Signed Baseball

It was going to be a big day for us. Our youngest child James had been selected to throw out the first pitch to famed baseball player Albert Pujols of the St. Louis Cardinals. He had been selected because Albert was working with the local Down Syndrome Association, and James is a Down Syndrome kid.
We all wondered how he would do, but that day he was in his “play to the crowd” mood. When asked to, he walked off with the Cardinals officials to meet Albert Pujols. We could see him talking up a storm and pointing to his family all standing against the fence. Albert waved to us a couple of times, and then he asked James to “fire away.”
He ran all the way to the pitchers mound, waved to the cheering crowd and then, with great confidence, wound up and threw the ball. The pitch didn’t quite make it to home plate, but Mr. Pujols ran, scooped it up off the grass, and went to congratulate James. He then signed the ball and handed it to James.
Being a good father, I immediately took the signed ball away from James for “safe keeping.” I bought the nice acrylic stand and proudly displayed it in my office at home. One Sunday evening when I came home from church, my other son, Robert, told me James had gone into my office and had taken the signed ball out of its case. Since Albert Pujols had signed the ball, James decided he should add his signature to my prized ball. My reaction was a mixture of anger, frustration and great disappointment.
I had to do some emotional processing. After all, it was James' ball. I had kind of hijacked it. It actually makes perfect sense to a little guy to sign a ball that already had a signature. Then I realized that while this ball may have lost some of its value, signed as it was by one of baseball’s all-time great players, it now told the whole story much better. It no longer would sit on my shelf as a perfect collectible, but in its imperfect state, its value was more personal now. It is the story of the great value of the imperfect.


Cindy and I chose the name James for our baby when he was born fourteen years ago. There is something very classic and dignified about that name. Several American presidents wore the name. In the New Testament, James wrote one of my favorite books, and he was the half brother of Jesus. It is a significant name. As parents, we dream of our sons growing up and doing something of great significance, and we had our name ready.

On July 1, James was born. After the anesthesia from her surgery was wearing off, Cindy asked to see our little guy. The nurse brought him in and handed him to me. I held him up for Cindy to see. She stroked his forehead and then asked, “Eddie, is he okay?”
I assured her he was fine. Then she said, “He just doesn't look like the other children.” I felt this dagger go through my heart. She saw something that I had not. Even as I tried to assure her that her fears were unfounded, I knew a mother's intuition is something that is not to be ignored. They took James back to the nursery.
Later that day we had the moment with our doctor all parents pray will never come. The door opened, our pediatrician walked in. Her gait, her tone, her demeanor – all said something was wrong. She said James was doing well, and then came the pause – a pause that lasted forever. “The baby is doing well - - - but there is something we need to talk about. I think your baby has Down Syndrome.”
Our lives changed forever that day. Having a special needs child is a problem without resolution. The news brings a heaviness, a burden, a challenge, a set of life long limitations, a fog of uncertainty that is never going to go away.
What we did not know, that we know now, is that with special challenges also come special joys. Within this world of imperfection and struggle are some very fun times. The baseball with double signatures represents some of these great times. The truth is that God has and continues to teach me so many things through my special James.
I have learned that an infinite God does not just love the smart and perfect. As a father, my love for my children does not increase or decrease with their intelligence or talents. Likewise, God’s love is not contingent on perfection. None of us is perfect, but all of us are deeply valued and loved by God.
I have also learned that you can be both retarded (it took me a long time to accept that word in reference to my son) and smart at the same time. While we are all imperfect, we do have something to offer God and each other.

1 Corinthians 1:27-29 says God has chosen the foolish things, the weak things, the base things and the despised things, “that no flesh should glory in His presence.” And so the truth is that imperfect gifts are where God does some of His most amazing things. My son James is a living testament to this truth.

GUN FOR COCO'S TRIP

We got Coco up at the 4:30 am wake up time. She got dressed, bags packed and we loaded up the car for the airport. The group going on the Thailand mission trip was to meet at the airport at 6 am.

