Thursday, December 18, 2014

I've got the joy down in my heart

One of Garrett's favorite songs is a contemporary version of one that I remember from my youth, "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart". He sings it frequently and loudly and we all enjoy it. The funny thing is that, having joy, not being frustrated, angry, or disagreeable is one of his biggest struggles. The not-so-funny part is that it drives this mama crazy at times. With my older boys I have worked very hard to teach them self-control and how to handle themselves appropriately. This concept feels almost impossible to instill in Garrett. I feel like when he heads down the road toward a meltdown there is no going back or even stopping him. It can be embarrassing, unpredictable, and inconvenient. Lately, his teachers and Ryan and I have been diligently trying to find methods to help him understand how to express his frustrations appropiately. Knowing how much he loves letters and spelling, I started defining and explaining joy by spelling it, J-O-Y.  I have been using it as a sort of catch phrase to help him understand his feelings and understand what I would like for him to feel and how I would like for him to behave. I feel like it is helpful but not just for him. It has been a bit of catalyst for all of us to find joy and keep it throughout our day. I thought it might be fun to share some of my recent "joys" with you and to encourage you to find your own.

My first has to be one of my favorite things ever. One evening this week while we were doing our advent devotionals, we were discussing heaven and what we might say to Jesus when we finally get to meet him some day. Carter, our middle son, is often a bit flighty and funny and when it was his turn to answer he said, "I think I will say, Jesus, were you born in a barn or something?". I almost choked on my coffee, I laughed so hard. I will, hopefully, remember this forever and maybe even steal his line when I am called home.

Another joy was my husband's guitar playing last week. This is absolutely not to be shared with him because I work very hard at not enjoying the constant strumming that my husband tortures me with. Last week, however, he was practicing a rather difficult acoustic version of O Holy Night. He probably played it no less than 15 times every evening, including while I was brushing my teeth. On Sunday he played the song during communion and so this week he has not been practicing that particular song. The thing is, and this is never to get back to him, I actually miss the song. It became the background music to my week and it kept me focused on the holiness of the season instead of the struggles. Ryan, his guitar, and a song are one of my joys, but, really, don't tell him!

The next one brings tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. We have, unfortunately, had a couple of people recently pass on during this Christmas season. It is always a difficult thing for me to discuss with the kids and so one day after school I dreaded sharing with them the passing of one of my aunts. The boys and I had visited her and they enjoyed getting to know her and my hope was that they wouldn't struggle with the situation. When I told them their reaction was unpredicted. They started talking about how jealous they were of her. She gets to spend Christmas in Heaven! Carter, once again with his famous one liners said, "I mean imagine the party in heaven on Christmas!" They were pretty sure that my aunt was preparing for a celebration like no other along with all the saints. The faith of my kids brings me joy.

Lastly, I can't not share about my Garrett's Christmas program. It was on a Friday morning and I found myself sitting in the front row of a gym full of family members waiting for our little ones. The thing was, that I felt alone and anxious. I wondered if I was the only mom in the room afraid that my son wouldn't do it or would loose it during the production. I kept looking at the stage noticing the brightness of lights and all the different sounds and I couldn't help but anticipate the worst. When it came time for his class, I said a little prayer and held my breath, then, there, toward the end of line was my boy. He was taking it all in, I could tell, but he was doing ok. When the music started I looked around for the fastest exit to take if he needed out, but there was no need. He spotted me, waved, and then proceeded to sing and dance like a rockstar. He added his own little quirks in there but to me, he was the brightest star on the stage. I had tears in my eyes and joy in my heart over what to others may not have seemed like much, but to me was monumental, Garrett, in his first school program, a dream I was afraid to even imagine.

This joy-noticing or gratitude-counting is not new to me. In recent years, it has become my constant conversation with my Father. He blesses and I, purposefully, take note of it. Sometimes, it is in the things my boys say. Sometimes, it is in the quietness of a moment. Sometimes, it is in the storm, but always, there is a blessing. I read something in my quiet time recently that summed it up so sweetly for me. It was a devotional about the barren older woman named Sarah from the Bible who God blessed with a very late-in-life baby boy. When  Sarah found out about God's unconventional plan for her life, she laughed. The devotional went on to say that laughter from God is like "oxygenated grace". It certainly is for me. When I feel like I drowning in life, there is nothing more precious to save my soul than joy from above. It reaches under the waves and draws me back up. My focus returns to my Jesus, where it always needs to be. I am thankful for laughter, for joy, and my prayer is that it will always be "down in my heart" but also overflowing in my life to those around me.

Monday, December 1, 2014

Holiday hassles and Hope

"The Holidays", what does this bring to mind for you? The potlucks, the parties, the presents, or not? I have to admit that my thoughts are a bit different. I love the potlucks, the parties and the presents but, as with all things, the holidays can be a struggle for those of us with a special needs child. I often feel like my already stretched existence gets tugged even thinner as I attempt to do it all during the holiday season while anticipating that Garrett may not participate at all. The lack of schedule, the crowds, the busy-ness and emotional highs of this time of year are not easy for him to adapt to. When you need stability and predictability, this season is frightening and exhausting. What everyone around you thinks is fun, is hot and loud and just too much for my little man. It becomes a game of sorts where Ryan and I take turns trying to get him though the transitions all the while maintaining some level of enjoyment for everyone involved. Garrett has slept through parties, yelled at the wrong times, and refused to open presents on more than one occasion. Let me give you a few examples.

This Thanksgiving was a very special one for our family because my brother and his family were in to visit for the week. All of my boys deeply love my niece so the week was filled with playing games, sleepovers, and lots of fun. Garrett was doing great but by Thursday, he was beginning to get a little rough around the edges. When we arrived at my parent's house, he did fine for the first little bit but as more people began to come, he slowly started to unravel. He ended up in time out for unkind talk and after several failed attempts by me and my complete loss of patience, Ryan took over. The solution was to put Garrett back in a bedroom, lights out, covers pulled up tight, until he could keep his cool. It took about a half hour and then he joined back in the festivities but we still had to play by his rules some. With Garrett we don't stress what he eats but that he sits at the table and engages for a few minutes. He doesn't have to say what he is thankful for or close his eyes and bow his head during the family prayer, he just has to try to use kind words to his cousins. It is all a process, a delicate sort of dance. Everyone, from Garrett, to me and Ryan and the boys, to the other cousins, we all make exceptions.

Another example was last Christmas. Christmas eve went over fairly well. Garrett didn't engage as much at the Christmas eve family party but we could blame it on tiredness. He lasted almost through the stockings before he started to cave on Christmas morning. It was one of those moments where you just turn off the camera because it is not video worthy. We continued to take turns with the older boys opening their gifts and eventually, after lots of help, Garrett had all of his presents opened. He, of course, didn't like what we thought he would and wanted, instead, to play with Carter's legos and Parker's k'nex roller coaster with about a thousand pieces between them but we kept him calm and stayed relatively relaxed ourselves. We let him take his necessary breaks and even threw in a bath with some sensory input and then headed off to open presents with my family. Things didn't go well there. G was done and over the whole thing. He ended up in a different room than everyone else. About every hour one of my siblings or my parents would attempt to engage him enough that he would open up their gift to him. There were very few thank yous, except the forced ones. There were lots of tears and tantrums but thankfully we made it through. Ryan and I  once again took turns and we let him slip into his jammie pants and handle things the way he could. Always an adaption but it is what we have to do.

My last example is from tonight. I have learned to set my expectations lower, so as we all gathered to do our first advent devotional my main goal was to engage the big boys and keep the candle lit for more than a minute before G blew it out, a never ending problem we fought with last year. To Garrett, a lite candle needs blown out. We started talking about worship and I gave Garrett a paper to write on in an effort to keep him focused. He joined into the conversation and actually gave appropiate examples of fun Christmas songs and worship Christmas songs. He hung around to hear the scripture reading and then we prayed and he thanked God for his favorite board game. I had one more reading that I had not even planned on but when I looked up and noticed that the candle was still burning I grabbed it up and we discussed the hope of the advent season. After all was completed, I leaned across the table and blew the flame out in awe of the hope that God has given me. Our little family, including G had made it through an entire devotional time without any issues or major distractions.

The holidays can be stressful for me. I want everyone to enjoy and understand the reason for the season and the excitement of it all. Like with all of life with autism, there are exceptions but there are the moments when hope wins. I am hopeful that every year will get easier. I am hopeful that Garrett will someday have a real life relationship with the baby Jesus who we celebrate. I am hopeful that he will love parties and presents and potlucks. I am hopeful that even if he doesn't, God will get us through it. The holidays are full of hassles but also overflowing with hope.

