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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.

Strawberry

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

Filed Under: growth Tagged With: , ,

Seeing Red

May 16, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Jesse has an infatuation with firefighters. And, for that matter, fire trucks, fire engines, and firehouses.

Not unusual, you say? Little boys love firefighters, policemen, army men, you add? True. So, let me elaborate a bit.

He’s had 2 fire-themed birthday parties, dressed as a firefighter for 3 consecutive Halloweens, owns 4 fire fighter costumes, 1 fire fighter umbrella and raincoat set, 4 model fire house sets, 22 fire engines and 31 firefighter figurines of various size. Each day, he methodically lays out his firefighter costume, invites me into his “fire house” and shows me his gear before suiting up. We have made no fewer than 6 impromptu stops at fire stations we’ve passed on our journeys, and have waylaid something like 10 firefighters from their very real duties in order that Jesse might sit on one of the engines, wear a helmet, or ask “where is your black and white fire dog?” (He’s been often disappointed to learn that Dalmatians are mostly relics of a by-gone firefighting age. If he sees a Dalmatian in his firefighter story book, he LITERALLY expects to see one at the fire house. That literal nature? Yep, that’s ASD.) There are even firefighter coloring books, firefighter pajamas, firefighter DVDs. For a period of time, all Jesse would watch on television was a 1987 firefighter training video we were able to stream through Netflix. He could recite it word for word. It started out as cute. Sometime after viewing 15, it got downright annoying. He had all of us, and PARTICULARLY his older, emotionally labile brother Noah with ASD himself, seeing red.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, a restricted or limited interest (one that plays out in real life more like an obsession) is one of the hallmarks of an Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). These are kids who know every Star Wars character ever introduced, or who can name every dinosaur that ever trod the earth. But I was surprised to discover recently that the MORE restricted the interest, the HIGHER the anxiety – that the latter often incites the former. http://ultimateautismguide.com/2011/06/autism-news-anxiety-restricted-interests/  And, with anxiety being the defining emotion of Asperger’s and other ASD’s, it goes to reason that these kids are destined to experience both – some, more intensely than others. I thought Noah was one for restricted interests, but my sweet Jesse has shown the capability to outpace him red engine for red engine.

This morning, I walked into Jesse’s room and found yet another pile of engines and figures to be re-shelved:

Just a small selection.

But this time, instead of seeing the mess, I HEARD what he was saying. So I sat down.

“Can I visit your fire station?”

He grinned, freckles and dimples squinched up. “Yes. Yes, you can.”

Then I asked Jesse why he liked firefighters so much.

“Because.”

“’Because’ is not really an answer, Jesse. Why do you like them more than anything else?”

“Because they put out fires and save people.”

They “save people.” I exhaled, and squeezed my arms around him. I will do what I can, with God’s help, to make him feel safe and ease his worried mind.

And in the meantime, I suppose there are worse things he could be interested in.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, Autism, Change, Family, growth, siblings, Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

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

Outside the Lines

April 18, 2013 By Leave a Comment

“Mom.  Noah got in trouble at school today because he didn’t follow directions in art class.”

“Grace! How many times have I told you not to tattle on your brother?”

Noah comes sliding in then, face buried in his DS, not making eye contact with me.

“Hi mom.”

“Hi honey. How was your day?”

“Good.”

This, of course, is his standard answer. Not once has he elaborated on this unless the idea to do so strikes him organically.

He puts a piece of black construction paper on the kitchen counter and keeps on pressing buttons. It is a picture of a clown sketched in striking detail and complexity, but there is certain darkness to it. This is not a clown I would like to encounter in a dark room. To be frank, it’s kind of terrifying.

The clown in question.

The clown in question.

“This is an amazing picture. Can you tell me about it?”

“It’s a clown.”

I stifle a laugh.

“Yes, I can see that. Why is it frowning?”

“Well, the art teacher told us to make a smile like a moon, and I did mine upside down. I had some trouble with it.”

“Did you? Grace said something else may have happened.”

He looks up momentarily.

“Ok. I drew a frown because I thought it would be more unique.”

“Noah, do you like clowns?”

“Of course not! And you’re not a big fan of them, either!”

I’m choking on laughter again. “That is true, but this was about following directions.”

“Mom, I just wanted it to be unique.”

It must be hard for Noah and kids like him to be shoe-horned into convention every day. I know he fights the urge (not always successfully) to argue with his teacher about what he deems appropriate, worthy, or right every day. It’s in his nature to be solitary and contrarian. And school is about being exactly the opposite.

