tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702530563115541926.post2980682091298575007..comments2023-07-04T01:24:23.659-07:00Comments on PennerFive's Take on the West!: My OneKarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444254487814697197noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702530563115541926.post-20260098442932735312012-01-06T17:26:05.079-08:002012-01-06T17:26:05.079-08:00I was reading your story aloud to Zoe and she knew...I was reading your story aloud to Zoe and she knew exactly who you were talking about and so did I. Truly is sad for him leaving a structured school,people who cared and now all we can do is pray for not only him but for all the other "ones". My special one is Adriana at my work, I'd even go as far as adopting her, only if her father knew.Leannanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702530563115541926.post-34408120494703252152012-01-06T09:26:20.777-08:002012-01-06T09:26:20.777-08:00My Joycie... you are right- autism. To add anothe...My Joycie... you are right- autism. To add another layer, "R" is of a culture that doesn't too easily acknowledge or embrace differences. From what I understand, his parents desperately pretend there is nothing different about him.<br /><br />Lise - funny how those memories come back with such clarity. I'm not surprised you were at the funeral. That's how you were grown. I'm guessing you're growing your boys the same way too.<br /><br />KKarlahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01444254487814697197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702530563115541926.post-4750583847599701362012-01-06T08:07:47.743-08:002012-01-06T08:07:47.743-08:00Karla, this post stirred up my own memories from m...Karla, this post stirred up my own memories from my school days. I can identify with have 'my one'.....I had a few of them at a young age in elementary. In Grade one there was this little boy named David. He was different. He had this hole in his throat (some medical problem that as a kid I didn't understand) and he smelled funny. The other kids didn't want to be his partner or hold his hand on the walk to the gym or library. But my six-year-old heart broke for him as much as a six-year-old's can. I held his hand. And when he died that year I was the only kid in class that went to his funeral. I missed a cool craft that day, but David was more important to me than that. Broken hearts ARE worth it and I'm glad your girls are discovering that too. A compassionate heart is often a broken one. xoLisehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05814227762912543226noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702530563115541926.post-26558899165887273992012-01-06T07:33:34.349-08:002012-01-06T07:33:34.349-08:00I hoped for a different ending to this, but I gues...I hoped for a different ending to this, but I guess R's story isn't over yet. Breaks my heart.Mary KGhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10916091618625113622noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702530563115541926.post-8973830306578247852012-01-06T05:20:09.689-08:002012-01-06T05:20:09.689-08:00Hmmmm. I am supposing autism? And I am hoping his ...Hmmmm. I am supposing autism? And I am hoping his parents are informed.<br />Don't you wish life was safe? And don't you wish that all the people having their "formative years" right now wouldn't be forming cuts and scars, even as we sit and read? I love this raw and aching compassion that you are installing in the kids. It is so painful and desperate to CARE. I wish the kid would be ok.... And God bless his teacher.joycehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10269164806627544548noreply@blogger.com