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On Giving Thanks

November 30, 2011 By Leave a Comment

 

“Thank you for buying me that new jacket,” my daughter says as she hugs me.

“Thank you for taking us out to dinner,” my son says as the waiter presents us with the check.

“Thank you for buying salami,” my daughter says as we carefully put the groceries away.

“Thank you for letting me have a friend over today,” my youngest daughter says at the end of a quiet weekend.

“Thank you for letting me eat pasta for breakfast this morning.”

My children are thankful.  They know how to communicate their thankfulness.

Even when things don’t go their way, they somehow know to give thanks to me and Ben for the things in life that they enjoy.  Sometimes the things they give thanks for are simple.  Sometimes they are profound.  But they always give thanks with hearts full of joy.

I have a lot to learn from my children!

I Thessalonians 5:18:

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

 
~ Nancy

 

Filed Under: Gratitude, JOY, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , ,

A Prayer Request

November 29, 2011 By 3 Comments

It has been our plan to allow Stephen to take responsibility for his own school work. We met with his teachers at the beginning of the school year and painted the picture of Stephen’s strengths and difficulties. We told them that we wanted him to interact with them when he was struggling with an assignment because we felt that this was the best way to prepare him for the future. On the flip-side of that, we hoped that they would keep a watchful eye out for any signs that he was falling behind in their classes. The guidance counselor and special education teacher were both eager to assist Stephen when he asks. The problem is…he won’t ask.

It takes so much time for Stephen to build a rapport with his teachers that it often doesn’t happen within the course of the school year. He is afraid the teacher will be upset with him, embarrass him by drawing attention to him, or even, just not care that he is having difficulty. He won’t go to the Special Education teacher because he doesn’t know him (the same person held this position from 5th grade until 8th grade and now there is a new person). Even though I try to ease his concerns the best I can, I cannot guarantee that none of those things will happen. (The truth is, sometimes other people WON’T care-or won’t really understand that he thinks or processes information differently.) So, here I sit feeling helpless and inadequate as a mother (I know that may seem like a large leap to some, but I also bet there are others of you who are in the same boat!)

I can already feel the vice grip tightening on my head as we enter the home-stretch of the first semester of ninth grade (11 school days before semester exams!!!) The tension is rising as unfinished (or never started) assignments are showing up as ZEROs on the grading website. I can’t help but feel pangs of sadness (even to the point of depression) as I think about the anxiety that I know this will cause for Stephen. And, yet, I know that these are the very kinds of situations that bring about growth when we trust God and forge ahead.

So, I would ask that you take a moment and pray for Stephen and for me that we would stay strong and focused on the task at hand—for him to finish the semester as strongly as he finished the first quarter and for me to be supportive of him, but not hinder the growth that God intends for him during this time.

“When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul.” –Psalm 94:19

~Louise

 

Filed Under: Asperger, Parenting, school Tagged With: , ,

Everything we need

November 27, 2011 By Leave a Comment

Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.

His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.

II Peter 1:2-3

I can’t read this passage without thinking of this Beth Moore clip.   We have everything we need today for life and godliness.  So grateful for this reminder.

You are loved today,

Shannon

 

Filed Under: Encouragement, God's presence, grace Tagged With: , ,

My Lost Verse

November 26, 2011 By 2 Comments

It is gorgeous on my deck today! I wish you could come sit with me. The Russian olive bush is fragrant and three deer just high-tailed it through the woods, kicking up leaves. I’m reading Job … not normal when all is quiet on the western front, but I’m thrilled because I came across one of my favorite verses, which I hadn’t been able to find recently. (Forgot it was in Job.) I love refinding a stone of remembrance! My soul responds like two lost fitted pieces recognizing each other and hugging.

It’s about control. Surprise, surprise. God is citing examples of His absolute dominion …  “…WHO enclosed the sea with doors, when, bursting forth, it went out from the womb … I placed boundaries on it, and I set a bolt and doors, and I said, ‘Thus far you shall come, but no farther; and here shall your proud waves stop’? Job 38:8-11

In fact, if a scripture mentions “waves,” it draws my attention, probably because my life with hidden disabilities has the basic wave ingredients – amplitude and frequency. Not unlike labor pains…without the little monitor to tell you when the contraction is coming or going. (And for the record, three babies later, I still think the mama should have the last say on when the contraction is O-V-E-R.)

