Last Sunday would have been my dad’s  63rd birthday. This piece gives you a deeper insight into the man who said, ‘This is now the new normal,” as well as some of the fun summertime activities I’ve done. God gave me the gift of life, and I’m not going to waste a minute! Mom and Dad, thanks for surrounding me with so much love!

I walk on the wild side of life. If someone asks me, “Rachael, don’t you think this is a little dangerous?” I look at them with a big smile and with no hesitation, and I reply, “Hey, Danger is my middle name!” It makes people laugh when they answer, “Well then, go for it!” You could say it’s my slogan. People who know me really well exclaim, “Uh-oh. Here comes Danger. Look out!”

     I was born on February 8, 1983. My mother couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew there was a problem. For some reason, she was very sick during her second pregnancy. This time, something was different. That particular day was her worst ever. She felt so bad; my dad was very hesitant to leave her alone.

     “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

     “Go ahead and go on with your day; I’ll be fine,” my mother insisted. “I just need to rest.”

     “If you’re sure,” my dad answered, “call me if you need me.”

     “I will. I promise.” My mother responded.

     “Okay,” he replied as he kissed her good-bye and walked out the door.

    Shortly after my dad left, my mother went over to visit with the next-door neighbor. While there, she called my grandma. Grandma knew what was going on. “You’re in labor,” she said. “We need to get you to the hospital right away!” Grandma hung up the phone, rushed quickly to the neighbor’s house, and there, paged my dad to meet them at the hospital.

     “What, labor already? How could that be?” thought my dad.

I wasn’t expected to arrive until April 8, which was two months away!

Once we got to the hospital, the doctor rushed my mom into surgery, and I was delivered by emergency C-section. However, when I came out of her womb, I had stopped breathing. Within fifteen minutes, the doctors were able to get no more than five breaths out of me. Imagine trying to hold your breath for 15 minutes! My skin was blue; I didn’t even make a sound – not even a faint baby cry. I was quiet, too quiet. My mother’s water had broken early causing me to become very ill. Two days later, the doctors realized I had pneumonia, and a lack of oxygen had caused serious brain damage. They tried everything medically possible, but my body just wouldn’t respond. No one thought I would survive. The doctors were about to lose hope, when, suddenly, they tried one more thing…antibiotics! I began to recover. Within 24 hours, they knew I would survive!

     Still, that didn’t mean I would go home right away. Because of complications, I weighed only three and a half pounds. Being underweight, my homecoming was delayed for another five weeks. Finally, I gained five pounds, and the doctors gave the okay for me to go home. Yet, the doctors’ visits weren’t over. They still had to closely monitor my condition. For the first year of my life, my mom took me back and forth every month to see about 10 different professionals.

     At this crucial time, my dad’s immediate response was, “This is now the new normal.” He knew it was going to be hard, but he was so happy and relieved I came out alive, and I was coming home at last. He was willing to do whatever it took to take care of me.

      When I was three months old, my condition was finally diagnosed. Dr. Faulk announced to my mother, “Mrs. Benson, Rachael has cerebral palsy.” Stunned, she just sat there listening as he continued to explain. “We need to get her connected with the Regional Center right away so you can get therapy for your daughter.” ”The sooner you get the right kind of help, the better it will be for Rachael in the future.”

“Thank you,” my mother replied as she shook the doctor’s hand and quietly left.  She drove home in silence. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

     Arriving at home, my Dad saw the look on my mother’s face. “What happened?!” he asked.

      Mom replied, “The doctor finally confirmed Rachael’s diagnosis… she has cerebral palsy!  He wants us to connect with the Regional Center so we can get her therapy.”

Sensing my mother’s fear, my father placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and said,    “Well…we’ll just have to take care of it! We’ll just do whatever we have to do!”

     Today, 28 years later, the legacy of my father’s strong leadership and courage still carries on in my family’s life and mine. My father and mother bravely pulled together and built the firm foundation upon which I “dangerously” approach my life.  A “Woe is me, I’m disabled” attitude has never been allowed. Whenever I start to get bitter about having this disability, my mom reminds me to focus on what I can do rather than on what I can’t.

     When I was a child, our favorite family activity in the summertime was water skiing. While everyone else skied standing up, I skied with my legs extended behind my torso on a skibob to avoid direct vein constriction and hip socket displacement. If you knew anything at all about CP, you knew sitting on your legs, the “W” position, was what the doctors and therapists warned against.  Even if I had to do it differently, I skied, and I loved it! I was still able to be part of the family and participate in the family activity.

       Today, when doing many athletic outdoor activities, such as, cruising along tops of trees riding the zipline, climbing all the way to the very peak of a rope’s course, swimming free as a fish underwater, flying high in the sky in a hot air balloon, dancing the night away twirling in my wheelchair, or pecking on the keyboard composing one of my stories, you might ask, “Rachael, don’t you think this is a little dangerous?”

