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Always Enough

May 2, 2013 By Leave a Comment

BluejayI watched two jays squabbling in the front yard today over seed that Grace and I had accidentally spilled from the box. The beautiful, black-capped jays with their cornflower-blue wings showed their ugly desperation for more by screeching and flapping at each other in an effort to grab everything they could. Does a bird have a cut-off switch? It’s said dogs can eat until they vomit. I don’t know whether birds can do the same. How much seed does one bird need? There were tiny scatterings of seed beyond the bigger, central pile. But the birds went straight for the biggest payoff, missing what was hidden in the grass.

I can relate.

Money is tight. As Matt is in sales, we live on his salary, but we advance on his bonuses. Bonuses that aren’t around right now. My dear husband is burning the midnight oil on project after project, but to no (seeming) avail. Each night we pray, “Lord let a deal close.” Each morning, He answers, “Not yet.”

And then I spend a fair amount of time screeching at Him like a Jay.

We’ve already burned through our medical flexible spending program, and it’s only May. With two kids on the autism spectrum, Grace’s eye care, and my own medical needs, we spent $5,000 in less time than it takes a Kardashian to start a reality show. This study from the Brookings Institute, indicating a robust and direct relationship between income and well-being, didn’t lift my spirits, either. Apparently, money CAN buy happiness.

But not necessarily contentment.

“I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” Philippians 4:11-12

Daily, the Lord reminds me I haven’t missed a meal. I have a roof over my head, cars that run, beautiful, healthy children, a devoted husband, and a few nice things (relics of a past, more…..er…..plentiful lifestyle). He has used our present circumstances to forge a new frugality, and we are stretching dollars like they are made of tire rubber. No food goes to waste, no excessive purchases are made. We have prayed for nearly two years that the Lord might heal our finances. His answer to us has included the practice of looking carefully for ways to get by on less.

I HATE less. I like MORE. But I cannot deny that my heart swells with pride when I shave $50 off my grocery bill, or sell outgrown clothes at a consignment store. It is in the saving of money and our systematic downsizing that we are reminded we CAN survive, and thrive, on less. And in so doing, we are content.

There is ALWAYS enough for us, scattered somewhere in the grass.

- Sarah

Contact: Sarah@chosenfamilies.org

Image courtesy of Ron Bird/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, balance, Challenge, Encouragement, Family, God's presence, growth, Hope, stress, Uncategorized

Everything and Nothing

April 4, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Autism awareness month, which began on Tuesday, means everything and nothing to someone who is living with it first-hand.

It means everything in that it pervades every moment of every day. Autism is something of which I am already aware: it is an experience from which I do not get a break, and therefore its call to recognition by those in positions more visible than me, means everything. It is the silent question behind the taunting kids at school (“is it because Noah’s different?”), and the quiet realization behind every self-stimulating behavior of Noah’s. It is the “oh, he must be overstimulated,” or “there are too many people here,” or “he does not like the feel of my hugs” thoughts. It is everything in every moment of every day with my son.

Which means it is also nothing. It is a part of Noah, and not the whole. It is the “this is what he has, not who he is,” and the “I don’t think I’d want him any other way” ideations that rattle through my heart each day I spend with him. It is the refusal to make excuses for him, and the toeing of a hard line, and the working to make things the best they can possibly be because an ICD-9 code and the DSM and the XYZPDQ’s don’t have a clue what he’s like in real life. It means nothing because I feel the Lord has called Noah to something great because of what he’s been dealt, and in spite of it. It is nothing he cannot handle, and apparently nothing I cannot handle, despite what my weary eyes and aching hip joints told me this morning.