Friday, November 14, 2014

An "almost" lie and labels

Garrett and his glasses.... I could write a book of blogs about Garrett's glasses and the craziness involved in adapting him to them but I will give you the condensed version. Walmart eye center replaces lenses, even if you have eaten them, and our Walmart eye center knows us by name and will likely get a Christmas card. It has been a struggle to say the very least but, lately, things were going well with them. Garrett was leaving his glasses on nicely at school and most of the evening. He had not chewed them lately nor had he fed them to the dog. We were feeling pretty good about the situation. I had noticed that there were several scratches on the lenses so I was considering taking them in and getting them replaced. Then one Sunday afternoon Garrett told me that he put his glasses under Parker's pillow. I was somewhat surprised by this because we usually keep them in the living room or dining room but I thanked him for telling me. I turn into a crazy mom when we lose the glasses so I was grateful just to know where to start looking for them. That evening I remembered the location of the glasses when I was setting out his school clothes for Monday so I retrieved them from under the pillow. I chuckled when I found them because they were broken, this time beyond even Walmart's repair. I told Ryan that I thought this was Garrett's first "almost" lie. I remembered when he had spoken to me earlier that he seemed a little weird. The next morning I asked G where his glasses were. This time the purposeful lack of eye contact and quick answer were telltale signs. He told me again that they were under Parker's pillow. I asked him if he put them there because he broke them and he gave me a half smile and said, "yep". G almost told a lie. Call me crazy but I was a little excited about this. In fact, when I told Ryan about it all, I may have even let a small "woot! woot!" slip out. Garrett doesn't lie. He is very concrete and logical. He can be sarcastic at times, which we are also proud of, but lying is not a milestone he has reached yet. That's right, lying is a developmental milestone. It is one we may not desire for our children unless your child might not ever get it, then you will work for it if you have to.

I was reflecting on this the other day as I considered a conversation that I had shared about the labels that we put on our kids. My Garrett has had many labels in his life. He has a severe speech delay. He was once labeled as having a developmental delay. He is autistic. He has special needs. Other labels, would include that he is awesome and funny and wild. He is strong willed and loud. He is a night owl. He is mine. When I think on these labels, I realize that some are easier to accept than others. After the meeting where they told me that G had a developmental delay, I cried. After the eval where they told us he was autistic, I wept. I will not pretend that I have always appreciated them. I also, though, have to say that I have learned to embrace them. As I think about who Garrett is, I use the labels to define him but not to limit him. There are moments when you would never guess that he had a severe speech delay and yet there are moments when he is stimming and he needs a little extra patience. The labels are not stop signs in his life but instead they help us map out how we can best help him. Without the speech delay label, we may have not have sought out aggressive speech therapy for G. Without knowing that Garrett had a developmental delay, we likely would have not placed him in Achievements where he received one-on-one help.  Without accepting the special needs label, Garrett would not have such great people working with him daily to help him succeed and enjoy a full life as a kindergartener. Without the autism label, I would not be excited about an "almost" lie. Without the labels, I think I would feel a little lost. They equip me to keep going and to never give up. Labels are what we allow them to be in our lives and for us they are a tool to assist us in raising Garrett. They help us give him the tools to keep growing and developing. They remind us that some victories may be harder but they will be worth the effort.

Lastly, let me share a funny little story. Garrett rides the bus home now and it would be safe to say that he has a small obsession with buses. He loves to look at their numbers and talks about them frequently. He gets very upset if he thinks he may not get to ride his bus. He is a bit of a bus lover. This being said, he has taken a special liking to what he calls bus 103. He says that he rides bus 103 to school and asks permission to almost daily. Finally, one day, in response to this question I told him that my van is bus 103. He gave me a little smile and agreed and continued with his daily bus 103 talk. Today, as a surprise for Garrett, I labeled my van. I bought sticker numbers of 1-0-3 and put them on the side of my van. When Garrett saw it, he was beyond thrilled. Was it a label? Yes. Was it appropriate and acceptable? Absolutely. Would I change them? Never.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

The bee sting


I have been asked before and it happened again recently. Someone asked me a question, a well-meaning, slightly personal question and it was whether I take medication. No, they didn't mean it as funny. They were serious. It was during a conversation about a bee sting. Just a tiny little poke from a tiny little bee that was messing up my life. Of course, a bee sting is a not a big deal except when it happens to my little Garrett. It ruins that day and it ruins the next, and the next, and the next, until it heals. How annoying! I was describing this to a few of my friends. I was laughing, instead of crying, about the tantrums and screaming and fighting and testing that we were living through because G had been stung a few days before. One of friends simply asked how do I do it? It struck me as funny. I don't drink, except too much coffee. I don't take medication, except an occasional ibuprofen. I do something different. Something more powerful and harder and sweeter and simpler. I laugh and I smile and I thank my Jesus.

Don't we all know too well the feeling of defeat? The belief that we can't do it. That it's just too much. I know it. I live with it some days. There are the mornings where my little man climbs into my bed and asks for his milky juice in a tone that tells me that the day is going to be long and hard. There are moments when I walk away or take a very real deep breath because it's all I can do. We all feel and know personally what panic feels like as it wraps itself around our hearts. There are many ways to combat that enemy but for me it is finding the joy. I say that to my boys a lot and it always serves to remind me as well. I often, in their and my moments, when we just want to cry and scream and vent all that yuck inside, will say, "find the joy, guys". This week as the bee sting dominated our household I had to find the joy. I remember specifically driving home from school one day, with my Garrett wailing in the backseat, naming the joys and the biggest one was that Jesus knew my tears. None of the people driving past, not the other moms who looked on me with pity as I man handled a screaming kindergartner into my car, not even Garrett, knew my tears, but Jesus did. That thought made me smile and before I knew it I was laughing at the irony of a bee sting being such a powerful influence and how frustrating and hilarious that was. Let me tell you, there is nothing like the joy the Lord to combat anxiety. 

 I recently heard a podcast that challenged the listener to find in our toughest battles how God can be glorified. How can God be on display in autism? That's a tough question when I'm in the battle, when the bee is stinging, but really, it's the obvious. It's the love that exists and overwhelms the ugly. It's the giving thanks, celebrating victories, and choosing to laugh instead of cry. That's where God is displayed and it is the light that I shine often for Him. God will always make Himself known, sometimes we just have to try a little harder. Sometimes, we feel like we want to quit or we feel like we are loosing our battles. Those feelings are real and legitimate but God has hidden His joy somewhere, we just have to seek it out. There are times when I hunt it down like a crazy lady because I know it is all that will get me through. It a world where anxiety and stress and failure are so common, there is no better way to display Jesus than with His joy.

Yes, my life is stressful and if I needed medication or counseling, I would be grateful that God has made them available for me. For now, though, it is enough if I can just find the joy. I will dig in and laugh out loud as often as I can. When I need to cry, I will, but then I will move on and enjoy the comfort of my Jesus. There is a scripture in Psalms that says, "You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy." Like picking out what to wear for the day, wearing joy is a choice I make. I choose joy, over bee stings, over tantrums, over panic. A nice big serving of gladness, piled high with hope and topped with a dollop of laughter. That's my joy.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Best supporting role goes to.....



We live a crazy life. On any given day you could find our dog eating our mail, our youngest son tying himself to the neighbor's porch, our middle son clad head to toe in lime green, a cackle of boys in the side yard, and Ryan in black dress socks and crocs pitching to them. This is us. Yes, we're crazy. I often say that our life is like a sitcom that anyone would love to watch because it isn't real life. The only thing is, it is our real, everyday life. The nutty part is that we love our crazy life most of the time. 

This past week was parent teacher conferences and an IEP meeting for Garrett. Now a parent teacher conference for a special needs child is not where you go in and wait for them to tell you what a good reader your child is and what a joy he is to have in class. We knew it would be different. We knew there would be the good and the bad but what we didn't expect blew me away. As we sat first in his special Ed class and listened to the teacher and aides, I was excited to hear how well they were understanding my little man. They saw his strengths clearly. They saw his struggles and they genuinely wanted to help. They weren't offended by his yelling at them. They didn't care that he asks everyday about the fire drill. They complimented his skill of verbalizing what he was feeling. They wanted to help deal with his struggle of noise control. They laughed at his obsession with riding the bus. They find joy in giving him "bear hugs". I didn't expect them to be "ok" with his quirks but they embraced them and loved him because of his individuality. 

As we waited for our turn in his regular ed classroom, we both wondered aloud what we would hear there. Once again, we were pleasantly surprised. One of the first things that his teacher said was how much she enjoys bantering with G. She said, "I totally jive with Garrett".  I could have hugged her! She told story after story where all Ryan and I could say was, "yep, that sounds like him". She was fine that he announces himself when he enters a room. She wants to help him increase his focus instead of criticizing his lack of it. She recognized his need for control and predictability and she explained how she gently helps him adapt as necessary.  She explained how she is working with him to not feel left out but fully engaged in every aspect of school. She told us his favorite songs and laughed at how he tries to give everyone, including himself and her, time on the wall at recess. In just a few short weeks these lovely ladies met and fell fast for my crazy little man! What more could I have asked for?

