you might think that you’re different
I made you the way that you are
So you could discover the God who made you
And find out all I am

And though you might think you have limitations
There are no limits with me
When you turn your eyes to my salvation
Finally you will see

In Me, you have all that you need
In Me, you have all that you need
In Me, you have all that you’ll ever need.

And I’ve heard each prayer that you’ve called out
“Why did you make me this way?”
You may not completely understand now
But there will be a day
When I make everything known to you
And what you don’t now understand
You will see that I’m wise and I’m mighty and good
Just like all my plans
And if you trust in the work of my Son
One day you will see
That I’ve made you the way you are
To draw your heart to me
To draw your heart to me.

The song can be downloaded here.

Who's The Tall Kid?

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Sat, 29 May 2010 13:05:00 +0000

Timothy had his final program at his preschool this past week. A rousing performance of "God Made The Rainbow."

He was the one in the line-up who is a foot taller than everyone in his class.

I love this picture our friend Michelle took, as it captures the moment Timothy located his daddy on the front row to his right. All singing ceased, as Timothy let out a LOUD, "There's my daddy! Look, there's my daddy!"

The expressions of the children to his right and left are priceless.

Oh, that I would live with a reckless abandon similar to what Timothy modelled . . . seeking and acknowledging, with joy, the Father.

Heading Home

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Tue, 18 May 2010 00:07:00 +0000

Sitting in the airport after a long but productive day in Philly. Bringing home two new hand splints and four Philly pretzels.

Timothy's hands looked a bit tight, but we're told as he hits growth spurts, this will happen. The splints should help.

Timothy's feet are big and crooked! It seems he outgrows splints the moment they leave the showroom floor. We head back up in one month to get a new pair.

The surgeon did indicate a necessary surgery in the next few months. Basically Timothy has one toe that is curled under. The doctor will cut a tendon, insert a pin through the toe and cast him up for a few weeks. I lobbied for late summer so the pool is not ruled out. He obliged!

A great day with Timothy. He turned to me and said, "Dad, you're my best buddy." Can't ask for more.

God continues to be so good. We are blessed beyond measure.

(Above: A painting that caught my attention in the hospital)

Pray For Nicholas

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Tue, 11 May 2010 02:28:00 +0000

God's Word states, "A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." On both counts, we have seen God's provision for us as a family through the friendship He has allowed us to have with the Richardson family. Tonight, we stand with our friends in prayer as their son Nicholas has surgery tomorrow.

Nicholas (pictured with his awesome big sister) will have what is called a nissen fundiplication, designed to treat a hiatal hernia as well as gastric reflux. Although this is a fairly simple surgery for many, Nicholas' care tends to be far more complex.

Please pray especially for Nicholas' respiratory system, as any type of invasive surgery comes with an elevated risk of pneumonia. Also, pray for pain management, as Nicholas' body has a hard time processing high levels of pain.

Nicholas is expected to be in the hospital for 14 days, so it goes without saying, please pray for Nicholas' parents (Steve and Lisa) and their three other children as well.

We love you Richardons.

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isa. 41:10

Timothy's Face

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Sun, 09 May 2010 20:05:00 +0000

Between the melted chocolate and dried blood, Timothy's face is quite a site.

An Asperger's Interview

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Lewis) — Fri, 07 May 2010 19:13:00 +0000

Found myself endeared to this interview between a mom and her 12-year-old son with Asperger's.

Q&A from StoryCorps on Vimeo.