      P-leeeasee!!!! If I survived my birth, I can survive anything!! I may have entered the world quietly, but I’ve now made up for it! So, if you hear my chair humming down the street, don’t try to stop me! Remember, “Danger is my middle name!” A.K.A. Rachael “Danger” Benson!

You know Dasher, and Dancer, and Prancer, and Vixen, Coment, and Cupid, and Donder, and Blitzen, but do you recall the most famous reindeer of all….”  Sound familiar? You know the rest of the words right? I’m sure you do. It’s a famous Christmas Carol. However, I’ll bet if I were to ask you, “Where did the idea for Rudolph come from–you wouldn’t know the answer, would you?” What is it that makes the beloved reindeer so famous? What could the people of the world possibly have in common with an animal that is said to be the leader behind Santa’s sleigh one night out of the year?

It all started with a guy named Bob May. His wife was dying of cancer. His 4-year old daughter sat on his lap and cried. “Why isn’t Mommy just like everyone else’s Mommy?” She asked. His daughter’s question reminded him of his own childhood. Bob May was small as a kid. He was too small to compete in sports. He was often picked on and bullied by other boys. He was the kind of person who never did quite fit in very well with things.

This all happened during the time of the great depression in the 1930’s. Since he couldn’t afford to buy a Christmas gift, he decided to make one. In an effort to try to comfort his daughter, he wrote a children’s book. He told a story with animals. Rudolph was the story of his life in fable form. Rudolph was an outcast just like his creator, Bob May. Rudolph was a reindeer with a shiny nose. He finished the story just in time for Christmas Day.

Soon, the general manager of Montgomery Ward heard about the storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. The story went to print and was given to children who were visiting Santa Claus in stores. By 1946, six million copies of Rudolph had been distributed and sold. Soon, toys followed and Bob May was able to make a living and comfort his grieving daughter at the same time.

It was his brother-in law, Johnny Marks, who adapted the story into the well-known song we sing today. Although turned down by many singers, the song was released in 1949 and sung by Gene Autry. It became a phenomenon and sold more records than any other song with the exception of  “White Christmas.” Like May, Rudolph learned that being different can be a blessing.

            Although this song doesn’t have any reference to Christ, we can all learn a lot from Rudolph and his creator. Often, we try to fix the things we don’t like about ourselves-our gray hairs, our wrinkles, etc, as if something about ourselves is a mistake. In Psalm 139, beginning in verse 13, the Bible says, “For you created my inmost being: you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made…” If people were created in their mother’s womb, how could anybody possibly be a mistake? At the very end of verse 16, it says, “Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

The bottom line: If we were all made the same, there would be no creativity. We wouldn’t have anything to learn from each other because there would be no need for growth. When we try to fix the things we don’t like about ourselves, we’re telling God, our creator, He made a mistake-the very same God who created everything else before us.

 We all have special gifts and talents that have been given to us by God. The question: What will we do with them? Will we be like Rudolph and learn to use them wisely, or will we be like the man in the Bible who buried his one talent and tried to forget all about it? How will you serve the Lord in the New Year?

Dear Lord,

Amen

* Information taken from www.urbanlegends.com.

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Recently, Sarah and I went to the annual Joni and Friends Family Retreat at the Murrieta Hot Springs. We had a great time as usual. However, on the last day of camp, something happened.

We were in the dining hall eating our breakfast, and then the families were supposed to go pack up in their rooms, and go to the church service at the chapel. Sarah and I had done everything ahead of time, so we took our time eating breakfast and saying good-bye to people. Sarah is very social. She’s the kind of person who really likes to slow down and savor every moment of everything. She’s not in a hurry.

“Don’t let anybody take my food,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied.

While I ate my breakfast, she went around the dining hall to take pictures and give everybody hugs.  Finally, as everyone left the dining hall and went back to their rooms to pack, Sarah still hadn’t touched her breakfast. There was another person there named Rachel. When everyone else left, Sarah, Rachel, and I were the only ones there. The other Rachel taught an art class. We started talking about my books and the possibility of future illustrations. When Sarah was done saying good-bye to the last person leaving the dining hall, we still weren’t done saying good-bye to the campgrounds, or to each other. We wanted to savor the moment even more. After all, Family Retreat only happens once a year. You never know if you’re going to cross paths with the same people again. We went up on the stage and took a picture of the three of us. Rachel and I sang “Awesome God.” We were having such a great time, and Sarah’s food was still on the table. She would get to it eventually.

When we got off the stage, we were just about ready to leave and go to the church service. Sarah looked around for her food. It was gone!  “Ahhh!”  She panicked.