It means something, though, for those who are struggling with a new diagnosis, or seeking a diagnosis, or to find the money to pay for services. It means something for those struggling to throw off the stigma of autism, and to legitimize what their children have in the face of critics who persist in calling it simply bad behavior, or the result of lax parenting. It is for the “something” people that we ought to pray; those struggling to find their way, and enough strength, and the Lord’s hand. For them, someday, autism awareness month will mean nothing, too.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Autism, Challenge, community, Courage, Encouragement, Journey, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , ,

Indelibly Marked

March 28, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I am sorry that it has been so long since I have posted a blog entry. Ministry, school, teaching, and family commitments have kept me from touching base for a while. In addition to my counseling ministry, I have now begun serving as a guest on a local Christian radio show where I discuss mental health issues in the church. On my first show, in the middle of one of my responses, I received a text message from a friend of mine named Aaron. (By the way, Aaron should have been called Barnabas for his continual encouragement since he showers me with it at every opportunity.)  If I recall the message it went something like this, “Cheer up, even though the host isn’t letting you talk, there are only three of us listening anyway!”

Oh, did I also mention that Aaron and his bride Susanne are the proud parents of three beautiful daughters (thank the Lord, they look like their mother) and that their youngest daughter has autism and is classmates with our son Fletcher? I bring this up to show that God often provides fellow travelers who come alongside us as we negotiate the unpredictable twists and turns presented to those blessed enough to have a child with a hidden disability. The scriptures say, “As iron sharpens iron, one man sharpens another,” and although our wives would agree that we’re both still pretty dull, I think that our weekly lunch meetings are producing spiritual growth in both of us.

In this sanctifying process, you might ask, “What deep theological truths related to autism are you guys discovering?” Well the topics vary, but you may hear something about Tennessee football, Wayne Grudem’s height, which of us would look the coolest with Puritan hair, fully-sanctified wives, or self-parenting children, but you won’t hear a whole lot about autism. Why? Because that is a subject that has so indelibly marked us that we usually find it is unnecessary to discuss; however, what you will find is a great deal of humor, fellowship, and laughing. As a result, the tone of our lunch meetings looks less like a pity party and more like a diner scene from Seinfeld.

Don’t misunderstand me. We talk a great deal about Sarah and Fletcher; but, we talk about them as people not diagnostic labels. As I think about these lunchtime conversations with Aaron, his sarcastic wit and dry humor remind me that Dads sporting these indelible marks are so much more than fathers of children with autism. These guys are administrators of God’s grace (1 Pet 4:10) used by God for our good and His glory as they walk alongside of fellow sufferers along a life path not of their choosing. What does this mean for those of you reading this post? It means this: do not isolate yourself; instead reach out to other parents of children with similar challenges. Ask God to use you to minister to them and I will guarantee you that you will end up being the one who feels blessed. And who knows, you may strike up a friendship with a Barnabas of your own!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Encouragement, Friends, FUN

When There’s Time

March 19, 2013 By 1 Comment

I’m sitting at the kitchen table. Grace and Matt are gone for the day, and I’m home with two crabby sons: Noah is crabby because he has strep; Jesse is crabby because he’s three. To compound things, we probably pushed them too hard this weekend. Matt and I both suffer from the same disease – the one marked by lack of a shut-off valve. Matt’s plagued more than I am because my body generally gives out before his, but both of us – we don’t rest on the weekends. We run. Karate, gymnastics, physical therapy for Noah, Home Depot, cleaning the barn, organizing more closets and more shelves, entertaining, running, running, running.

The snow falling outside today is small and light, like flour let loose from a canister. And it falls slowly. It falls in such a way that I long for slow-ness myself. The Lord is here with me at the table. I’m sure He is smiling at that comparison.

“I don’t know how to slow down, Lord.”

“I know. I made you, remember? I know your struggles. Why are you running so hard?”

“Because there is so much to do, and so little time. There is never enough time.”

“There is always enough time.”

“But Lord, my list! There are so many things on it. Mundane things, like laundry and cleaning and errands. And pressing things, like taking care of the children and the animals, and paying bills, and buying groceries. And then there are the things I want to do – my riding, Lord. And my writing. But sometimes I’m so overwhelmed by it all that I just really want to go to sleep!”

