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First off, let me say, I am not a cryer. I really kind of hate crying and avoid it as much as I can. My dad cried at the movie "Cars". My sister loves sad movies and books, even pursues this sort of thing. This crying thing is definitely not for me. There are only a few things that I cry over. The last verse in "Away in a Manger", I sing it every night to my boys and I sang it to the them the night that a dear friend of mine kissed her little girl for the last time. It made me cry then and can still choke me up. I get teary during prayer and worship sometimes. If I have to cry, I do it in the car with the radio loud where no one notices or, in the summer, if crying is necessary, I will let it go while I mow the grass. No one is any wiser and I have accomplished something in the meantime. These are the exceptions to my no crying rule. With all that being said, as I sat in a crowded auditorium watching my son and his school sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", tears streamed down my face (and my mom and dad's because they are cryers). Why? Why the tears? They were absolutely tears of joy that Garrett had accomplished something that at one time I never would have dreamed possible but there was more to it than just that. They were tears of surrender, tears of hope. They were tears asking for more.

Let me explain, a couple of years ago when we received the diagnosis of autism for Garrett, we were left walking down a path and we didn't know where it would lead. As love would have us, we blindly took each other's hands and started down that path, but it was scary and hard. I well remember the prayers where I told God that I wanted more-more strength than I could ask or imagine, more faith than I could ask or imagine, more hope than I could ask or imagine. I just wanted more, more of everything that I would need, more than I could ask or imagine. I knew that our future, our plans had changed in that diagnosis. I needed to trust and I knew the only person I could trust in and that somehow He would be enough. I hoped for Christmas programs and friendships and all the things of a typical child but I couldn't ask for anything but more, more than what my fear would let me see.

Recently this prayer for more than I could ask for or imagine has been heavy on my heart but has not been just for Garrett. I have seen several situations in the lives of people around me that are game-changers. They are the diagnosis, the moments, that take lives down paths that they never intended to go. I can only imagine the fear and the uncertainty. God has put these burdens heavy on my heart and I find myself once again pleading for more. I whisper it throughout the day and wake up throughout the night with it fresh on my heart and lips. I can only assume that part of the reason that I feel so called to this prayer in these situations is because I know that God certainly can do more than we can ask or imagine. We really can trust Him to lead us down those roads even when we don't know where they lead. We can have hope in hopeless situations and we can have joy in the hardest of times. That is more. That is what I want for the people on my heart. That is what I was experiencing in that crowded auditorium.

More for me during Garrett's Christmas program was watching him do something that at one time would have seemed impossible. More was that he walked on the stage, sang his songs, did the motions, and even finished with a bow. More is knowing that the journey isn't over but that the trip is safe in the Master's hands. More is hoping and praying for the burdens of those around me that seem too heavy. More was in that tiny baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. He is more. More than we could ask or imagine. More than what we will ever need. More makes tears roll down cheeks and, yet, I will keep on asking and trusting for more.

Ephesians 3:20-21:²⁰ Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

The truth about Santa

Last weekend, my mama heart took quite the hit. It was a typical family day at the pumpkin farm when my oldest leaned toward me and asked me the dreaded santa question. "Mom, I've been wondering. Is Santa real or is that just you buying the stuff and saying that it is from him?" My response was to take a deep breath and reply that that topic was not appropriate for the pumpkin farm but I would gladly talk to him later about it. He found me later that evening and I locked us both in the laundry room, turned the dryer on and gave him the truth. I told him that I was going to be completely honest with him. I explained that Jesus and everything to do with him, the cross, heaven, all of that was 100% truth but that Santa was the greatest lie ever told. It broke my heart and when he cried two crocodile tears I wondered for a moment if I had made the right decision, but then he smiled and said that he couldn't believe he was right. Within minutes he took out the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, and the Elf on the Shelf lost his battle the following morning.

Why did I do it? Trust me when I say that I hated losing that part of his childhood but recently I have been praying that as my boys grow they will choose to keep me in their circles. I want them to value our relationship later as much as they do now. I want to be more than their maid, cook, and fever fixer. I want to be a safe place to turn. I have been asking God to show me how to survive these years where they want to talk about video games and the world series, minecraft and pokemon, so that when they are ready to open up about the important stuff, I am still here and that I will be ready. I knew the moment that he opened his mouth with the Santa question that this was about a lot more than the man from the North Pole. When I prayed about it as we drove home from the pumpkin farm, I realized that it was about being honest and real and proving to my little men that I am worthy of valuable conversation. I had the opportunity to earn his trust.

I have been reflecting recently that kids are like little empty vessels. They are given to us for a time and we get to fill them up in a way.  As parents we get to choose where we direct and allow their attention and likes to land. Ryan and I have tried desperately to fill our boys with the things that we have deemed valuable like compassion, kindness, gratitude, baseball, and, of course, faith.  We do family time.We worship together and we dance to what does the fox say. We mess up ALOT but we try to fill them with good things more often than not. We have tried to love them and discipline them and be examples for them but we are getting to that place in their lives where we will have to let them go a bit. I can only control so much, and although I can do my best on my side of thier lives, I can't control whatever the future may hold for them. I can be sure there will be good times and I can also be sure of difficult times. They will be reasons to praise and reasons to pray. They will have to choices to make and they will sometimes they will feel like they have no choice at all. Who they are and what they believe will be tested and shaken. I just hope that when their vessels are shaken, the good and right is what spills out.