The problem: Sarah is on a special diet and can only eat certain foods. Her plate was full. She didn’t understand why anyone would take it. She talked to someone who was part of the kitchen staff and explained the situation. The kitchen staff went back in the kitchen and talked to the person in charge.

“I guess I learned a lesson,” Sarah said. “Take your food with you wherever you go.” The kitchen staff came out with a box. In the box were hog dogs that had just been microwaved. As we went out to the lobby, Rachel carried the box and asked, “What’s in here?”

“Hot dogs,” Sarah answered. Really, they looked like overcooked sausage links. It wasn’t exactly the best thing for Sarah to eat, but at least it would give her a little bit of protein to hold her over until my mom picked us up and we could stop somewhere.

Rachel couldn’t believe Sarah was really going to eat the hot dogs. They didn’t look good at all! Sarcastically, she remarked, “I like kittens, children, and warm hot dogs.”

Sarah looked at me and said, “Rachael, that would be a great title for a blog or a book.”

“Yeah,” I said in agreement. This was quite a way to end the week. It would certainly be something I would remember.

Mom came and picked us up. Sarah and I both said our last good-byes, and then we got in the car and went to Carl’s Jr. Sarah was finally able to eat something healthy, and we all got home safe and sound.

I’ll never forget how Family Retreat is always full of fun and laughter. It’s a great place to meet great people and develop lasting relationships, and have lots of adventures! You never know what might happen next! I can’t wait until next summer!

“For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Matthew 11:30

    My friend Sarah came over to my house the other day. I was getting ready to go to a funeral. While I was eating my lunch, I was telling Sarah a few things I was worried about and why. Sarah listened for a while, and then she said, “Remember the verse in the Bible where Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me… For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Do you know why Jesus uses that illustration? She asked. Do you know what a yoke is?”

“Yeah, I said. Yoke is that yellow stuff found in eggs.” Sarah burst out laughing! I didn’t know why, but the laughter was contagious. I started laughing. I knew I’d said something wrong. After she settled down, she said, “So all those years you heard that verse, you thought about eggs? That’s priceless!”

Sarah drew me a picture of a yoke and explained, “A yoke is a wooden beam used to hook two animals together to carry a heavy workload. Like horses, oxen, donkeys, etc. The reason why they use the illustration of a yoke in the Bible is because here’s Jesus and here’s you. Jesus is carrying the heavier workload.”

She told me they usually have a picture of it in the history books at school. The funny thing was, if they ever did talk about what a yoke was in school, I certainly didn’t remember. I usually have a pretty good memory, and I’m a visual learner. I guess I missed it somehow.

We laughed about it for the rest of the day. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep a straight face the next time I hear that verse.” She said. “The next someone asks you, “how would you like your eggs?” What are you going to tell them? Over easy and light?” I couldn’t say anything. We both just kept laughing. It was one of those things that I should’ve known at my age. For some reason, I didn’t. Oh well, the more important thing is, I know what it is now, and I’ll never forget it! What great times Sarah and I have together!

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for putting good friends in my path that I can learn from. Help me to always depend on you to help me carry the burden. I can’t do it alone. I’m glad you were much smarter than me when you wrote the Bible!

Amen

         

         

We were going along, and everything was just fine. We had no traffic, etc. Then we got closer to the area. We got into Lancaster, and suddenly we didn’t see street names. Instead, we saw letters and numbers. “Avenue K,” Avenue L,” etc.

Sarah said, “For the person who has dyslexia, this is a nightmare because they see everything backwards.” The directions read: “Turn left at Ave. L-8, and our meeting place is on the right.”

 We followed the directions exactly as they were written. We got to the place where we thought the conference was supposed to be. Sarah pulled into the parking lot, but it was empty. Then she called the number they gave us on the paper. We got the answering machine. It turned out to be a number for a media service that was going to be at the conference.

After going around in circles for a few minutes, we finally spotted somebody. Sarah handed the man the paper and he said, “No, you’re looking for Avenue L8-8.” Sarah is a schoolteacher, and I’m a writer, so this was driving us both nuts! Here we were, going to a conference with a bunch of well-known, successful writers, and all the signs in the community were made up of letters and numbers. I couldn’t of picked a more perfect place for a writers’ conference!

They’re very creative here in Lancaster. I thought. Who really needs to go to the conference? Why don’t we bring in the city council, and teach them some creative writing skills?   

This was their seventh annual conference. The people in charge of it had to know what the area was like. Whose idea was it to hold the conference there of all places? And why?

We finally found the church and went in. Sarah explained why we were late. The man at the front door was a pastor. “I’m sorry, he said. They gave you the address of my church.”

Now we were really laughing. Not only were we in a community where all they used was letters, numbers, and dashes, but also the people who made the flyer wrote down the wrong address. The day was just beginning. So far, we were off to a great start!

