
From the four inch cut in my daughter's chest to the piles and piles of packed boxes inside my front door, it's easy to say my life isn't normal.
I remember my senior year. I worried about seeing my girlfriend, paying for prom, playing time on the basketball team. Where to go to college.
Teia's senior year: she's wondering where she's sleeping. If her sister will die. If she'll see her dad. What she should pack and what she should throw away.
The truth is, I have toyed with the idea of pulling them out of school so we can just manage this troubled time. But they love school, their friends. Kellen needs basketball.
Last night I got home at 9ish. Teia was packing dishes and making snickerdoodles. Isabel was packing Jen's closet. A typical school night.
So when Isabel's teacher told her she was downgrading her for being late with homework - homework late in part because we didn't have internet for days - I just deflated.
I guess we can take pride that Isabel's teacher figures Isabel's life is so normal that she should suffer the same consequences as a kid with a normal life. My kids are living valiantly, selflessly. I am so proud of their ability to appear like any other teen.
But I'm also saddened that her teacher chose not to walk with Isabel on this. Izzi's a good kid, a smart kid. A pretty good student. In one of her blog entries recently she described how "useless" she felt in the face of Zoe's trials.
Me too. But I wish to goodness that I could bear this instead of her. That she could worry about cell phone minutes and Friday's date instead of all this.
I'll try and write to the teacher, but pray for these kids. The world they know is different than the world many of us grew up in. It's been the strength they've found in faith and the same fighting spirit their little sister shows you that has gotten them through. I just hope I can get everyone to see that.
