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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: , ,

Anxiety Wears Sneakers

February 23, 2013 By Leave a Comment

My son (age 16, Aspergers and Learning Disabilities) and daughter and I were walking around the mall last week when I noticed a “Now Hiring” sign in a game store. “You could work there,” I told my son. He replied, “Mom, do you want me out of the house or something? You keep mentioning places I could work.” Oops. I didn’t realize how often I mention jobs or careers to my son.

I think it is the sneaky sneakers of anxiety. They sneak up on me, into my heart and mind and, eventually, out of my mouth. Unless I am actively identifying my anxiety and presenting these concerns to the Lord (with thanksgiving), I become anxious, particularly about my son’s future. I wonder what kind of job he will be able to do, how he will be successful, how he will handle stress and chaos, who he will find to marry, and many other future issues that I have no control over.

On the surface, I am doing my best to educate him, socialize him, and help him overcome his learning disabilities. On the surface, I am not worried about tomorrow but there is an undercurrent that I think all parents have that threatens to suck us into the riptide of worry and anxiety. Then, suddenly, I find that I have “borrowed trouble” from tomorrow. I have allowed the sneaky sneakers to catch up to me.

I really don’t know the answers to these questions and I have no idea of what he may end up doing for a living. The possibilities sometimes seem more limited than they are for my neurotypical daughter. But they are not! We have a God who doesn’t know the meaning of the word impossible. We have a God who promises us that, if we present our requests to Him, with thanksgiving, he will keep those sneaky sneakers away and guard our hearts and give us peace instead of anxiety. What an amazing, loving God we serve!

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:6-7

~Brooke

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, learning disabilities, Parenting, Teenager, Trust, Uncategorized, work Tagged With: , , , , ,

Building a Mystery

January 24, 2013 By Leave a Comment

A move does interesting things to an autistic. For individuals who are categorized by, among other things, their need for routinization, a change like this can be catastrophic in its proportions. For neurotypicals, the Homes and Rahe stress scale lists a change in residence or living conditions as major contributing factors to the accumulation of overall life stress (and ultimate potential for physical illness. On a related note, Noah’s sister – not coincidentally – has croup). So, one can only imagine what it does to the psyche of children with Asperger’s, for whom a change in routine or predictability can wreak emotional chaos.

Noah is desperate for a sense of contribution to the process of our move. The exercise of control over his circumstances is one way he attempts to limit his own explosions, ticking, and emotional outbursts. On Saturday, during one of our many trips to the new house, Noah positively lost his mind when he dropped a toy on the floor and cracked its exterior. He spent nearly 10 minutes in the bathroom, crying and screaming and wiping his eyes.

When he’d calmed down, he dug into a box of sundries in the living room and began pulling out items he wanted to “decorate” with. I explained that decorating was the last thing we were going to do – that the boxes needed to be emptied and the shelves needed to be cleaned; that we had so much left to move. He didn’t listen. Time after time, he returned to the box, pulling out vases and sculptures, plates and lanterns. He told me to come to the tables he’d decorated, and take a look.

“I need you to say something nice and complementary about what I’ve done,” he admonished.

“Something nice and complementary,” I said. Noah didn’t laugh.

The table was set in a perfectly symmetrical pattern. The same number of coasters, and the same coasters on each side. The large letter in the middle evenly dividing both sets. On the other side of the room, he balanced a wooden plate holder on each of two candlesticks. Between them both were two ceramic birds. Behind them, two matching statues. Then, this morning, he told me of the prior night’s dream. “The king told us to build a castle, and we stacked floors on top of each other, and they were teetering. And there was a soldier on each side, and a light behind each soldier…” He even dreams in symmetry. That mind of his, it’s always building mysteries.

All things same and balanced. The antidote to chaos.

This predilection toward symmetry isn’t unique to our son. In fact, it’s been reported that autistic children recognize symmetry better than do their non-autistic peers. But in our home, and for the present, this represents more than a simple neural function. Instead, I see it as a plea for order. As the boxes pile up in increasingly empty rooms, and we shuttle another load of furniture between homes, I am watching Noah and finding ways that he is stacking and sorting and separating to make sameness and order. I long to protect him from his own anxiety, but at the same time, help him to appropriately deal with it. This isn’t the only time in his life things will get messy.

“No, we declare God’s wisdom, a mystery that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began” (1 Corinthians 2:7).

Noah’s mind is a mystery. The wisdom of God is mysterious. It is a function of my personality to be plagued by the frustration of ignorance, always asking why. But there are some things the finite, simple mind cannot possibly know. So for now, I must be content in the not knowing of things, and in the trusting that what I don’t understand is for good in the end.

-Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, Autism, balance, stress, Trust, Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

Of Anticipation and Anxiety

January 19, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I have realized something lately.  Anticipation and anxiety are two sides of the same coin.  I never quite realized that before.  I feel a little silly to say that but it is really a revelation of late.

We have journeyed with our son, who has hidden disabilities, for over a decade since diagnosis.  We have been through 14 IEPs, 4 Triennials, 3 Superintendents, 3 Special Education directors, several Administrators, several case managers, and countless
teachers.  Woo.  Makes me tired just thinking about it.

We are now at the college prep stage.  SATs done, Senior year, and applications sent. And we are waiting.

The college of his choice is supposed to notify him this week if he has been accepted. And nothing. Every day I go to the mail box for a letter and nothing.  It is painful.

I find myself swinging between quiet, peaceful trust in God’s faithfulness and anxiety-filled begging of Him to be merciful and make this a HAPPY moment instead of just another dreaded learning experience. We have had our share of those in this journey and I have so wished for this to be a happy moment for him.

And I find this new realization in the midst of it all… that anticipation and anxiety are two sides of the same coin.

When your life is filled with happy, typical moments and you are waiting for something, you tend to do so with  ANTICIPATION.  This was my very typical growing up experience.  I rarely ever experienced anxiety or worse – dread.  I had no reason to anticipate it.  Life was generally good.

But having walked this journey with hidden disabilities and the painful daily experiences that often accompany, I am now acquainted with grief, and his all too familiar friend – ANXIETY.  This is new territory for me. I have learned new things about myself and God in the midst of this walk.

So today, I am waiting for the letter.  And reviewing Phil 4:6-7 repeatedly in my mind: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

God has been so faithful to us at every step along the way in this journey. He has not protected us from the grief along the way but He has walked with us in it.  He has given us grace through it.  I KNOW He will walk with us in this moment as well.  If our son is accepted, He will prepare His heart for transition.  And if he is not, He will provide grace and direction for next steps to take.

Two days after I wrote this, the letter came — a deferral of decision.  He is crushed. No amount of reassurance that this is not a rejection will work today.  So we will continue to walk it out and pray.  God’s good plan will be clear in time.

Waiting,

Shannon

Filed Under: Anxiety, college, Parenting Tagged With: , ,

Rope Burn

January 17, 2013 By Leave a Comment

“When you get to your wit’s end, you will find God there.” So proclaimed the sign outside a little country church near my house. I am pretty certain these witty, theological colloquialisms come from a book somewhere, but they are eerily prescient. Because lately, I’ve had a bad case of rope burn. Rope burn is what happens when your young, thoroughbred ex-racehorse decides that the hoof pick is a snake, and she rears up like a scene out of the “Black Stallion” while you’re clutching the lead rope like a monkey. Rope burn is what happens when you’re lashing your belongings to the back of a pick-up truck and someone on the other side of the truck – as desperate as you to speed the transition into a different house – pulls on the rope the same time you do. Rope burn is what happens when you clutch your circumstances tight, and despite your best efforts, they shift and hitch and jerk themselves right out of your control, taking the skin on your palms – and your wits – with them.

I have rope burn, all right. The Lord snatched from me what passed for circumstantial control so that I could find Him standing right in front of me, holding the rope. That’s how a tug of war is won, you see. One party loosens their grip; the other takes up the slack. And boy, that rope hurts on its way out of your hands. But “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him” (1 Corinthians 2:9), and I’m at my wit’s end.

So I suppose I’ll loosen my grip.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Challenge, God's presence, Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

Foolin’

January 10, 2013 By 1 Comment

As the New Year dawns on a cold morning, I am lying in bed, willing myself not to hear the yelling and scuffling down the hall. Matt is still sleeping, mouth agape. He told me once that he could fall asleep on a set of bleachers during a basketball game, having perfected the skill during high school and a run of sporting events he shared with his two brothers. He can also turn off his hearing at will. It must stem from the same neurological pathway in his brain – the one that lets him not hear kids outside his door though they’re hollering at each other in full voice.

I, on the other hand, have mother ears. The kind that let you hear your crying child at the end of the hall, through two closed doors, over the hum of a box fan, in the middle of the night. So over the growing din of that morning, I heard a little hiss of something over the carpet, attended by a tiny crackle of paper.

The kids were sending us notes again, I thought. And then I threw a pillow over my face and pretended it was still only four in the morning and I had 3 hours more to sleep.

