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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.

Glamour Cami

BananaMama

kitchen drawer

ScooterPootin Blues

StaticHair

scooterpoot on her scooter

Beautiful Girls Easter 2007

Christmas 2008

sams

Me and my girl

trampoline rocker

DC Adventurer

wind

IMAG1581

bookstore

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IMAG0590

Luray

atlantic girls

2 girls

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

Filed Under: Confession, Parenting Tagged With: ,

By Any Other Name

January 13, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I have a confession to make.

Y’all—sharers here in this community—are the only people who know me as “Cassandra.”

Well, y’all and the people at the bank. And my parents.

My mother wanted to name me “Cassandra Michelle” because she read it somewhere and thought it was a beautiful, powerful name. When discussing the beautiful, powerful name with her mother and her sisters, they said, “That name’s too long. It needs to be shorter.”

So, my mom says, she “gave in” and said, “Fine, then. Her name will be Cassandra Jo.”

After I was born, my aunts wanted to call me “Cassy” for two reasons: it was shorter than “Cassandra,” and everyone in our family had a nickname. My parents didn’t like the name “Cassy,” which created a quandary for the women-folk. My grandmother decided the matter:

“We’ll call her ‘Candi.’ What else are you gonna call nine pounds of sugar?”

So, my confession to you is this: most of the world knows me as “Candi.”

When I first began blogging here in this community, I was given the option to blog anonymously or as myself. I guess I chose something in between the two. Only now, I’m not comfortable writing as only “Cassandra.” I feel like I’m keeping a secret.

I’ve wondered many times why my given name was such an anathema to me. (My husband, reading over my shoulder, says, “Anathema? Really? Like it was the worst possible thing that could happen to you? Your name?”)

Yes. When the teacher called the roll on the first day of school, and she said, “Cassandra” with my last name, I would quickly correct her—”Um, it’s Candi”—and want to hide under my desk.

I don’t know why that is.

So here I am, approaching 50 years old, and I’m still tussling with my first name. Cassandra, or Candi? I didn’t choose either for myself. Of course, the burning struggle underneath the seemingly unimportant question is “Who am I really?” I have lots of names: wife, mom, sister, writer, reader, musician, genealogist, teacher, friend, neighbor, Cassandra, Candi…the list can go on if I think hard enough. I think of them as hats I wear. Some hats can be worn simultaneously. Others, not so much. Sometimes I feel like I’m wearing so many hats that if I put one more on my head, they will either all come crashing down around me, or the sheer weight on my head will unbalance me and topple me over.

Too many names and not enough being.

I’m waiting with anticipation to see what name Jesus gives me, the name engraved on the white stone He will give me, the name only He and I will understand (see Revelation 2:17).

Until then, you can call me Candi. Or Cassandra. Or, as Cami’s best friend calls me, “Mrs. Cami’s Mom.” Any of those will do.

They all mean me.

Filed Under: Confession Tagged With: ,

Confession is good for the soul

November 20, 2012 By 2 Comments

Joan’s piece last week on “Confession and Compassion” really spoke to me.  And I was reminded of the prompt in James 5:16 to “… confess your sins one to another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed.”  I don’t think this passage is talking about only physical healing.  With these things in mind, and the hope that perhaps my confession may protect some of you, I want to share something the Lord showed me recently.

I think most of you know I am a Southern Baptist preacher’s kid.  During my teen years we lived in the coolest parsonage.  A wealthy man in the church donated his home to be our home.  We lived in (are you sitting down?) an 8,000 square foot home with an indoor swimming pool, pool table room, closets as big as many of my bedrooms since, and a basketball area, among other things.  Yeh, it was cool.

So our home was the hangout place for all the kids.  Most every Friday and Saturday night we would have a dozen kids at our house, playing pool inside, playing basketball outside, eating Mama’s chocolate sheet cake and cheese slab… you get the picture.