“So sleep. Come to me, you who are weary and carrying so many heavy burdens, and I will give you the rest you need.” (Matthew 11:28)

“But when I do that, I wake up to even MORE things to do! Lord, why didn’t you make a 36 hour day?”

“Because your body couldn’t handle it. At the end of this perfect day I’ve created, you are forced to sleep. You must stop what you’re doing, and rest. Even I rested, you know. And I told the apostles to do the same (Mark 6:31) … Have you noticed the snow?”

I drop my head. I think I know what He’s going to say.

“Yes, Lord.”

“Sometimes there is much snow. But sometimes, it is merely a few light flakes, quiet and pretty enough for a dusting, and nothing more. It may be heavy and wet, or dry and airy, falling faster, or slower. It moves as it must, for the purpose to which it’s intended, and what the clouds themselves contain. Snow is not always a blizzard, my child. And neither can you pour yourself out so completely or quickly all the time. There will be nothing left of you for the most worthwhile pursuits if you shake out all you have until you collapse.”

Noah is coughing in the family room, and telling me his stomach hurts. His fever is back, and I get up to medicate him, and bring him more water. His sicknesses are particularly pathetic. He moans and screams in pain, particularly intolerant to it. This is consistent with studies indicating those with Autistic Spectrum Disorder have a hyper/hypo sensitivity to stimuli i.e., above average range of feeling or super-sensitivity, first written about in 1949 by Bergman and Escalona. (Contrast this with my daughter, who sliced her foot open on a beach rock in Virginia, and couldn’t wait to tell everyone about it – refusing pain meds and waving to people from her wheelchair at the airport on the way back home like the Queen of England).

I return to my seat and my coffee in the kitchen, my conversation with the Lord.

“You will finish what you need to, when the time is right.”

“WHEN the time is right? Couldn’t I just get it all finished and be DONE? That way I can rest!”

I can hear Him laughing. “And miss what I’m trying to teach you about prioritizing and resting now?”

“Okay. I give. Two things on my list today, and no more.”

“Just one, child.” He looks into the family room where the boys are watching tv, comatose under their blankets. “They need you right now. I willed Noah’s sickness for reasons you do not know, but today, it is so that you yourself might slow down and just be with them.”

“Whatever’s left on your list, you can finish later. When there’s time.”

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, balance, Challenge, Encouragement, Family, God's presence, Journey, rest, Uncategorized

For the weary of heart

March 18, 2013 By 1 Comment

I heard from a dear one today who is overwhelmed with her circumstances.  She has been burdened for so long and is carrying such a heavy load.  She is discouraged and sees no end in sight.

I know you have been there.  I have been there too.  It is part of this journey we are walking.  Part of the journey we don’t often discuss but feel deeply at times.

Only those fellow travelers who live with chronic disability or illness are likely to understand.  But we are those people and we understand.

For today, I am not there.  I thank God for that.  But I have been there before and except for God’s grace I will be there again.

If you are there today, I wanted to reach out and give you a cyber hug.

God sees you.  He sees the service you provide to your family every day.  He knows the daily dying to self required when living in a family touched by disability. He knows you are weary and worn.  He knows the hours you work doing countless unseen things to meet your family’s needs. He knows the nights you lie awake and pray for your family and the many things that are not as you wish they were.  He is God, yes, but he was fully man, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.

As we approach this Easter season and reflect on the cross, I am moved to consider Christ who prayed in Gethsemane for God to remove the cup of suffering but then prayed, “not my will but thine be done.”

This is the most godly prayer we can pray when we are in that dark and weary place — oh God, can you relieve me of this? But not my will but Thine be done.

And in those weary, overwhelmed moments, remember this:  “A bruised reed He will not break And a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish; He will faithfully bring forth justice.” Isaiah 42:3

I am praying for the weary of heart today. I pray God will reach down in a personal and intimate way and encourage you. I pray He will intervene in a way that reminds you He sees you, knows you, loves you.