We have lived our lives in front of our kids. They have seen us disagree, hurt, apologize, fail, weep, laugh, love, and rejoice. We have been honest about our brokenness and the brokenness of the world that we live in. We have lived our faith daily, while still trying to shield them from the harshness of it all. Sometimes we have done this well and lots of times, we have not. When I think back on the last 10 years with my boys, I just hope that they will remember the good and will have learned from the bad. I can only hope that we have taught them to love Jesus and love others, to say sorry, to be honest even if it is not cool, to be real, to worship, to cry, and to laugh, and that we will love them through all of it. I hope that I have earned a spot in the circle. I hope they will keep me close. Yes, I may have lied about Santa when they were little but I hope that they will trust in the TRUTH that will always be bigger than whatever life brings them and that they will walk in that TRUTH everyday . I want them to know that life will be hard but that hard can still be good and to never lose heart. I want them to walk the path that God has for them and not be afraid of the road that lies ahead and maybe, every now again, they will let me hold their hands and go along with them.

On Bended Knee

I am a control freak. Anyone else out there agree? I love to be in charge and know what to expect and that success is guaranteed. I like to have my say, and say what I think, and I usually think I am right. This is just me being honest. With that being said, I have realized that I really control nothing. I attempt to live my life trusting in next steps that I can't see. You can see this in my not-ever-clean-enough house, my multiple to do lists on my phone, and, most assuredly, in my kids. I am working hard to give all over to the the Giver of All and not snatch it back with worry. Being a mom to an autistic child is one of the most uncontrollable circumstances that I could ever have imagined. I so often feel like I can't control or predict anything from his moods, to his needs, to his future but I also realize that I don't need to. I joke and say that I have a rich prayer life because I have to constantly ask for patience. Really, I have a rich prayer life because my God has proven himself over and over. He always hears, always answers, is always in control. He may not always answer on my schedule or even on my side but He is always right and, for that, I am grateful. Let me give you a few examples...

  I pray for green lights when I'm late (which is often) and I love to hear my kids say from the backseat, "Thank you Jesus for green".
  I pray for "fast days". Whether at work or school, we all hate days that drag and Carter has "best days ever" quite often.
  I pray for me not to forget to call my mother in law and pick up glasses.
  I pray for Walmart lines to be short or at least for me to be sweet regardless.
  I pray for us to always "do our best and forget the rest".
  I pray for kind words and kind actions from us and others.
  I pray for sleep, maybe even past 5am and am always abundantly grateful no matter what time I am aroused.
  I pray for my niece and nephews, brothers and sisters (in laws included).
  I pray for my worship to be sincere and for His glory.
  I pray for eyes to see and ears to understand.
  I pray for my boys' future wives to love Jesus and me.
  I have prayed for job opportunities, for friends, for forgiveness, for grace.
  Last year, I  prayed because I wanted to hold Garrett back a year from Kindergarten. I was worried that he wasn't ready. I prayed about it for a long time, sought wise counsel, trusted in the answers that I was given and he rocked kindergarten out (or at least survived) thanks to some awesome people who God placed in his life.
  I pray on the way to school and work and baseball games.
  I have prayed for open doors and closed doors.
  I have prayed, "God, please no" and then I have rejoiced when he said "yes"
  This week I walked down the school hall toward an IEP meeting praying. Praying for grace to hear and speak and praying with gratitude for God's hand on my littlest man's life. The answers were too sweet for mere words. The kind and encouraging things that were said about G blew me away. I sat next to his first grade teacher and marveled that even though I didn't even know her name until the day before school, God had been working her into our life all along. I so struggled with letting go and letting God again this year, but as I sat at that table, I had to hold in my wonder at how He had it in the bag all along. The people who He lets in my G's life appreciate his strengths, recognize his weaknesses, most importantly, don't stress his quirks. They even dig them. I honestly believe that they genuinely care for him. This is what I prayed for and this is why I pray.

I believe strongly in prayer. I believe in the scripture in Matthew 7:7 that says, "Ask and it shall be given to you. Seek and you shall find". If we don't ask, we can't ever know what the answer would be and I trust that my Father in heaven only wants to give me good gifts. It might not always be easy and look like I think it should but He is purposeful in all things and loves to be talked to. Prayer is my conversation with the one who knows me best and yet still loves me. Life is best lived when it is covered in prayer.

