Look straight ahead,
and fix your eyes on what lies before you.
Mark out a straight path for your feet;
stay on the safe path.
Don’t get sidetracked;
keep your feet from following evil.
For Your Walk
June 18, 2013 By Leave a Comment
Paying It Forward
June 16, 2013 By 1 Comment
One of the things I love about our state’s yearly homeschooling conference is the sense of community I feel with total strangers. Whether it’s shopping for curriculum, waiting in line, or sitting at lunch, more times than not, conversations spring up about our common denominator: our children and how to teach them. Someone asks their friends a question, and someone else speaks up with an answer. Within a few sentences, homeschooling parents are sharing their tricks of the trade with each other. I love it.
In the past, I’ve been on the receiving end of this wonderful gift of encouragement which God provides through the homeschooling community. This year, however, God surprised me with an opportunity to give that gift away.
Several conference attendees were waiting for an afternoon session to start. The woman sitting near me was arranging her papers and handouts in her bag. I saw the word “preschool” on one of her papers, so I guessed. “Are you just starting to homeschool?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I saw the word preschool on your handout,” I said. We struck up a conversation in which we found more common ground: our children are struggling learners with one or more learning differences. Both of our kids have auditory processing glitches, which means that the neurotypical way most people’s brains receive information through their hearing doesn’t work for our kids. Isn’t it funny how finding someone else who struggles with the same thing you wrestle with makes you feel “normal”?
This new-to-homeschooling mom then asked me the big question: “What curriculum did you use when you were first starting out?”
I chuckled a bit. If you’ve read about how we arrived at our homeschooling destination, you’ll understand why I chuckled. My honest answer surprised even me. “You know, we never really used a particular curriculum. We just played a lot. We played in the sand, and dug in the dirt, and watched frogs in the grass.” As I turned toward her, this passion came over me that I didn’t know I had. The next words that came out of my mouth I believe comprise my homeschooling manifesto.
“Our job as homeschooling moms,” I told her, “is to teach our children to love to learn. And to love Jesus. And to love themselves and others. If we teach them to love learning, they’ll want to learn about Jesus. And when they learn about Jesus, they’ll love others as a byproduct of their love for Jesus. So really, our only responsibility is to teach our kids to love to learn.”
Wow. That sounds professional, doesn’t it? I really believe it’s true. My heart was gushing over with encouragement for this precious mom. I just wanted her to know it was all going to be all right, even if she didn’t know the answers right now.
After the session, I gave her my contact information and asked her to email me. I want to continue to encourage her, to love her with my words of support like so many homeschooling moms have loved me with their words of support. And even if I don’t hear from her, I know God is continuously placing others around me who need His encouragement and comfort—which He’s already given me.
I just have to pass it on by opening my eyes and paying attention, opening my heart and letting Him lead me, and opening my mouth and speaking His truth. So I’m throwing my fear to the curb with all the other garbage, and I’m paying it {His love, mercy, grace, courage, confidence} forward.
All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, He brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of His healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too.
When we suffer for Jesus, it works out for your healing and salvation. If we are treated well, given a helping hand and encouraging word, that also works to your benefit, spurring you on, face forward, unflinching. Your hard times are also our hard times. When we see that you’re just as willing to endure the hard times as to enjoy the good times, we know you’re going to make it, no doubt about it. (The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 1:2-7, The Message)
Won’t you join me? Is there someone around you who needs God’s encouragement? What comfort can you offer to them? Share with them a word or a verse that God has used to spur you on in hard times. Pray with them, and pray for them. Let them know they aren’t alone.
Grateful for the community on this journey,
Candi
Contact: cassandra@chosenfamilies.org
For Your Worry
June 10, 2013 By Leave a Comment
And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, He will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?
So don’t worry about these things, saying, “What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?” These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and He will give you everything you need.
So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.
Jesus, in Matthew 6:30-34
Invisible Needs
June 9, 2013 By 2 Comments
I’m attending the yearly homeschooling convention for my state this weekend. The workshops in past years have been encouraging and helpful, so I’m excited about this year’s experience. I’m also hoping to purchase some curriculum at the Used Curriculum Sale.
