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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; Brother</title>
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	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>F: Faith &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/f-faith-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/f-faith-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 27 Jul 2015 14:00:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Belief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Brother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cancer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Differences]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Faith]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Faith is Funny]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Inward]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Outward]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Personal Faith]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Prayer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Siblings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7895</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  Faith is funny. It is presumed that all of us believe in something bigger than ourselves. Peace, love, religion, science, etc. Harmony for all humans, love will prevail/conquer all, trust in the power of the supernatural or higher being, or simply having faith that the sun will come up tomorrow. Out of all the words that I have chosen for this project Faith may be the most difficult to “own”. Maybe it is because I am still learning how to take ownership of it. It has been nearly one month since my mother was diagnosed with Stage-4 Lymphatic cancer. Unofficially to date, this will be her third major encounter with the disease. I learned of the diagnosis late on a Friday night. She would immediately begin an intensive 6-month round of chemotherapy the following Tuesday. Our family’s world, just as in 2005, would be rocked again. In the fall of 2005 my parents would reveal to my brother and I that my mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. The announcement came only a short time before she would undergo a major surgical procedure to help combat her condition. Fortunately my brother and I were attending the same college just 35 miles from our home. We would be there to do whatever possible to ensure the health and healing for our mother during this time. Either out of frustration or fear both of us became angry with my parents after the initial numbness of the announcement subsided. Why did they wait so long to tell us? What good could have come out of holding this news close to the vest? Why were we not included in the updates while the testing process was playing out? We wanted to know why we were being protected like children and not treated as the adults we were. As the elder brother, I became the spokesperson to vent our grievances toward my parents for not disclosing this news beforehand and the virtual blindside of the situation. My father calmly explained that they wanted to be absolutely sure before letting us know (a wise order of operations that I would not understand until many years later with all of the tests and close calls we have endured over the last decade). At the time I felt the explanation was unacceptable and I made both of my parents to swear that they would never withhold any critical information from us again. I finished my proclamation by scolding my mother pleading, “Why wouldn’t you tell us? Don’t you think people may want to pray for you?” Faith is something that I keep very personal. I recall asking my mom when I was a teenager why we discontinued attending church. She said that our involvement in sports and other activities during the week (often on Sundays) made it difficult to stay on top of tasks around the house and attend church regularly. While she acknowledged that it was a poor excuse, our regular attendance would dwindle to part-time to eventually not at all. I also asked her if our absenteeism bothered her. She told me something that I will never forget. She said that even though it bothered her that we no longer attended church, it did not change her relationship with God. “Everyone is different.  Everyone has a different measure of faith.  As long as you have a chat with him (God) once in a while and know that he is always there, I think that is what matters most.” At closer look, much of my faith is deeply internalized likely due to this lesson from my mother. Many readers may have already clicked to another page because they assumed I would continue plugging religion, making for an uncomfortable read. I understand and I am no different. I get extremely uncomfortable when I see continuous expression from individuals on subjects of politics or religion. I believe you are entitled to your opinion, but prefer you keep most of it to yourself. I internalize most of my opinions on these subjects out of respect for others. So much so that it wasn’t until over the course of the past year that I have become comfortable praying in front of my wife. Faith is one element that I have never allowed to become outward and public. Fast forward to 2015 less than 24 hours after learning my mother’s diagnosis… During a break from yard work I began a rare, aimless flip through Facebook to discover that a well-connected colleague of my brother’s had announced my mother’s diagnosis and asked for prayers via a status update. While I appreciated the sentiment of the announcement, I quickly began to boil over in anger. I waited about a 30 minutes before shooting off a text message to my brother, hoping that he would acknowledge what I believed to be a mistake. My thoughts: To this point, I have not heard directly from my parents. My brother filled me in on the diagnosis the night before. Surely they had not notified the family yet. How awful would it be for a family member to learn of my mother’s condition via Facebook? I explained in the text to my brother that while I appreciated the gesture, I did not think the timing was appropriate. In the 15 minutes I waited for a response I convinced myself that my brother would apologize for the mistake and call my mother right away to set it straight. What I would receive in a reply was completely the opposite. For nearly an hour my brother and I went back and forth via text messages about our positions regarding this serious announcement. I claimed that it was a private issue that should