But the point is this: no matter how bad it gets, every wave obeys God. Lake ripples, tsunamis. I picture each little watery molecule in complete obedience to Him – NO little salty toe sticking itself over the line God draws when He says, “Here. NO farther.”  I’ve drawn many lines in the sand with my toe, and I can tell you this – the sea has absolutely no respect for my toe, or its line.

Nothing about hidden disabilities obeys me either. On the short list, I have NO control over when moods come, which mood it is, how high or low it goes, how long it lasts, what triggers it, how my loved ones respond, whether doctors can help, if or which meds work, what others think, what damage is done. That’s why I love this verse. No matter what I feel, it is never true that everything is out of control. God sets bolts and doors and boundaries on what is happening in my life. Period. A friend says it best: God’s job is to create and control. My job is to trust and obey.

I think that’s why there is a wrinkled, stained quote beside my bed:

God’s sovereignty is the pillow on which I rest my head. (Corrie ten Boom)

NOT in control,

Joan

Filed Under: Bipolar Disorder, Change, Family, God's presence, Gratitude, Hope, Marriage, Trust Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Thanksgiving (A Conversation with Cami)

November 25, 2011 By 1 Comment

As I tuck my 11-year-old Treasure into her loft bed, she looks down at me with those huge hazel eyes and says,

“Mom, I have so much to be thankful for this week.”

The Holy Spirit whispers, “Pay attention now.”

I say, “Tell me what you’re thankful for.”

Cami says, “Well, since growing up isn’t bothering me right now because I’ve decided to not think about what might happen in the future and I’m only going to live in today,” deep breath, “I don’t really have any problems right now.”

I smile and say, “It feels really good to not have any problems, doesn’t it?”

Cami says, “The only problem I have is that sometimes other people–you know, kids–think I’m weird.”

It grieves my heart when she says this. “How do you know they think you’re weird?”

She calmly says, “The way they look at me sometimes.” A pause; then, “But that’s okay. Even I think I’m weird.”

I have committed to speaking truth over my daughter to try to counteract all the lies.  I open my mouth and let the Truth fly. “Sweetness, you aren’t weird. You are unique, and God made you exactly the way you are for His purposes, which include showing His glory through you.”

Cami says, “I know, Mom. They think I’m weird in a crazy way, but I think I’m weird in a good way.”

It’s quiet for a beat while I listen for the Holy Spirit’s prompt of what to say next, how to encourage her, how to build her up.

I’m surprised at what I speak next. “You know what? People think I’m weird, too.”

Cami says, “But in a good way,” and smiles.

I say, “I like you. A whole lot.”

Cami smiles her beautiful smile.

I’m grateful to be living life with this Treasure of a girl. How blessed I am.

Counting my many blessings,
Cassandra

Filed Under: Communication, Encouragement, Forgiveness, Friends, Gratitude, growth, Holidays, Hope, Journey, Parenting, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , ,

Tribute

November 24, 2011 By 1 Comment

I ask Him for so much.

I am always begging for help. “Heal my brother of his cancer.” “Let his plane land safely.” “Keep the kids in their beds tonight.” “Give my Noah friends.” (“MY” Noah. As if he were ever truly mine.) I write this with a sailor’s knot of anxiety coiled tight in my chest. How will we afford the anniversary, three birthdays and Christmas that fall within six weeks of each other? HELP me, Lord. GIVE me guidance. MAKE it happen.

My day is full of supplication. It often lacks gratitude.

I am effusive with thanks when someone gives me something. Right on time with thank you notes and tokens. But when I cannot see His obvious hand, I neglect to recognize how He’s once again saved me from the precipice. I often fail to give Him the tribute He’s due.

Why? Because I cannot see past the miasma of my own worry. My eyes are clouded; they do not recognize His constant provision. Instead, I am focused on the troubles that swirl round my feet.

My son Noah, the consummate worrier, is paradoxically skilled with his thanks. The fretting is constant (a hallmark of his disability), but so is the thanks. Take, for instance, the tribute that adorns his room. “I cannot believe the Lord died on the cross – for me!” he had said that day. Gratitude flooded his soul, and he wrote:

Translation (he’s still learning to write after all): “I love my God. He sees me. He did die on that cross!”