But, that doesn’t excuse his behavior. He is not permitted to break with instruction just because he wants to. I loved his creativity in the picture, but I’d have been happier to see a smile.

Particularly on one of those terrifying clowns.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Challenge, Executive Function, growth, Uncategorized Tagged With:

The Coldest Dish

March 7, 2013 By 1 Comment

Capitalization on Emotional Frustration.

Noah’s in the revenge business. He prides himself on Machiavellian tactics and instincts. He’s hired his services out to his sister, seeking payment out of her piggy bank. He’s left booby-traps and nasty notes around the house. Is this a by-product of brotherhood? Are boys more natural score-settlers? An older boy in student care at Noah’s school is giving him grief, and night and day, Noah talks about “getting even.” I wonder if he feels this burden more intensely because he’s somehow marginalized by his peers. We mothers never fully know what transpires after we drop our children off at school, and I am quietly terrorized by the thought that this little boy is ridiculing Noah for being “different.” Because Noah is. And I see it more clearly every day (this, a part of parenting a high functioning autistic that I intensely dislike – the part where things get worse before they get better).

Noah could have passed this trait onto his little brother Jesse, or perhaps it’s just the natural dynamic of male siblings. But in either case, it’s such a prominent theme in our home that Jesse recently suggested a “revenge meal” by telling me he wanted to eat both Hot Pockets for lunch, rationalizing that by eating both, when Noah went to ask if he could have one for dinner, “dere won’t be any lef, because I eat dem all.”

When Noah feels as if the world has him under its heel, it does little good to remind him that vengeance is the Lord’s alone (Romans 12:19). He still seethes and grits his teeth and makes a fist. Noah loves the Lord, alright. He just doesn’t trust Him to even the deck. I am certain his thirst for revenge is what keeps Noah in karate – a sport in which we thought his interest would fade (for Noah, if you play a few notes, you’ve mastered the piano; throw a few footballs, you’re Peyton Manning. You get the idea). The self-defense/combat mechanisms of the sport entertain his ninja death squad fantasies. Noah doesn’t like feeling like he’s been “had.” But then, neither do I. More than once, I’ve let others laugh at my expense, only to go home and quietly seethe about what I should have said at the time. I wish I could say that I’d chosen to turn the other cheek at the moment of offense, but I’m not that magnanimous. Keeping my mouth shut is only the result of a too-slow wit. “Argh! Why didn’t I think of that at the time!?” Noah feels this, too. I can tell this when he comes to me, and says, “The next time Johnnie says XX, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!” Yes, we’re both very brave after the fact.

Really, both Noah and I need to thank the Lord we don’t say what we “ought to” at the time. Rolling over could be the Lord’s way of gently pushing our cheek in the other direction. Maybe He knows we’d be in a heap of trouble if we started running our mouths. Maybe He knows the heart of the offender, and he can see through to the hurt behind the insult. Maybe He’s just teaching us what’s required to be “at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). And though I’d like to say I’ve had one good Rocky versus Drago moment in my life, it’s probably for the better that I haven’t. I find that most of my “gut” reactions do better when they don’t get very far.

I’m sure that’s just how the Lord intended it.

Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Autism, Challenge, Conflict, growth, humility, Social skills, Uncategorized

How Hard It’s Not

February 28, 2013 By 1 Comment

Today I sat down to write this entry, intending to enlighten, amuse and exhort the ChosenFamilies.org readers. In regaling you with stories about Noah, I reveal to you a window through which you might view the reality of life with a hidden disability. That life is often awkward. It’s challenging, and can be complicated, but it’s funny. There are many happy endings as we learn from Noah and his Creator. Our burden is comparably light. Even as Jesse’s own diagnoses have emerged to intensify our circumstances, I can’t plead impossibility of burden. I particularly cannot plead it today, when I opened my laptop this morning, and found this:

http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/02/27/17112877-cops-two-boys-grandmother-found-dead-after-she-takes-them-from-day-care?lite

Another lurid headline pulled me in. Then I scrolled to the bottom, and there it was:

“Jeremy and Brenda Perry, parents of the two young boys, told NBC Connecticut that Denison had a gun and she had a mental illness.”

