Catching Up

There is so much to write about that I don't know where to begin. Seriously, I could have posted everyday over the past few weeks and I still wouldn't be able to share everything that I want you all to know. If only I had more time. I think any mom out there can relate to not having enough time. When I finally DO have time, after kids are in bed, pumping is over, face and teeth are clean, it's usually somewhere around the neighborhood of 10pm... and for a gal who only gets a few full nights of sleep a month, getting in to the sac is just about the only thing on my mind. But I digress.

We have just returned home from a whirlwind trip to Atlanta to visit my loving and supportive family. I love the escape from our everyday reality. Avery and Kaylin get to be spoiled rotten by Grammy, Granddad, Aunt Jenna and Uncle David, and Bryan and I get refuge for at least a few hours to go and just be a couple. For a few days anyway, I am able to let go of my anxiety and just relish in the memories I adore making with my kids. We were able to swim, see fireworks, play in a bounce house, go to a park on the river and see lots of ducks, eat great meals at my parent's country club and at their house... and just relax. Bryan and I even went to the movies and watched two more on pay per view.... a record for us since we have had kids! It was fantastic. All of it. Even the the travel part, which wasn't without glitches, was fine. Hard, but manageable.

Luckily, we were only home a day and we got to spend some quality time with more family. My brother Stuart, his wife Darsi and their kids Sydney and Maddox stopped by on their way back from a family vacation in Austin. All four of these individuals are so incredibly special. Bryan and I can't get over how they are able, all of them, to connect to our kids. Especially Avery. Avery is HARD to connect too, yet, somehow, without too much effort, she really loves the four of them. It is evident in her approach to them, how she wants to just "be" around them. In the smile on her face, and in her attempts to "play" with them, or at least near them. It really warms my heart. It is magical for me to see.

Finally, on Friday, I had Kaylin evaluated by some buddies of mine who are still working full time in Early Intervention. Since she broke her arm and was casted for several weeks, I wanted to make sure her wrist was functioning properly, but I also wanted to make sure my "mommy eyes" weren't missing any red flags in her development. By the time Avery was her age, she had started her massive regression... so needless to say I have been a complete wreck about this lately. Thankfully, Kaylin sailed through her assessment, and is actually above age level in every area they tested. We even counted and she was able to say 40 or so words. So, for the moment, I can breath a sigh of relief. I won't completely relax until she is about 2... but for now, I can finally enjoy the pleasures of watching your child do what they are SUPPOSED to do. It's unbelievable, and sometimes, slightly bittersweet. But I am thrilled.

So, at last, I can finish up this post for the day. It has taken 5 different times of me sitting down to get to it, but I can always write more later. I always have more to say. But for the time being, I want to just say thank you. Thanks to all of you who care to read this from time to time. Our journey isn't all that unique, but I hope it provides for some of you some sort of inspiration or perspective. Some sort of glimpse into our souls that hopefully, will move towards more peace, tolerance and acceptance. Life isn't at all what I thought it would be. It's better. In every way, it's better.

Better

Okay, so I decided it would be a good idea to post again in case some of you were worried I may have jumped off my roof yesterday or something. Obviously, it was a bad day. A REALLY bad few hours... pretty tear filled and over-anxious, but as it always does, and did today, the sun came up again and we were able to start fresh. In the big picture, days like yesterday are pretty few and far between, and it's not really Avery that changes all that much, but it is how I perceive my circumstances, and how I am able to cope with the MANY challenges having a child with several health problems, including Autism.

Sometimes it truly does feel like my world is caving in. Like I can't get a grip. I think about life BA... (before Avery) and I am instantly snapped back to how much I adore her. How she lights up my whole life and brings me compassion beyond measure. It is manic how in a few moments I can move from being totally overwhelmed to focused and driven. But I am doing the very best I can, even though many days I feel like my children and husband deserve better.