“But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create.” (Isaiah 65:18). Rejoice forever. Be grateful always. Offer Him a tribute even when the clouds of adversity make the ground uncertain. We are, after all, not asked to watch the ground – rocky or smooth – but only the crook of the Shepherd up ahead.

So here is my tribute, my testimonial: the Lord has given me three beautiful children, a loving, committed husband, a roof over my head, a soft bed, clothes in my closet (many would argue, too many – but that’s another post), and food in the refrigerator. He’s given us knowledgeable doctors who are successfully treating my brother’s Lymphoma, my son’s autism, and my Behcet’s Disease. We’ve just paid off our second car. We have the love of family and friends. We are able to support the work of others in foreign and domestic fields as they spread the gospel. I am afforded opportunities to write and horseback ride (two of my great loves). Above this all, the Lord has paid the price for me, and claimed me as his own.

When it comes right down to it, I have all I could ever want.

Today, on Thanksgiving, I pray to remember HOW to pray: first, “Thank you.” And then, only then, “By the way, help me.”

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Courage, Encouragement, God's presence, Gratitude, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , , , , ,

On Baring My Soul

November 23, 2011 By 1 Comment

This Thanksgiving season, I am giving thanks to God for something I never could have possibly imagined would be a part of my life, more or less a saving grace for me.

This Thanksgiving season, as a Mom with a new full-time job, three children in elementary and middle school, and a husband home with a brain injury, I am thanking God for the world of pharmaceuticals that keep ME sane.

This is a strange post for me, and I recognize the variety of comments and judgments I am opening myself up to by writing about this.

I have always prided myself on being level-headed. I have always prided myself on being able to go through trials in a way that brings glory to God.  I have always prided myself on not needing medication to get through a crisis.  Well, as we all know, pride goes before a fall.

When I was thirty and my mother died, I walked through a heart-wrenching grief while clinging hard to God.  Six months later, when my dad was diagnosed with a very rare, deadly cancer, God upheld me and allowed me to maintain my faith. My faith was at the forefront of my life when, six months later, my husband was diagnosed with a shallow melanoma. And My faith was at its strongest when I was pregnant with our third child and Ben experienced 8 seizures in a row, spending four days in the hospital unconscious on a respirator and waking with almost no working memory.

But the crises have passed.  It’s now almost eight years since Ben’s seizures left him unable to remember even the simplest moments of our life together.

And after years of struggling to always be the one to keep things together, after years of being everyone’s caregiver, I have found that my body and my soul are worn out.

Stress is no longer something I can control through meditation, eating right, or exercise.  Sleep is no longer something I can rely on; nor can I escape into it when life becomes too much.  Anxiety borne out of life’s trials and the knowledge that God does not promise to shield us FROM trials (although He does promise to walk with us THROUGH them) has become a constant theme in my life.

My anxiety requires medication.  My depression requires medication.  Think what you will.  I know I would have judged someone in my position.  But these medications stop the flood of fear and anger and frustration that swirl around in my mind and in my body, and they allow me to get to a point where I can quietly and humbly turn to God and read His word.

And this year, at Thanksgiving, that is truly a lot to thank Him for.

Filed Under: Anxiety, Depression, Medication Tagged With: , ,

The ABCs of Church Responses to Families with Hidden Disabilities

November 22, 2011 By Leave a Comment

Here are the thoughts of our bloggers on what the Church can do to help families with hidden disabilities.  I couldn’t decide between some of them so there are more than one for some letters.  Add your thoughts also.  This will be fun to build.

Affirm the positive.

Babysit so the parents can have a break.

Call to encourage.

Dare to believe God. Defend them to others. Don’t compartmentalize the “spiritual” and “neurological.”

Empathize.

Forgive when a person with a disability causes you pain or discomfort.  Fellowship with them.

Grieve with them.

Hug them.

Invest time.  Initiate conversation.

Join them in the pew.

Keep an open mind.

Love on them.  Laugh with them.

Make a meal (check for food sensitivities.)

Never simplify the complex.

Open your eyes to see as God sees.  Offer sibling support groups.

Pray.

Quicken your heart to kindness.  Quick to listen.

Respect a journey you do not walk.  Research common hidden disabilities.

Smile.

Tolerate atypical behaviors.  Tell them they are doing a good job. Tell their child he is loved.