When Matt and I finally uprooted ourselves from the bed approximately 20 minutes later, I found, as I had suspected there would be, a note at the bottom of our bedroom door.

“DEAR MOM AND DAD – I HAVE RAN [SIC] AWAY FROM HOME. SIGN [SIC] NOAH”

Aw c’mon, Lord! This ALREADY? I’m only seven hours into the New Year!

I bolted past Grace and Jesse in the hallway, screaming, “Where is your brother?? Where IS NOAH!?”

I yelled downstairs into the basement, pulling on a coat over my pajamas at the same time. “NOAH!”

That was when he jumped out from behind the couch screaming, “SURPRISE!”

Now, the time between my reading of his note to Noah revealing himself was probably a minute or less in length. But a minute of suspended heart rhythm, a minute of terror seizing the gut, a minute of “what do I do next?” is a minute too long. It was a minute that probably took six months off my life on the back end. So I’d like to apologize in advance to Delores Hornstein at the Shady Oaks retirement community, because as it turns out, I’m not going to make that shuffleboard tournament after all.

I’m panting now, doubled over in the kitchen. Noah trots over with a gap-toothed grin. He has no concept of why I am worried.

“NOAH! Why did you write that note? I don’t understand….”

“’Cuz I was foolin’ ya.”

Foolin’ me into thinking he’d left me forever. I’m remembering now when Grace was a tottering infant and Noah compulsively rubbed her head because (1) it was squishy, and (2) it made her scream, and he “liked it.”

That mind blindness of his is a real *****!

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)

Do not let your hearts be afraid when you think your son has disappeared, but instead, remind, remind, remind him of what other people could be feeling as a result of his actions. Instruct, instruct, instruct him on principles of safety and awareness. Even when he’s foolin’.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Anxiety, Asperger, Challenge, Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , ,

Beautiful Music

December 22, 2012 By Leave a Comment

“Yea; have ye never read, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou has perfected praise?” Matthew: 21:16b (words of Jesus)

It’s a mystery to me, actually. Most people are afraid to perform in front of others, unless they have that particular personality that loves the spotlight. “Shy” people aren’t ones we would think enjoy performing in front of others.

That’s why it seems so ironic to me that Flory, who is afraid to go by herself to different rooms, sometimes, thrives on the stage. She seems totally at home up there in front of everyone. Music is her favorite; singing, in particular. I’m actually blessed to have both of my kids talented musically. My son is a “natural” (so says his piano teacher, and she doesn’t just say that about every student), though he doesn’t like to practice. I happen to agree with his teacher.

I love music, too. I love to go around the house singing or whistling whatever tune comes to mind. I picked it up from my dad. I have sung in front of people, and still do from time to time. But…at THEIR ages? No way!

Recently, I was blessed to hear my son play a piano solo in church on youth night. I’m so proud of him, and I don’t think he realizes how it thrills my soul to hear him play what I can’t. It is beautiful and sweet to my ears. I sincerely hope and pray he continues to play and develops the discipline to practice daily… and enjoy it.

Then, it soon came time for my daughter’s Holiday Concert at the school. She’s in the chorus and was “in heaven” just to know she had a small solo part. I watched my little girl up there proudly and excitedly standing with the rest of the chorus, singing each song with gusto. When the time came for her to sing her solo part, I was on the edge of my seat. She was one of three, each singing a short part before everyone chimed in to sing the chorus.

I knew she had sung her part with enthusiasm at home, but when I heard her sing strong and with confidence, my heart burst with pride and enthusiasm. I think she honestly took my husband by surprise. She was on “cloud nine” until exhaustion from the excitement put her to sleep that night.

Never doubt that kids with “hidden disabilities” can do extraordinary things. God created them in a unique way and has His own plans and purpose for them. We all have things that seem to limit us, whether we have “hidden disabilities” or not. Instead of always focusing on those limitations, I think we should focus on how best God can use us; on the incredible things we CAN do. If we model this mindset for our loved ones, especially children, with hidden disabilities, then we are pointing them towards the God who created them; the One Who can use them for His glory.

-Grace

Filed Under: Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged With: ,

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: , ,

Sweet Songs and Golden Opportunities

December 3, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Flory recently started creating a song. I love that about kids; their creativity and ideas rolling into stories or songs to express either silliness or beauty. Flory’s song begins: “Compared to You, Lord, I am nothing.” She even had a beautiful tune for it. The simplicity of her song implies that she already, at age 10, understands something that many adults never acknowledge: our inadequacy to measure up to the standards of the Almighty God.