I went with Coco up to the counter and we checked her bag and got the boarding passes all the way to Bangkok. Just before the group went to clear security they gathered for prayer. Coco made one last check of her back pack and noticed a bulge in one of the pockets. She had not put anything in that pocket so she investigated further. When she opened it there it was. The gun. It was not some plastic squirt gun. It was James' cowboy revolver. It had a long silver barrel and a big white bone handle. Although it was plastic the silver barrel and the bone handled toy looked very much like the real thing at the airport. Cindy realized that now they needed to smuggle the contra ban out the airport. She slipped it into a friend's bag. We prayed with the group and off they went to clear security. It was only after we got outside of the airport that I was told what had just happened. James had "pranked" Coco by sending her off with one of his toys. It would not have been funny for the authorities to discover the toy gun. Cindy and I got into the car just thankful that none of us had ended up in the county jail. We were also glad that Coco got off in spite of her little brother's prank.

The pain of haircuts and the joy of grooming.

Well, it was time. The haircut could not be put off one more day. Now haircuts have never been an easy thing with James. When he was very little he would scream so loud and so hysterically Cindy and I worried that the neighbors would call the police. There is something about the cut hair falling on his neck that makes him hate haircuts. This has gotten better over time but it is still not easy and without protests. Cindy called me in to sit on the bed and just be in the room while she got the scissors going. Double teaming seems to help the whole thing. And so after yet one more less than enjoyable haircut James was done, bathed and back to his joyful self. He was profuse with thank you's. It is always kind of funny because he combs his hair and thanks his Mom and says, "I got my hair back". Feeling very dapper with a new hair cut and a fresh bath he often stands in front of the mirror to comb and pose. We usually get a few muscle man poses with the guns in full display. "I got my hair back." He is glad to have that over with for a while.

His overflowing euphoria about the finished hair cut put him in a grooming mood. After his hair was good and combed he gathered all of his stuffed animals and combed their hair one at a time until everyone in the room was ready for the paparazzi.

James Lyons "High St. Baptist Church"

"Hi, I'm James Lyons, pastor's son, High Street Baptist Church" We had a new receptionist the other day at the church office when Cindy and James dropped by. Always looking for something to explore James found the phone in the fax room with the headset. Immediately he put the head set on and went to work answering the phone. Thankfully it was mostly pretend and since there were no calls routed to that desk. All was well, or so I thought. I went on with my work and then later walked back through. I began to listen and then he gestured to me. Dad, "mean guys". "Where?" I asked. His response, "Means guys here, I call police." I didn't think much of it but happened to notice him actually dialing. I got there just in time. He whispered as he punched the buttons, 9-1-1 but before he hit the second 1 ... I grabbed the phone.

"James, do not call 911. The police do not like it when we "pretend" and call them", I scolded. I know this is a necessary warning.

A few Sundays ago, the house was full of the kids and some guests for lunch. James was in my bedroom watching tv. I went to check on him and saw that one of his favorite movies was on, Home Alone. He loves the pranks, the "mean guys" and the police. No worries, he was quite occupied so I went back to our guests. A few minutes later the phone rang. It was the 911 operator and she asked if someone had called about an emergency. Cindy assured her that all was well and that nobody... and then she paused and looked me. Well, maybe somebody did dial. It was James. Profuse with apologies to the operator we went back to talk to James. When I asked him if he had in fact called 911, I realized by the look in his eye and the hessitation that he had. I we had a little talk followed by a few minutes in the thinking chair.

Once again we had our 911 lecture after the church office near missed call. Life is never boring.

NO SHOT!

Wednesday I got James up and we started the "get ready for school routine". He was not particularly cooperative and did not want to go to school. This is not the first time he has been less than enthusiastic about getting up and going to school. Then he pulls out his secret weapon, "I sick". While this tactic is often effective in getting his Mom's sympathy and consequent investigation as to the true state of his health, I am not easily convinced. I am more inclined to believe that he is working me and so my response is more an effort to convince him how well he is. We are going to get dressed and we are going to get on that bus. There are things to do, schedules to keep, obligations to fulfill. A sick boy at home changes everything. I am more of the mindset that goes like this, "throw up and prove it if you are sick". And even then, I am not totally convinced. With my firm and salesman like response, I got him dressed and we had him on the bus and he was off.