be shared with the family and that mom could decide whether or not the information should be shared with the public. My brother countered with chastising me for not giving more credit toward those who were trying to call on faith and the power of prayer to help lift up my mother during this time. We stopped the exchange after we discovered that we were at a complete impasse. During our conversation I challenged my brother to reach out to our mom to guarantee that it was appropriate for this information to be made public without her approval. Once again, I was shocked find what followed. At just a few minutes before midnight, 24 hours after I learned of the diagnosis, an email hit my inbox just as I was getting into bed. It was from my mother to the rest of my immediate family. In the email she apologized for the relay of information and explained why she authorized it to be delivered this way. She cited a moment back in 2005 recalling when her young son Brody said, “Don&#8217;t you think people may want to pray for you?!” I nearly dropped my phone when I read the sentence. Up until that point I did not recall saying those words. The same action I had demanded in the past had been granted to me and I did not like the results. Almost instantaneously I realized that it was not my call and I was in the wrong. This was about her. She went on to parallel some of my brother’s statements from our text message fight: a prayer army is better than a prayer group. I have not publicly shared about my mother’s condition until now. My brother and others have shared her situation with others on social media asking for prayers of hope, strength and faith. After thousands of likes and hundreds of comments I am beginning to realize that this is something I can’t take on in my own small group. Faith is funny. It can be inward or outward. I prefer to be inward. Together it can be extremely powerful. You may ask &#8211; if you are so inward, why are you sharing all of this personal information? The answer is that I am still learning to own my faith beyond something bigger than myself. WORRY STOPS WHERE FAITH BEGINS. – GMa’s Journal &#160;]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>An Old Man in a Music Video Once Said&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/an-old-man-in-a-music-video-once-said/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/an-old-man-in-a-music-video-once-said/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 22 Jun 2015 18:00:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Kassidy Everard]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Brother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Craig Morgan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Deep]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Died]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[happiness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Memories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Old Man]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[respect]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[This Ain't Nothing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Trust]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Twister]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Value]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vietnam]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wife]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7101</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This afternoon I was listening to music on YouTube for the first time in a while. I usually have my music on my phone, that way I can listen to it on the go. I didn&#8217;t realize how much I missed watching videos on YouTube until I stumbled across Craig Morgan&#8217;s &#8220;This Ain&#8217;t Nothing&#8221; music video. I remember listening to this song when I was younger when it came on the radio. I don&#8217;t even think I liked it when I was that young, because I didn&#8217;t put the deeper meaning with it. In fact, I didn&#8217;t truly put the deeper meaning in it until last year, the most recent time I heard it before today. I feel like Craig Morgan has a lot going for him. He is a respectable person, he is a talented musician, and he manages to stay away from the drama of what seems to be the life of being famous. Not only that, but he is also a pretty good-looking man. With that being said, I think we can all agree than I&#8217;ve made you wait long enough to see what old man I am talking about. In the music video, Craig sings about a reporter who interviews an elderly man after a twister passes through Birmingham where he lives. The twister destroyed his home and everything in it. The reporter asks the man: Tell the folks please mister, what are you gonna do, now that this twister has taken all that&#8217;s dear to you? But the reporter got an answer that he never expected&#8230; The old man just smiled and said, Boy let me tell you something, this ain&#8217;t nothing&#8230; This old man, you know, seems pretty tough. He didn&#8217;t cry like the audience would have thought. He didn&#8217;t ignore the question like some would have thought. He just answered honestly, in his purest form. Most of us would cry, knowing that we just lost everything we have ever worked for. Knowing that every single penny we put into building a foundation is now gone. But some people always decide to see the good in every single situation that is horrific. The old man explains why he thinks that the twister that hit his house is nothing. He said: I lost my daddy, when I was eight years old, That cave-in at the Kincaid mine left a big old hole, And I lost my baby brother, my best friend and my left hand In a no win situation in a place called Vietnam And last year I watched my loving wife, of fifty years waste away and die And I held her hand til her heart of gold stopped pumping, So this ain&#8217;t nothing. This old man lost just about everything he had. His wife, his brother, his dad, his left hand, and his best friend. Little do we realize that when we lose even one person in our life we think that it is the end of the world. Losing anyone, no matter what way, has a toll on our minds forever. This old man stuck through everything and kept going. Even the hardest things to deal with didn&#8217;t keep him from living his life even if there wasn&#8217;t much of it left to live or wasn&#8217;t anyone else to live for. But why would you need someone to live for? Why did living for yourself and your own benefit