On a positive note, Avery continues to make some (albeit very slow) progress. She is really much more aware of her surroundings. She is pointing out pictures in books and magazines all the time. She is responding to her name and to several simple commands or requests. She is smiling AT us, she is taking actual bites of food instead of stuffing or me having to cut every single piece up, she is making a few sounds, and she is climbing better and ALMOST running. All steps in the right direction. Looking back on the past two years, it seems with every step forward we have had two or three steps back that quickly followed. Hopefully, the progress she is making now will really stick. I remain hopeful. I am staying focused on today, trying to push out the anxiety and worry. It's a battle. Hour by hour, we are surviving this fight. We are moving on, and doing so with very precious cargo. Keep your fingers crossed that our perspective stays in check. Because our lives are truly enriched by those that need our help the most.

A Moment

I need a moment. Right now. A moment to curse, scream, hit a wall (which I actually did and think I hurt my hand) and just freak out for a while. I DO NOT have the patience, tolerance, willpower of whatever it is I need sometimes to get through hours like this gracefully. I just don't. It's not pretty. I keep praying for it. Praying for strength... but I feel like I am losing my mind sometimes. I really do. Just this minute I am coming off of holding my screaming, flailing, flapping, sweating, hysterically crying, not to mention exhausted 3 year old for two full hours. Two miserable, out of control hours. She is finally sleeping. Maybe she wore herself out from crying all day and most of the night last night. Or maybe the medication I gave her to calm down finally kicked in. Whatever it is, she is out. Finally. I don't care if she sleeps all afternoon. But with my luck, she will be up again in 15 minutes.

Sometimes, it's rare, but sometimes, I really think I can't do this. I wish I could have put her in her crib and walked away... but now that she can climb out, that's not an option either. And it's really not her fault. She doesn't have the skills to know how to regulate her emotions, her body, or her reactions. She can't tell me what is wrong. She CAN'T calm herself down. So I have to. I have to calm us both down. I just get so frustrated. I have to hold her tight, pin down her arms and legs, try to keep her still, while she literally SCREAMS in my ears. Almost unbearable.

Nobody should have to see their child in agony hour after hour. Nobody should have to guess at what is wrong with their sick child who can't tell me what's wrong. Nobody.

I don't have it in me to keep my sanity on days like today.

So I apologize for not answering the phone. For not returning email. For being selfish. I just don't have anything left in me after the last few days. Nothing except for the love, attention and care I have to give to my girls. Nothing.

Patience

There is some difference of opinion in the Autism community when talking about "acceptance." Some parents may say they will never "accept" their child's Autism diagnosis, and others choose acceptance pretty early on and do little to navigate through the maze of biomedical opportunities and various therapeutic treatment options. I fall somewhere in the middle of this dichotomy, and am choosing to "accept" some of the "truths" of Avery's condition, while at the same time working as hard as I can to help heal her, and give her brain and body the best shot possible to help her be all that she can be.

Acceptance is a loaded word, because in no way am I totally "okay" with Avery's struggle, but I am beginning to recognize that through her circumstance we are finding hidden gifts that are unfolding qualities in our soul we never knew existed. The day by day, and let's face it, hour by hour ordeal of having a child with special and medical needs is cultivating virtues and talents within me that never could have come to be without this experience, and so I can certainly accept that and can be grateful. Grateful for the lessons in patience, TRUE unconditional love, tolerance, endurance, compassion and serenity.

Early on in this crisis, I didn't recognize that the crisis itself was actually a threshold for something much bigger in my life. It has been the greatest lesson in spiritual growth I have ever witnessed, less well experienced first hand. The crisis was in itself a crossroad. It marked the end of the world as I knew it, and through time, has helped me let go of fear, false concepts, misconstrued ideas and false identities. Gradually, I am learning to stop projecting so much, and start living for today. To really BE in the present. I don't want to waste my time and energy on the "what ifs" and instead, am trying to use that energy in loving my kids and husband. It doesn't mean I can't grieve, in fact, it means the opposite. It means that in feeling life deeply, I can really feel the sadness, but then in turn, I can also totally bask in the joy of what is working for me right now.

If I am going to survive this, and come out a stronger more true and complete individual, then I have to let go of the "why me" breakdown, and be in control of my own thoughts, intentions and actions. So I choose to accept the challenge. But rest assured I will do so with a ferocious desire to continue to heal my sweet daughter at the same time. She deserves that.

For Good.