The next day, after the IEP meeting, one of the main takeaways for me was that from his teachers, to his speech therapist, to his principal, Garrett spends his school day with people who like him just as he is and want to help him continue to grow and achieve. They weren't critical or negative. They laughed with us and shared with us and joined with us for the sake of our son.They discussed ways to help him socially, emotionally, and physically adapt to this new phase of his life. It reminded me that prayers are answered and that God knows what my kids need more than I do. I was very hesitant to even send Garrett to school and if I hadn't he would have missed having these wonderful people walking this new road with him.

Raising, loving, living with a child who has special needs is one of the toughest things I have ever done but God has blessed me with an awesome support system. It takes more than a village to get through some things and I am constantly in awe of, and overwhelmingly grateful for the people that God has given us has along the way. Our crazy life promises surprises and difficulties. It is fun and completely exhausting. It is impossible not to love it and fight through it daily. I could never do it on my own. That is why the award for best supporting role goes to each of you who has ever loved my boys. Maybe you wiped their noses or held their hands. Maybe you gave a bear hug or listened to a story. Maybe you shared a chocolate sucker or laughed at one of their crazy antics. For the smiles, the lessons, the love, I can only say thank you. You are an answer to this mother"s prayers and may you blessed abundantly beyond how you have blessed us.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Exceptions

Yesterday I worshipped next to a dear friend of mine. She is a friendly, bubbly, sweet, kind friend and she is dear to me for many reasons but one of the main ones is because I know her story. She stood next to me yesterday singing praises heavenward while her youngest child fell asleep in her arms. The reality of it caused me to stop and reflect as tears ran down my cheeks because I know how precious a moment I was witnessing. Part of her story is that her arms are without one of her babies because she worships for eternity in heaven and is surrounded, not by my friend's arms, but by all of the heavenly hosts. A pain too deep to understand, a script she would not have chosen, but my friend still worships.

It was later that same day when I put the boys to bed that they shared with me Garrett's distracting behavior during storytime at children's church that morning. As I listened to their take on the events, I felt my faith weakening with every word. Thankfully, Ryan came to my rescue and we got everyone to bed with prayers prayed and songs sung even though my heart was aching. As we returned to the living room and our comfy chairs a few minutes later, Ryan wondered exactly what the boys had said. I couldn't even repeat the story. My heart felt too heavy and defeated.  Our conversation went on in a sweet and sorrowful way where I admitted that I don't love autism and what it has brought to our life all the time. It struck me then how hard it is to live a life of exceptions. Garrett is the exception to every rule. As a whole, I really like rules and I don't like exceptions to rules. I live a fairly black and white life if I can, not perfect, but a life where boundaries are clear, except with Garrett. Autism wasn't in our plan and doesn't fit my mold. There are exceptions to his behavior. There are exceptions to his diet, to his sleep, his dress, his discipline. The parenting book, the living life book we may have written was thrown out the window the day he was born, we just didn't know it yet. And, to be frank, we didn't ask for it. It was not a part of our original script. Heaven knows, I can find the joy in most moments but there are times when I want to shake my fists heavenward and ask why. Is this doubt? Fear? Lack of faith? I don't know. What I call it is honesty. I love Garrett more than I could ever put into words but loving him, raising him can be very hard at times. There are tremendous victories but and there are failures that crush and battles that exhaust. There are worries without answers. For my older boys I can hope and plan for their future but for G we work day by day and experience by experience. Sometimes I feel completely overwhelmed by all of it. I think of the boys' memory verse this month, Luke 16:10-"Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much." G is much, sometimes too much. What my dear friend went through, losing a child, was much, too much it seemed. I know the Lord never gives us more than he can help us bear but what about the crosses we never wanted to bear? What do we do when we feel like sinking under the waves of life's storms. I think of Peter. Loving his Savior, Peter stepped out of the boat and walked confidently on water toward Jesus until.... What happened in Peter's heart? I'm not completely sure, but for me it might have been that I started thinking too hard. Maybe he realized that it was against the rules to walk on water or that he hadn't planned on all this going down like it was. Maybe he doubted or feared or felt like it was a bit too much this walking on water thing. Whatever happened, Peter started sinking. I am grateful for this part because Peter made a life saving, split second decision when he was in over his head. He looked up. He said, "Lord, save me". When I feel like God has given me too much and I am ready to drown, I too can ask for Him to save me and know that He will. I think that needing rescued is part of His plan sometimes, not mine, but his "good, pleasing, and perfect will".

The reality is that we all go through things that we didn't plan on.  My life is full and my blessings are many but there are always the exceptions. My friend would not have written her story the way that she has lived it. I know that she has shaken her fists and many times wept and pleaded for things that God didn't give her. I have also seen her joy, felt her love, and even relied on her strength from time to time. Knowing her story, reading Peter's plea for rescue, they remind me to keep going. We may not ask for all that we are given but with hands wide open we can accept whatever He has for us. He is the Author. He is the beginning and the end. He is ready, waiting to rescue us and it may even be a part of His plan.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Shame-less

Shame is defined in Webster as the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something improper done by oneself. It is the pit of your stomach yuck that you get when you have messed up or said the wrong thing or did what you said you would never do. Now that we know what it is, let's talk about how it feels. It is a heavy cloak. It is hard to take off. I imagine it a shade of black or maybe crimson red. It becomes you and refuses to relinquish control. It is one size fits all, but unique for each us. I know this shame well because I wear it often, and have been feeling its heavy hand on me recently. It seems that all I do is mess up, drop the ball, miss an opportunity. Shame is uncomfortable and so very difficult to get rid of for me. I pray and I apologize. I accept forgiveness, and then I pick my shame right back up and head out of the throne room with it anyway. It could be my loose, gossipy tongue, or maybe my horrible self image and the resulting behaviors, or my frequent overflowing frustrations. All, in retrospect, heap on more shame and regret, and I can't seem to shake them.

Let me give you a real life example of where my shame comes from. I have a good friend. She is one of those people who everyone who knows her would call her a good friend. She helps. She laughs. She encourages. She listens. And since she listens so well, I tend to talk to her. Recently, when I felt defensive and offended from another, I knew I could trust her to accept my venting. She did and she never judged or condemned, but, days later, I was still feeling the guilt. You see, my friend is not just my friend, she is my sister in Christ and I didn't just vent, I gossiped and judged and sinned all over the place. How to go back? Just not possible. How to move on? Still not sure. Shame was heavy and holding on tight.

Friends, this one has taken some effort. Lots of praying it out and thinking it through. Wondering how and why God put this on my heart but I think I am on to something now, and I think I meant to share it with you. The other day I heard Romans 5:1-5. Let's walk through it together and see where it leads us.

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.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, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

What do you hear in those words? Do they speak condemnation or freedom? They surely don't bring me shame. What I hear there is God telling me that I am already justified, not by my behavior, but by my faith in Him. With that comes peace, and I can stand in the grace of my Savior. We don't need grace unless we aren't perfect so it is almost like He expects me to stumble sometimes. As we stand in grace, we can feel proud of the hope that God gives us, for His glory. And not just that, but we can boast in our struggles. Why? Because our shortcomings and battles will develop perseverance and character and, finally, hope. Hope will not put us to shame either because of Christ's love in us. Christ's love, not my perfection, but his perfect love. I can exchange my shame for hope in that which covers all my sin. Isn't that awesome?

Shame has no place in my life. Not because I won't fail. Trust me I will. Not because I work hard or pray more or fast or anything. It has no place because I know who I believe in and I trust in His love. I trust that I can shine His light even in my struggles and shortcomings because I am standing in grace and filled with His love. I don't have to carry the heavy load of shame and guilt. I can be forgiven and live free because there is hope. I can live shame-less. Did you just feel the weight lift? I did.


Thursday, September 4, 2014

My "reasons to sing"

One of my favorite artists has a song called "Reason to Sing". I really love the song because it is about how, at times, we feel overwhelmed in our circumstance, but what we desire most is to sing, to praise, we are just searching for the reason. Tonight as I drove home from a late shift of work, I was struck by just how many reasons to sing I actually have. I thought that I would share some of them with you and maybe encourage you to list out a few of yours. As you do just see if your heart doesn't start to hum a little tune...

Reasons to Sing

No electricity- Maybe not exactly a joyful thing, but today, when I picked up Garrett and was listening to him rant randomly in the backseat, I knew that I had a secret weapon that would calm him down. As soon as I told him that the electricity was out, he smiled and requested that I "step on the gas". The boy loves when the electric goes out. Not as much fun for me but I will sing about it anyway.

