Mike insisted that Ashley attend a charter school in 9th grade. I absolutely refused to home-school her, and not only because I had enough to do with the younger children. I knew Ashley would prove an unwilling student. Grade-wise she did well, but her attitude continued to be a challenge. While I saw it as typical adolescence, my husband felt there was more going on there- total defiance for our rules, a desire to act out. In my heart I knew Ashley resented the lack of ability to be like other 14 year olds, and she wanted to go to the mall and the beach and hang out. But Mike was so intent of punishing the misbehavior out of her, and I could only stand by and watch. When he was angry, Mike could be a scary person. Ashley ended up getting mostly A’s and B’s. But going to school in a classroom one day a week with 5 other students and spending the rest of the time in home-study wasn't enough for Mike. He was intent on forcing the mold and making her some kind of 50’s throwback to a gentler age when teens obeyed their parents because they wanted to. It seemed as if he was going to lean on her for the rest of her life, if need be, to repay her for the mistake of trying to save a friend in 8th grade. (I would learn a year later that the middle school principal who had tormented our daughter was asked to leave because her authoritarian attitudes rankled school staff, students and parents.) But even knowing this didn't make Mike let up on the harshness and discipline. You know how it is when stuff starts falling apart. Little problems and challenges crop up, and when you finally get to December 31st you tell yourself, "Thank God the year is over. Next year will be better." Only it rarely is. During the summer of 1998 our family had one of those little mini-meltdowns which can either make or break a family. Our son, Andrew, who was six at the time, was supposed to be taking a nap. But he'd sneaked outside to play. We figure it must have been a half-hour later when Jason saw emergency vehicles at the end of our long driveway. He walked down to investigate, and the next thing we knew he was racing through the front door yelling that Andrew was hurt. Our little boy had ridden his bike out in front of an oncoming school bus and had been thrown 20 feet to the pavement. I'm a little bit on the overweight side and not known to be a quick runner. But my feet must have been on wings because I was down the drive in a flash with Mike right behind me. I passed the bus driver who looked very nervous, and the kindergartners on the bus were all crying. I wanted to comfort them, but my mind was on Andrew's condition. I ran past the bicycle, a twisted, broken contraption of metal and bent wheels, cringing. We were met by a CHP officer who wanted the particulars: name, age, medical problems in the past that might impact his recovery. I just wanted my son. The paramedics either didn't know or wouldn't share Andrew's condition with us. He was kicking and screaming as the firemen worked, and we were told he would be taken by ambulance to the middle school (where Ashley attended) and Life Flighted to Children's Hospital. Such a little guy, such a big bus. How could anyone survive such an accident? Mike and I drove to the hospital in record time, hardly speaking. I prayed the entire way, hoping for some kind of miracle. In the emergency room the personel insisted that we go to a small consultation room, and we prepared for the worst- skull fracture, internal injuries, broken bones and brain damage. The wait was murderous. The doctor was smiling when he came in- a good sign. "Your son is fine", he said, and it took me a moment for the words to sink in. "He has a cut on the inside of his mouth, and the doctor will be stitching up the laceration. But we don't see any other injuries." What? Andrew had flown 20 feet through the air to land in a heap on the side of the road, and he was okay? Unharmed. No fractures or hemorrhaging. Nobody seemed to believe it, even though we told and retold his story many times. Andrew's recollection was that "Jesus caught him." It was indeed a miracle. He spent the night in the hospital, and Mike insisted that I go home to our other children. No, make that forced me to go home. He said he would be fine sitting up with Andrew all night while the hospital staff observed him for complications. And surprisingly, there weren't any except some minor equilibrium dizziness that disappeared within a week. Truly a blessing. So our son returned home to his little spotlight in Michael's heavens, at least for a little while. ***TTFN, Julie