Many of you know of my love of lyrics. Perhaps my greatest, albeit, most useless talents is the thousands of song lyrics I know and can sing (badly) by memory. I was tuned into my ipod today in my car and once again a song randomly played that seemed to be singing to my heart. It was from the "Wicked" soundtrack, titled For Good. Below you will see the words I am referring to, and if you look to the right you can find it on my track list under "music."

"I'm limited
Just look at me - I'm limited
And just look at you
You can do all I couldn't do,
So now it's up to you
For both of us - now it's up to you...

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good."

Avery, and specifically, Avery's challenges have changed me "for good." Sometimes I think about what our life would be like if she didn't have Mastocytosis. If she didn't have Autism. If she could run, talk, and relate to others. If she was just a typical three year old attending preschool and play dates. I wonder if I would appreciate the small feats, if I would understand how amazing a look, a hug, and a kiss are. If I would still be comparing, if I would still be wrapped up in insignificant worries. In every way, and every single day, autism has changed us. And I dare to say it has changed us for the better.

Before Avery, I thought I was wise. After all, I had worked with dozens of kids with Autism. I thought I understood. I thought in some way, I could relate to those families because of my vested interest in helping their children. In hearing their stories. And though I am sure on many levels I was valuable to their lives, I know now, how truly remarkable it is to see your child master a skill. How lucky for me that those precious families helped pave the way to my better understanding. The understanding of how you ache for good news, for positive outlooks and for someone to give you hope. How sad, how truly and painstakingly sad it is to lose your perfectly healthy child into a devastating neurological disorder. How heartbreaking it is to work at something day in and day out, and see no change. There was NO way for me to truly grasp these lessons until they happened to me. Now I get it. And hopefully, through your connection to me and even in reading this blog, you will start to get it too. Autism is changing us all "for good."

Wishes

I spend quite a bit of time wishing. Call it hope, call it prayer, call it projecting, call it dreaming... whatever it is, it helps me cope. I can't tell you how many times I shut my eyes a day and make a quick wish. Usually, I am wishing for Avery to make progress, for Kaylin to stay neuro-typical, for Bryan and I to retain the endurance to survive all of this.

Sometimes I even try to visualize what it might be like if and when Avery starts getting better. I try to hear what it will sound like when she calls me mama. It's hard to hear sometimes over Kaylin's voice, but trust me, I'll keep listening.

But the theme remains the same. In this world that has given me grace and perspective, I continue to keep it simple and remind myself of my MANY blessings. Being grateful when your life is going as planned is one thing, but I find it even more necessary now that things are out of control. If I start to get overwhelmed (which I often do) I take a deep breath, make a wish, and remind myself of the silver lining. Of the complete and utter joy I find in the sparkle of Avery's eyes or in the delicious sound of her laughter.

Avery IS getting better in many small and significant ways. She is much more aware of her surroundings. She is walking with us, and reaching out to make sure we hold her hand. She is actually GAZING at us with a smile on her face for longer and longer periods of time. She even pointed at something the other day and imitated some simple play actions again. It's been a long time since we have seen her do that. She seems to have been bored with puzzles lately and her new school hasn't even seen her do one, but at home she got them out again, and did several all on her own. Another thing we thought she had lost. So maybe my wishes are being heard. I have to keep hoping.

Wishes and dreams may be childhood fairy tales, and they certainly don't always come true, but they have a purpose in my life. When my faith is running low, I can escape for just a moment and throw one out there. Heaven knows we all need a little of that childhood innocence to guide us through. So I will keep wishing. Hoping. Praying. And I will also keep relishing in what TODAY brings me. Because when it's all said and done, living in the present is what it's all about. Enjoy your moments. Rejoice in hearing your child's voice. Her laugh. His look. Celebrate what they CAN do, and keep wishing that one day, maybe they can move mountains.

One thing after another

I am not sure I would want to be my friend anymore. Really. I am annoying myself. The constant drama... the quick transitions from one crisis to another... the stagnant state of sorrow mixed with hope, anxiety and a dash of joy... Truly. I think I would have had enough of me already.

Somehow, someway, we find ourselves continuously surrounded by the loving and generous support of our friends and family. God bless them.

When your child has cancer, or another well known devastating disease... people make you dinners, put you on prayer lists, etc etc. When your child has Autism, people generalize, critique, pity, and fear you a bit. They quickly judge you for fearing toxins, the overuse of antibiotics, vaccines, food additives. They see your child in the store and shake their heads.... thinking what little control you have over your "non-compliant" child.