Understand how little you understand.

Volunteer your services (accounting, handy man, car repair.)

Withhold judgment.  Wrap an arm around a shoulder.

eXpect setbacks as well as victories.  eXamine your expectations.

Yield up your expectations of “normal.”

Zip your lip of gossip and critical speech.

Filed Under: Church Response, pastor/clergy Tagged With: ,

The Silliness of Street Cred

November 21, 2011 By Leave a Comment

As a counselor, God has given me the privilege of ministering to individuals afflicted with various types of struggles. One common problem that I see often is that of addiction. In working with people struggling with addiction, I have learned that no one can capture the addict’s devotion like a former addict. Since I have no history of addiction, I sometimes encounter addicts who would prefer to see other counselors. Earlier in my counseling career, this used to offend me because I felt that I had the answers if I could only get an audience. Generally though, the problem was that I simply did not have any “street cred” with addicts. I remember thinking, “I can’t believe the selfishness in these people! How dare they say that I can’t help them just because I don’t know what it is like to be an addict!?”

Fast forward to life after Fletcher’s autism diagnosis. Now, I find myself sitting with friends listening to them talk about their struggles. For example, Suzy can’t believe that her daughter didn’t make cheerleader. Joe is worried about his son not being accepted at Harvard and Phyllis can’t bear the thought of her child being overlooked for next month’s mission trip to Myrtle Beach. Depending on my mood, I often find myself thinking, “Who are these people? They’re talking about all of these ‘horrible’ things mean while, I’m still trying to recover from my 3:00 a.m. cleaning of the remnants of one of Fletch’s dirty diapers from the walls of his room! These people just don’t get it!”

At first glance it would seem that these people do not have any street cred with me. As I examine my reaction to them more closely, I realize that I have more in common with the addict than I have with my friends. The only difference is that the addict is more open and honest about his struggle than I am about mine. Despite this difference, the addict and I do share a common heart problem: pride. Instead of singing, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, nobody knows my sorrow,” perhaps it would be helpful to turn to someone who could offer me a clearer perspective on my troubling affliction.

Puritan pastor Richard Sibbes surgically slices into my shortcoming when he writes:

“A humble heart is a vessel of all graces … It doth better the soul and make it holy, for the soul is never fitter for God than when it is humbled … [A] humble heart hath in it a spiritual emptiness. Humility emptieth the heart for God to fill it” (p. 51).

As I think about Suzy, Joe, and Phyllis, I must understand that their pain is real. How can I expect them to understand my sorrows until I have loved them enough to understand theirs? I cannot cleanse their wounds of suffering if my heart is a spring of selfishness. With that said, Sibbes now confronts me with two possible heart-states, one of which I must choose:

“The proud swelling heart, that is full of ambition, high conceits, and self-dependence, will not endure to have God to enter; but he dwells largely and easily in the heart of an humble man” (p. 51).

Perhaps instead of swelling my heart by dwelling on my circumstances, I should try to lance my pain by seeing Suzy, Joe, and Phyllis through the eyes of Christ. Maybe I should stop worrying about them having street cred with me and start focusing on me having Christ cred with them. How can this be done? There are three simple steps that I must practice if I want to develop Christ cred:

1. Look to the interest of others (Phil. 2: 4)

2. Labor to think of others as Christ thinks of them (Phil. 2:5)

3. Love them by sacrificially serving them in their times of need (Phil. 2:8)

As I follow this path, the putrid pride in my heart will give way to flowing streams of grace and mercy that will not only glorify God, but will honor my son by conforming his father into a man who will one day be worthy of the title “Fletcher’s Dad.” For now though, I must go. I must fervently begin praying for Suzy, Joe, and Phyllis because they need the comfort of Christ much more than I do during this dark time in their lives.

~ Todd

Sibbes, R. (1983). Works of Richard Sibbes, volume six. Edinburgh, UK: Banner of Truth Trust.

Filed Under: Autism, Confession, humility, Parenting, pastor/clergy, Prayer, Relationships Tagged With: , , , , ,

Flying Lessons, the Hard Way

November 20, 2011 By Leave a Comment

 

Why Daniel needs to leave home after high school:  Even Eagles Need a Push

 

Danz Mom~

Peggy

 

Filed Under: Parenting Tagged With:
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