A number of years ago, as we were preparing to enter the teen years of our sons, I was looking around at our home.  It was a fine home but there was no “hang out” place like I always had growing up.  I really thought we needed that kind of place to feed the social atmosphere for our boys.

Understand that our son with hidden disabilities really struggles socially and, as a social creature myself, I thought we just needed to create that place kids wanted to come and it would be better. I also thought some of the emotional volatility of our home would be reduced if we were not on top of each other so much – if we had a little more space to breath.

O.k., you see where I am going but work with me.  It all made perfect sense then….

So we prayed and looked and prayed and looked some more and decided to buy that larger home with the basement for a hangout.

Now understand that at the time I was working full time in a great job that was flying high.  We were going gangbusters and there was every reason to believe we would continue.  Financially we could totally swing it.

12 months later I had left that job and have been contracting from home since.  Contracting works better for our family needs in many ways because it allows more freedom to balance work and home.  It also allowed me to invest time and energy in founding this ministry; but it is less predictable and less stable.

We tried to sell our house this year and didn’t even get a nibble.  But during that period I spent much time in prayer about it.  The Lord showed me I misunderstood two things that had affected that choice unwisely.

First, I misunderstood my own teen experience.  The reality was that me and my sisters were fun and had many friends.  Our friends didn’t come to our home because it was cool (not that it hurt) but they came because we were there.

Second, I realized that no matter what kind of home we live in, our son with hidden disabilities is going to struggle socially.

The third piece of the puzzle – the emotional volatility DID improve – but frankly, for all I know that was just the result of our boys’ maturing – it might not have anything to do with more space.

I will never forget the day these things became clear.  I sat and wept and asked God to forgive me for trying to manage our struggles in an unwise way.  From the outside looking in, many might think it was about materialism.  Truly I don’t believe it was.  But it WAS about trying to control things that were out of my control.  That is no less sinful.

I share all of this with you, my mostly younger Mom friends out there, to encourage you to make better choices than we did.

Don’t get me wrong.  We are blessed by our home.  It is beautiful and spacious.  But it results in a level of financial pressure that is not optimal.  It means I have to juggle contract work, Chosen Families, and family.  We continue to pray for God to deliver us in His time.  For now, we are living with the consequences of the choice.

I feel a little silly in bearing this all publically.  But if it keeps just one family from making a similar mistake then it will be worth it.  So I confess this to you all in hopes you will learn from my foolish choices.  And any prayers you want to pray as a result will be welcome.

Warmly,

Shannon

Filed Under: Confession

The Autism Dad: The Danger of Becoming Insular

November 19, 2012 By 2 Comments

We’ve all met the Autism Dad or Mom. Maybe we’ve even been that person.

The Autism Dad (or insert your disease or disorder) is the type of person who can only think about and talk about autism. Every time you see him he wants to talk about a new therapy or group or school or whatever. His Facebook statuses vary between the sappy story to the empowering quote about…autism. You notice his car instantly because it is covered in autism bumper stickers, puzzle-piece magnet ribbons, and your state’s autism specialty license plate.

Autism has become his thing. He has assimilated it into his identity. He is, after all, the Autism Dad.

Hebrews 13:1 says, “Let brotherly love continue” (ESV). The author of Hebrews transitions so abruptly from the main argument (Heb 1-12) to his final instructions (Heb 13) that many liberal scholars have argued that chapter 13 was just tacked on to the original by a later editor. While I don’t believe that to be the case, we must admit that the author slams on the brakes when he goes directly from “our God is a consuming fire” to “let brotherly love continue,” especially considering that chapter and verse divisions were not added until over a thousand years later (Heb 12:29-13:1).

Nonetheless, the command the author gives flows naturally from his argument and has special application for those of us suffering through the trials of hidden disabilities. The original recipients of the letter–Jewish Christians–were suffering for their faith in Jesus Christ, and they were tempted to alleviate their suffering by re-assimilating into the legal religion of Judaism. The author warned his readers to continue in faith because the Son is greatly superior to the old covenant and there is no salvation apart from him.