None of the things I pray for are in my control, nor do I want them to be.  I could not have orchestrated any of it even if I had tried. God  has also made me wait and trust and obey. When I enrolled G in his school, I knew just one teacher in the whole building, granted, I knew she was a rockstar at her job but it was a step of faith for me and all I could do was pray. Which is the point, really,  the only thing that is needed from me is to keep praying and walking in faith. Keep bending the knee, whispering the requests, and rejoicing in the answers.

I pray that I will always remember who is in control and that He knows best. I pray that we all will.

Milestones

I well remember that knot in the pit of your stomach the night before the first day of school? Remember the feeling of anxiety and worry? Would anyone say "hi"? Where would I sit on the bus? Who would sit with me? What if I got in trouble? What if I didn't do something right? How long would the day last and how long would it feel? I can remember little girl and sometimes bigger girl tears squeaking out. I felt alone and scared. I could have forever stayed in the comfort of my home, within reach of my mom's arms and under the safe cocoon of my family's love and acceptance. I enjoyed school but, I was always a nervous ninny about first days and new things. This is something I have never outgrown. A couple of weeks ago, I drove through a school zone and found tears making tracks down my cheeks as I attempted to place my fears in perspective. I was praying, truly begging for God to protect my boys. I asked Him to bless them with teachers who would love them and cherish them and friends to come alongside them. I asked Him to give them confidence and kindness, to help them be strong and courageous, all while I, their mom, was feeling weak and frightened. I want to live my life with my hands wide open but, in my heart, I felt my grip struggling to let go of some of my greatest gifts. I want them with me, close to me, but that is not what God wants from me.

This summer has been such a time of growing up for our family. Each boy has grown physically, mentally, and emotionally. One sign of this was Garrett's first sleepover (not including meme and pap's). The big boys and G stayed at our friend's house the other night. It was odd for me to plan on not having G climb into my bed at 6 but instead to find three sleeping bags and three sets of pjs. It was a campout of sorts and so I was included in the festivities and got to watch him be one of the kids. Parker is reading through a Bible without pictures and Carter read through the Action Bible like his big brother. Garrett also played his first organized sport. We tried new things like the rail trails with only bikes, no strollers.  The big boys are becoming more mature and Garrett is so much more social, learning things like right and wrong and how other people are feeling in situations. Garrett also began reading and spelling. For instance, he is allowed to say "oh my godh (gosh)" but not, "oh my God". We went to a soccer camp and so much more. They were all milestones and they all came with certain stresses and great victories (most of the time). I love watching my boys grow and I can honestly say that I enjoy the people that they are becoming but I also hate it. I find myself wanting to stop time so that they will always fit in my lap and in my grasp. I worry if there will come a time when they won't need or want my arms to comfort them or if my arms will always fit around my most precious gifts. I am afraid of what my big boys might soon face that I won't be able to help them with either because I am not there or just because they choose not to share it with me. I fear that Garrett will be bullied or misunderstood and that I won't be there to protect him and guide him. These are not anxious thoughts of a mad woman either, there are many more moms out there like me. We love our babies and we don't know how to let them go or if we want to.

Each year of school is very symbolic of milestones. This is Parker's last year before middle school and Carter is  quickly becoming less child and more boy. Garrett is a first grader and will have a whole new set of hurtles to conquer. I was still struggling with this the other day when I thought of the image of the cross. I pictured me there on one side and my boys on the other and I wanted God to understand that the gap between us was too wide, too much for this mama to bear, and entirely too far for me to reach. And then, I saw what was on that cross...my Savior, waiting there, with his arms stretched wide. He was reaching for me and for them and the distance was not too long for him. He had all of us in his wide open hands and his love was covering. It was more than enough. He was more than enough. In my mind's eye, I saw that my boys are never without, they are always safe. They need never fear or worry, nor do I, because God has reached across the chasm and has promised to never leave them. Where I can not be, He already is. The ironic thing is that Garrett is currently moderately obsessed with the cross. He likes to talk about how Jesus died on the cross for us and then three days later went to heaven to wait for us. Part his obsession includes building and drawing crosses. He will frequently find pieces of scrap wood and build a cross and then take what he calls a  "rest" on it. Is it odd? Yes, but, it is G and so we roll with it. What a lovely reminder to me and all of us that we too can "rest" on the cross. We don't need to do everything or be everywhere for our kids because the work is already complete and Love is always with them. His hands are open, the cross is conquered and so I need not fear.

My tears will likely still come on that first day. I will probably be the mom choking back tears at drop off and counting down hours until pick up. I will be praying for my boys, for their teachers and their classmates. Ryan will call and ask me how I am doing and I will lie and say "ok". I can't say that I won't fear but I can say that I will turn to the same place that I go for all of my other struggles. I will go the cross. I will find my Jesus there and I will rest. I will trust that by letting my boy blessings go, I am really just giving them back to the Giver who is always waiting with hands wide open.

An Epic Fail

Today was an epic fail day for us. It started out okay, although G refused our morning walk. I guess that I should've known then and I should've adjusted my plans but sometimes shoulda's are all we get. They say hindsight is 20/20 for a reason.

