MSI Press Blog

Precerpt from  Raising God’s Rainbow Makers (Mahlou) How Noelle Got Her Name When Noelle was born, Lizzie was four—our only child at the time, waiting at home with the babysitter while her baby sister was being airlifted 250 miles south to San Antonio for urgent care. Noelle had arrived with spina bifida, and the specialized treatment she needed wasn’t available in San Angelo. We were part of the hippie generation, drawn to names that danced outside the lines. So we chose  Anemone Esther —a name as delicate and wild as a sea flower, full of meaning to us. We filled out the birth certificate with care, believing we’d chosen something beautiful. But when we got home and told Lizzie her sister’s name, she burst into tears. “You can’t name her that,” she sobbed. “I hate it.” We asked why. “Because I can’t say it!” she wailed. Fair enough. So we asked her what name she’d choose. “Noelle,” she said promptly. “I like Christmas music.” And just like that, Anemone Esther became Noelle....

  Precerpt from  Raising God’s Rainbow Makers (Mahlou) Noelle: Charming Ways Every week, I’d drive Noelle to Andi’s house in the Pittsburgh suburbs. It was our sacred little errand—part therapy, part friendship, part “Mom’s Taxi Service.” Noelle, my bright-eyed girl with crayon-blue eyes and leg braces that pointed straight ahead like tiny silver skis, would sit beside me in the passenger seat, chatting about everything from butterflies to Bible verses. One morning, I was running late. The kind of late where you start praying for time to bend like a Marvel movie. I zipped through the neighborhood in my bright orange car (which, let’s be honest, was basically a traffic cone with wheels), and in my rush, I missed a stop sign. The cop didn’t. Siren. Lights. Gulp. I pulled over, already rehearsing my apology and wondering if “I’m a mom on a mission” counted as a legal defense. The officer peered in. Noelle sat beside me, her braces poking forward, her blonde hair wispy as a whispe...

  Precerpt from  Raising God’s Rainbow Makers (Mahlou) Noelle: Finding a Way There’s a rare kind of specialist—one who doesn’t just follow the rules but rewrites them with compassion and creativity. Parents of children with disabilities know how precious these people are. They’re not just professionals; they’re lifelines. Andi, Noelle’s physical therapist, was one of those rare gems. Undeterred by limitations, she saw possibility where others saw delay. Noelle had to wait for several operations before she could be fitted for braces. Most would have paused therapy until the hardware arrived. Not Andi. She worked on strengthening Noelle’s muscles in advance, preparing her body for the moment it could move freely. So when Noelle finally received her braces at age three, she didn’t just stand—she walked. Immediately. Her joy was electric. We celebrated at McDonald’s, where a woman in the next line kept staring at Noelle’s braces. Noelle, unaware of any stigma, beamed and said, “Hi...

  Precerpt from  Raising God’s Rainbow Makers (Mahlou) I’ve always been a sound sleeper. Earthquakes, mortar fire, even sick children standing beside the bed—I slept through it all. But when Doah was born, everything changed. He had apnea attacks, day and night, and for the first six months of his life, there were no monitors leased to homes. No alarms. No backup. Just me. He slept beside me in bed, and every time he stopped breathing, I woke up. Instantly. No sound, no motion—just absence. My body registered the silence and responded before thought could catch up. I gave him CPR more times than I can count. I didn’t sleep lightly. I slept attuned . That’s the only word for it. That winter, there were eleven children in Pittsburgh with tracheotomies. Nine of them died. Only a ten-year-old and Doah survived. I believe he lived because of proximity—because my body recalibrated to his breath, because he was beside me, and because I refused to surrender to institutional neglect....