I find myself wearing my "Hope to heal Autism" shirt more and more. It seems to help explain why we have to have highchairs in restaurants for our three year old. Why we can't let go of her hand when walking. Why she walks funny, can't run, stumbles on curbs, can't use a fork/spoon, sometimes drops things including food on the floor, can't look or talk to people, and laughs at ceiling fans.

With the lovely combination of Autism AND Mastocytosis, Avery has now, and will ALWAYS have many battles she is fighting both inside and outside of her body. Some of our most dear talk about "Avery's Army." Trust me, in my house we are at war, and trying to save her is the most complex and tedious thing we have ever encountered.

A few weeks ago we sent out 4 comprehensive tests of Avery's urine, stool, and blood to determine what is going on inside her little body. We have gotten two tests back, which indicate extremely high levels of fungus (yeast) in her GI system. Yuk. So, now she is on anti-fungal medication, several more natural supplements and is experiencing the pains of "yeast die-off." Several other "levels" were off, and we are heading back to the Dr. to determine our next course of action. No fun. Now she has a fever, and I think I may be getting one too. Double no-fun.

Despite all of this, we find our moments of perspective and peace. We remain so grateful for our lives, and that we have our children here with us. Grateful for our loved ones who stick by us day in and day out.... even when we are one big ball of stress/panic/sadness. Grateful for the chance to learn so much from someone so little, so precious, so unknowing. Grateful for the few who do understand how this continues to devastate us, despite time passing. Grateful for each moment, each look, each smile and each laugh.... even if it is at a ceiling fan.

The raw and bitter truth.

I was talking with my very wise Dad the other day who advised me to, every now and then, lay it out there on this blog with the reality of our daily struggle. His point was, (and I think he's right) that it's not always bright and shiny around here, and it's okay to be angry and upset about it. We have bad days.... and days when staying positive and hopeful is really hard. I admit that several days a month I feel like shouting to the heavens... REALLY????!!!! THIS is my life!? How incredibly unfair. NOBODY should have to watch their child suffer like we do. WHY does it have to be this hard to learn such basic, foundations of human functioning. AND.... for example, when sweet Kaylee broke her arm the other day, I feel like screaming... "How much more are we supposed to handle at once!!!"

Patience is NOT one of my strongest assets. Never has been. I, like my precocious one year old, want what I want when I want it. I want Avery to get better. I want her to start making an inkling of notable progress. I want her to say mama, or hi or even to wave at me.... something! But I HAVE to find a silver lining in all of this. I have to believe that for whatever reason, this is the path that I am supposed to travel. This is my purpose.

But when Avery is on her fourth night in a row of sleeplessness, random squealing, laughing and cackling from her bed at 4 am.... I grow a little wary. I look around me and can't believe how much people take for granted with their healthy, happy, NORMAL children. I feel angry. I feel bitter. I feel cheated.

Thank god she is starting to look at me. Just look at me and sometimes really smile at me. That's something, right? I am holding on to whatever I can here. I am desperate for patience. Please give me patience.

I am off to take my anti-depressant. Clearly I need it today.

Oh, What a Joy! Kaylin Joy Beeson turns 1!

This past week we had the pleasure of celebrating Kaylin's first birthday. I spend so much time on this blog writing about our journey with Avery, that I fear my spunky, noisy, fun and feisty second child may not get quite enough documentation!

When we found out we were having a second daughter, Bryan and I both whispered an elated "yessss" in the sonogram room as we watched her bounce around on the screen. We were in the midst of discovering how deeply Avery was impacted by Autism and Mastocytosis... and for whatever reason, learning that we were having another girl led us to breathe a sigh of relief as we were beginning to understand the importance that having a sister could have for Avery. A baby sister... not even here yet, brought hope, joy, inspiration, and fear all wrapped up into my swelling belly.