I am reminded of this lovely song by Twila Paris. I hope it encourages you today.

Warmly,

Shannon

 

Filed Under: Encouragement, God's presence, Uncategorized, weariness

Spinning Out of Control

March 9, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I have a friend on Facebook who plays games quite often. He & his wife share the account, so I find it funny when he plays games and I see several notifications that “she” is “spinning out of control…” again. Have you ever felt like that? It’s what I call the “stop this ride; I want to get off” sense of panic. Ever get the feeling that life is just too overwhelming and you simply can’t keep up with it?

A week or two ago, this was how I felt when I had so many questions and concerns about my daughter, myself, and my family in general. It was too much for me and it was all beyond my control. The very next day, a relative of mine had that same sense of anxiety in his voice; questions about a big move, a job that wasn’t what he expected, and what the future held. When looking at him, I saw myself more clearly. I had greater understanding for him and understood how he must have felt.

That’s why my thoughts of late have been about “control” or our “lack thereof.” Do any of us really know what tomorrow will bring? Of course not; but we know the One Who knows.

“Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh: is there anything too hard for me?” (Jeremiah 32:27)

It may be too hard for us, but never for Him.

I mean, honestly, if God can create the heavens, the earth, and all that is in them, why do we think WE must be in control of things? Can we compete with God? Are we simply impatient, like the Israelites after they left Egypt?

We can easily find fault in the Israelites for whining and complaining so often, after God continually provided for them miracle by miracle. We have their story recorded in the Bible. Yet, consider how you would feel if you left behind the only life you knew to follow a path totally unknown to you.

Isn’t that the sort of thing that our kids with hidden disabilities face so often? They are anxious because they have “no control” over what may happen next. Their fears drive them to compulsions (those with OCD, like Flory) just so they THINK they have control over SOMETHING; only to find IT has control over them. It’s a vicious cycle.

To truly help them, besides medications and therapies, don’t we need to live the truth in front of them? Are we prepared to face the unknown with faith in the One Who is unseen? As parents and loved ones of these precious family members, I think we owe it to them (as well as to ourselves) to “let go” and realize that we must live by faith and trust; that we must cling to the Word God has given us and the times we know He has shown His personal love.

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” (Matthew 6:34)

I also like to remember the old saying, “Don’t borrow trouble.”

“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10: 29-31)

To sum up my thoughts (and to avoid using the bazillion wonderful verses I also found), I’ll leave you with this verse: “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee.” (Isaiah 26:3 – taped to my computer, lest I forget.)

Blessings,

Grace

Filed Under: Anxiety, Direction, Encouragement, Faith, OCD, Provision, Trust Tagged With: , , ,

In Which Cami Writes of Super Heroes and Real Strength

January 27, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Someone asked me awhile back what a typical school day looks like for our unschooling family. I’m sure I had the same look on my face as Cami gets on hers when someone says, “What grade are you in, Cami?” There are no words adequate for the explanation. The answers are complicated and simple all at the same time. Cami is officially in the sixth grade in our church Sunday school, but her schoolwork’s grade level varies from subject to subject. And that’s okay. She loves to learn, and that’s why I love to homeschool.

Today’s post is a glimpse into my 12-year-old-with-multiple-learning-differences’ mind. She wrote it herself, and wanted me to share with you all. I have to preface it by saying we haven’t discussed the proper form of an essay, nor have we begun the tedious task of learning how to write a five-paragraph essay. (Don’t mistake my words: the five-paragraph essay is a useful tool to have in any writer’s arsenal; but like any form, it can be tedious to teach.)

A few things you need to know before I drop you in the middle of Cami’s internal narrative: 1. We’ve recently been watching through all the Marvel Comics movies in the Avengers franchise. 2. We had just arrived at the auto shop where they said it would take an hour for the oil change and servicing we were there for. 3. Cami was bored.

And now, a Cami essay.