become almost unrealistic? Toward the end of the song is when I started to tear up. Not because I realized what was said in the beginning of the song, but because I realized how much truth was in the words that this man was saying. This man was on his own because everyone he had in his life had died. As did his wife, just the year before. When he looked down on the ground, He reached down in the rubble and picked up a photograph Wiped the dirt off of it with the hand that he still had He put it to his lips and said man she was something But this ain&#8217;t nothing This man, he knew. He knew what it was like to want for something that he couldn&#8217;t have. He knew how it was to have a love that money couldn&#8217;t buy. This man saw the difference between something that truly mattered and something that really didn&#8217;t. The old man&#8217;s last words in the song are what truly got to me. He said, This ain&#8217;t nothin&#8217; time won&#8217;t erase And this ain&#8217;t nothin&#8217; money can&#8217;t replace Money. We all think money is what runs the world. As that is true, there are many things that money cannot buy &#8211; here are a few&#8230; 1. Love 2. Happiness 3. Respect 4. Trust 5. Value 6. Memories 7. Life So that should leave you with the thought, &#8220;Well, what can money buy?&#8221; Money can buy almost everything that isn&#8217;t a necessary tool for healthy relationships or a healthy life. This man knows what the genuine value of something is. He knows that it will just take money to bring back his house, but that no amount of money in the world will bring back his wife or his brother or his father and his best friend. Money never brought this man happiness. And little by little his happiness was taken away from him throughout life. Not by things money could buy, but by things it couldn&#8217;t. It is sad to believe that we rely on money to control any part of our happiness. How about we try to think like this man for a day in our lives. Oh, what difference it would make! &#160;]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Should Coulda Woulda</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/should-coulda-woulda/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/should-coulda-woulda/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 19 Jun 2015 08:30:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Anne Bardsley]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[AIDS]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Brother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Die]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friendship]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Heaven]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hell]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Journey]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pray]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sign]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Spirit]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7123</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[“Dr. Mort, report to emergency. Dr. Mort, report to emergency STAT.” The operator’s nasal voice roared in my head as the odor of disinfectants crawled up my nostrils. It was suffocating. The “Bing” of the elevator was a welcome relief from the chaos in the hall and in my mind. One by one, floor by floor, they crammed me further into to the back. An intern with huge, dark circles under his eyes, played with his stethoscope to avoid my eyes. No words were meant to be spoken in this sterile place. The arrow pointed up to heaven, as we approached the fifteenth floor, yet my heart knew we were headed toward hell. I adjusted my sunglasses to shield my eyes and especially my heart. The heavy metal doors screeched open. My wobbly knee headed toward room 1512. The bright linoleum corridor ran the length of a football field.  At the twenty yard line, I passed a young man gripping his side rails of his bed. An older woman spoon fed him as tears streamed down her face. At the forty yard line, a man stared into space, hooked up to bottles that drip..drip…dripped life into his veins. His dark, glazed eyes stared past me. At the sixty yard line my heart sympathized with a running back. I couldn’t catch my breath. My clammy fingers reached for the already damp tissues in my pocket. I closed my eyes refusing to believe that my friend Tom’s room was approaching at the eighty yard line. There would be no touchdown today. I’d blocked out the four letters, AIDS. I prayed this was just a nightmare. Any minute I’d wake up and my friend would be his old self. Surely the blood test was mistaken. The doctors were wrong! Even now as the wall supported me, my heart tried to follow this path of denial. I pushed my sunglasses back into place and blinked my eyes toward the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. I met Tom five years prior to him getting sick. He was a business associate and we quickly became friends. My husband and I were very fond of him. I used to joke that if I could pick a brother, I would pick him. He would make a perfect uncle for our kids. His job as a sales rep was to convince us to sell more products. He did so by complaining that if we didn’t increase our sales, he’d be forced to replace his blazing red BMW with an olive green, used truck for his sales calls.  He would grimace and tug on the collar of his Polo shirt looking like a forlorn kid. “Come on, Anne. Please, I can’t drive a truck” he stuttered, like truck was a dirty word. My husband, Scott, suggested he get mag wheels. “You’d be great driving a nice truck.” Tom broke into one of his award winning laughs.  He was twenty- five then. He had it all: charm, a great sense of humor, self- confidence. He was tall with sun bleached streaks in his brown hair, tan and had the world in his hands. &#160; As I reached room 1512, I lifted my sunglasses, but closed my eyes and prayed. “Dear God, don’t let this be true.” Gently I pushed the door open. His eyes were so sunken that his eyebrows looked like caterpillars. He was sound asleep. His once trim body was a bag of bones. Little sticks poked out of the covers making his feet look gigantic in comparison. A thunder storm raged in my chest. I gulped for air. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey stranger,” he said softly as we hugged hello. And then the damn burst without warning. Tears rolled down my face. “It’s alright,” he lied to me, patting my back.  