A mental illness. A reference to a “wide range of mental health conditions — disorders that affect mood, thinking and behavior,” according to Mayoclinic.com. A pattern of being that painted the whole canvas of Debra Denison’s life, and from which there was no escape. My mind went to a dark place as I imagined how she could possibly have thought that killing her grandsons and then herself was the right choice – if that was, indeed what happened. My heart aches for the Perry family, as I wonder what the prologue to this story would have revealed: why Debra was permitted to pick the boys up from daycare? Whether she was medicated for her illness? Whether she was being monitored by a psychiatrist or other mental health professional? Why she had access to a gun?

I wonder most of all why the healthcare system in America is failing those with disabilities. “But your family is doing fine!” you say. Why hasn’t the system failed Noah, or Jesse or me? Because we’ve probably spent $50,000 on medication, therapies and doctors (this is a conservative estimate). Because we’ve worked tirelessly at early diagnoses to alter history’s course at the earliest possible junction. Because we are our own best advocates and we never rest at getting “better.” We are our own champions. God has blessed us in giving us to each other. Yet there are those that must manage mental illness on their own. This is nothing short of impossible, as the way of thinking needed to get better is the very thinking absent from the start.

There is no “funny” in this post. Which is too bad, because Matt never ceases to be amused at the way I laugh when I’m writing (no one thinks I’m funnier than I am, unfortunately). I wish I could be more light-hearted today, but I am hearing the voices of those who are un-medicated, undetected, untreated, unhappy.

“He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” 1 Thessalonians 5:10-11.

I am lifting them up today, and I am lifting up those who care for them. I am praying for them, and asking the Lord to let us better see and help them whose lives are harder than ours.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, Challenge, Change, Church Response, community, Family, General, growth, Uncategorized

Worn

February 7, 2013 By 4 Comments

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126:5

January has left me feeling very worn.

After family sickness before and during Christmas, the return to school was anything but easy for my daughter with Sensory Processing Disorder, who missed four days of school leading up to the Christmas break with a fever.

It took a solid three weeks to readjust to all day Kindergarten and we still have some tears every morning as I drop her off. At least she is no longer crying at night as she goes to sleep, as she gets ready for school, and in the car on the way to school.

It has been emotionally draining to say the least. While nothing we tried totally worked to alleviate the separation anxiety, we found wearing her weighted vest did help to calm her when she was really upset about having to leave me.

Thankfully, her crying now stops within minutes from drop off and does not extend throughout the morning as it had been. Despite a tearful start to her day, most of her school days end up being pretty good. But I often return home from drop off with her little brother worn out from the battles to get her out the door and to school on time.

In the midst of the worse of this struggle I discovered the song “Worn” by Tenth Avenue North and it really ministered to me. I have wept on several occasions while listening to it as it gives words to how worn out I have felt in the day-to-day struggles of my daughter’s hidden disability and in the midst of my failures as a mother.

As I have cried out to God with these lyrics, I have felt His assurance that He is with me and will redeem our struggles for His glory.

Please take the 4 minutes to listen to this song accompanied with the lyrics and let the Lord minister to you as well.

Worn but anticipating songs of joy,

~Lynn

Worn Video with lyrics by Tenth Avenue North

 

Filed Under: Challenge, growth, Parenting, Sensory Processing Disorder Tagged With: , ,

I LOVE PROGRESS!!!

January 21, 2013 By 4 Comments

My daughter Jocelyn (ADD/OCD) went to the Passion 2013 conference two weeks ago. It was one of the first major trips away from home without me, for the longest period of time, and definitely the farthest away from home (we live in Canada on the border with Detroit, MI and Passion is in Atlanta, Georgia). She was traveling by car with the young adults from our church. She has not been aware of how much I accommodate and buffer for her hidden disabilities until now.

She said I could share her message from facebook: “You know, I’ve learned a lot on this trip so far…here’s my list: Take care of myself…no one else cares; my problems and my issues are my responsibility. When ignored or left behind, don’t take personal offense. Either find a way to include myself, or shrug it off and just observe. Be considerate, not clingy. Make time to do what I need to do, don’t expect others to accommodate; they usually won’t. Be observant, listen closely, and try to remember details. Think before I speak, if unsure, keep my mouth shut or if necessary, ask a “safe” person (aka Judy). Before I offer to take a shower after everyone else, check to make sure there are enough towels for everybody, myself included. Wake up early, because some people think that applying their makeup is more important than washing your face and brushing your teeth. When they make German jokes, don’t ask for clarification. Don’t feel sorry for myself. God has put me here for a reason; don’t waste this opportunity, keep my mind and heart open to what he has for me. NO PANIC ATTACKS. It freaks people out and alienates me more. Don’t try so hard to fit in, but don’t be afraid to go out of my comfort zone and socialize. Just be myself, remember to smile, and don’t be afraid to ask for names, if I make light of my short memory, people usually aren’t too offended. Keep in mind that my oddities are often only as obvious as I make them out to be. Take time out to process and to pray. Don’t get discouraged. Remember why I am here, and don’t be afraid, no matter who judges me, God doesn’t.”