STRENGTH OUT OF WEAKNESS

[An hour???! Great. I'm already bored!

Hmm. Maybe I'll write an essay. But what about? Hmmmmmm. Warriors? Harry Potter? The Lord of the Rings? My brain is empty. Oh, I know! That's perfect! Okay, here we go:]

Imagine you’re at the movie theatre. You buy a ticket for Cowboys vs. Aliens, get some popcorn, and take your seat. The movie starts, and the screen shows a truck driving up somewhere in. . .Antarctica? Wait, you think. Cowboys don’t have trucks. Oh, maybe this is a flashback. Then, on the screen a man walks up and two men climb out of the truck’s cab. The first man has an orange light on a pole. Wait, cowboys don’t have flashlights on poles, either. Then the three men go over to the wreckage of what looks like what might be a spacecraft. Oh, this is where the aliens come in, you think.

They cut a hole in the top.

The two men from the truck go in.

They look around.

One man brushes some powder snow off of some ice.

“Sergeant, come look at this!”

What’s in the ice, that causes so much excitement? an alien’s face? a hand? No and no. It’s. . .it’s. . .a metal disc, red with black edges. . .and a white star in the middle.

Oh, crap! you think. This is the wrong movie!

That’s what happened to my dad once when he accidentally went to see Captain America.

. . .which now is one of my favorite movies.

[And that's the introduction. But exactly what point do I want to prove? What does one write in an essay about Captain America? I should have thought this through.]

. . .[thinking]. . .[Ah-ha!]

If you’re a fan of Marvel Comics, I’m guessing that you know that before Captain America became Captain America, he was a small and rather wimpy-looking guy named Steve Rogers. The one thing that Steve really wanted was to serve his country in World War II. However, everyone thought that he was too short, too small, and altogether weak. So, then, why was he chosen for the serum? Because, when asked, “So you want to kill Nazis?” Steve replied, “No, I don’t want to kill anyone.” Then when asked, “Then why do you want to go?” he said, “Because I don’t like bullies.” Steve was chosen because no matter how many times he was knocked down, he always got back up.

God uses weak people in His plan, too. Paul told the Corinthians, “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” —2 Corinthians 12:9-10, NIV

And, of course, if you’re familiar with Captain America’s story, you’re also going to be familiar with his “powers.” First of all, he’s super strong. Second of all, he can run super fast. Third, he’s super tough.

Through the prophet Isaiah, God said, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” —Isaiah 41:10, NIV

And then, of course, there’s Captain America’s shield, which is made of a very special metal unlike any other in the universe. In fact, it’s such a rare metal that it only exists as that shield. Whatever hits it will bounce off with the same amount of force as what hit it. That’s a cool shield!

As Christians, we have an even more awesome shield. Sure, this shield doesn’t have a red-white-and-blue pattern on it, but it’s the best shield we could ever ask for:  ”The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to Him in song.” —Psalm 28:7, NIV

[And that's my three examples. What now? What's the conclusion?]

. . .

[Honestly, I've been making this up as I go along. What point have I proved? that Captain America is a clean movie? that it's in sync with the Bible? Oh, I know!

The conclusion is (drumroll, please):]

No matter how many times you’re knocked down, never give up; you can do all things through Christ Who gives you strength; and God is always with you.

Cami drew a simple star after the last word, presumably to be a reminder to the reader of the star on Captain America’s shield.

Cami is the star in my book. She’s my favorite super hero.

So blessed by my sweet girl, who constantly reminds me of the Truth.

Filed Under: Encouragement, Homeschool Tagged With: ,

Be Still

January 25, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I was in a peaceful cove of water, deep into a fjord, circled by mountains, hours inside a national preserve. Only a few dozen people wandered the schooner (9 of them my family), when the captain announced a 10 minute “all quiet” as he cut the motor. “No talking…just soak in the sight and sounds of nature….”