People typically begin to reject Christ and return to their former lifestyle by first neglecting to meet together with their church (Heb 10:25a). The author contrasts this neglect of church participation with “encouraging one another” (Heb 10:25b). When people suffer, they tend to grow insular. They begin to focus almost entirely on themselves in order to survive the suffering.

I notice this tendency in myself, and it scares me. I fear that I might slowly be transforming into the Autism Dad. People kindly ask about us and give of their time, energy, and money to help us. Sometimes I begin thinking of myself primarily as a recipient. I talk more than listen. I gladly tell people how I’m doing when they ask and never stop to ask them about their life. I am the special case. I am the one who needs the attention and encouragement.

To counter this tendency, the author of Hebrews reminds us to “let brotherly love continue.” We should neither separate ourselves nor exalt ourselves over our brethren due to the trials we face. Our identity should not be rooted in a disease or disorder anymore than it should be rooted in a political party or favorite computer brand. We are the people of Christ. We are brothers and sisters in the family of the redeemed. Therefore, we must not forget to love and encourage one another.

~ Joshua

Filed Under: Autism, balance, Challenge, Confession, Journey, Uncategorized

Confession and Compassion

November 16, 2012 By Leave a Comment

He who conceals his transgressions will not prosper… Proverbs 28:13

I am one of the people who sits in the pew on Sunday, usually in great need. They should put an altar call at the beginning of services,

“Who already knows they NEED to be here??” Me. “Come on down….”

Recently, I sat there, asking Jesus for comfort, mending, clarification.  Mental and emotional distortions were coming at me with supersonic speed because of the highly intelligent minds of my loved ones with bipolar disorder. There’s not a day I don’t have to ask myself, “Is this need/issue/guilt in MY yard? Or theirs?” (I used to consider the whole world “my yard” … what a disaster. It’s like one basketball player trying to cover the whole court. I lived in failure, guilt, and burn out.)

Believe it or not, one of the most compassionate things Jesus does for me is clarifying what is my sin (yes, that sin word), and what is not. He is mercifully specific…like bright red “EXIT” signs in a smoky dark building….I followed confession right out into fresh air.

I share my sins and His solutions so you can avoid these traps!

  • In my dismay at downturns (in relationships), I’ve sometimes been disrespectful in thought and conversation. I want to respectfully interact, even disagree, with my loved ones. I can remain confident of God’s protection of me, “not returning evil for evil, or insult for insult, but giving a blessing instead…. entrusting [myself] to Him who judges righteously.” I Peter 3:9, 2:23. Regardless of their choices, my loved ones bear the image of God. I want to “malign no one, to be uncontentious, gentle, showing every consideration for all men.” Titus 3:2
  • In my anger (which is many times justified) I allowed arrogance. I am a sinner, too. I want to be “clothed with humility for one another” I Peter 5:5 while putting up strong healthy fences in the “wisdom from above” which is “unwavering, without hypocrisy.” James 3:17
  • In my losses and loneliness, I’ve been resentful. I am tired of the constant effort with so little obvious reward. Hidden disabilities, sin, Satan – what isn’t working against us?? But I do believe God is sovereign, and some day He will make this up to me, and my loved ones. Joel 2:25-27 It doesn’t have to be now.
  • In my pain and fear, I have tried to control the outcomes… to keep everything together. Well, Jesus does that, not me. I can’t control all the consequences of the choices of others. I CAN tend my own yard, and put up fences that are healthy…to set “straight paths for [my] feet so that the limb which is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed.” Heb 12:13
  • In my sadness and loss, which are real and painful, I have resisted and rebelled against God’s decision to allow THIS storyline. For example, I don’t want to watch my children confused, hurt, mad, sad. But Jesus submitted to the will of His Father, and look what great things came from His suffering! I want to “learn obedience through the things which [I] suffer (not waste it) … and be made perfect” (complete, healthy) as Jesus did. Heb. 5:7
  • In being lonely or hurt, I have sometimes escaped into other tasks, or the pure fantasy of media. My reality (like most) is not easy, but it IS my life, and worth living. I want to face it in healthy ways and LIVE IT.