Waiting with my boys- My two older boys and I have suffered through waiting rooms, appointments,  therapies, and the like for years. This year with Garrett being in a school that starts earlier than theirs, we find ourselves once again with a spare 20 minutes. We spend it in the car reviewing spelling words and being fun and silly. Nothing special, just killing time and hanging out. I love it and feel certain that I will be remembering these times long into the future.

Dentist appointments- We have one this week and I am singing about it. Not because I think it will be a super fun experience, but because I don't feel nearly as anxious as I have in the past. We may not have typical appointments but each time Garrett makes progress and I am confident that God will see him through this one as well.

"Stupid" and "hate"- This may sound crazy but, Garrett has started using these two words lately and it kind of makes me smile. Now don't get me wrong, I correct him and make him try kinder words, but I feel some amount of awkward joy that Garrett is interacting with his peers enough to pick up on some "bad" words. We have worked on social skills until it is beyond painful so when I see normal social skills being practiced in any form, I rejoice. He even uses them grammatically correct! These are developmental milestones that I am grateful for.

My job- Now if you know me, you know that I would quit my very casual job in a heartbeat, however, I feel enormously grateful for it all the same. I work 16 measly hours a month. That is like nothing. I am thankful for a husband who provides and for flexible employment. I am thankful that for 16 hours every month I am outside of my comfort zone and trusting in God to help me help others.

Emotional eating- Salted carmel, coffee, chocolate, chips, french fries.....I am ok with eating when life is not ok. It feels good and gives me reason to sing even if just for the moment. Afterward, I can take an emotional walk to work off my emotional eating and that is where God usually heals the hurt. I would sing about it right now but I am eating a muffin.

Signs- Exit signs, open signs, no smoking signs, even caution signs about floors being wet, are some of Garrett's favorite things. He will gladly explain to anyone who will listen what each sign means and it is a readily available distraction every where we go. In fact, we love signs so much that we purchased an open sign to hang in his room. That is worthy of a song to me.

Those are a few of mine. Nothing major, but a few things that make me smile and sing. The song ends by saying that "I need to know that you're  still holding the world in your hands, and that is a reason to sing". Enough said, now let's sing.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

"Not ideal"

I have a scar on my nose. Most people probably don't even notice it but to me it is blatantly obvious. I got it a couple of years ago when it was discovered that I had a basal cell skin cancer growing there. Not a dangerous type of skin cancer but one that needs removed or it will continue to grow, so they remove it as soon as they can. It was originally found by my brother in law who, when I said that I had a funny little spot on my nose, become concerned and asked if he could do a biopsy of it. A couple of months later my dermatologist was removing it and stitching it back up. I hate the scar and the reminder that it brings me of my severe imperfections. As I shared this experience with Ryan his quote that has always stuck out was, "Well, it's not ideal". "Not ideal" has become a slogan of ours since and the beginning of Garrett's kindergarten year has been just that, "not ideal".

The "not ideals" began at drop-off on the first day. I was all prepared to walk my little man in. Fighting tears, I told Ryan where to park and wait and started the walk up the sidewalk. I knew that we were supposed to meet one of his aides at the door but I felt disappointed and slightly crushed when she told me not to come in. I know routines are important and it was best for Garrett but my mom-heart ached as I watched the other moms walking their kids in and waiting in the bus room. I prayed he wouldn't be the only mom-less kid and I walked myself back to car and said we could go. It was "not ideal". I wanted the experience that everyone else had. Having a special needs child requires sacrifice in a way that I don't always expect. Ryan and I say that we feel sometimes like we live an autistic life. Every aspect of our lives is affected but some hurt more than others.

The difficulties didn't end there but, then again, I knew they wouldn't. When I picked my little man up he seemed upset and uncharacteristically  aggressive. I even pulled the car over for a bit until he could get self control and find his "kind words". His complaint was that he wanted to ride the bus which isn't really a great option for us because his school is quite a ways from our house. He was argumentative and just not his normal self. After I got him calmed enough that I could drive, I prayed for peace and clarity and we went home. He had a rough few hours but we worked with him and got him chilled out and back to normal. We talked about it, wrote a note to the teacher about the bus thing and prayed that the next day would go better. Drop-off was good but when I went to pick him up the same hostile G look-a-like waited for me. His wonderful teacher told me just to keep it up and it would all work out but it was looking bleak from my point of view. The next couple of days have brought a little change. He is still not himself but he does seem able to calm himself more easily as each day passes.

He struggles with several issues that aren't ideal including wearing shoes outside, staying awake in the afternoon, and adapting to this new routine. The "not ideals" scream to me, just like the scar on my nose but maybe, to the outsiders looking in, they are hardly noticeable. It may not "not ideal" to be autistic or to have an autistic child. It requires changes to expectations and an unpredictability that is difficult to adjust to but the best blessings are often wrapped in sacrifice and heartache. I could never and would never want to imagine my G in any other way. Yes, it may not be ideal to struggle as he does at times, but his victories are always worth the pain. Do I cry when I think of how hard it is to transition him to kindergarten? Absolutely, but the first afternoon that I pull up to that sidewalk and see my happy-go-lucky, sweet, little boy waiting for me my tears will be from my deep joy and appreciation for him. I will gladly accept the heartache for now knowing that God will see us all through to completion, even the "not ideals" are perfect in His eyes.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Trading my sorrows

There is this super cheesy worship song from back in the day. It is called "Trading my Sorrows" and the verses encourage us to trade our sorrows for the joy of The Lord. It even uses one of my favorite Bible verses when it says, "though sorrow may last for the night, His joy comes in the morning". Well, I feel a bit sorrowful tonight. I have the red-rimmed puffy eyes of a mom not ready to send her baby out into the crazy unknown world of kindergarten. I have been playing the "lets not talk about it" game for weeks now, unable to fathom how to prepare for, much less, carry out the task of dropping my G-man off at kindergarten. I have cried every time I have thought about it for the last two days and considered, more than once, just boycotting the whole thing. Then I heard that song.

I had just put the big boys to bed and hit play on their kids worship cd and there it was, the solution. God will often hit me with His perspective through my kids and this was no different. When I heard those words about trading my sorrow for the joy of the Lord, they hit a soft spot in my heart and settled my soul just a bit. Enough so that I could muster the strength to grab the old night before kindergarten books off the shelf and set down with Garrett for his bedtime story without weeping or sobbing. I found that I was grateful that had I read these books before. I could fake excitement for my Garrett because I already knew the next line, and suddenly my sorrow was his joy. Garrett was rolling with it, so on we went. We finished one and started on the second and about halfway through God did it again. He took my sorrow and gave me joy. My little G jumped up in the middle of the page and said, "I gotta go to bed now Mom. I like this song." No kisses. No tears. Heck, he didn't even brush his teeth. He just ran back, wrapped himself in his blankie, and went to bed. I asked him for prayers and kisses and he replied with, "maybe in morning", but he wanted to hear number 13 and I needed to go to the living room. He effectively kicked me out, and on kindergarten eve! What sorrow turned joy! When I checked on him a few minutes later he was peacefully sleeping right in front of the CD player, still wrapped in his favorite red blanket and wearing his favorite Pirate hat, not a hint of sorrow on his beautiful little face. I can't say I won't cry in the morning when I walk out of that school and leave my baby behind, but I can promise that I will trade in my sorrows for joy. Joy over favorite songs, and snugly red blankets. Joy over Pirate hats and easy bedtimes. Sorrow may last for the night, but His joy comes in the morning. Good night G. I will see you in the morning. :)

Saturday, August 16, 2014

The Circus Act

 I juggle a lot of balls. We all do. Some of mine would be labeled with things like marriage, boys, therapies, appointments, meals, church, budgets, bills, home, work, school, friends, family. Some days I would swear that I live in a circus and I am indeed the juggling clown act. I have dropped lots of balls and, there are times that I notice a new ball in the mix. The crazy thing is that I like my juggling act. It gives me a purpose and a sense of control. That is where the problem lies, in that sense of control. Why is control a problem in a juggling act, you might ask. It almost seems necessary and appropriate. My answer is that, in all reality, I have none, not one itty bitty ounce of control and that is the way that God wants it.