Within the hour I got a call from his teacher at school. James is sick. He threw up all over his shirt and he is now lying down in the nurse's office. Can you please come and get him. So much for my parental discernment. I kind of felt like a heal for my insensitivity. I did go to school and there he was sick and wearing a borrowed "Missouri Lottery" t-shirt. He was quite enthusiastic about the new purple shirt and handed me the plastic bag containing the soiled shirt we had put on him an hour before. I walked out with my little guy and with a repentant and more sensitive attitude.

James was hot with fever and he was throwing up anything we gave him. Cindy continued her phone consultations with the doctor's office. They suggested that we go to the only other way of giving medicine and called in an order for a suppository. Cindy called me to come home because when James learned about this grossest of ideas; he was not going to allow it. Thankfully we all got through it and his fever did go down. But after 3 days it was time to take him to the doctor's office.

The doctor's office is full of great people from the receptionists to the nurses and nurse practitioner we saw. The swab to check for strep was a bit traumatic for our already very sick guy. He did ok and in a few minutes it came back positive. After a quick discussion about how to get the antibiotic's going we decided that since he could not swallow and keep things down the best approach was a shot.

When the nurse came in the room with the silver tray in hand and the shot clearly displayed James knew what was coming. He was not about to give in to this previously experienced pain in the name of healing. He used all of his opposition behaviors from crying, pulling away, and sitting on the floor. When he realized he was outnumbered he did stand up and the three of us held him down while the shot was administered. All the stickers in the office could not erase the pain and trauma but they did help.

Today, some 24 hours after the shot he is much better. I sat him down to drink his vitamins shake while I ate breakfast. We bowed our heads to pray. In my prayer I asked God to heal James and help him feel better. I also thanked God for the doctors and even the shot. Out of the corner of my half closed eyes I watched him. When I thanked God for the shot, he quickly turned his head toward me in amazement. Why was Dad thanking God for a shot? He cried out, "No shot. No shot ever again." I tried my best to recite the benefits of fast acting inject able antibiotics but he would not be convinced.

Thankfully, James is much better. After three days of not wanting to eat or drink he is clearly improving. He was asking for chicken and rice and even requested that I go buy some "whales".

A picture is worth 1000 words.

Motorcycles are cool.















School I like.



















Haircuts I could do without.

.

Late Afternoon Labor Day Shopping

James was less than enthusiastic about a quick run to the mall. He does not like the idea of walking around the mall very much. But then after the sad resignation that his protests were not going to cancel the plan, he saw a reason to shop - THE ESCALATOR. In a flash he was off to ride the escalator. As he walked away I firmly said, "James, come back here." He took a quick glance behind to see me. He clearly had decided that whatever the consequences for running were going to be, they were worth the thrill of the ride he was about to enjoy. I quickly picked up the pace catch up to him. I did not want him to fall so I told him to turn around and pay attention to where he was going. After a nice ride up and down, before we knew it, he was off again. This time Mom went to get him. If James is not looking for an escalator he is looking for a place to sit down. Our mall is great because there are some great places to just sit and wait for Mom and sister. A little shopping at the mall with James goes a long way for both James and me.

Me Drive...Show Me

Today while I was checking out my newly planted patches of grass, James ran over to the car hopped in. He crawled through the car and strapped himself into the drivers seat. James then motioned to me and asked me to get in. I did go sit with him, primarily because his mother insisted that he should not be in the car alone. I assured her that she was being a bit over-protective and that he could not really do anything to hurt the car or himself. After my husband-like resistance did nothing to change her mind, I went over to sit in the passenger's seat beside him. To my surprise, he had the keys in hand and had already put the house key in the ignition. (Why is Cindy always right and I am such a knot head?) Thankfully, he had the keys for the other car. He kept saying, "Dad, I drive. Show me." "Buy ice cream." Well, at first I told him that he was too young to drive. I then realized that his age would not change his prospects for driving instruction. I am not sure how to handle that just yet. James wants to do everything his brothers and sisters do including driving. Anyway his prompting at least got him some Andy's "banilla" ice cream. He was pretty please with the ice cream. Then on the way home we stopped by the newly opened Walmart and bought him some new "spiderman tennis shoes with lights". Life is good and we are going to have to start hiding the car keys.