So there. Now you know how much I need Jesus.

You Alone, Kim Hill

” [She] who conceals [her] transgressions will not prosper, but

[she] who confesses and forsakes them

WILL find compassion.

Proverbs 28:13

That’s me,

Joan

Filed Under: Confession, Uncategorized

For Breakfast and Honor

October 25, 2012 By Leave a Comment

It was a moment in which I was conscious of the words coming out of my mouth, their very shape and feel, but like rivulets of oil in the water, they were impossible to control once they started flowing.

“Oh Noah! Just SHUT UP!!”

“Shut Up” is a no-no in our house. As is “hate,” “stupid,” all manner of body part references, potty humor, etc. I’d not only used a forbidden phrase at Noah, I’d screamed it at him during one of his, as we call them, “autistic moments.”

In the haste of our Sunday morning rituals and in an attempt to get to church on time, Noah made his siblings breakfast. “Made” is to be interpreted loosely here. “Placing” might be a better verb. As in “placing” a banana on a plate. We were touched by his kindness toward his brother and sister. However, we learned too late that he hadn’t fed himself.

I’ll pause momentarily to say that we’ve got about 50% of the autism struggles managed with Noah. Here, the first 50% was compassion, which he exhibited freely – without being prompted. Fantastic! However, the second 50% was executive functioning and self-care. He hadn’t remembered to feed himself. Assuming everyone had eaten, I started barking dressing orders for church. Noah started whining. Loudly.

“But I haven’t even eaten yet!”

“Noah – didn’t you just eat a banana?”

“Yes – but no one made me breakfast!”

“Can’t you just grab a pop tart for yourself like you did for Grace and Jesse?”

“Mom, NO!!! Dad promised me eggs! And I don’t have anything to eat! And I don’t WANT a pop tart!!”

“Noah, fine! I will make you some breakfast!”

(Pause for 5 minutes, wherein I scrambled eggs, heated toasters strudels, and poured juice.)

“There you go.”

“MOM! NO NO! YOU DIDN’T LET ME PUT THE ICING ON THE TOASTER STRUDELS MYSELF THE WAY I LIKE IT!”

“Oh Noah, just SHUT UP!!”

Whereupon Noah’s eyes welled up, his mouth took an upside down horseshoe shape, and he tore from the kitchen up into his bedroom where he slammed the door.

And that is how we began the Lord’s Day.

Though late (with all that rushing and yelling coming to naught), we made it to church. And a good thing, too. Because after all that, we needed some church. The Lord took a quiet seat next to me when our pastor put the message on the screen. As part of the “Culture of Honor” (living as those made alive in Christ) series he was teaching, the day’s message was from Colossians 3; particularly, bearing with one another and forgiving one another as Christ has forgiven us.  The Lord sidled closer then later, Colossians 3:21 flashed on the screen: “Fathers, [or parents] do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.”

The first thing I was going to do when I saw Noah come out of Sunday school was get on my knees and ask him to forgive me because I had discouraged him.

I so often lose sight of Noah’s unique construction when I am with him because the line between “typical” and “atypical” has begun to blur. Many years of therapies, an early diagnosis, and our proactivity in getting him treatment has made for a wonderfully functional young man with a hard-to-detect autism spectrum diagnosis. What a blessing. But I so often forget the way he’s wired that when he melts down because no one has “made” him breakfast, or made it the “right way,” I’m quicker with judgment than mercy.

I asked him later why he had been so upset that morning.

“I thought no one would remember to feed me.”

Here is what my mother’s heart actually heard: “I was afraid I would go hungry.”

My anxious son finds a worry around every corner.

So I told him, “No matter what happens, I will make sure you never have to go hungry. That must have been a scary feeling for you, but Mommy and Daddy love you. You are a treasure, and we have promised the Lord to honor and take care of you. I don’t ever want you to worry about having enough to eat ever again.”