I think I hear the angels singing because I know that I am praising God and full of joy. It is great to know that she is learning to take care of herself.

Twyla

Filed Under: growth, Journey, JOY, Uncategorized

Fear and Trembling

December 20, 2012 By 1 Comment

I can’t remember the last time I was afraid. Nervous? Yes. Anxious? Regularly. But nervous and anxious are not the same as that white-hot void in your stomach that materializes when your future is on the cusp of changing for the worse; when your very life hangs in the balance. It’s been some time since I’ve felt that.

When I was 22, I spent a few months between college and law school working a mindless retail job at the mall. One night, during Christmas of that year, I was working a double shift until close. It was well after 11 pm when I got into my dad’s borrowed car in a vacant parking lot to go home.

“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.” Luke 2: 8-9

That night, I was over-tired, under-slept, and footsore. In an attempt to save time on my commute, I took a short cut that led me through a wooded area, near the state park. Fast forward to the current day. I’ve recently been issued a citation in the amount of $160 for doing 67 mph in a posted 45 mph zone, so I needn’t tell you that my foot is more lead than flesh, and that on the night in question I wasn’t adhering to posted speed limits. (A proclivity for fast things extends into other areas of my life, as in my riding for example, wherein my trainer has been known to scream, “Slow down! You’re going to kill yourself!!”) On that winter’s night, I may have been doing upwards of 80 mph. The music was up and the windows were down as I struggled to stay awake. I came barreling down the unlit, rural road, and hit my brights.

That’s when I saw it.

Directly in my path – not more than 25 feet in front of me – was a solid line of trees. Not saplings, or skinny birches, mind you. But a stand of meaty, ancient pines with large grey trunks and roots the circumference of duct work. I know, because I got close enough to practically kiss them.

The curve in the road that I had entirely missed had been marked off with a single reflector, and that single reflector hadn’t done me any good at 80 mph. My first thought was, “I will never hear the end of it if I total my dad’s car!” And then, for the first time in my life, I had this thought:

“I might actually die.”

THAT was my first encounter with true fear.

I’d like to think it was my cat-like reflexes that motivated the following thought pattern. If I slammed on the brakes, I would either (1) skid out and hit the trees passenger side first, (2) not gain enough brake leverage to stop in time to avoid a head-on collision with the trees, or (3) some combination of (1) and (2). So, I slammed on the brakes while banking hard to the left in the opposite direction. I had no idea what was to the left of the car, but I was turning there at about 60 mph.

What was to the left was a sedan carrying a couple who had no idea I was about to do a bumper-car spin-out into their driver side quarter panel. And then the clock hands started to slow, and I saw in perfect clarity what I see even now writing this – the glasses and the brown hair of the car’s driver, and the face of his passenger as she began to turn in my direction, no doubt prompted by the headlights shining into her ear. I saw the red tail light of their passing car and then the Ford logo as it pulled away, and I ground to a halt directly behind it.  My head hit the head rest, my bags fell to the floor, the car rocked on its suspension.

But I was alive.

I can think of no other explanation for surviving this kind of a close-call, than that the Lord had physically interjected his hand between the car, the trees, and the passing Ford. I am an awful driver, and an even worse magician. Close-calls like that aren’t just lucky, they’re divinely directed.

“But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.’” Luke 2:10

Do not be afraid.

Apparently the sister who booked herself a double shift during the Christmas shopping season, just to get a little extra scratch and nearly killed her tired, speeding self on the way home thought she could thumb her nose at fear. Then, fear showed her a finger of its own.

Fear – real, suffocating, pit-of-your stomach fear is about the worst feeling in the world. What I hate most about what happened in Newtown, CT at Sandy Hook Elementary is that those children and their teachers were afraid. Afraid in an “I might actually die” way. Afraid like a band of mutton-stinking shepherds when the pitch-black sky burst open and a voice from heaven like a sonic boom cried, “Do not be afraid!” kind of way.