Dad...order pisa!

Today when I came home James was asking me to order "pisa...phone". He had pizza on his mind and before I arrived, Cindy saw him with the phone dialing some number, then clearing his throat to get ready to order. Somehow James has moved into a phone fascination phase.

The other night at around 10 pm, Coco received a call from the Hillenburg house telling her that James had called Mark from my phone. Sure enough we found him with my phone in hand. Apologies for the late night disturbance were made and graciously accepted. I then looked at my phone only to discover that he had called the bank, Boston Baptist College, a pastor friend in Lebanon Missouri and a few others.

Back to the "pisa" request. A while after taking the phone away and interrupting his attempt to order he came into the kitchen this time with phone book in hand. He had thumbed through the yellow pages and had found the pizzas. At first I was amazed at his ability to read only to be reminded that he just found the pictures of pizzas which made more sense. After all of his effort I wore down and ordered a pizza. He was thrilled. Come to think of it, I probably did not help curtail our phone fascination phase. I probably just made it worse. But so what. Cute is cute and the bright smile on his face when the pizza came was worth it.

You threw what in the toilet?

One afternoon, I walked into the house after work to find the kind of informal courtroom setting that most parents have learned can be essential to child rearing. Cindy, was sitting in the living room with James seated on the ottoman in front of her. The feeling in the room was serious and the tone of her voice was authoritative. “Tell me the truth” she was saying, as I walked in. “I tell the truf”, James replied. At this point I was brought in as a second questioner. Cindy explained what I did not know. The suspicion was that James who had locked himself into the bathroom with Coco’s cell phone only to emerge with no phone after a flush a minute later, had flushed the phone down the toilet. I said sternly, “James, tell me the truth. Did you flush the cell phone and it went away?” He looked up at me over his glasses and mumbled, “A little bit.” Now how you flush a phone “a little bit” is known only to James. The real truth is that the answer was yes and he was guilty but was trying to minimize his offense with careful wording. It actually sounds a lot like the rest of us. We are very prone and quite expert at minimizing or redefining our mistakes.

One post script to the story is that while Coco was very upset to no longer have a phone, she handled it with a lot of grace. Her gracious response gave way to out and out jubilation when I told her that I had ordered a new phone, one much better than the one that got “A little bit flushed.”

What are you doing, James…. I’m smokin!

It was the 72^nd Anniversary Sunday at High Street. We were entertaining our guest speaker and the former pastor, Bill Rogers. We left the church and loaded up the car to meet Pastor and Mrs. Rogers, Dave (their son) and his wife Kendra for lunch at one of our local restaurants. It was one of those car talk moments where James was given the parent talk that goes like, “James you better act nice at the restaurant. Be respectful, eat properly, look into people’s eyes when you say thank you and please…and please, please be a good boy.” Well things went pretty well during the meal. As most parents come to realize, adult lunches sitting in the same spot for way longer than it takes to eat is not an easy exercise for kids. At the end of our time, James picked up a straw and walked from one end of the table past our guests, to the other end of the table with his straw pointed at his brother Robert. I figured that a spit wad war was on the verge of breaking out. Hoping to head this off at the pass, I asked James. “James, what are you doing with the straw?” To which he replied as he elegantly pulled the straw away from his lips, “I smokin.” Nope, we had never covered smoking in any of our pre lunch lecture material. Thankfully, Pastor and Mrs. Rogers erupted in laughter having raised their own PK’s and understood clearly our kid moment with James.

Leg out the window…

It was Sunday night, time for our small group Bible study at home. While we were all engaged in the video presentation something was happening in the back of the house we did not know about.

Aunt Karen reported that she happened to look out her window (she lives across the street) and when she did, she saw something very unusual. There was a leg sticking out of the window in what she knew was James’ room. She quickly ran across the street to see what James was doing. When she got to him his response was, “Dati (his version of auntie), whachu doin here”. His plan had been unexpectedly interrupted. James was loving the warm weather and an open window. The idea of going outside without having to go through the adult filled living room and the ever present interference of his mother gave way to the idea of climbing out the window.