My husband must have heard the same thing. Because after I let him make the grocery run for this week, he put the receipt on the table.

The next thing I remember is Grace splashing water on my face, helping me come to.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, Challenge, Change, Communication, Confession, Executive Function, Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

The Old Pressure Cooker

September 4, 2012 By Leave a Comment

When I was growing up my mom had a pressure cooker. She would put stew meat and water in it, tighten down the lid, place it on the stove and turn up the heat. On top of the pressure cooker sat a little valve that was designed to release the steam as it built up inside the pot. As the steam escaped it would make a hissing sound and spin around. It took a while for the pressure to build up inside the pot enough to cause this reaction, but when that little round doodad started spinning and hissing you knew things were really cooking inside the pot and you didn’t want to put your hand too close to that escaping steam or you might get burned.

Sometimes I’m like that pressure cooker. I start off trying to be patient and handle things on my own. (Here’s my first red flag, right?) But as the pressure builds up and the heat increases, that is when the trouble comes. Gradually I start spewing and hissing. My head doesn’t spin around, but my blood pressure rises and I begin to lose my cool. Unfortunately, the ones who usually get the brunt of it are those who are the closest to me, my family. In my case it usually isn’t anger that causes the spewing, it is frustration, but the result is similar. I may be putting pressure on myself because I can’t do everything I want to do (we won’t get into my poor time management skills in this post…). I may be upset because things are not going the way I anticipated them to go. I may be frustrated by a lack of cooperation by others. The conditions do not really matter, the important thing is that I let it all build up inside until I reach a boiling point and the pressure causes an inevitable explosion. The results of the explosion, unlike the results of the pressure cooker, are not pleasant.

Maybe I should try to be more like the crock pot. It cooks on low the whole day. Slowly simmering but not usually boiling, the crock pot takes its time and evenly paces itself so that at the end of the day everything is ready and there has been no explosive burst.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your graciousness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses every thought, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:4-7

Peace to you,

Louise

 

Filed Under: Bible, Confession, Emotions, stress

Major Mother Fail

September 1, 2012 By 4 Comments

There are times I write to share some idea.  Times I write to share lessons learned.  Today I write to share a major mother fail.

I wish it were not so but it is.

My son’s perspective on life is mostly dark.  While he has a Bipolar NOS diagnosis because he is a rapid cycler and can experience both mania and depression simultaneously, his overall perspective on life tends toward darkness.

To be painfully honest, I find it difficult at times to separate from his darkness.

Yesterday we were coming home from a movie.  You would think this a fun experience that would put him in a good mood, if moods had anything to do with circumstances.  But often with bipolar disorder, moods have nothing to do with circumstances.  If I understood it, I could retire to Hawaii.  But I don’t.  I just accept it.

I asked him to get directions to head back home and he did — only his gps told us it was 1.4 miles away.  I knew this was inaccurate — we were easily 20 miles from home.  So I asked him to put the address in again and see what it said.

This was the beginning of the meltdown.

Yes, I know.  Over that?  You are kidding?

I wish I were.  Only, this story isn’t about his failure.  It is about mine.

He began to meltdown and I could see it spinning out of control.  His voice was raised (in our car, mind you) and his words becoming more aggressive.  He turned to cursing me very quickly and I initially responded with a calm, reasoning voice.

He continued to curse and blame and then I snapped.  I said something I never thought would cross my lips: “I am not the one with a bipolar and Asperger diagnosis.  I am not the one who is insane.”

The instant those words left my mouth I felt conviction.  How could I utter such hateful words???

His response was predictable.  He melted down more.  He cursed more.  He threatened more.

I sat in silence.

Then this:  “I am sorry, Jack.  I was wrong to say that to you.  There is no excuse for my responding that way to you.  I was wrong.”

He continued for a few more minutes as I drove in silence.  Then he became quiet, sullen.