 I could say that alot of things went wrong but the biggest thing that went ary today was me. I tried to live the lie and the truth ran me over. As Ryan and I were talking it out later in the evening, I was explaining a few of the ugly details like that G had to be restrained as we left Target and how frazzled I felt over balloons in Old Navy. Ryan had witnessed my "end of my rope" frustration just moments earlier after being told "no" by the stubborn 6 year old and he wasn't judging or condemning me but it was then that I realized the crux of the issue. I even said it out loud. It felt ugly and wrong as it poured out of my lips but I knew it was what I had been experiencing in my heart. I told Ryan that the truth was that G had a bad day and I burnt out. When that happened, I was also done with the big boys and I took some of my frustration out on the them. I said, "The truth is that our day, our life would be completely different without G. Today would have been completely different without G." See, I told you that it wasn't pretty. It is one of the hardest truths that we live with and I hate it-for me, for G, and, mostly, for my big boys. Not only do we face challenges in parenting and raising G, but the unsung heroes, or victims on days like today, Parker and Carter, make exceptions on every aspect of life. Garrett breaks legos, steals attention, is embarassing at times, is a poor loser, gets up first, goes to bed last, stands in front of the TV, constantly distracts, limits every area of living life. Parker and Carter give more of themselves and their parents than what is normal or fair and they do it without complaining. Part of being a parent of a special needs child is grieving for the hardships they will face in life and the experiences that will be different for them. Another part of the grieving is for my other kids, the siblings, and the hardships they will face and the experiences that will be different for them. It isn't easy or fun but it is the truth.

Today I needed the big boys to carry bags and extra responsibility and not lose or forget them and, unfortunately, they failed and our stuff was gone to us. I was so angry and frustrated and I gave them their discipline, which they took with humble grace. Then the truth hit and, like the scriptures say, the truth really will set you free. Once I was able to process it all and humble myself, I gave them back their privileges and asked for their forgiveness and told them how crazy proud of them I am.  We recognized out loud together that hard things make us stronger. We talked about the toughness of having a "special" little brother and how blessed we are that God gave G to us. We rejoiced over the blessings that G brings to our life like his wild sense of humor and rocking dance moves. We prayed and I tried not to cry.  All the while, we laughed at G who was training for American Ninja Warrior and making toot sounds during the whole thing.

I called this blog "epic fail" but really it wasn't a complete fail. I lost my way for a moment and took a few of my favorite people down with me but grace got me back on track. The gospel of John says is perfectly in chapter 8:31-32, " Jesus said to the people who believed in him, "You are truly my disciples if you keep obeying my teachings and you will know the truth and the truth will set you free"" and in chapter 14:1, "Don't be troubled....trust in me". Reality isn't always pretty and packaged with a tidy little bow on top. Sometimes it is painful and a struggle but the TRUTH, the WAY, the LIFE is always freeing and always forgiving and I am grateful for it. I will trust without fail (most of the time) the truth that directs my steps and blessed lights my path and I will attempt to walk in the ways that it leads.

A Splinter

A splinter. A tiny sliver of wood that slips in and pokes and prodes and hurts and frustrates. Garrett got a splinter this weekend while hanging out at my parent's pool. Now normally, G loves it at Meme and Pap's house. He is in his zone, but when he woke up and didn't immediately want to jump in the water, we knew that something was up. After a while, Pap and I discovered the issue was a small splinter in his foot. Garrett usually has a very high pain tolerance but he could not adapt to the constant, wearing, poking pain of his splinter. We made several attempts to remove the annoyance. We tried tweezers. We let him try to do it himself. We even held him down and still we could not get rid of it. Eventually, exhausted and out of ideas, I gave G a bear hug and told him that we would just have to pray about it and move on with living. The splinter remained but within minutes, Pap and G were chasing the neighbor's chickens out of the yard while Meme and I looked on laughing.

That splinter was a gentle and perfect reminder to me. You see, lately, I have been a bit off course. I originally noticed that my prayers sounded forced and rehearsed. My patience was thinner than usual and my joy was sorely lacking.  My attitude has been yucky. I have found myself too easily frustrated and only focusing on the negative. I've known that I was off course but I haven't been able to find my way back. Only days before Garrett got his splinter, I was reading in my Bible and a couple of verses struck a chord with me. Two of them are from Colossians. Colossians 3:2 says, "Think about the things of heaven and not the things of earth", and Colossians 3:17 says, "And whatever you do or say, do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father".

What did all of this mean to me? Two things. First off, living a faithful life is a bit of a thinking game. If I lose focus and let my thoughts go off of the things of heaven, then I will lose my way. My thoughts will line up with my actions and my words and my heart and that is why I must choose to think of right things. If my mind is negative, what else can I expect but to feel downtrodden and frustrated?  The second reminder that Colossians provided me are found in the last seven words. Read them again friends, "...giving thanks through him to God the Father".  My attitude needs to be about gratitude. When I choose to be thankful, I am choosing to put my thoughts on the blessings that I have been given. My mind clears and my heart softens and, with prayer and patience, my actions follow suit. Then, and only then, what I do and say can represent my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. God's Word reminded me that if my mind is right and my attitude is one of thankfulness then I can walk in the ways that He has for me, not lost in myself and the things of this world. That is a game changer for sure!