Auntie, thankfully, was looking at the window at the right time. We sometimes are convinced that a band of angels are assigned to James. One evidently tapped her on the shoulder and led her to look out the window just in time to see the leg out the window. Thanks Auntie.

PS. Today, I have done a little Dad magic to make it so he can't open his window. Hope he doesn't figure out what I did. I won't say it is impossible to open now. He is one smart little guy.

James solidifies his "rock star" status with newspaper photo

The excitement continues. Today at church someone came up and asked me if I had seen the picture of James in the newspaper. I had not so they went to look for one to show me. It was great. James was congratulated over and over today at church. Someone actually asked for an autograph. After the first autograph was given, James was on a roll. He began to give out unsolicited autographs to anyone he found. This afternoon he went down to the Wilson's to watch himself on TV. They were gracious enough to record him during his great moment. So all is well. The baseball appearance followed by the newspaper and then to watch himself on TV, James is loving life.

Pujols and James

James threw out the first pitch at the St. Louis Cardinals - Springfield Cardinals game. Dream come true not only for James but also for the family, James threw the pitch to Albert Pujols.

We all kind of wondered how he would do. He was in his "play to the crowd" mood. When he was asked to walk out to meet Albert Pujols, I asked James if he needed me to go or was he ok to go by himself. He turned to me and said, "go sit down". And with that he walked off with the Cardinals officials to meet Albert Pujols. We could see him talking up a storm and pointing to his family all standing up against the fence. Albert waved to us a couple of times and then James was asked to go and "fire away". He ran all the way to the pitchers mound and with great confidence wound up and threw the ball. The ball did not quite make it to home plate, but Mr. Pujols ran and scooped it up off the grass and went to congratulate James. He then signed the ball and handed it to James.

As we walked up the stairs to find our seats he was greeted by many of the fans in their chairs. James was smiling ear to ear. He felt like a rock star for the moment.

I had offered to buy him a hot dog after he pitched just to keep him from lingering on the field. He was glad to stand in line and claim the snack. He was loving the snacks, the pop and the whole baseball experience. When the vendor came walking by offering cold beer, his hand went up, just as it did for peanuts, kettle corn, cotton candy and any other snack offered. Needless to say we contented ourselves with the peanuts and said no to the rest of the snack buffet.

Special thanks to Lynn Neidigh, President of the Down Syndrome Support Group of the Ozarks, who made it all happen. We also want to thank Becky Morgan, Down Syndrome Support Group board member, who accompanied us as the official representative of the support group.

Getting Ready for Albert Pujols

Well here is the big news. James was selected by the Down Syndrome Support Group of Springfield to represent them by throwing out the first pitch to Albert Pujols on Saturday, March 29. Needless to say, we are all very excited. We are also hoping that when the reality of that many people in the stands watching our guy sets in, he will enjoy the attention and not shy away from it all. He does love being cheered. We kind of practiced a family "cheer for James at the Cardinal's game". When Coco did not clap and cheer, he immediately broke from his bow to yell "Coco, clap". (Actually, James can't say the letter "L" and it sounds like "R" but, I can't write that word here.) It makes us laugh and we insisted that Coco join the cheer so we could move on. She did and the bow continued.

All is ready, the red Cardinal shirt with number 5 and Pujols on the back has been bought along with the blue shorts. We are going to be ready with a baseball, just in case an autograph is a possibility. Robert will be covering the event for Hillcrest TV. Troy agreed to bring a camera and shoot for us.

When James was born, he was the child we worried would have more challenges than opportunities. It is amazing to watch God pick him out and give him something this cool. God is good.

Albert Pujols openly confesses that he has accepted Jesus Christ as His Savior and that his family has a commitment to put God first. He also has used his experience with having a Down Syndrome child in the home to encourage and support other families like his. A special thanks to Mr. Pujols for his strong testimony and service to others.

So tomorrow is the big day at the ball field.