   Once we got there, we were fine. The conference itself was great. We both loved the biblical emphasis and spiritual encouragement. When it was time to go, we laughed about the directions and street names all the way home. 

”We’re in the land of intelligence. Sarah said sarcastically. If I were on the board, I’d be going crazy. Come on people let’s think!” I laughed in agreement.

“I may still need to learn a few things about writing and getting published, but even I know enough that I could be more creative than that. I could teach Creative Writing 101.” Sarah agreed.

A month later, we’re still laughing about it. I don’t think the laughter will ever end. It’s probably something we’ll talk about forever!

“They must’ve had help from the people on Sesame Street.” I said one day as I fell to the ground laughing. “An Antelope is an animal. If they’re going to call one part Antelope Valley, why don’t they use animal names for the other streets too? Like Centipede Drive or Snake Street?  How about Ladybug Lane? That would be much creative than letters and numbers.”

Sarah and I have spent a lot of time thinking about how we would rewrite the street names on the signs if we lived in the area. What a fun day we had! Not only did we both learn a lot about writing, but it also reminded me to be thankful for a few things.

First, I’m very thankful for a God who was so creative that he “knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Psalm 139 13b (NIV). He also designed the whole universe— both day and night. Talk about creativity!

Secondly, I’m thankful that even though humans aren’t perfect, we have a perfect God who gave us the Bible with perfect instructions for life— if only we will follow them.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for being more creative than I could ever be. Please teach me to be more like you as I learn to follow your will for my life. Help me be a more creative follower in your image who wants to share the gospel with others.

Amen

       * For more information about the conference, visit their website at:www.avwriters.com

 

When I was a little girl, my dad owned the family trucking business. It still exists today. It’s a mail delivery business. Christmas is a very busy time of year for the mail business. Everybody wants to get their cards and packages delivered to their loved ones by Christmas Day. It seemed liked Dad was always working all the time. My sister and I hardly ever saw him. When we did see him, he was very tired—so tired that all he wanted to do was sit still and relax.

Our Christmases with Dad were simple. On Christmas Day, we would get up and watch television, have breakfast, then go into the dining room, and open up our presents and stockings. When we were done, we played with our new toys. That was it. We didn’t go anywhere special, or do anything fancy. We just enjoyed each other’s company. Having Dad there was such a treat, we didn’t need anything else. He was our gift.

In Matthew 2:11, the Bible says, “On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.” (New International Version).

The wise men presented Jesus with their gifts, and them they just enjoyed being in His presence. We live in such a materialistic society, that it’s easy to miss the simplicity of Christmas—the birth of Jesus. Do you have the ultimate gift?

In my family, we celebrate Christmas Eve on my dad’s side. As we prepare for Christmas, one of our favorite traditions is baking cookies. We make two kinds. Sugar cookies, and peanut butter cookies with Hershey’s chocolate in the middle. One year, something very interesting happened.

We went to cousin Nina’s house. It was my mom, my Aunt Kay, my Grandma Benson, Cousin Nina’s two kids Whitney and Mitchell, and myself. We gathered around the kitchen table, got out the proper tools, and got started. First, we started with the sugar cookies. My Grandma Benson stood beside me as she sprinkled the cookie board with sugar, then she took the rolling pin, and rolled out the dough. Then, I took a cookie cutter, placed it on the dough, pressed it down firmly on all sides, and lifted it up. When there wasn’t any more room for cookies, Grandma Benson grabbed a cookie sheet, scooped up the cookies, and put them in the oven.

 We moved on to the peanut butter cookies. My job was to unwrap the Hershey’s kisses that would go in the middle of the little peanut butter balls, and put them in a bowl. Once we had enough Hershey’s kisses, my mother came over with the cookie sheet, placed the chocolate in the middle, and put them in them in the oven.

When it was time to check on the cookies, Cousin Nina noticed a problem. “Hey guys, Come look at this.” The adults walked over to the oven.

“The peanut butter dough spread.”  She said.

“Oh yeah, it did spread.  Aunt Kay replied. That’s strange.” Everyone was puzzled. This was definitely a first! Nothing like that ever happened before. By this time, our family had been doing this for years. We followed the same routine every year.  If something was wrong, we should be able to figure it out-—right?

It wasn’t until the next day that we figured out what happened. My mom opened up both containers. The peanut butter cookies smelled like sugar cookies, and the sugar cookies smelled like peanut butter cookies. The adults switched the cookie dough! When we figured out what happened, we laughed. How did such a silly thing happen? I thought. The funniest part was, Aunt Kay was our taste tester and she failed us! How do you miss something like that?

When we did it, we had a great time, and we were together. It was something everyone enjoyed. We still do it today. Just because it didn’t turn out the way we expected, it still blessed our time together as a family.