 This lesson is being pushed on me intensely right now as I once again prepare for a new school year. A couple of weeks ago we found out which teachers the big boys had and we started the frantic texts and messages to see which friends they could look forward to sharing a classroom with. All the while, I felt like I was a puppet on a string. In reality, I have no say on who will lead and teach and, likely, even discipline them the majority of time for the next nine months.  I can buy their notebooks and sharpen their pencils. I can schedule haircuts and fill my pantry with fun, somewhat healthy, cold lunch options but my control is substantially limited. That doesn't even touch on the fact that in just a few days I will have to start preparing to send my sweet, protected Garrett off to kindergarten. Adding to the challenge, Garrett is going to a different school than my older kids. He will have a teacher, a principal, and a building that I know nothing about. He will be gone from my safe arms for hours and someone else will be in charge of helping him adapt and understand this new adventure without becoming overwhelmed.  He will be in a totally different situation than I am used to with special education and integration and, I am just along for the ride. I can visit the playground with him and try to explain what it will be like. I can go to the IEP meetings and listen to the plans but I won't actually be there to see if they work.  I feel excited and hopeful and, to be honest, horribly afraid.

My obvious concerns have been evident in my quiet times and God blessed me with the story of Hannah one morning. She was an older wife who longed to be a mother. She wanted it so badly that her prayers were once mistaken for drunken rantings. Finally, God gave her what she desired. She was blessed with a son, but the story doesn't end there. She had made a promise to return her son to God, and so, after a few short years of motherhood, she made a trip to the temple. I have no clue how she found the strength to do it, but she packed his bags and left her most precious child to live out the rest of his childhood at the temple. She gave up the control. She trusted in the Giver of the gift the very gift itself. What a valuable lesson!

Now,  how do I pull off this "Hannah trust"? How do I surrender my juggling act? I wish I knew the answer but, in reality, I am clueless. For now, I will do the only thing I know to do. I will pray and I will obey. I am a mother but my babies are not my own. My journal entry after reading about Hannah went like this,

"Lord, I am not in control. I juggle a lot of balls but none of them are really mine except my faith and in it I surrender all to you. Help me to trust in your ultimate plan, to keep my eyes on the path and my feet moving always forward. Yes, my boys walk with me but I hold their hands loosely, knowing that they belong to you and you will never let them go"

At the appropriate time in every circus the clown leaves the stage. I will continue my juggling act but when I am called off the stage for Someone bigger, I will gracefully bow out. I will be afraid but I will also recognize that I never really was the one in control, just a part of the show.




Saturday, August 9, 2014

Just a glimpse

I notice her as I am riding bikes with my boys. It is early in the morning and there are not many out and about yet, and I almost miss her, but at second glance, there she sets on her back porch. We are too far away to make eye contact but I imagine she is smiling. Tears fill my eyes as I whisper a prayer heavenward for her peace and comfort and for her joy. I wonder if her tears are tears of joy, tears of sadness, or tears of gratefulness for another new morning. I wonder if she is praying too. I know her faith is strong. In my mind, I suspect she is closer to our God than most of us. I imagine she can almost reach out and touch Him. She is leaning heavily on her heavenly Father as she fights a difficult battle. When we need Him, we can't help but draw close, so I feel comforted knowing that she can depend on Him.

When we are in the midst of our our toughest battles we can rest in the victory. It is not an easy place to be and I can't help but think of the suffering woman that we find in the Gospels. She has been suffering for years. She is an outcast and has spent all she has and is still not well. She is desperate for help and desperate for healing so she reaches out. She doesn't want or need much, just a bit of His cloak and that will be enough . As her hand brushes my Jesus, she feels His power and is made whole. He knows that someone of faith has been healed and so He asks who touched Him. I love this part because He already knows the answer. I think He asks the question for many reasons and I wonder if one is because He wants to see her face and show her His love. I think He longs to get close to us, look us in the eyes and get personal and real. It is easy for us to say we have faith, but to walk with our Savior and reach for Him, to expect Him to make us whole, we have to be desperate.  We have to be clinging to hope. When we are deep in the pit of our circumstances, when we are fighting our hardest battles, when we feel overwhelmed,  might that be when we are closest to heaven? I wonder if those are the times when we can reach out and touch just a bit of His cloak ourselves. We have to need it deeply. I am closest to Jesus when I need Him most. When I am depending on Him, He is there and He is close. He is my victory and my healing.

I didn't see her eyes that morning, my neighbor on her porch, but I wish I had. I would have liked to have seen her peace, to share a bit of her faith. She is reflecting Jesus, His love, His comfort, His healing, His eternal victory, simply by sitting on her porch. She is trusting that just a bit of His cloak will make her whole, maybe just for today or, maybe, for forever. I would have liked to have seen it up close, but I am thankful for the glimpse. I am forever grateful that Jesus is personal and powerful. I will pray for her and look for her and hope for her.


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Thursday, July 31, 2014

Toy guns

It is 4 am. This is my third morning of watching the sunrise while I pray for my littlest man and work on keeping his fever down. The doctor said it is merely an ear infection and the antibiotics and ear drops should certainly take care of it but for now, he is fevered again and so I am awake again. Tonight, I was awakened not just by fever, sweats and chills but also by his upset stomach and I feel especially sorry for G. So here I am, laying in a bunk bed, covering my youngest with several layers in an attempt to help him break through this thing. I have a yoohoo, a Gatorade, and a choclate pudding at bedside, in case he wakes up and will eat or drink and I am cradling my coffee cup, praying, and I am struck by how thankful I am for this moment. Not the fever, or the belly ache, or the ear infection, but the opportunity to be here in this moment with one of my greatest blessings.

I think that too often we all have tendency to let ourselves feel overwhelmed and burdened when really we should be grateful. I was struck by that just a bit ago as I was clearing a spot for me in my kid's bunk. I had to move their bags from a friend's birthday party, two children's bibles, several stuffed animals, and their guns (toy guns that is). How funny that those silly guns that I clean up too often, and that completely annoy me at times, brought such joy in that moment. I couldn't help but thank God for guns - nerf guns, marshmallow guns, army guns, noise- making light-up guns, toy guns. I am overwhelmed with the responsibility and privilege of my life often but I am so grateful for it as well. I have the privilege of wiping the sweat from their fevered brows, reminding them to put the seat down, sending them back to wash their hands with soap this time. I get to pick up their car collections, fill up their water balloons, and throw pop-ups and grounders until my arm aches. It is exhausting and discouraging and overwhelming and...perfect. I have no doubt that it's one of the reasons God put me on this earth. I know I fail often and I complain at times but I am also so grateful for every bike ride, every wiffle ball game, every time I get to comfort and hold one of my boys. I know that they are only mine on loan for a short time. Potty training so quickly turned into kindergarten and now it is multiplication tables and chapter books. I thank God for the time I get with them and the unconditional love we share. Yes, we discipline, we whine, we argue and back talk, and drive each other nuts but then there are the guns and all seems good again.

So, as I take another temperature and refill my coffee cup, I will take an extra second to add toy guns to my gratitude list, right below fever- filled nights  and ear infections because I know how very good I have it right now I want to make sure I will always remember.



Ironically, I wrote this blog entry about 24 hours before Garrett was admitted to the hospital. His little body was struggling to keep his temperature down and he was becoming dehydrated. It was a horrible three days. He hated the bed and, in fact, did not ever sleep in it. He didn't eat more than three bites of hospital food and, unfortunately, those didn't stay down. He had to endure multiple needle sticks,       x rays, scans, hourly vitals. He fevered and he had IVs and monitors. He cried and I had to restrain him and hold him and pray. We both shed too many tears and the sleepless nights turned into sleepless days. As I sat there looking out that window into the world going on below, I kept thinking about this post and it became my personal cheer. I wanted to get back to our everyday crazy. The backyard ball, his little red pirate bat, his chocolate milky juice, and the "guns". It was a blessed lesson on embracing the simple joys and irritations of life because when the going gets tough, that is what will keep you going. G is better now. As I sit here typing he is walking around in his jammy pants swinging his little red baseball bat and watching the pirates with his brothers. I love it all. The mess, the smiles, the noisy chaos, and, of course, the  "guns".

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Look up

I hit a rough spot recently. I was feeling tired and fearful and anxious. I could hear it in my words, in my tone. I would see it in my actions. My mind felt too flustered to think and my breath came shallow and short. My heart beat fast and the worries and struggles of the the world were wearing my down. During those times I find myself asking questions like, how do you calm storms inside of yourself? How do you stand in the midst of the fire without fear? How can I be strong when I feel so very very weak?

There is only one place to turn when I feel this way and it is up. The Bible says that there will be fire, He has to mold us. There will be weeping, but it only lasts for a night. I am weak, but I AM is always strong.

Several things struck me as hard and wore me down a bit. Garrett is off on his sleep schedule and his routine, so he is more stimulated. With that comes behaviors and moods that are difficult to deal with and he is less adaptive and more anxious. When he is on, I have to be on too and it doesn't take long for both of us to grow weary. Also, the way that others perceive him and deal with him is different. I have noticed that some kids are immediately turned off by him and react negatively. They aren't patient and kind and forgiving and, frankly, I'm not either, with him or them. Other adults can also be standoffish with G, not sure how to take him. All of this is tough on my heart and makes me long for easy and normal, not hard and different. I find myself feeling defensive and protective .

