Whatever you do to the least of these....

We did get to go to riding lessons. Thank you Jesus.

Last night I went to a meeting that was all about Medicaid waivers for families with special needs children. I was very disappointed. There are over 5,000 people waiting to get these waivers and only 900 slots in this year's budget. Now, that isn't the part the disappointed me. What really made me angry was these waivers are NOT based on income. (FYI-A waiver is money that the state gives you for things. Like respite care, home modifications for disabled people, diapers etc) I knew a few people there, one of which is a local surgeon, and I am amazed that the state will give these people money when they don't "need" it. Granted, they have special needs children, but give the money to a family that has a special needs child AND is poor. I just don't get it. Caleb has a Medicaid waiver right now. Whatever our insurance won't pay for (like speech therapy, occupational therapy etc) Medicaid will pick up. However, they MUST have a denial from our primary insurance first. When Caleb turns 18 this waiver will end. At that point we need to apply for SSI (Social Security) and as soon as it's approved he will have Medicaid again. That sure is a load off of my mind. I was wondering what we were going to do when Olaf's insurance no longer covered Caleb. Our plan right now is to have Caleb live with us until we die. At that point one of his siblings will have to take over. Or all three of his siblings. They are being prepped already. I truly believe that each child is ordained for their family. God equipped our three children for a ministry to their brother. You can give me all the crap about how that isn't fair for them and yada yada yada. However, I know that whatever is done to the least of these is also done to Him! This may sound horrible, but I really want to out live Caleb. I don't think it will happen, but I'd love for him to be in our care until he passes into glory. I cannot imagine what it will be like in heaven to see my son perfectly healthy. To not have the mental capacity of a four year old. To run up to me and hug me and talk to me. Oh how it convicts my soul. I have been so guilty of just "surviving" as a parent of a mentally retarded child that sometimes I forget he's a little person that needs so much more. When I see him in heaven I'm afraid he'll turn to me and spew out all the hurtful things I've done and said. I know that isn't true, but I can't help feeling like I deserve it.

Well Camille just got up and is probably wondering why I am crying at the keyboard. She hasn't asked though and I really don't want to tell her. She can't even begin to comprehend the complexities of parenting at this point in her little life.

I need another cup of coffee...
Misty