Just like Garrett's splinter, something tiny and incidental can find its way deeper inside of me and try to destoy me. If I let it, it will poke and prode and dig away at what I want to be and what God's will is for me, but only if I let it. After reading those scriptures, I went on a hunt for my gratitude journal. Not surprisingly, I couldn't remember where I had left it last. I can certainly smile at the symbolism in that. I lost my way for a bit because my attitude needs to be about gratitude. I eventually gave up the search and grabbed an empty notebook. I started with number one and in the middle of that first page, a few days later, I wrote #35-G's splinter. A reminder, an annoyance, a blessing that I am grateful for.

The "crash and burn"

I have hesitated to write this. I almost always write about whatever is going on in our lives, so last week when I felt God leading me down this road, I dug my heels in, I resisted, I fought, and yet, here we are. I find myself living the very thing that I wanted to avoid and, I am writing about it. The "crash and burn"- for us this is a moment, a circumstance, that my Garrett looses to. It could be a scraped knee, a sign at his favorite store that got updated, it could be a commercial, or an ending to a story that he didn't anticipate, whatever it is, it overwhelms Garrett and he struggles to adapt and is often unable to without more extreme measures. Ryan and I are usually able to recognize it. We see it coming most times. It is almost as if a silent warning passes between us and we react without words. The other  day it was a stubbed toe, not a major injury but G was tired and wearing down anyway, and so when he bumped his foot the wrong way, I jumped to my feet. When the "crash and burn" is in progress, Garrett is usually loud. Whether in sadness or frustration, he will be heard.  He is also more aggressive. He goes into a flight or fight response that is worse than usual. We have different methods to treat the "crash and burn" but a few tactics are constants. We get to G as fast as we can. We hold him, hug him tight so he feels our love and support both physically and emotionally. We talk easy to him, whisper words of support or comfort, sometimes this could be favorite song or phrase. We get him away from the crowds and let him cry or vent or whatever he needs to do without the pressure of people. When it is all said and done, we let him rest. Often this is exactly what it sounds like, he falls asleep and we let him do that and be in peace.

As I have been thinking about the "crash and burn"all week, I knew that what God wanted me to share was that we all suffer these moments. We all have the circumstances, the coincidences, the things that we loose to. It may be a diagnosis, a bad day, a song, a phone call, whatever it is, it is threatens to defeat us and we find that desperate measures are required. I didn't want to write this blog because I hate crashing and burning. I love control and having self control and feeling like I am surviving but "crashing and burning" doesn't feel like that. I know because I "crashed and burned" a little this week. I got a little too busy and a little too overwhelmed with a few things going on with G and I just couldn't quite keep it together. My heart rate went up and my tears threatened to fall and I didn't know what to do but loose it.  I wanted to yell and cry out and be heard by someone, by anyone. The funny thing is that I felt in that moment that God was doing the same thing to me that I do with Garrett. I felt his arms come around me to carry me and I knew instinctively that he had always been there. I separated myself so it was just my Jesus and me. I heard him reminding me of scriptures that bring me peace, whispering them into my heart. I felt his peace and accepted his rest. It looks different than how we help G with his "crashing and burning" and, yet, it was exactly the same. This week, during my crash and burn, I had to get in the car, because when your a mom loosing it, you're still a mom. I turned on the radio, louder than my usual to drown out my struggles, and heard a song that reminded me why it is okay to sometimes "crash and burn". It was the peace that I needed to remind me who and where I belong and that even when I've lost it, I can still be sure that my victory will come.  The second verse says this, "So when the walls come falling down on me

and when I'm lost in the current of a raging sea, I have this blessed assurance holding me. All I know is I'm not home yet, this is not where I belong. Take this world and give me Jesus. This is not where I belong." My circumstance was still not what I wanted it to be but in that moment, but still, I could rest assured that all would be okay. "Crashing and burning" is not permanent. Struggles and hurts are not a constant. There will be scars from our scrapes and there will be hurts that will wound us deeply. There will be times when we feel like we are loosing it and, maybe, we really are, but, this is not where we belong. Take this world, and all that it offers that we can't adapt to, and give me Jesus because this is not where I belong.

As I said earlier, this week was a rough one for us. Garrett is having a tougher time at school right now, in part because he is trying to socialize more. That is very difficult thing for G to do, appropriately make friends. It is a skill that he has not mastered, yet. In a conversation with his teacher, she used the phrase, "crashing and burning" in reference to his failed attempts at fitting in this week. She didn't know how true her description was or what it meant to me. I appreciate that she too could recognize how hard failing is to him and I. We all want G to fit in and succeed socially and cognitively and emotionally in his life and we will do whatever we can to help him. Unfortanately, that means that sometimes he will have to "crash and burn".  It is inevitable for all of us. The thing is, though, that when the dust settles and the smoke clears, Garrett and all of us who choose to, we will still have Jesus. He will be holding us tight, encouraging our hearts, and letting us rest until we are ready to try again. 

