Christy
by Judy Wall
Christy was our first child and first grandchild for my family. Joy and excitement were ours during her early weeks and months. I began to get my feet under me as a mom, Jim adjusted to the newness of being someone’s dad, and Christy, well Christy was a happy, healthy, beautiful, bright infant full of smiles and coos. In December of 1977 Christy turned 5 months old, her seizures began, and life as we knew it ended. Any simple assumptions we had about the road ahead were erased, although we did not yet know this. The first seizure lasted 2 hours, brought an ambulance ride, a hospitalization, tests, and anticonvulsants. As well as the hope that terrible experience would never recur. Of course, within a few weeks another seizure came, and now through her 45 years they have never stopped coming. They sneaked around every anticonvulsant and treatment and continued to cause damage. As the years have gone on, they have robbed my precious daughter of so much. But those of you who know Christy see a happy, smiling, joking girl who has boundless love to give.
Misericordia Provides Food for the Soul AND for the Body!
by Brian Kearney
Life centers around food everywhere, including at Misericordia. Anthony “Tony” Kearney Jr., our oldest brother at Misericordia, smiles and says, “Many people eat. It is Mr. Bob Noga who cooks the meals for our home.”
Over 1100 employees, 600 residents and many volunteers eat every day, every month, every year on the 64-acre Misericordia campus. In addition to preparing food for all these people, Misericordia also operates a restaurant, The Greenhouse Inn, the Hearts and Flour Bakery, the Hearts and Flour Bakery & Cafe, and The Misericordia Sweetheart Shoppe in Glenview. And there are also shipping orders, sales at various pop-up tents, and holiday stores.
The Wonders of Misericordia
by Linda Buchalo
This past year has given me much time to think about a lot of things, among them how truly blessed I am to have found a home for my son Andy at Misericordia. I’ve also thought a lot about the past, including life before Mis, with school staffings and services from other organizations. As I ponder these memories, I think how much better life is for Andy now, despite the pandemic and all its restrictions.
I’ve come to appreciate even more how different Misericordia is from many other organizations that offer services for people with disabilities. And other parents have shared with me how pleasantly surprised they were in making the transition to life at Misericordia.
As I think back to the days of Andy being in school, I remember good times, but I also remember the torture of staffings—my husband and I facing a panel of “experts” who listed all the areas where our child was deficient. I always walked away feeling sad that no one appreciated my son’s abilities.
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