After a few minutes he commented that he did not know why he melted down over such a silly thing.  And he hated it.  And he didn’t know how to stop it.

I sat thinking of my own failure.  I don’t have bipolar disorder yet I sinned in this moment.  I had to seek forgiveness from him and God.  I needed grace also.

Fortunately, there is an abundant supply.

And today is a new day with new mercies.

I am so grateful for that.

Hannah

 

Filed Under: Asperger, Bipolar Disorder, Confession

Back to School?

August 15, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Most posts I see at this time of year are about Back to School. As I was telling the children that I couldn’t focus in the chaos of everyone being home, I realized that I am truly just trying to survive my way through the summer. How much of my time is spent surviving until something changes? Maybe too much of the time. Sometimes I am intentional in the time that I have with my children but not always. It is hard to be “on top of my game” constantly and I like to have some down time as well.

Unlike most of the women who are posting about feeling teary at the thought of their children going back to school, I am looking forward to it. I love my children but their hidden disabilities make it hard to accomplish much when they are all home. I am so glad on the first day of school that I can have some clear headed moments and large blocks of time to tackle necessary tasks. Or even just to have my thoughts to myself and be able to string thoughts and ideas together without interruptions.

Contrast these thoughts to my thoughts in June when I was excited to have my children home for the summer. Visions of sleeping in and relaxed breakfasts with more time to cuddle filled my mind. Plans to experience activities together have been overshadowed by “I don’t want to go”, “She’s bugging me”, “She’s hitting me”, “She’s got my _____”, “He’s pulling my hair”, “We never get to do what I want to do”, “I’m tired”, “STOP IT”. Then there is my personal favorite “It’s not fair” followed by my response “Life’s not fair. Get over it. The sooner you realize that the happier you will be.”  And not to forget “Please get out of my head and let me think my own thoughts.”  I remember why I look forward to September. It is all of the above that inspires the celebration of the first day of school.

Please don’t judge me.  I feel bad enough about having these thoughts and emotions.   I just wanted to be brutally honest about the state of my life on a rough day.

~ Twyla

Filed Under: Confession, Expectations, Family, Parenting, school, summer

The Savagery of Shark Week

August 13, 2012 By 2 Comments

As I sit here composing this entry, my son Fletcher and I are celebrating the Discovery Channel’s twenty-fifth year of Shark Week. For some reason, this is one of the few television programs that catch our little man’s attention. Go figure.  Some children are content with Barney or Veggie Tales, but not Fletch. Nothing less than a two ton shark propelling out of the water while chasing a terrified seal will do! The violence and single-mindedness of these Great White Sharks astounds me.

As I think about my son, I wonder why I do not chase the promises of God as ferociously as these sharks chase their prey. The sharks are simply doing what comes natural to them. As a child of the King, why then do I struggle to do what is supposed to come naturally to me? Perhaps, at the deepest level of my heart, I really don’t have trouble believing that the promises of God apply; they just don’t seem to apply to me.

Now that hurts to admit this shortcoming in such a public forum; but I feel that I am not the only one who struggles in this area. But as I watch these sharks more closely, I notice that once they lock in on their targets, tunnel vision consumes them. Nothing else matters except getting the seal. The shark doesn’t worry about teachers, IEP’s, church, or impending social situations; the shark focuses on the seal.

Maybe I can learn something from these creatures. Maybe I can learn to keep my focus on the object of my pursuit. The author of Hebrews encourages us to do that very thing:

[12:1] Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, [2] looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (ESV)

The next time I am feeling a little down or frustrated because things haven’t turned out the way I had planned, I need to keep “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of my faith.” The next time I get upset because people don’t understand, I must remember to ruthlessly clamp down on Jesus’ promises by sinking my spiritual teeth deeply into them. Only then will I truly be able to taste and see that the Lord is good (Ps 34:8)!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Blessing, Challenge, Confession, Contentment, Faith, growth, humility, IEP, Parenting, Provision, Trust, Uncategorized
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