The funny thing is that the opposite is also true. Some kids crave G's crazy and gravitate toward it. Some adults recognize and love his spontaneity and that he is always on and always real. These people become my angels in disguise, my moments of peace, G's best friends. It's like God gave me tough and tired so that He could bless me with soft and rest. I think I wouldn't be able to recognize all of His gifts if at times I wasn't desperate for them. I feel joy more intensely because sometimes I am grieving. I feel His peace stronger because my heart feels tight with worry. I want to breathe Him in because I have to. I am in awe of ALL that He is and does for me because I need His grace every moment. I find that if I am grateful, I can feel His grace filling up all my empty.

We will all go through tough spots. We will be bullied and beat down by some people and things in this life. Sometimes we will respond with love and forgiveness and other times we will hurt and hate. We live in a broken world and fall short everyday of the Savior that we serve. We all will face fire, cry tears, feel fear, and worry but He will never leave us to face it alone. When I feel frustrated and discouraged, the question I need to ask is, where would I be without my God? How could I live with out Him? Let me share a recent prayer from my journal that expresses it better,
 
    "So in the midst of feeling down, I will look up and know that He is ALL, ALL that I am not, ALL that I need and, ALL that I could ever want".

May this be my prayer of praise regardless of fires and storms, worries and fears. May we all remember to look up and let Him be ALL.







Sunday, June 29, 2014

Savor the season

Our family has had several blessings lately. We welcomed three new beautiful little baby boys within just a few weeks. My sisters and their husbands entered into the wonderful world of parenting. The ups and downs, the highs and lows, the worries and the wonders. I was reflecting on this at a recent family picnic. As my sister-in-law and I were washing dishes and cleaning dirty chins after chasing down our little ones, I told her that I thought we had it easy in comparison to the newbies. She laughed and agreed. We have been there. We have suffered sleepless nights and bottles and diapers but now our lives are different and those times seem so distant.

With summer here I find myself savoring the sweetness of the season. I am loving hanging with my boys. One of my big worries is that the time will go too fast. I want to enjoy each day and very opportunity. Parker and Carter still love each other and they like us! We can have dinners without electronics, watch the Pirates, and play backyard ball. I feel like it is such a special time in our life. It's not that life is perfect, it is just that I know that seasons change and circumstances do too. I don't have to look far back in our past to see tougher times. I can well remember the sleepless nights. I know what being tired is and how to survive on coffee and goldfish. I have prayed through shots, through surgery, through school days and beyond. I can remember waiting for test results and wishing they were wrong. I have watched cartoons with no point and actually enjoyed them because no thought was required. I have snuck away to cry in the laundry room because I am sometimes alone in there and I have learned to never close the door when peeing. We have struggled through the sadness, sickness, diagnosises, and so much more and I know that there will be difficult times to come. I realize also, though, that today is good and so I am going to run with it. I am going to live up this moment. I am going to make memories, ride bikes, play ball, and savor the season that we are in.

That is really what life is about. It is about realizing that time comes and goes. We control so very little but we can control our attitudes. I don't think that we will always understand why we go through the tough times but we can know that they won't last forever. We can trust in change, sometimes good and sometimes not, but always on the horizon. We can wake up each day thankful for whatever it brings and, at times, grateful that the day before is over. I want to enjoy the sweetness when it comes so that I am ready for the struggles. I want to savor each season for whatever it brings.

Monday, June 9, 2014

The Word

If you have read any of my blog, you will notice a few things about me, one of them is that I read a lot. I love to read and always have. My oldest, Parker, is just like me. We read anything we can find and we love to fall asleep reading. I can remember being little and hiding out beside the crack in the door and using the hallway night light to finish many books. One of the best gifts Ryan ever gave me was my kindle because it fits in my purse and has its own light so I can, literally, read whenever and wherever. I read fiction and non fiction, self-help and help-yourself books.Words on a page speak to me better than spoken words quite often. I have even been known to write notes to my husband when I have something important to say. I also have several letters stored away for my boys to hopefully enjoy someday. Reading is a very important part of who I am and how God speaks to me. The book that I have been reading again and again for years isn't on my kindle, it is my Bible. It is marked up inside and sports water and coffee stains. My recently retired one was missing a bit of Revelations and the cover was mostly off but it is by far the best read in history.

I started a post weeks ago about a scripture that spoke to me from John. It said that He must increase and I must decrease. I really enjoyed the verse and wanted use it to share with you all how very important the Word is in my life. For some reason though, that post sits unfinished. I felt somewhat disappointed in myself that I was unable to express the peace and hope and joy that I find in God's Word and then I read something this week that gave me a little more direction.

This week I was reading Deuteronomy about God's instructions to the Israelites and I saw the best little tidbit. Moses was giving guidelines for if they ever had a king and he said that the king would need to copy God's instructions for himself and then read it daily as long as he lived. Deuteronomy 17:20 says, "This regular reading will prevent him from becoming proud and acting as if he is above his fellow citizens. It will also prevent him from turning away from these commands in the smallest way." Regular reading, getting into God's word and eating up all He has for us will keep us from being proud. In other words, we will decrease, just like John tells us to. And anytime we decrease, He makes up the difference. It will also help us stay focused on what God wants from us. Keep us on the straight and narrow. I don't know about anyone else, but anytime God has some direction for me, I am up for hearing it. It doesn't always have to be the big things, it could just be for what to do today or how to pray for a friend. The Word of God is not absorbed through osmosis. I can have my Bible sitting on my nightstand but it only speaks to me when I open it and listen, and I have to say, I love listening to my heavenly Father. His words speak love, peace, joy and hope to me in new ways everyday. I have been reading them for years and I am certain that there will always be more for me to learn from it. I want it written on my heart and mind and carried out in my life more and more all the time, daily. I have often come to the Lord with questions and not once has He failed to shed some light through scripture. It is an instruction manual worth copying and reading not just for royalty, but for each of us.

Another insight I was blessed by recently was from Matthew 4:4 where Jesus said that man can not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. God's word has a way of shedding light on the blessings so I can see them more clearly. It also is able to take the hard in life and shape into loaves of love and life. I usually consume God's word before anything else, except maybe my coffee, and it is often the most fulfilling part of my diet. It fills me like nothing else and equips me for my day.

Reading will always be a passion of mine, something I enjoy and try to do as often as I can. My hope is that in reading God's word, it will become alive in me and He will be glorified. I pray that I will decrease as He exponentially increases all the time. It truly is my road map through life and my daily bread. I still feel like I am somewhat failing to convey the power of His words in my life but I hope you will at least be encouraged to dig into it for yourself. Time spent with the great I Am will only bless you and your world.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Let's dance

If you ever pass me in my minivan and see me breaking down a beat don't be surprised. I get my groove on quite often while dropping off, picking up, or running errands. It is one of the rare times in my day that I feel somewhat alone and can focus. My best worship is usually in my car. I feel free to raise my hands, cry, clap, and I can turn up the volume and drown myself out whenever I want to. Recently, our family went through the Frozen phase. We listened to the soundtrack until Ryan and I could do parts and he was singing it in the shower. I am not proud of this nor was I proud of the day that the kind gentleman laughed and beeped at me as I performed "Fixer Upper" while stopped at a stoplight. The best part is that I really wasn't embarrassed. I rolled down my window and cranked up the volume so his morning could start out as encouraging as mine was. I mean really"everyone is a bit of a fixer-upper".

I was thinking of this today when I took Garrett to wash his hands. He had been playing outside and he wanted some ice cream but I asked him to wash up first. My sister, Emily, came in to assist and was surprised at the process. The water needed to be hot but then it was too hot so we switched to cold. The soap needed squirted on both hands. He wanted a paper towel not a hand towel to dry but when he couldn't find one fast enough he opted for toilet paper. Of course that was slightly disastrous and then even the throwing away of the toilet paper was extravagant.

A similar thing happened with our uncle Dan the other day. He offered Garrett a cookie. Now, at the time that this exchange took place G was in a pickle anyway but the cookie worked to distract him from his stress and he accepted it. It was a Panera cookie which was big enough to have its own address, so Dan broke it in half. As soon as he did that I was hoping that he had another one. The broken cookie was obviously not acceptable to G, who by now was on the brink of a meltdown. Now this was not a normal five year old fit. Garrett sees things different. He was offered a cookie, not half a cookie, and he was already feeling over stimulated and struggling to adapt, so he could not take even this minor change. Thankfully, uncle Dan gave him a new one but he was in awe of the particulars of my little man. I explained it to him like this, Garrett's life is like a very intricate dance. I never know the exact next step but I have become pretty good at anticipating it. There are certain people, certain circumstances that I prep him for in advance. There are other instances where the surprise tactic is better. It may be a wrong fork or turning a new age (his favorite number is four so he refuses to be five). It may be a broken cookie or chocolate frosted donut with shamrock sprinkles (we are mourning the passing the St. Patrick's Day). I dance the dance and, though I often stumble, I keep going and enjoy it as much as I can.