For the first time in a very long time, I’m away from home by myself. I thought it would be peaceful and soul-restoring, and it is. But it’s also jarring in some ways. I’m surprised by how hungry for community I really am.
I’ve seen many fellow church members, and that’s always fun. I’ve had two conversations with different people whom I love but just don’t see that often. With a church as big as ours (four services), it’s easy to miss people. I had dinner with an acquaintance whom I’m excited to get to know better. Our kids, both the same age, have similar struggles. In fact, we discovered by comparing notes that although we both homeschool now, our children attended the same public school kindergarten, in classrooms next to each other, eight years ago. Small world; and my, how time flies when you’re having fun!
During the course of our conversation, my friend used a phrase that’s been echoing in my head: “invisible needs.” True confession time: I’ve never been totally okay with the phrase “hidden disabilities.” I don’t think any of us are. I’ve heard the status referred to as “special abilities” before, which sits a little better on my conscience, but still the word “special” denotes singled out, set apart, not “normal” (as if being special is an undesirable thing). Yet, as Shannon wrote previously, the term “hidden disabilities” is helpful when trying to secure services and accommodations for our family members. So I live with it.
When my friend talked about her son and his “invisible needs,” I thought that term was brilliant. We all have needs, every single one of us. It’s also true that for every one of us, not all of our needs are immediately visible, even to ourselves. The term “invisible needs” includes everyone.
I think that’s why I like it so much.
Wanting everyone to belong,
Candi
Contact: cassandra@chosenfamilies.org
Counting the Moments
June 2, 2013 By Leave a Comment
I’ve spent today looking through envelopes and envelopes of pictures. Back in March when we were visiting Cami’s great-grandparents, I noticed two personalized engraved photo albums on the shelf at their house, one album each for their oldest great-grandchildren: Cami (first great-granddaughter) and her cousin (first great-grandson), who were born three months apart. The keepsake albums were empty, so I brought them home with me to fill them with pictures.
I noticed two things when looking through my envelopes of pictures:
1. Cami screamed a lot.
(I used to take her picture when she was pitching an I’m-not-getting-my-way fit. She’d pull herself together right quick, and it redirected her attention away from whatever it was she was having a fit about. Maybe that’s why there are many pictures of Cami screaming.)
2. Cami laughed a lot. So did I.
Seriously, when I think back to the times documented in those pictures, I remember how much this child made me giggle. Yes, I remember the times when I called Michael at work and said, “Come home now. I am losing my mind.” But I remember in more vivid detail the days when we sat on the carpet and played, when we walked all over our neighborhood seeing what we could see, when Cami would discover something new that I’d never noticed before and we celebrated together. When I show Cami pictures of her younger years, there are many more hilarity-filled moments to recount than angst-filled ones. What a wonderful gift.
If you are currently in the midst of angst-filled moments, please know: they won’t all be that way. Jesus walks with you in every moment, and He has plans to prosper you—and your loved ones—and not to harm you. His plans are for your future and a hope. He promised (Jeremiah 29:11), so you can count on it.
Even if right now, your days are one hard thing after another, take a deep breath and lean into His care. Ask Him to give you some giggles in the midst of the angst. And when He does, take a picture. Make a note of those Jesus-filled moments so that one day, years from now, you’ll have a record of His glory in the midst of the chaos.
Counting on His new mercies every day,
Candi
Let’s Shift Again Like We Did Last Summer
May 26, 2013 By Leave a Comment
This week, I received the most frightening email I think I’ve ever read:
Yep. My girl’s moving up to the youth group at church.
We’ve been talking about the shift that’s looming, asking Cami what she thinks about it. Mostly, she just shrugs her shoulders, which usually means she either doesn’t know what she thinks, or she doesn’t know what we’re wanting her answer to be. Tonight at dinner, I think we determined that she doesn’t know what to expect from youth group, so she’s not sure what to think. She’s more like her dad when it comes to handling unknown expectations: they look forward to the adventure, and they’ll decide what they think about it when they get into the middle of it.
I wish I looked at unknown expectations that way. I tend to invent terrible scenarios in my head and expect the worst, guaranteeing that the actual experience can only be better than what I’ve imagined. I’m still working on changing that tendency.