His backbones felt so fragile, I was afraid I’d squeeze him to death. “You’re my only visitor,” he said quietly. His family lived states away. His eyes, once full of spark, were dull and tired as he stared out the window. “I’m going home to my parent’s house. My mom is going to keep my dog. He’ll have a good home. But who will drive my beamer?” he grinned. He gulped when he asked, “Who will watch over my mom after I’m gone? I’m her favorite.” My heart was so heavy that he would be leaving this world so soon. I told him, “Tom, if I could ever choose a brother, I would pick you. I can’t imagine a better brother for me.” He laughed. Already I was missing my “pick a brother” choice. Hours later, we hugged farewell and we vowed to keep in touch. I promised to write him funny letters to cheer him up. Emotions and words were circling in my head. My heart was breaking. I wanted to ask him to send me a sign that he’d made it to heaven. Just the thought brought a sting to my eyes and the firing range blasted my heart. “No tears, No tears,” he insisted, raising his skinny arms in protest. His haggard face turned toward away to avoid my eyes.  He rubbed his chin nervously. Without tears, I couldn’t say, “I’m going to miss you. You are a kindred spirit and I’m glad our paths crossed. I wish you a sweet and painless journey. I hope the angels escort you on gentle wing, so swift that it feels smoother than a ride in your BMW&#8230;Only the best for you!” The words lodged in my throat. I wanted to tell him. I really did, but I put on my darkest shades and walked out the door.]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Let&#8217;s Make This Common Word A Little Less Common</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/lets-make-this-common-word-a-little-less-common/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/lets-make-this-common-word-a-little-less-common/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 21 Mar 2015 22:00:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Ashley]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[be kind]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Brother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fragile X]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fragile X Syndrome]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[respect]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sibling]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[teach respect]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=4380</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I hate the R word, and I mean despise it. I know there is an actual definition to the word, but the way in which people use it is really offensive. The slang for it&#8230; the connotation is negative, and hurtful, and ignorant. The word retardreally pushes my buttons. People who use it in a negative, demeaning manner&#8230;really push my buttons. The word is not meant to put people down, and it&#8217;s not meant to define or categorize a person as less than intelligent. The definition of the words is this to delay or hold back in terms of progress, development, or accomplishment. To refer to someone as retarded, as I have heard many people do, stabs me in a place of my heart that I can&#8217;t quite begin to describe. It&#8217;s a tender place, that&#8217;s full of light and hope. (I know that sounds super corny, but it&#8217;s what I imagine this place looks like! ) This is a place where all people are accepted for who they are and not judged or picked on. My youngest brother, Josh, has Fragile X Syndrome. It is a genetic condition that runs in my family, I actually have multiple other family members (cousins and distant cousins) that either have it, or are carriers of the gene. Fragile X syndrome is a genetic condition that causes intellectual disability, behavioral and learning challenges and various physical characteristics. Though FXS occurs in both genders, males are more frequently affected than females, and generally with greater severity. Fragile X affects 1 in 4,000 males, and 1 in 8,000 females. It is just recently something that can be mentioned in conversation without people looking at you like you&#8217;re an alien with glowing purple horns. Growing up with a sibling that is &#8220;different&#8221; was hard, extremely hard!! As a child you want to think that people are nice and kind hearted, but unfortunately that isn&#8217;t always the case. Josh attended the same school as my other brothers and myself, but was in the special education classes, or intermediate unit, he was not main streamed. Most people didn&#8217;t even know that Josh was our brother, they knew my two other brothers but Josh was &#8220;different&#8221;. I very specifically remember school bus rides. Josh would get upset over something, anything, and he reached over, ripped off my other brothers glasses and threw them out the school bus window!! And this happened on more than one occasion! After we moved into another house, kids that were much younger in age than Josh, but pretty close to the same mentality, would stop and ask if Josh could come out to play. At first we were excited, thinking that he was finally being accepted and that he was getting outside to play with other kids, until we realized that these kids were telling him they were playing hide-n-seek, telling him to hide in the woods, and THEY LEFT HIM THERE!!! FOR HOURS!!! My parents called the police because we couldn&#8217;t find him! Josh used to get picked on a lot, but luckily he had three older siblings who ALWAYS stood up for him, and who always will stand up for him. I know that kids can be cruel, but parents PLEASE teach your kids respect, and kindness, and to stick up for people that are being bullied. Unfortunately people use the &#8220;R&#8221; word too often. They use it without thinking who it may be hurting. People with Down&#8217;s Syndrome are so genuinely sweet and positive, and would never even think to utter words that may be hurtful to someone else. Before just jokingly saying &#8216;it&#8217;, think to yourself if it&#8217;s really something that needs to be said. If there is ever any questions, do some research on Fragile X, and even get to know someone with it! I promise you that it will change how you look at things, and it will show you a piece of the world that you didn&#8217;t even know existed, that&#8217;s what it&#8217;s done for me. Let&#8217;s try to make this world a little better place for EVERYONE, not just some.]]></description>
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