At that moment, I happened onto an obscure deck with a PERFECT panoramic view of mountains and waterfalls! Where’s my family?? (For me, a delight is multiplied when I can share it with someone.) SOOO for about 2 minutes (of the 10 “quiet” minutes) I ran through the boat searching for them. I don’t know where they were (it wasn’t THAT big of a boat) but I couldn’t find them … and my joy sagged as I made my way back to the hidden deck. I tried to absorb the view, but by then I was distracted by how LONELY I felt… which sharpened the loneliness I had been feeling for the whole trip. “Jesus, I’m alone again, and it hurts….” The sinful strongholds that accompany hidden disabilities sabotage close moments in my marriage until they are rare and fleeting. (Satan, the predator he is, likes to hijack normal feelings of loss and define my whole LIFE by them.)

I know Jesus cares, but…

It took about 5 minutes of the 10 “quiet” minutes before my soul was still enough to sense God wanting to be with me. Alone. Just me. He wasn’t trying to make me lonely. Or point out my alone ness. He was inviting me into a beautiful moment with HIM. (He, too, finds joy multiplied when shared – that part of me is like HIM.)

So I accepted His offer…

I felt the misty morning fog soak my face … new bird songs sent bubbles of joy through my spirit … I lifted my eyes to the tops of those magnificent mountains … then followed their green slopes all the way down until they disappeared into the cold, unfathomably deep, dark water. I looked up again, this time watching each waterfall, almost in slow motion, cascading down in wavy white ribbons from some unseen rivers of unknown sources inside the mountain. The sum of splashing sounds washed over my sore soul, soothing … smoothing the wrinkles of worry and want.

The voice of the Lord is upon the waters (Ps 29).

Like a slow dawn, I realized the Lord’s voice was speaking to me in those waters. “God, You made this thousands of years ago…kept it hidden … it’s almost unreachable … I’m honored to see it.…”

I knew you would come, today,

and I knew you would LOVE it!

Those intimate words, whispered to my soul, wrapped me in love, evaporating my loneliness as the magnitude seeped into my spirit. Creator God handcrafted a magnificent multifaceted scene which He knew I would LOVE. He waited outside of time, for me, in time, to come see what He made! Then He joined me on that deck, as I soaked in all its beauty, by myself, with Him. My soul’s Lover.

The voice of the Lord is upon the waters…

The Lord sat as King at the flood; Yes, the Lord sits as King forever.

The Lord will give strength to His people; the Lord will bless His people with peace.

Ps. 29:3, 11

Still, Travis Cottrell

Hide me now under Your wing, cover me within Your mighty Hand.

Find rest, my soul, in Christ alone. Know His power in quietness and trust.

When oceans rise and thunders roar, I will soar with You above the storm

Father You are King over the flood, I will be still and know You are God.

Be still and know I am God … Ps 46

 

Getting more still,

Joan

 

Filed Under: Bipolar Disorder, Emotions, Encouragement, God's presence, mental illness Tagged With: , , , ,

Blessed Are You Among Women: The Exemplary Mother of a Suffering Child

December 17, 2012 By Leave a Comment

When Gabriel greeted a teenage girl in Nazareth, he addressed her as the “favored one” (Luke 1:28). Following the angel’s announcement, the young woman left her Galilean home for a family reunion with her elderly cousin living in Judea. At the sound of Mary’s greeting, Elizabeth’s child danced with in-utero worship, and Elizabeth exclaimed, “Blessed are you among women” (Luke 1:42).

In his Gospel, Luke portrays Mary as strikingly different than Eve. Having received a message from a spiritual being, she seeks to discern the truth of the message and concludes by reaffirming her submission to God and his word (Luke 1:38; cf. Gen 3:1-7). Like Samuel’s mother Hannah, she worships God in magnificent song celebrating God’s sovereign power (Luke 1:46-55; cf. 1 Sam 2:1-10).