My middle school experience (we called it “junior high school” back then) composes some of my most painful memories. That doesn’t mean this season will be painful for Cami. As my sweet friend Holly reminded me a few weeks back, Cami is not me. Her life path is already drastically different than mine was at her age, if for no other reason than she’s homeschooled.
Still…
Y’all please pray for us in the month of June. Our little family will be navigating some hidden, but huge, changes. And this momma is apprehensive and excited, terrified and hopeful, all in the same breath.
Counting on Jesus and expecting great things from Him,
Candi
Lessons From the Garden
May 19, 2013 By 1 Comment
I have this crazy idea: I’m growing my own fruit and vegetables. Instead of the weekly discouragement in the grocery store (too expensive, too ripe, not ripe enough, what did they spray on it, how have they re-engineered it, etc.), I can play in the dirt and feed us healthy, whole food with less expense and angst. No food dyes, no additives, no sugar, chemicals, or preservatives. I come from a long line of farmers on both sides of my family tree, so why not?
Last fall, Michael built a place for me to grow things—lots of things—in our suburban townhome {small} backyard. And God isn’t wasting this opportunity. While He has me alone out there in the sun, with my hands busy and my mind focused, He’s teaching me deep truth, truth that translates to various and sundry places in my life, especially the places affected by hidden disabilities.
Lessons I’m Learning In the Garden
1. Take time to find your rhythm.
Gardening isn’t like cooking a meal; when growing food, having everything ready at the same time can be counterproductive. Depending on the crop, there’s an appropriate season for planting and a best time of day for harvesting. Staggering planting times provides a better chance that produce will continuously be available. Planting with intention helps the crops to last through the growing season.
With Cami, although we try valiantly, we often fail at following a schedule. Some days, our ideal schedule comes to fruition: school in the morning, lunch on time, chores accomplished, tired when it’s actually bedtime. Other days, we set aside our ideal schedule and finish reading that exciting book, spend time playing with friends, and take dinner to our pregnant neighbor. Mostly, we’ve learned to find the rhythm in our lives and to move with the wind as it blows—without becoming uprooted. We trust that Jesus is directing that rhythm, and it’s safe to dance with Him.
2. Pay attention.
Plants give warning signals when things are out of balance for their growth. If the beans grow tall and bushy but aren’t producing many beans, their soil probably needs more nutrients. If the cilantro and parsley leaves turn yellow, they probably are being watered too often. Last year, in one evening, a single hornworm ate my one-and-only tomato plant in its entirety. This year, I’m checking the tomato plants daily for any signs of chewage.
As Cami moves into adolescence, her sensory integration struggles and her hormones make for some interesting combinations. As she grows taller and her limbs grow longer, her growth spurts and her vestibular challenges make walking hard for her to navigate. She stumbles a lot. She often steps on the back of my heels. When I pay close attention, I see her struggling to judge how long her arms are, how long her legs are, how far to step forward in order to walk with me and not step on me. I can’t “fix” the awkward stages in her growth, but I can help her understand them, navigate them, and learn to be patient with herself.
3. Spread out.
Young plants need room to spread out and grow stronger. For seeds, being lumped together is a productive place to be. There comes a time, though, when seedlings need to be thinned out so the baby plants have room to grow into strong adult plants. This might mean one row of lettuce turns into three. Let me tell you: thinning out lettuce is tedious work. Sproutlings are tender and crush easily, but giving each lettuce sprout enough room to grow will yield many more healthy heads of lettuce.
I have to let Cami go more often now, and it’s tough for this momma. She needs to spread out, to try more open spaces, and I need to let her. The time for my holding her close to me and being her buffer is drawing to a close. It’s time for me to let her stand out, to be different in a crowd without trying to shield her from how that feels.
4. Find your niche, then bloom there.
Boundaries are not only beneficial, sometimes they’re downright necessary. Each plant has needs specific to its growth and productivity. Some plants need lots of sun and not much water. Other plants need to stay cool and moist. Planting crops with differing needs in the same space impedes their growth and fruitfulness. As we establish our garden, I need to keep each plant’s needs in mind and place it in the garden accordingly if I want it to produce good fruit.