A Lonely Playdate

I am about to make an unheard of mom confession. It may be too much for some of you and others will relate. Few will openly admit to agreeing but it is something that I must say or it might destroy me from the inside-out. I, Rachel Moffa, hate playdates. Don't tell the good moms and don't dash to my house to save my kids from my anti-socializing ways. I will occasionally do the whole playdate thing, but inside, I am praying that everyone makes it out alive, including me. I think that my hatred for playdates sprouted when I had two toddlers less than a year apart and then, just when I was beginning to get the hang of it, I had Garrett and he sealed the deal for me. He has never been what most would call socially appropriate. He can play side by side with most kids some of the time, but engaging and showing typical behaviors are rare. When he was younger, the whole speech delay made it difficult and, as he has grown, the behaviors like hand-flapping and struggling with eye contact cause a chasm that we can't always cross.  It makes for a less than enjoyable playdate when you are refereeing meltdowns and trying to desperately control your child's mayhem. Neither of us can engage, we are just trying to make it out alive. I would like to say that this doesn't bother me but I am too honest for that. Being the mom of an autistic child is lonely at times. I have spent many hours watching others stare at my child as I try to help him figure out a chaotic moment or vocalize what he needs to say but can't. I find myself often pulling away from relationships.  I tend to gravitate toward what is safe and to people who know us well enough to not be alarmed by our craziness. Sometimes this is because my son needs me and so I can't chat about the weather and the best parenting books. Sometimes, this is because it is hard to watch mine struggle where others seem to easily succeed.  I would rather not set myself up in a comparison trap where we will surely loose. I would like to write this post from a place of healing, but, in reality, as I write this, I am tearing up at how very real it feels in this moment. Am I alone? No, we have an amazing support system of family and close friends, but there are many times that I  still feel isolated and set apart by my circumstances.

I think that we all have moments when we feel alone, but I also think that being alone and being abandoned are two very different things. I don't enjoy solitude and, yet, I find myself desperate for understanding in a world that can't fully understand. I am essentially alone. No one else is me or lives everyday in my shoes. Where do I find the answer? Well, I remind myself that God never leaves us. When we are in the middle of deep water and the waves are threatening to drown us, He is walking toward us on top of the water with His hand reached out for us. When life feels hard and I feel weary, I find my peace and my rest in sentence prayers and quiet worship. I also remind myself that the times where He stretches us out of our comfortable cocoon and when we aren't surrounded by friends and fun, God is teaching us to rely on Who we need rather than on ourselves. He gets me alone so I can hear Him and learn to trust Him. We sang a song this week at church that says, "and I find myself here on my knees again, caught up in grace like an avalanche, nothing compares to this love burning in my heart". This could be my theme song some days. Going through a storm of life and yet completely overcome by the grace and love of God. He placed me and He places each of us exactly where we need to be. It is a place where we will need him and he will be there waiting. What an awesome reality! We may be alone, but never will we be abandoned. We may feel overwhelmed but let it be by His grace and His love and not by our circumstances. I  can't help but think of Mary, the mother of Jesus. She surely felt like she was alone. Who else could say that they were raising their Creator from a boy into her Savior? She knew how to accept that her walk was for her alone, but, scriptures say that there were moments when she kept some things treasured in her heart. I like that, my solitary struggles can be overcome by the graces that I keep treasured in my heart, and those graces are too many to count.

This week we actually had a rather enjoyable playdate.  Surprisingly, Garrett engaged fairly well with the other kids and only had a couple of small issues. I even discussed the weather with the other mom for a few uninterrupted moments. I am hopeful that this might become the norm for him but I am also aware that it might not. Will we keep trucking either way? Most certainly, we ill. Whether it is a good day or bad one, we will play through. Sometimes, that will be separate from everyone else and, if that is the case, we will be okay. Occasionally it will be with everyone else, and you can trust that those are moments that this mom will treasure in her heart. None of us are alone, nor will we be defeated. We have all we need for this moment and this day, every moment of every day, sometimes we just have to get alone and on our knees to find it.

Autism Awareness (from a mom's perspective)

With April approaching, and since it is Autism Awareness month, I have been considering exactly what that means to me. As a mom, as a caretaker and lover of someone who now bears this diagnosis, what awareness would I like to share?  I can't help but look at it from a different perspective because I am all too aware of what autism is. My takeaway from this reflection is that I want to share with you all some things about autism, and living in and with i,t that I want our world to be aware of.