(Footnote: I will save any discussion about the failure of the mental health system in America for a later time. For my part, I do not believe that the Sandy Hook tragedy was wholly due to laxness in American gun control.)

But now my fear, the real kind that makes you want to puke if you weren’t turning the wheel so fast, is what happens to those children who grow up to be Adam Lanza. His was a complex psychological picture and by every account, he was severely mentally ill. His handicaps were invisible. Among his many disabilities was an autism spectrum diagnosis – a diagnosis which the media has used as a lightning rod to establish debate between mental health pundits on whether or not the diagnosis gave Adam a penchant for anti social – and more specifically, violent – behaviors.

The white-hot fear I have now is for my children.

I find that fear is a more regular visitor now that I have children, and my heart walks around outside myself in the form of three blonde children who grew their tiny bodies just under my own ribcage.

I have a son with an autism spectrum diagnosis, with ADHD, with OCD, and with Oppositional Defiance disorder. I have another who may have epilepsy, who was recently described by our neurologist as “severely ADHD”, and who, in conjunction with the foregoing, seems to be expressing some severe behavioral problems that might point to something even more darkly complex. What happens to my boys when they grow up?

I am trembling just a little bit.

“’Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.’” (Luke 2:11-14)

Fear has an effective way of forcing us to listen. When your heart temporarily stops, it’s a great way to get your ears to work. Like when a great company of angels begins a chorus loud enough to strip the wool off the sheep and you think, maybe the baby in the barn might be worth investigating after all.

I am listening to my children. I am watching them closely. I am calling our neurologist and booking appointments at a lightning pace. We are even more motivated now – Matt and I. We refuse to be a statistic or a news story. We remember the place of purity from which our children began their lives, and we remember the One who provided it.  He is the same One who will protect them as they grow, and reward the diligence of the parents who’ve been entrusted to shepherd them. Though we continue to endure close-calls, our family’s path is, and always has been divinely directed.

There is no greater job than to parent these children, and we are privileged to have it. Remembering that helps the fear to fade. I get to take care of these three. What a gift. No matter what their ICD-9 codes are.

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

For now, when I’m feeling a tad more rational and I’ve turned off the coverage of the Sandy Hook funerals and the days at school are uneventful with no disciplinary notices smashed deep in the bottom of backpacks, I tuck the fear back into a quiet chamber of my heart, to ponder it for another day when I am feeling less brave. And even then, it will be okay.  Because the baby in the manger made sure it would be.

Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, Challenge, Christmas, Diagnosis, God's presence, growth, mental illness, school, Uncategorized

The Fight for Peace

December 5, 2012 By Leave a Comment

“Peace be with you!” John 20:19

I recently found myself identifying with the apostle Peter in a new and deeper way while reading through the Gospels and his overestimation of his faith and trust in Jesus. I was reading Mark 14:27-31 where Jesus predicts Peter’s denial and Peter emphatically insists he would never disown Jesus but would die with Him. Peter wholeheartedly believed that no matter what he would stay faithful. As we know, within hours Jesus’ prediction comes true and Peter “broke down and wept” (verse 72).

I was reflecting on a similar personal disappointment in my own relationship with Jesus and my overestimation of my spiritual growth through a recent trial. I was sure that after experiencing the Lord’s provision in such clear and powerful ways for our family, I would no longer be anxious about our finances.

I was wrong and have spent the past two weeks battling anxiety and fighting for my peace.  Between racing thoughts, trips to the bathroom for my upset stomach and sleepless nights, He has heard my cries and met me in my emotional turmoil. He is helping me stay focused on Him alone and slowly I am regaining my emotional equilibrium.

I daily confess my deep need for Him in my life and surrender to Him fresh each morning. I admit that I had become complacent in our relationship for a couple of weeks leading up to this episode and it was enough to lose my footing. How quickly I turned to self-sufficiency and lost my way.

As always, there was no condemnation or shame for my humanness. I felt His forgiveness and deep love for me, his precious daughter. Our intimacy has been restored and we are moving forward, but this time in His strength and not my own. Anxious moments still come, but they are not as severe or long lasting. I recognize the significant progress I have made in this area and look forward to more freedom.

May we all experience the Prince of Peace in all His glory this season.

~Lynn

 

Filed Under: Anxiety, Emotions, Forgiveness, growth Tagged With: , ,
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