I really believe that we all dance through life. We all have our special things or certain steps that we like a certain way. I find that for me a morning bath and quiet time always starts my day better than any other option and worship is best in the car. Ryan likes a big bowl of cereal before bed and communicates best with his guitar in hand. Parker likes to hear a special lullaby before bed while I hold his hand. Carter wants his back, shudders, and right arm scratched often. We all dance, we just don't see it as such unless it is more extreme. I think it is how God made us to be. It keeps us from being boring and adds wonderful spice to our relationships. He knows the hairs on our heads and He knows every step of our dance. How awesome is that?!

I, personally, love dancing. I am not great at it in the literal sense but, in the case of my boys, I am a professional. I can anticipate and react better than any other and even, sometimes,  enjoy the uniqueness of each move. It has taken time and patience and prayer but I feel like I can usually find the beat of even Garrett. Yes, his dance is definitely more intricate but I am blessed to be one of his partners. Maybe God gave me an especially complex dancer because He knew of my love to groove.

The moral of the story is really this, if you see me in my car breaking down to a beat, don't be surprised or embarrassed. Heck, roll your windows down, crank your volume up and join me. Let's all just enjoy the dance that God gave us, even the more complex ones.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Achievements

This week Garrett had his last day at his little preschool named Achievements. It is a small private school specially designed for kids with delays or autism. It was a wonderful place where G made his first friends on his own and learned so many skills. It was the first time I dropped him off somewhere for more than just an hour or so. He took his first cold lunch complete with yoo-hoo and carrots. It became one of my greatest resources and a place I will always treasure as an answer to this mom's prayers.The ironic thing is that this month also marks one year since Garrett received his ASD diagnosis. That was not an enjoyable eval to say the least. It was the first time I ever witnessed hand flapping from Garrett and the entire time he only spoke baby talk. Ryan and I looked and felt like we needed evals after those three hours. When the nice woman went over the preliminary results I remember feeling lost and overwhelmed but not hopeless. Never hopeless. I remember driving home with tears and prayers and trusting for direction and victory.

In the past year, we have had so many victories. Garrett has achieved things that felt impossible at the time.  He has conquered more that we thought possible. He can carry on a conversation better, say his name, address, phone number, birthday, and so much more. He can make friends and deal with his frustrations better. He knows how to answer questions and can even read sight words. He knows when he needs bear hugged and how to find an appropriate chewy. He holds his attention better and makes right choices most of the time. His year has been full of walls he had to break through and giants he had to defeat and somehow he has done just that.

I was reflecting on this in my quiet time as I read about the Israelites preparing to go into the Promised Land for the second time. Isn't it funny that they spent 40 years wandering around in the dessert because of some reports of giants and tall walls? Isn't it funny that we do the same? I have had times when I have let the reports scare me and defeat me. I have failed to trust and wandered around looking for direction when all I needed to do was trust and obey. If the Israelites had done this, trusted and obeyed, the entire Bible would be entirely different.

Last year, I feel like I refused to wander. I saw the giants and knew how hard the walls would be to break down but I also knew Who was on my side. I was ready with a grateful heart to face whatever was coming because I had been to battle before and He had always been faithful. This morning I read Deuteronomy 3:21-22 and 4:9. They basically say to remember, to never forget, what God has done for us. My version actually says, "Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live".  The harsh reality is that even as we achieve one milestone there will always be another waiting for us. Sometimes as we move forward we see things in the future that scare us more than what was behind us. That is why it is so important to remember and never forget. God has shown himself able to defeat hard times, tough diagnosis, conflicts, and struggles over and over in my life and I am certain He will continue to... I want to always remember.

A year ago we had reports of giants and strong walls and today we have a little boy getting ready to start kindergarten next year. I expect we will see more obstacles in our future but I look forward to them. God promised the Israelites a land flowing with milk and honey and I know that He has awesome things in store for Garrett as well. We will continue toward our promised land with hope and trust.




Thursday, May 8, 2014

"Kind words are sweet like honey"

I have several little quotes I use frequently with my kids in disciplining and directing such as "kind words are sweet like honey", "only use words that build up and not ones that tear down"," remember your joy", and, on occassion when I am being a mean mom you will hear me say "she's a cold hearted snake". These are just a few of the Moffa mantras we have and this week the kind words have been a struggle. I noticed that I found myself repeating this all too frequently and, unfortunately, not just to my kids but also to myself.

My real warning that I needed some help with this area came when I spoke harshly to my mom. We were watching my boys little league game, which doesn't bring out the best in me, and my mom was doing what moms do and correcting me. Now, I know that I am an adult and should be able to handle myself, but my mom is one of those high quality, long term moms. My parents are my spiritual mentors and my mom is one of closest confidantes. I can talk to her about anything and I always know that I will receive godly and honest wisdom. She is always supportive but also knows when I need a reality dose and brought back down off my horse. I mean who better to knock you out of your saddle than your mom, right? Well, this particular evening I needed a dose of motherly discipline and when my mom corrected me, I snapped back. The big clicker is that when I realized that I needed to apologize....I didn't.

I was struggling to practice what I preach.  Not only was I not using kind words but I tore down someone I love out of anger and frustration. I started soul searching and quickly found that this was a problem in more area than one. I do it to my husband and my kids and when I whine, complain, or envy, I am doing it to God. It is so easy to say something unkind. We think and then we speak it, no filter required. I tell my kids all the time that the reflection of our hearts is seen in our words and actions. What condition is my heart when my tongue lashes out?

I came up with a heart transplant of sorts. I am focusing on sweetening not slaying. I am putting more effort in my words, thinking through them. I am attempting to take notice of all the lovely "sugar" that God has poured on my life, how He has generously sprinkled people and things to bless me and I am thanking Him for it. I am believing and living like I can be honey to my little world. Proverbs 16:24 says, "Kind words are sweet like honey, sweet to the soul and healing to the body". That is both powerful and inspiring. Just by sweetening instead of slaying with my tongue I can help God bring about healing. This sounds like something worth working for.

Lastly, my husband Ryan actually does love honey. Sometimes I will walk into our kitchen only to find him standing with the pantry door open and a honey bottle in his hand, squeezing into his open waiting mouth. A lot of honey, a lot of love, a lot of God's goodness. What could ever be wrong with that?

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Brokenness aside

Have you ever had a perfect day? I dream about this and hope for one. It will start with a warm bath and an especially productive quiet devotional time. I will make a delicious breakfast that all of my kids will love. They will all be hot lunch so there will be no rushing to get lunches packed. Garrett will get dressed, including undergarments. That alone would be enough for me, but it will continue on in this fashion. The Moffas won't be late. I won't even talk on the phone while I drive and I certainly won't go over the speed limit. I will think only positive things and pray for everyone who tempts me to do otherwise. It will be perfect.

The thing is, I have never had a day like this. I usually get out of my bath reminding at least one small person in my life that joy comes in the morning so if you aren't joyful then go back to bed and start over. We are always late and I finish dressing Garrett when I pull into wherever we are going, after I say good-bye to whoever I was talking to while I drove just slightly over the speed limit. I try hard and I pray daily that I will follow God's leading in every aspect of my life but I fail to be perfect constantly. I am broken.

I was listening to my radio in the car the other day and a song came on that reminded me of my brokenness and yours, all of ours. The chorus of the song goes like this,

I am a sinner 
If its not one thing its another 
Caught up in words 
Tangled in lies 
You are the Savior 
And you take brokenness aside
And make it beautiful.

Read it twice, drink up that reality. There is no perfect. If it isn't running late and being impatient, it will certainly be another. 

We are ending the school year with a bunch of evals for our Garrett and what that means to me as his mom is that I will get to sit in a room with a bunch of people who think they know my son. They will tell me all he doesn't do, all that he isn't.  I will nod when it is appropriate and try to not be defensive. I may smile and crack a joke or two. I will do my best to remind them of all he can do and has achieved but I will likely feel defeated at the end. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to the experience but songs like this remind me that the broken is beautiful in Christ. I can take my faults and failures, my son's test scores, my tendency to speed,  to the cross and He will make it beautiful. He takes all of me, all of each of us and makes it beautiful. I don't understand that kind of love, that kind of righteousness but I couldn't live without it. 