All along the way in this journey, there have been places, people, and activities that just don’t fit us as a family. I used to feel guilty about that, like I was being exclusive, or intolerant, or snobby. Now I see: we’re all made for different places and different things. God anoints my family to walk and serve in places no one else walks and serves. That isn’t less; it’s His more.
5. When you need more room, think up.
There’s limited growing room in our roughly 16′ x 12′ planting space. The crops we’re growing—especially the zucchini, squash, eggplant, strawberries, and beans—need room to sprawl. In order for them to bear a good crop, we need to give them room. Because our spreading room is limited, my husband and I are researching different ways we can garden vertically.
Michael and I don’t always know how to provide enough room for Cami’s growing. In those many, many times, we stay on our knees and think up: God made her; He understands her; we ask Him to make room for her. And every time, He does. And the space He provides fits her just right. Unconventional as the growing solution often looks, it always gets the job done.
The first strawberry from our garden, Mother’s Day, 2013
17So Isaac left there, camped in the valley of Gerar, and lived there. 18Isaac reopened the water wells that had been dug in the days of his father Abraham and that the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham died. He gave them the same names his father had given them. 19Moreover, Isaac’s slaves dug in the valley and found a well of spring water there. 20But the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen and said, “The water is ours!” So he named the well Quarrel because they quarreled with him. 21Then they dug another well and quarreled over that one also, so he named it Hostility. 22He moved from there and dug another, and they did not quarrel over it. He named it Open Spaces and said, “For now the Lord has made room for us, and we will be fruitful in the land.” (from Genesis 26, HCSB)
Hoping your Church Day is filled with springs and open spaces,
Candi
Why I Love Being Cami’s Mom
May 12, 2013 By Leave a Comment
1 Oh, what joy for those
whose disobedience is forgiven,
whose sin is put out of sight!
2 Yes, what joy for those
whose record the Lord has cleared of guilt,
whose lives are lived in complete honesty!
(from Psalm 32, NLT)
This Mother’s Day Eve, as I think about what to post that will both express our lives authentically and encourage you wherever you are in your life, I’m tempted to just post a scripture and be done with it. After all, what can I possibly add to the many blog posts floating around out there about Mother’s Day? (See the bottom of this post for a few of my favorite links for the “holiday.”)
Yet, God won’t let me stay comfortable this evening. While it’s true that God’s Word is always the best thing to say in any situation, I feel His encouragement this evening to include some of my own vulnerability. As I try to write about Mother’s Day, I think about all of us who dread this second Sunday in May. My heart is heavy for all of us who are so tired and worn that calling attention to the reason for our tiredness and worn-ness is the last thing we want.
Some of us find it hard to celebrate being a mother when being a mother is so hard.
I remember how my heart broke every Mother’s Day that marked another year of my infertility. While I love and appreciate my own mom, I found it difficult to feel grateful on Mother’s Day when my heart felt so empty and abandoned. I understood Hannah’s grief first-hand: “Crushed in soul, Hannah prayed to God and cried and cried—inconsolably” (1 Samuel 1:10 in The Message).
And then it happened. All the prayers and all the waiting and and all the infertility treatments finally worked: I was pregnant! You’d think I would’ve felt elated, right? After waiting for so long and trying so hard and crying so much, I felt two things: relieved and terrified.
I was relieved that I was finally pregnant, that I was finally going to experience my lifelong dream of being a mommy.
I was terrified that I was finally pregnant, that I was finally going to experience my lifelong dream of being a mommy.
I remember, after the phone call from the doctor with the good news, lying on the couch and begging God, “Please. Let it be real this time. Let it be okay. Please, Lord, let this baby be healthy. I can’t handle having a child with special needs.”
Oh, yes, I did. I prayed that prayer. And I believed it, too: I could only handle so much, and special needs were not in my repertoire. My mom had worked for years with physically and mentally handicapped children, and I’d recognized my own inability to connect with her students. It upset me so much to be around her students that I would visit her at work only after school hours, only after all the students had been dismissed and bussed home. Looking back on that immature, selfish, high-school me, I see now that my angst wasn’t really about those students. My angst was about a seemingly-loving God Who allowed such (as I perceived it) struggle and heartache. I know now how much joy and blessing I missed by not connecting with those kids.
