Putting It Forward

If you've been paying attention, you've seen a few changes in the images in my sidebar. (What? You didn't notice? You didn't even look? You have better things to do with your time than stare at my blog page and spot every nuance of change? Shaa. Whatever.)

One of the new buttons over there===>
is for a site called THE BLOGGERS ANNEX. It's new to the net, or newish anyway, and the concept behind it is rather cool. In response to the question "What is the point of this site?" the developers of the Annex say this:

"Basically, the idea is that only the best posts will be published. Our hope is that it will feel like an honor to have something published here. If you have something in your archives that you’re in love with—something you want to give more exposure to, we’d love to take a look at it.

And maybe you don’t really care about submitting something. Maybe you’re just here to read. Because we’ve raised the bar so high, you’ll know that every time you click on the site you’ll find a fantastic post, and maybe meet a writer that you otherwise might not have met."

So. Neato, huh? I heard about the place, checked it out and joined. Because, yeah, I wanted to see if what I write would cut the mustard. I am a little bit self serving and egocentric like that. But you know what? It worked. They like me, they really like me! I submitted some pieces and today I am published there! If'n ya wanna, you can re-read (if you haven't memorized it already with all of the resurfacing this post tends to do!) the succinct announcement of Andrew's diagnosis as a card-carrying member of ASD. The post is here. More about Bloggers Annex is here.

Lots and lots of water has passed under the bridge since that first moment sitting at a table in the clinic hearing that word in association with my kid for the first time. And lots and lots of strength, support and understanding has poured into our lives. And empowerment. But I don't suppose I will ever forget the moment itself, the way life froze and my heart ached as we listened to the expert examiners reveal their findings.

I suppose I still have a lot to say about that.

But for now, it's still just those 11 words. Please tell me you stopped by.

And Then the Tears Fell

I woke up this morning to a sweet surprise in my inbox. A surreal surprise really, but a welcome one all the same.
Judd Corizan of The Rising Blogger dropped me a line, a warm message, and a code for this button:

It is an award for this post. Someone pointed it out (who are you? I thank you kindly) and he picked it for the post of the day.

So I cried. Not only when I read his words in the email, but also when I read the post at his place. I don't have words enough to say thanks enough for the kindness shown. Perhaps you can help by popping by his and leaving a comment. Tell him I sent you.

Thanks and thanks and thanks again.

All my love,

Jenn

Magic Words

I try not to take myself too seriously.
I am not often successful in this endeavor.
I tend to read too much into things. I lean toward the over-thinking regarding any given situation; I over analyze most everything I do or say. Or write.

So, after weeks long agony over whether I should/shouldn't would/wouldn't share the news about four-year-old Andrew's recent autism diagnosis here at the blog, I settled (in a moment of zen) on doing so in a most unconventional way. I wrote it, I published it, and then I fretted over it.

I didn't need to.

The response to that post was in a word: incredible. I have been moved beyond words by the outpouring of support and understanding, both in the comments section and via email which many friends and readers reached out with. It was the safety net I was looking for to catch me as I struggled with what it all might mean, for him, for us, for life.

And then, in only the way the blogging world can, I received accolades for the post.

First, Kelly of Kellyology awarded the post with this:

Which was followed up by a reader's vote choosing it as the winner of Most Evocative Haiku at Leslie's Haiku Buckaroo contest.

Beyond that, it was also awarded an Honorable Mention overall in the same contest, being selected by Jami of Not That Different, the contest judge (and original reigning queen). She had this to say of the poem:

"In terms of evoking the emotion of a moment, this haiku is almost perfect.

It’s a 17-syllable short story that rocked my world, too."

Now I ask you, with that kind of heady praise and acknowlegement, how can I not take it seriously?

The thing--the absolute thing--is that in the beginning steps of this journey I am buoyed up by the support around me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for that. As we move along this road, I am quite certain I will be using this moment in time as a touchstone for steadying myself and moving with a more sure step. With everything I have and everything I am, I want to give my son everything I am able.

After all, he gives me so much.

Nothing Has Changed; Yet Everything is Different

slightly unbalanced
a single word rocks my world
that word: autism