When I think of Christ's love and how it has transformed me in the past and his rich promises for the future I can keep going. There will still be frustrations, cold lunches, annoying people and forgotten joy but He will always be greater and more. He is my Savior and He is in the business of saving, brokenness aside. I may never have my perfect day but I will hope for it and work toward it. I will fail often and still be late most of the time but know that all my ugly, all my broken is beautiful and so is yours.


Tuesday, April 22, 2014

the covering

Ryan and I celebrated 11 years of marriage in March and so it naturally got me thinking romantic thoughts and made me feel a bit nostalgic. Our life in 11 years has grown and changed beyond what we ever could have imagined but I do love being married to him. In my quiet times I am reading through Exodus and toward the end I was getting a little bored and I almost switched to something more applicable but then God opened my eyes to something right there where I was.

After the excitement and drama of leaving Egypt, God begins to direct the Israelites in how to live and then in how to build His tabernacle. I have to admit that when I got to that part in chapter 25, I was feeling like a architect and not loving it but I pressed on. I was awestruck by the first set of plans He gave them. They were not for the altar, or the tents, or the lamp but for the Ark of Covenant, which would house the ten commandments,  and the atonement cover. He gave very specific instructions for what to us would be a lid and it changed me instantly. He wanted the covering to be made of gold and on top He said to put two angels facing each other with their wings spread above it, protecting it. This immediately brought to mind my marriage. I pictured Ryan and I as the angels and inside our ark would be our most precious gifts, our boys. I could see us facing each other united in our goal to protect and keep them from harm or hurt. In order to complete our assignment we have to stay facing each other, united and strong not only in our love for the gifts but also in our love for each other. I wrote down this enlightenment and shared it with Ryan and we both enjoyed the thought. Then, a few days later, I discovered another great insight. Not only did this sacred ark house the ten commandments but it was also where God spoke directly to Moses. When Moses chatted with the awesome I Am he did so through this container with the angel lid. How amazing is that?! I was once again moved that God was taking a moment to remind that we are not just husband and wife and mom and dad but that He is speaking to us through the gifts of our marriage and our kids. I find this true all the time. It is so often through my family that I hear God. It is not by accident that I am married to that man and that we have those kids. God arranged, ordained, and planned it perfectly because He is such a great gift giver.

Ryan and I are two very different people. My love language is acts of service. That is his last, almost impossible for him to do. I also like gifts and words of encouragement, my last is quality time. Guess what his first is? He loves to spend time just hanging out and I never do "nothing". I am constantly going. He loves naps. I get angry if I nap. He is quiet. I am not. With all this being said, God put us together as a sacred union. He made the two of us one. He speaks to us, through us, and needs us united in our marriage even when it seems like we are not enough.

In closing, I want to share that I hesitated in sharing this post. I argued with God for a solid week about it.  I don't want to set the impression that my marriage or any marriage is perfect but it is worth it and it is a very large part of where I see God working and I hear God speaking to me. The Ark of the Covenant was made of gold and for me I see that as God's hand in my marriage.  The Ark was kept in the Most Holy Place. I think God made a most holy place in my heart for Ryan and I am grateful that He keeps us always together working for Him and by His strength.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

At the end of a hard day...

Today was such a hard day. There were many more lows than highs. As I write this, everyone is asleep and I feel almost too tired to rest. The struggles started at drop off at school and really didn't end until I laid beside my Garrett, rubbing his head, praying for rest and naming simple thanks of gratitude to God. I was grateful for the smell of fresh washed boys, for daddy sleeping, for tomorrows. I was just trying to get through those last moments and as tired tears rolled down my cheeks I was reminded of a moment last week that I will be grateful for for a long time.

 Last week we went to Panera and had lunch. The boys had the day off from school and Panera had a special cookie in honor of Autism Awareness so I felt like I was multitasking, a mommy date and supporting a great cause. The cookies had blue puzzle pieces on them and I explained to the boys what they were for. Carter said something that took me back for a second. He said that the cookies had a puzzle piece because Garrett is like a puzzle missing a piece. That thought hurt my heart a bit. We have tried to educate the boys on autism and what it is and what it means but even that is not enough. Carter's innocent statement reminded me that so often we see people with special needs and we feel they are missing something or not quite enough. I took the opportunity to remind the boys that Garrett is not missing anything. He is perfect and loved and complete. I told them that at times Garrett feels like a complicated puzzle with a lot of pieces and difficult edges but he is missing nothing. Later the topic came up again and one of the boys said that they wished autism would become extinct. I let that thought settle inside me a little and surprised myself by being thankful for all of Garrett, even his autism. I wouldn't want to imagine a day without him just the way he is. His quirkiness, his full range of emotions, his belly laugh, if he wasn't autistic he wouldn't be him. I don't know when God caused my heart to rejoice in the hardness of life but I am so grateful for it. Anytime we can be grateful for that which is difficult we know that is a God thing.

Even on the bad days, even on the down swing, I will give thanks. Today wasn't great and there are no guarantees for tomorrow to be better but I will keep working this puzzle called life.  Complicated or not, it is mine and I really wouldn't want it different. I am grateful for conversations over cookies, for gentle reminders for all of us, for hope. I will be thankful in ALL circumstances and I am especially thankful that with God there really are no missing pieces.

Monday, March 31, 2014

In His Image

I recently started a devotional book about prayer and I have found several things impressionable about the experience.  One thing that has really stood out to me was my prayers for my kids. My boys are the beat of my heart and I was surprised to find that my prayers did not necessarily reflect that. I want to change them and fix them too many times.

Parker hates fruits and veges but loves to read. Garrett loves to play pretend and eats several chocolate donuts a week. Carter builds legos and can talk for hours on end. 

These are my boys. All three are completely different and yet the Bible tells me that they are each created in God's image. This truth has been milling around in my brain lately. I have found myself struggling with the reality that His image is not just in the obvious ones,  Mother Teresa, my parents and grandparents, John the Baptist. We see God in them all the time, the things they say and do very much reflect their faith and their creator. When I look at my boys I can see God's hand but I see such differences too. How can this be?

I am sure that I don't have all the answers but I am sure that God in all his greatness never makes mistakes. That means that the faults and failures that I see in myself are not mistakes. This means that  the faults and failures of the people around me are not God's mistakes. How many times have I strolled through Walmart having a conversation in my head about what is wrong with the mom in aisle 3 or the dad in front of me in line? Too many times, I am ashamed to say. Being a parent has humbled me in so many ways and being a parent to a special needs child has brought me to my knees.  Now I see the screaming toddler and pray for the judgers to have deaf ears to his cries. I pray for his mom to find the peace and strength to check out without crying or yelling. I know that I have been that mom and will certainly be again. Sometimes it is a misunderstanding, sometimes lack of sleep, sensory overload, or not enough; when I find myself at the mercy of a "fit" I just pray for it to end.  I would never claim to know all but I do know that we are all different, all special, and most of us are really just trying to do the best we can. I want to see everyone for the gift that God made them to be. I hope others can see each of my boys the way that God sees them. I pray that I can see His image and give Him the glory for that. There are no mistakes in his creation. Autism is not a mistake. Hating veges is not a mistake. Being a chatterbox is not a mistake. I am the one who makes the mistake when I fail to embrace my boys as individuals with different characteristics and yet each created in the image of the Almighty.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

My list...

I read a devotional this week about capturing moments in our life and taking mental pictures. The author called them "blink" moments because they pass in "blink" and we choose to savor or to let them go. She said we could" blink" the good and the bad of life and just hold them away to look back over like a mental photo book. The devotional ended with the author encouraging us all to make a list of our "blink" moments. Here is some of my list.....

Parker and Daddy singing Frozen songs a little too loud at Muriales.
 ***
Walks in the rain with my boys wearing rain boots and hunting worms
***
Carter's house in Hawaii. This is his future home to be shared with his wife and his six kids.
***
Conversations in the back seat of my van shared between my kids. They have covered topics from baseball to marriage to hot dogs and I love listening in.
***
Garrett dancing to "Let it go". He knows every move and would make a great Elsa.
***
Daddy and the boys playing baseball in the front yard.
***
Meme and Pap playing in the ocean with their grandkids.
***
Ryan being so nervous on our wedding day.
***
My first Pirates' game. All my boys were so proud of me.
***
Carter's first smile.
***
The first time Garrett said "yes". We worked very hard for that word and it still makes me cry to think about it.
***
Parker's recent announcement that he was going to continue to fast most fruits and vegetables since he has for the last couple of years.
****
Garrett singing "I am a Promise"
***

This is my short list. It was such a great exercise to think back and remember the moments that are worth remembering. I only listed the good but the tough moments are equally as worthy because of the humble lesson they each bring with them. I hope I always remember this concept and that as life flies by I can store up lots of "blinks" and always remember.