I sit here this evening realizing that, among all the other struggles and blessings that they are, Cami’s hidden disabilities provide the God-given do-over for this selfish heart of mine. Time after time, I reach the end of my know-how, the end of all my teacher-training, all my intelligent assumptions, and I’m left with no idea what to try next with my girl. And time after time, God meets me in my insufficiency and proves Himself to be my El Shaddai, my All-Sufficient One, my Strength-Giver, my One Who is mighty to nourish and satisfy. Time after time, when I run to the Maker of my precious daughter, He shows me what to do and how to do it.
Mother’s Day feels a little like arriving at an art-gallery opening where the featured Artist hands me His most prized canvas and says, “Here. Sign your name to it.” And I say, “But all I’ve done is admire Your work and paint where You’ve told me.” And He says, “I know. It’s My gift to you.” It feels out of sync to be celebrated as the mom when I can’t take any credit for the beauty my girl is. God has done it all.
So I’ll do what I’ve done for almost 13 years now: I’ll enjoy the masterpiece that is my daughter and treasure the gift that she is to me.
I’m the one who is so stinking blessed.
*A few of my favorite links about mothering:
♥ Lisa Leonard’s When I Became a Mother on (in)courage’s blog
♥ Lisa-Jo Baker’s beautiful Mighty Mom video and printable
♥ Lisa-Jo’s Tired Mother’s Creed printable
♥ One more Lisa-Jo post: The (Real Life) Dictionary Definition of “Mother”
♥ Ann Voskamp’s Why Mother’s Day Is For the Birds
Praying you take time to breathe in El Shaddai’s love and grace.
He is all you need.
Candi
Lessons from a Scarecrow
May 5, 2013 By 3 Comments
Meet one of my scarecrows. His name is Eddie.*
Eddie the Scarecrow
Eddie is a motion-sensitive sprinkler. When something moves in the garden, like birds or critters, Eddie spouts off. He varies the patterns and duration of his spray each time, to keep his air of mystery—and to keep the birds and critters guessing.
Eddie has a sensitivity knob. His motion detecting can go from a 1 (least sensitive) to a 10 (the wind blows, and he spurts). A sensitivity setting of about a 7½ is sufficient for our tiny garden. So far, Eddie’s doing a great job. I haven’t seen any squirrel-dug holes in the raised beds recently.
Eddie’s sensitivity doesn’t encompass the entire back yard, tiny as it is, so he has a partner. Franco* keeps an eye out from the opposite corner of the yard. Franco is a motion-sensitive sprinkler just like Eddie, with a sensitivity knob and the same job to do: protect the garden from unwelcome intruders.
You’d think both Eddie and Franco’s sensitivity knobs should be set at the same number, right? (Here’s where the scarecrows have been schooling me.) Eddie guards the part of the yard closest to the house, away from the trees behind our fence. Franco guards the part of the yard near the back fence, where the trees’ leaves and branches frequently fall. There’s also a wind chime that hangs almost directly over Franco’s head. Franco’s corner of the yard experiences more movement than Eddie’s does, so Franco’s sensitivity knob needs to be set to a slightly different level than Eddie’s sensitivity knob. By trial and error, we’ve found the best setting for both scarecrow sprinklers, and the garden is well guarded.
The scarecrows Eddie and Franco remind me of my husband and me as we parent our daughter. Michael’s sensitivity knob sits at a different setting than mine does. There are times when I jump to alarm at every little nonverbal cue I think Cami might be giving and I end up hovering (yes, I am a recovering helicopter mom). Just the same, there are times when Michael misses the subtext in Cami’s body language and her feelings end up hurt or misunderstood. Each of us have different approaches and bring different filters to our family life together. We don’t always get it right. Through trial and error, though, we’re getting it right many more times than we’re messing it up. Cami needs both of us, even when our sensitivity knobs are at different settings. Together, we make a good team.
Looking forward to a bountiful harvest,
Candi
*Michael named the scarecrow sprinklers. Just sayin’.
