Two summers ago, when Logan was five years old, we met a homeless man, named Paul. It was a brief meeting, but it had a world of impact on Logan. After talking for a few minutes, Paul and I realized, we had a shared acquaintance - my neighbor, a social worker at the local men's shelter. The idea of homelessness had popped up many times. Living in a city, we see people pushing carts around, hanging out under street bridges and occasionally on a bench. Logan had asked endless questions about their life living on the streets. After seeing Paul, he wanted to solve the problem of homelessness. He suggested we put signs up around the city showing homeless people they could come to our house. Logan is a sensitive child and feels things very deeply and thoroughly. He thought about how Paul had to sleep with his hands under his head because he did not have a pillow. In lieu of signs pointing to our house, I reached out to my social worker neighbor to ask what we could do to help Paul spec
These stories describe our journey with Ben, our oldest son. Ben is a sweet and energetic redhead, born with Rett Syndrome, a rare genetic mutation. My husband, Ryan, and I try to keep up with Ben and his two younger brothers. I intend to shed insight into raising a child with disabilities and pass on the wisdom we’ve earned over the past two decades.