She has another line she is working on as well. She hasn’t decided the best way to word it, but she basically wants to say we are accepted by God because of the price Jesus paid on the cross. My daughter, Flory, understands this concept at age 10 and wants to put it in song. I can only imagine our Heavenly Father smiling at the simple and beautiful praise prompted by a child’s love for Him.

Her song made me think of a few golden opportunities I’ve had handed to me lately. Though I’m nothing without Jesus, I’m alive through Him. I am no longer nothing, but am a child of God; given the righteousness of Christ. I’m talking about those golden moments He lays at our feet to be a light in the darkness; even if it’s just a small light. A flicker. He tells us, in Matthew 5:14, 15:

14 Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.
15 Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.

Sometimes I forget that I am supposed to be that light. I love that He brings me golden opportunities to shine; if even just a little bit. I am not meant to be hidden or snuffed out (as a child of God). I am meant to shine and bring light (Jesus) to others.

I had two such opportunities last week. The first was in a conversation with someone who was hurting and asking questions. I eagerly answered with what the Bible had to say on the topic. We forget that people are hungry, at times, for the Word of God. We forget that He came to heal the hurting and broken-hearted. I added her to my unwritten prayer list; the one that pops into my mind when I am lying down or when something small reminds me of someone in need.

My second opportunity came when I opted to be at the mall while Flory went to see a movie with her dad and brother. This turned out to be beneficial for both of us. For her, because I was not there to take her out if she became frightened, she sat through the whole movie. She was able to watch the entire movie and enjoy it, while facing the moments that frightened her. For me, well, read on.

Okay, I will humbly admit that I fell prey to a salesman at a kiosk in the middle of the mall. I usually pride myself on just politely saying “Not interested,” and walking on by. Oh, but I was drawn in by the smooth-talking accent of this man, just as Jack was talked into buying “magic beans.” He beckoned me, with his hands and with his wonderful wit and charm to just come and see what he had to show me.

By the time this man was done, I had to admit I was impressed with the product and his charming presentation. In haggling and offering me “only today” an “amazing” discount, I ended up purchasing four of what he was selling (marketed as “three of them are gifts for your friends.”). In our entertaining conversations, as he demonstrated his product, I discovered he was Jewish. I began to talk with him more, not wanting to miss an opportunity to spend some time speaking about scripture with one of God’s chosen people.

Amazingly (for real, amazingly), He opened the door for me to discuss scripture with this Israeli gentleman. We found common ground in discussing God and some of the Jewish celebrations. It didn’t hurt that I know several people who have visited Israel. It also didn’t hurt that we support a missionary who is a Jewish Christian reaching out to the Jews in New York City. He told us how to share the gospel with a Jewish person, focusing on using the t’nach (pardon my poor attempt at showing pronunciation), or what we call the Old Testament.

Although I didn’t get to share the gospel, Yaniv, eventually, seemed to understand that I must be a Christian, or at least someone with faith in God. He even asked me, respectfully, why I was using my rollator. When I described multiple sclerosis to him and that there was no cure, he seemed genuinely saddened and indicated so. I told him that God gave this condition to me and that He gives me the strength I need.

I hope that I come across Yaniv again during the Christmas shopping season. I am praying for him and his family. I will see my other friend this week. I have been praying for her, too. Oh, that each of them would have their eyes opened to the truth of God’s Word. Oh, that they would each find that, despite their own deeds (good or bad), they are nothing without the righteousness of Christ. Compared to You, Lord, I am nothing. Through Your righteousness, I can do all things.

~ Grace

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: ,

Thankfulness and Roadblocks

November 21, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Today was supposed to be a relatively easy day. Note that I said, “supposed to be.” All I had to do was take this morning easy, pick up Flory and a friend’s little boy at the school’s early dismissal, let them play together until his mom came, and then pick up my son. It was supposed to be easy.

First “roadblock” to interrupt things: I had to make an appointment for myself to see the doctor. Our family seems to have a knack for someone getting sick just before a holiday or weekend; guess it’s my turn. Thankfully, my appointment wasn’t until after I picked up my son. Wait! Yikes! I made my appointment at the same time as his weekly piano lesson! Oh, boy; that’s “roadblock” number two! Quick text thankfully cancelled his lesson for this week. Whew….

Everything went well while Flory and her friend watched t.v. and entertained the dog together. Thankfully, they didn’t have homework. What teacher in his/her right mind would be giving homework to elementary students during a week of half days and parent teacher conferences? On the week of Thanksgiving? Whew….