Contact: cassandra@chosenfamilies.org
The Right Size
April 28, 2013 By Leave a Comment
As far back as I can remember, I’ve thought of myself as overweight. Indeed, for many years, I have been overweight. Last summer, I embarked on a journey to reach the weight which God designed my body to carry. I’m well on my way in losing the extra poundage. (Thank You, Jesus!) In this current season of my life, as I discover what my true body type is, and what styles best suit my physical frame, I’ve discovered another curious thing:
For much of my life, I’ve been content to wear clothes that are too big for me.
Today, for the first time in literally years, I put on an extra-large-sized t-shirt. And it was just a little too big! I have to tell you: the shirts in my closet in recent years have run as large as a 4X. And honestly, I’m not sure I was ever that large.
I just thought I was. Other people in my life affirmed that assessment of myself that I’d made. Overweight people wear plus sizes; I’m overweight; therefore, I must wear a 4X. Those big shirts hid my actual shape and, I dare say, made me look heavier than I actually was. But I wore them because I believed they were what I should wear.
As my body shape changes, wearing the right-sized clothes takes getting used to. I have to make a mental adjustment to my pants snugly fitting me and my shirts showing off my waistline. I don’t have adequate words to describe to you the freedom I’m finding as I give away the too-big shirts and purchase the fits-me-like-a-t clothes that are populating my closet now. I feel beautiful for maybe the first time in my life.
In the same way, finding the right fit for my daughter, and discovering the right size for our family, has transformed the way we do life. I shared with you awhile back the clothing hoops we jump through in order to accommodate Cami’s sensory struggles. Yet the fit I’m talking about here is in her environments, in her activities, in her friendships, in her transitions. Sometimes, it takes a major shift to find where Cami fits and what works for her. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a little tweak here and there in the status quo. Every time, it takes paying attention and being brave enough to say, “This isn’t working. Let’s try something different.”
My friend Betsy used to describe it as being a student of my child. She used to tell me that Cami’s learning glitches—the dyspraxia, the dyslexia, and sensory processing disorders (vestibular, visual, and auditory)—were gifts from God because they made me slow down and pay attention to my girl. She was right. When we pulled her out of public school kindergarten all those years ago, we took time—time for Cami to heal from the traumas at school, and time for us to figure out who we were and what worked best for our family. We took time to discover the right fit for all of us.
We stopped looking at Cami as a problem to correct and instead embraced her as a puzzle to solve, an intricate, sometimes frustrating but always fascinating treasure to unlock. God forced Michael and I to take Cami out of the box the benchmarks and growth charts and child development books tried to keep her in. He helped us turn our girl loose in an open field and say, “Go be who you are. Let’s see what happens!” What we’ve discovered is this amazing human being who loves God with all her heart, loves other people in a truly selfless way, and loves to learn. We’re also discovering how to look at each other the same way we look at Cami.
We’ve stepped out of the trap of “supposed to be.” We’ve stopped comparing our family and our rhythm of life to other families around us. We’re finding the right fit for us. It isn’t easy. Sometimes, it’s downright chaotic. But every millimeter of the journey is worth it because we’re following Jesus, and I have to tell you: our family is brimming with life. Our hearts are settled and at peace with Him and with each other. We genuinely like each other!
As parents and caregivers, we must be careful—and intentional—to allow our loved ones to be who God created them to be. He made them fearfully and wonderfully, seeing them as His masterpieces, His beautiful, glorious works of art. He made us all that way, infusing us with His image. We are all different. It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true. Each one of us has a unique fingerprint, a unique DNA sequence, even a unique ear shape! God takes such great care to craft us each unique from anyone else. So why do we spend so much time and effort trying to look like everyone else? be like everyone else? do life like everyone else?
Be brave enough this week to ask Jesus to show you the right size and fit for your family. Just ask Him. And when you ask Him, be ready for the most amazing discoveries you could ever imagine.
Now glory be to God! By His mighty power at work within us, He is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope. Ephesians 3:20, NLT
Flattening boxes of fear and expectations, dancing in fields of grace,
Candi
Contact: cassandra@chosenfamilies.org
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