In light of these qualities, we can understand why both Gabriel and Elizabeth affirmed Mary’s uniqueness and blessedness. Also, when we think of the wondrous events that surrounded the birth of her Son–the singing angels, the shining star, and the worshiping Magi–we might be tempted to think of Mary’s blessedness in simple terms.

However, even the Lord’s mother found blessing through suffering.  Separated from her mother and family, she labored alone to deliver her Firstborn in a stable (Luke 2:7). How she must have been haunted by the screams of Bethlehem’s little boys, knowing not only that her Son could have been among them but also that her Son was the cause of their piercing screams at the hands of a murderous king (Matt 1:13-18). Often she did not understand her Son (Luke 2:50), and at times she even worried that he was losing his mind (Mark 3:20-21).

Finally the day came when she stood at her Son’s nail-pierced feet, watching him bleed and suffocate to death on a splintered tree. No doubt she felt that the darkness expressed the grief in her heart and that the earthquake emanated from her trembling soul.

No one has suffered like the God-Man who took upon himself the sins of his people. This season we celebrate his Incarnation, his becoming like us and experiencing our sorrows and temptations to the greatest degree. Mothers have a special way of absorbing the suffering of their children. So we cannot doubt that any woman has suffered like Mary–the very same woman who was greeted as the favored one and blessed among women.

Jesus knows the heartache of hurting mothers, and yet in his birth, life, death, burial, resurrection, ascension, and continuing reign, he promises mothers of hurting children a glory that cannot be compared with the sufferings of this present time (Rom 8:18). Perhaps he even had his own mother in mind when he declared, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matt 5:4).

~ Joshua

Filed Under: Bible, Encouragement, Holidays, Parenting

Upside Down

November 17, 2012 By Leave a Comment

My focus has had me contemplating my navel here lately. “What if?” “What, then?” “How will we…” I’m focused on the “cup” of difficulty the Lord’s handed in my direction. It brims with challenges. And I want to pass it back to him, with a “No, thanks.”

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)

“And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame” (Romans 5:2-4).

It’s November, the perfect time to exercise gratitude and remind myself of God’s constant, unchanging presence. Of the little ways He shows me love during the day. Of the blessings big and small. I need to turn my cup upside down, empty it of its difficulties, and refill it with what is good, and what I’ve maybe been missing.

There are the three little elves that call me “Mama,” with personalities as big as their mouths: Jesse, my lover-fighter, he of the morning snuggles and the “Hold me, MAMA’s!”; Grace, my artistic athlete with arms open for my hugs, and a new picture colored for me every day; and Noah, my enigmatic leader, whose charisma and wacky giftedness enters the room before he does, and who’s brain I will not ever fully understand.

There is my husband of under-covers footsie, and shoulders wet from crying on, and the one big enough to take my ranting and my instabilities. The one who loves me as close to God as anyone.

There are our scrabbling dogs, and closets with clean laundry (though it does not get there without much wailing and gnashing of teeth). The pantry abounds with food, and the fridge that stores the surplus is humming with an electrical current that means we have enough to keep it on. The cars run, and though it recently took two new batteries to keep them that way, they both inch toward 150,000 miles with no car payments to be made.

There is my wallet, full with the Aetna insurance card that reminds me of the health care I can get whenever it’s needed; the coupons I’ll use when grocery shopping, the gift card I received from a friend, the number for a babysitter that will buy Matt and me a little sanity, and the note that Noah wrote and hid there for me to find later: “Mom, I love you. I hope you have a grat [sic] day.” There is not a dollar anywhere in its folds. But my wallet is full to bursting with things of value.

And there is the big bay thoroughbred standing in a field some miles from here with a new blanket on his freshly-clipped hide who may act like a pill while I tack him up, but after our ride, will put his nose on my shoulder and smell me quietly in a gesture of something like love.

It turns out my cup was full of something else.   And it overflows.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Blessing, Change, Encouragement, Family, God's presence, Gratitude, Holidays, Thanksgiving, Uncategorized
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