When Kaylin arrived, her introduction to the world was fast and furious. She immediately was loved beyond measure, and quickly became the flexible "baby on the go" as we shuffled Avery from appointment to appointment. Thank God for breastfeeding because I was doing good to pack a diaper less well worry about cleaning bottles on the run or mixing formula.
For her first nine months of life, we threw the "rules" out the window and let her sleep with us. I think it was our way of bonding with her since our days were consumed with Avery's therapy and appointments. She did everything pretty much on time... smiled, laughed, cooed, rolled over, played social games, sat up, crawled, and by her one year mark, was walking all over the house bringing us toys, talking, and imitating up a storm. She has several "baby signs" and she lives for attention.

When I try to describe the love I have for my daughters, I know I fall short on relaying just how much and how deeply I cherish them. I am sure you mothers out there can relate, but I must say that though I always knew I would love my children, I never knew how deeply rooted that feeling would live in my soul.... in my heart... and in my total existence.

I am eternally grateful that Kaylin graced our lives when she did. I think I needed her to ground me as much as she needed me in those first few months to survive. She saved me in more ways than I can count, and I hope that I will always celebrate her for the unique and wonderful individual she is becoming. Avery has taught me how to live, how to love and how to see better.... and Kaylin brings her own set of life lessons that I know I will benefit from for the rest of my life. So happy first birthday baby girl. I am so proud of you. Love you to the moon and back again.

Hardest Part

What's the hardest part about having a child with Autism?

Depending on which parent you pose this question too, your results would be as varied as our children themselves. For some, it's the inflexibility... the difficultly some children on the Spectrum have with changes in routine, trips out of the home, new environments etc. For others, it might be the challenges some children have with receptive or expressive language, or both. Or that your child doesn't smile at you very much, or laugh with you, or even look at you.

While there are "core deficits" that all or most children on the autism spectrum have, for the most part, they are as different as any two neuro-typical children would be. They are individuals with various strengths and weaknesses. My child, like yours or any other, is special and unique, quirky and fun. But she is also disordered and sick... but we choose to define her as angelic and amazing.

The hardest part for me is the unpredictability of it all, and the absolute unknown about both what caused her to regress into this condition, and what is yet to come for her development, health and overall capabilities. I hold a tremendous amount of hope for her, and am perhaps her biggest fan, but really, I have NO IDEA what lies ahead. It is something I have really had to learn to deal with, and even more, to be at peace with. For me, this has been the biggest challenge.

I can handle the stares. The dirty looks. The pity. The financial strain. The lack of language. The indifference. The meltdowns. The sadness.

and I am learning to handle the unknown. The unfairness of it all, and the resentment.

It's not that I am resigned. I am FULL of hope. But I am also learning to be okay with the "what if's." What if she can never talk? What if she can never live on her own? What if she stays locked inside herself? NONE of these things do I want for her... but I also want to move on. To be okay with who she is, and not spend her life wishing she was more. She IS so much more. She is my heart, and extension of my soul, and my every wish, hope and joy all wrapped up into a little, silly, happy, non-verbal 3 year old.

Will I spend our every last dollar ensuring we get her the best medical, therapeutic, and natural intervention available. You betcha.

Will I always wonder if I had made different choices would things be different. A little bit.

Will I worry about my needing to live forever to care for her. Every moment.

But more than all of this... Will I enjoy her for WHO she is, for what she CAN do, and for the grace, love, inspiration and hope she brings to my life every minute of everyday. Absolutely.

April is Autism Awareness Month. Be aware.

Please check out the team Avery's Aunt and Uncle created to raise money for Autism.

https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=288446&lis=1&kntae288446=13AA9C773F7748789A1E5F82B99F6963&supId=252336933

Tonsillectomy Drama!

My apologies for the length of time that has passed since our last update. My role as mom is now blended with "nurse" as I have been helping Avery around the clock as she recovers from the removal of her tonsils, adenoids and the placement of her ear tubes. I thought this would be "no big deal" and BOY was I wrong!!! We are on day 12, and she has YET to take a drink of anything on her own, and is only just now starting to willingly eat a few things. She has been on the verge of dehydration since the surgery, and I spend much of my time drawing up fluid into a syringe and shooting it into her crying mouth so she will swallow. Good times.

The nights are the worst part. I guess her throat dries up and the pain is unbearable so she wakes up screaming. Last night was only one time, but before that we are talking about every hour to hour and a half of painful whimpering or full blown hysterical crying. I also think the narcotics were starting to make her crazy. As if we don't have enough issues... now I have a drugged out 3 year old with Autism who is starving and dehydrated. Let me assure you that if I knew it was going to be this hard... we would have waited a few years until bribery or reasoning was more effective with her. Lesson learned.

But, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right? Let's hope so, because at the moment I feel pretty worn down.

Opinions

From the moment your child is conceived and onward, the choices we make as parents become subject to all kinds of judgment. Sometimes critical and harsh, other times well meaning and heartfelt, but judgment nonetheless. Timing of pregnancy, whether to find out the sex, how to take care of ourselves during pregnancy, whether to consider a c-section or induction, to breast or bottle feed, to vaccinate on schedule, alter it a bit, or skip it all together, to let kids cry it out or not, to co sleep, or start them out in a crib... and so on and so on. It is endless. Everybody seems to have advice to give, and opinions to share, when really, we are all doing the best that we can.

This world of critique also exists, and can even be far more intense, in the community of special needs parents. I am on several online support groups, and the because the treatment options for a child with Autism are so vast, the outlooks on how to move forward can and do vary drastically depending on who you ask. As if we aren't under enough stress, anxiety and despair with our child's diagnosis, now we are being judged by therapists, doctors, other parents, friends, online acquaintances, and family as well.
It astounds me.

This is why I have purposefully left out some of the more controversial topics related to Autism diagnosis, treatment, and even prevention on this blog. I don't need the backlash. But really, shouldn't we all give our selves a collective "break" and admit that sometimes we make mistakes, but in the big picture, we are all just trying to make the choices that work for us and our families.

I don't want to be afraid to admit that Kaylin has yet to have had the first vaccine because I truly believe they haven't been tested enough on children with autoimmune issues, and can't even fathom why they haven't done a simple comparison on vaccinated verses un-vaccinated children and the rates of Autism in those two groups. I don't want to worry what people will think of me when I tell them my daughter is NOT on any of the special Autism diets because I don't want to take away one more thing she likes and enjoys in her life that is hard enough. I don't need to be concerned when others snicker when they hear about some of the more alternative approaches we attempt... until they have walked in my shoes, they know nothing of desperation and longing to reach your child again.

With a heavy heart this week I watched as "experts" in medicine argued theories on causal factors and Autism, and felt the stab in my heart as one even stated that "regressive autism" doesn't likely exist as it is most likely related to parents "missing" early signs. SCREW YOU Dr. Expert!!! I have VIDEO to prove my daughter HAD and lost skills.... she is the definition of regressive Autism. I have a masters degree in child development and not to mention over 8 years experience working with kids who have Autism. I am not an idiot. But thanks for nothing.

I am tired of not knowing answers. I am sick of walking on eggshells. SOMETHING is making Autism an epidemic of gigantic proportions! A new study in the UK discovered that 1 in 60 kids has Autism. When is enough enough? When are people going to stop judging, and come together to figure out why? It's the WHY that haunts me and keeps me up at night. It's the WHY that makes me want to come unglued.

I am OVER being critical of how someone parents. Unless a child is being neglected and/or abused, how they choose to feed, put to sleep, medicate, and treat their child is none of my concern. I welcome useful ideas, but what we need is SUPPORT, not anguish. My 3 year old can't sleep at night, and sometimes we rock her. My almost one year old slept in the bed with us until she was 9 months old. I choose to breastfeed, but I do it because it helps me bond, and I don't have to clean bottles. Avery was on a bottle after the breast until she was well over 2. She also still eats baby food from time to time because it's the only way I can get her to eat some veggies. We do ALOT of things "wrong," but we are getting by. We all have to do it our way, and just because my way is different, doesn't make it detrimental.

I think we all feel somewhat insecure about the choices we make, which makes the differing opinions of others fuel our already abundant guilt. Let's try, all of us, to let it go.

It is worth repeating: What we need, what I need, is SUPPORT.

Avery is having her surgery on Thursday. Part of me is a nervous wreck, and I feel a tremendous amount of guilt and anxiety about subjecting my sweet and unknowing daughter to pain, fear, and more pain. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers, and remember that April is Autism Awareness month. Remember that we are all giving this our best. Remember that it is not our place to judge, but to love and build relationships based on truth, equality, respect, and adoration.