For instance, please be aware that G is autistic, he will stim when he is excited. Be aware that he will sometimes script a commercial slogan like, "We have the meat" at a completely inappropriate time. Be aware that you have to find his eyes and connect on a deeper level if you really want him to hear you. Be aware that he loves to jump and play rough and that it has a way of meeting sensory needs that if left unmet will cause him to disconnect a bit. Be aware that he may need a bear hug but, may not always remember to hug back.  Be aware that he may need to be reminded to use his words when he is struggling to express himself. Be aware that we worked hard for every word he speaks and every question he answers, so be patient while he does that. Be aware that in his world shirt and shoes are optional. Be aware that he does not like unexpected loud sounds and, yet, he often talks too loud. Be aware that he is slightly obsessed with fire alarms but that he knows not to pull one ever again.  Be aware that he loves chocolate and that he seems to not be fond of the number 5. Be aware that to him it is still 2014 because change is hard for him. Be aware that he enjoys hot cakes from McDonalds on Sunday mornings and that a glass of root beer brings him great joy. Be aware that he can very literal or very sarcastic but he couldn't tell you the difference between the two. Be aware that he doesn't always understand and so rephrasing or repeating may be necessary. Be aware that he makes us laugh every day but, please, laugh with him and not at him. Be aware that he twirls his hair, and sometimes mine, and sometimes yours. Be aware that he hates band-aids but loves numbers and letters and anything that goes on a track.  Be aware that he has a shorter fuse but that we are always working on it.Be aware that he does not like to be touched and he will react accordingly. Be aware that he loves to hang upside down and spin until he is dizzy. Be aware that every situation may feel overwhelming to him, from wal-mart, to church, to playgrounds but that he can do anything and everything if he has the right support around him. Be aware that he wants and needs friends, just like the rest of us, but that it may be much more difficult for him to make them.  Be aware that for every way he is not typical, he is just like everyone else. He wants to play T-ball, he loves music and dancing and his favorite cartoons. Be aware that he is funny and he is loud and he is unique and he is perfect.

Be aware that his brothers love him even though they understand that he is different. Be aware that they have sat through hours of therapy and evaluations in waiting rooms. Be aware that they were as excited as me when Garrett said his first "yes". Be aware that they may understand autism and its effects better than you and me. Be aware that they have had make exceptions because of autism that have been hard at times. Be aware that he will sometimes embarrass them and that they will feel the need to explain things that may seem over their heads. Be aware that they didn't just gain a brother on the day that Garrett was born, but they gained the best lessons in compassion, kindness, and patience that I could ever have hoped to give them. Be aware that they will defend and protect him even when he is frustrating them, but, also, be aware that they can be very frustrated by him. Be aware that they will let him snuggle in bed with them, they will play cars and legos with him, and they will read him books, and they will not even notice how he is hand-flapping while they are doing it. Be aware that they will forever have his back and hold his hand and be his very best friends, regardless of any differences.

Be aware that what caused or did not cause autism is not what I dwell on. Be aware that I was afraid of the diagnosis even though I loved him from before he was born. Be aware that we count our joy days and celebrate even the tiniest victories. Be aware that to reach Garrett, you may have to dig deeper and try harder but that it will be worth every effort. Be aware that he sees and hears and experiences life more intensely than we can ever understand. Be aware that he loves and he hates and he hurts just like everyone else but that he may express himself differently. Be aware that he has potential that you may not see, but that I look forward to unlocking. Be aware that he knows fear and he faces it everyday with courage that I am sure can only come from above. Be aware that he doesn't deserve to be bullied or treated poorly just because you may not understand him. Be aware that there will be moments when all you will see is his diagnosis unless you seek his heart. Be aware that he is my child and that he carries my love wherever he goes. Be aware that he is known, loved, and was formed with a great purpose in mind. Be aware that I would never change his autism even though it is one of the hardest things that I have ever experienced and a burden he may struggle with his whole life.  Be aware that he has more to teach you than what you could ever hope to teach him. Be aware that listening to, caring for, loving an autistic child will make you stronger and braver and greater because that is what they are. Be aware not just during Autism Awareness month but everyday of every month. Be aware for Garrett and for everyone and anyone in our world that may be different than you and me. Be aware because it what God has called us to be. Awareness of others, autistic or not, is what helps us to love and to accept and to live as we have been called to, so may we always be aware.

The "Haves and the Have Nots"

If you live at my house and I catch you whining too much, you can expect a consequence. I won't send you to time out or anything like that though. I will ask you to list of some things that you are grateful for. If you hesitate, I add more. I will also employ this method if you are fighting with your brother, the only difference being that you will have to list things that you love about your sibling. It may seem like a strange way to teach a child not to whine but, really, gratitude and attitude are closely related. If you have one, the other will improve.

 Recently, I have been using this discipline on myself. Call it seasonal, or lack of routine, or whatever you want, but my Garrett is having a difficult little stent lately. There have been several episodes that have caused me to cringe and cry and feel defeated but I can't live and love him from there, so I make myself be grateful. I call them the "haves and the have nots".  In my head and my heart, I usually begin by acknowledging what I don't have. The "have nots" could include uninterrupted sleep,  always appropriately behaved children, a predictable behavior pattern, consistency, what most would consider normalcy. I do not have peace of mind for the future. I do not have an understanding of all the whys and hows of the very people that grew within me. I do not have the answers. These are some of my "have nots" but there are others too like, I don't have a terminally ill child, a child who struggles just to live. I don't have hopelessness or loneliness. I don't have to do it all by myself. I do not have to be perfect. I do not have control. I like to list the postive and the negative so that I get a sense of the balance that comes in life.