After my friend picked up her son, it wasn’t long before we had to pick up Flory’s brother from middle school. He’s become a bit of a “middle school expert” as this is his first year there. He constantly tells Flory how difficult it is (and tells me how “there’s no way, she’ll make it over there next year”). Today, he had to tell us that there is a boy he knows who has O.C.D. and how it is frustrating for kids with O.C.D. in middle school (note that one kid, suddenly represents all kids with O.C.D.). I’ve already determined that I’d like to homeschool her next year, but I don’t want him giving her the idea that it would be IMPOSSIBLE for her to go to middle school (sigh…).

Off we went to my doctor’s appointment. Not a welcome thought to my son, who is always starving after school, but I urged him to be patient. Thankfully, he finished his homework while in the waiting room! I wanted to make a virtual “high five” with someone, at that point. Middle school homework has often been a daily “roadblock”.

We left to go to the pharmacy. My “supermom” plan was to placate my children with donuts in the cafe section while we waited for my prescription to be filled. Flory objected, saying that we should go home first so I could take my daily injection (maybe I SHOULDN’T have asked her to remind me to take it). We settled down in the cafe with our snacks while we waited patiently and chatted freely. Thankfully, it felt good.

Uh-oh … next “roadblock” came up when Flory had to go to the restroom. Her brother was fine waiting, munching on spicy Pringles, while I took her to the public restroom. I always dread this, because I either have to go inside a stall with her (because she’s scared) or I end up holding the door and urging her to “hurry.” This time was no different. We had to find just the right stall and make sure she put the paper on the seat (or that I did) just right. We finally emerged and went to grab her brother so we could get my rx and go home.

I asked them to just wait there on the bench near the restrooms while I picked up my meds at the counter. Suddenly, I found Flory at my side with an urgent look. She felt “uncomfortable” and needed to go back into the restroom to be sure she was “clean.” I told her to wait with her brother, and then I would take her in again. By this time, my pain medication from earlier in the day had worn off and I wasn’t in the mood for any more interruptions to my “it should be easy” day. Next “roadblock”: while the pharmacist was telling me that they didn’t have my medications in stock, my son came up to tell me he lost Flory. Flory has her own colorful history of getting lost in stores (sigh…). Told him to go back and wait for her where they were last together.

After finding that the closest pharmacy was out of stock, as well, the pharmacist discovered that the Walmart pharmacy had what I needed. Uh-oh … another “roadblock”; big store where I’ll need a scooter and will have to break the news to the kids that we can’t go home yet (sigh…). Meanwhile, we did find Flory. She had decided to go in the bathroom by herself without telling him (of course, she didn’t stay in there by herself and I had to go back inside with her).

Despite Flory’s concern and objections that we go home first (well, I DID tell her to remind me to take my shot…), we drove to Walmart and I dropped off my prescription. We were told it would be 25-30 minutes before it would be ready (sigh…). I distracted the kids by taking them to the toy section where they could look at the video games. After a sufficient amount of time (and hearing/seeing “wish list” items for Christmas), we headed back up to the front and I positioned myself there to wait it out. Thankfully, it was ready. I gladly picked it up and we headed home. Whew….

Nobody could decide upon dinner, so I made a “command decision” for tuna salad sandwiches. I told each kid to go upstairs and put their mounds of dirty laundry into laundry bags, while I started supper. Uh-oh … serious “roadblock”; big brother had to go to the bathroom. That meant that Flory couldn’t load her laundry; she would be by herself. She begged me to “come with her.” I reasoned, losing patience, that I couldn’t be in two places at one time; that I had moved her hamper into the hallway in plain sight, and that the dog was there. I forgot that you can’t reason with anxiety or O.C.D. It was dark outside by now, meaning she was afraid to be anywhere by herself.

I finally gave in and allowed her to read a book, but I had to sit next to her. As soon as I could safely be away from the stove (boiling eggs for the salad), I sat down to take my shot while she read. She followed me closely, like a shadow, as I gathered what I needed before I sat down. Today was supposed to be an easy day….

My son emerged and the two of them gathered laundry and carried it downstairs. Unfortunately, my son decided he didn’t like tuna tonight (sigh…). We sat down at the table and listened to “Adventures in Odyssey” while TWO of us ate, and one just drank and decided he had a tummy ache. Wasn’t today supposed to be an “easy day”?

I could go on describing the rest of the evening until we reached bedtime, but I won’t. I’m so very thankful that God gave me the grace to get through all of the “roadblocks” that interfered with my “easy day.” I couldn’t have managed without His gentle guidance, as He allowed these challenges to shape me into His image. I think, to Him, these were not roadblocks, but challenges to increase my patience. Of course, I still wouldn’t mind having an “easy day”…once in awhile….

-Grace

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