My "haves" would have to include my three great boys and my husband and best friend. I have a dog (not one that I have great affection toward, but he is ours). I have a warm home and a car that heats up quickly on cold mornings. I have a closet full of clothes and, at least, a couple of pairs of shoes. I have struggles with wondering if I am doing it right or wrong. I have a great support system. I have a relationship with my Savior. I have a son with autism. I have good notes and bad notes from teachers who genuinely care for my boys. I have answered prayers. I have joy. I have pain. I have doubt and I have grace.

I was reading in 1Corinthians 13 today, the love chapter. To be honest, the scriptures there usually make me feel convicted that I do not love like I should. They always seem to highlight my shortcomings and the struggle to love in spite of them. Today, though, a little line in the middle caught my attention. It was verse 7 and says, "LOVE never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. " I realized that at the top of my list of "haves",  I have LOVE. I have the LOVE that is eternal.  I have LOVE for the people that God has put in my life and I have LOVE from others who God has put in our lives. I have LOVE, I do LOVE, and I am LOVED. It is a LOVE that trusts in the "haves and the have nots". It is a LOVE that looks at every circumstance and doesn't give up. It is a LOVE that wakes up every day with a new joy and a fresh hope. It is a LOVE that loves through the struggles until peace is found.

The other day, Garrett's teacher had to write me about a difficult school day. She wrote the typical note about what went wrong and how they dealt with it, but then she added something. She said that she felt like all the positives comments were always followed with a negative. It was a comment that pulled at my heart strings because I realized, not for the first time, that she LOVES him. She had come to one of the hardest realities in caring for a child who has special needs, there are always struggles. The "haves and the have nots" exist in a harsh reality in life with an autistic child but, that is ok. She earned another spot on my "have" list because she lived 1Cor 13:7 with Garrett. She didn't give up, lose faith, become hopeless. She endured through this circumstance and countless others. We do not always "have" everything we want and there is always a reason to whine but, I will choose LOVE. I will embrace all my "haves and have nots"and live each day the best that I can. I will be grateful that I have been blessed with many "haves and have nots", including some truly LOVE-ing people to walk alongside me and my boys.

Making my Mess into a Masterpiece

It's another snowday Yay! Right? I love my boys and I love hanging out with them but settling video game arguments at 8:15am wouldn't be necessary if they were in school. It is the big and the little right now. One has a cold and is extra whiny. No one seems to be capable of getting their own drinks and snacks. The dog is shedding and inside too much. Garrett is making a car sound at least ninety percent of the day and has found a new scowl that he presents me with all too often. I am edgy and daddy has had a busy couple of weeks of work. Days like this, life feels messy and tired and overwhelming before my prayers have even been whispered. It's funny to me how life can go from pleasant and purposeful to patronizing and pitiful. I feel that right now. It's been a crazy couple of weeks with illness and holidays and snow and cold and fights and fun, and all of that leaves me wishing I could make it easier. I was reading something this morning that said that sometimes as we watch God paint the canvas of our lives,we want to grab a brush and cover over it with our own version of what we think it should look like. Snow days should be filled with sledding and hot chocolate. Board games should be played and puzzles should be built. Why, then, are my kids bickering and my head aching? It all just seems like such a mess and can this mess really be a masterpiece? 

As I was praying through this, and putting kids in timeout, and listening to cartoons, and checking the weather, I came across something that I had read earlier in the week. It was in Psalms, chapter 35. Not only had I underlined one particular line but I had circled a word and noticing it in that moment struck a chord inside of me that needed struck. It was Psalm 35:8 and it said, “The Lord says, “I will guide you along the BEST pathway for your life””. Can you tell which word stuck out to me? I have all too often felt like my life was not what it was supposed to be. It has often felt messy and hard and less than ideal. I can remember when I realized that I was going to have two babies in less than a year, messy. When I sat with my husband when the doctor told him that the results were not what we had hoped for, messy. When I drove home from after spending three hours in a tiny room where professionals observed my baby through a one-way window and then gave me fifty pages worth of information to help us cope with the diagnosis of autism, messy. None of those moments were a part of my plan. My painted picture would have not included illness, surprises, or, in all honesty, autism. This week, I would have made the tempertures a bit warmer and the snow melt into rain. In my plans, I would always be right and do right. My kids would never fight and they would love brussel sprouts and avocado. Garrett wouldn’t hand-flap and would have good friends and be a good friend. I would not even know what stimming was or cringe when others begin to stare at it. In my work of art, there would be peace and quiet in the midst of fun and family. Chocolate would be healthy and coffee would always be hot an ready served with just a dash of cream. My picture would look different and that is the problem. It is not my work to create. I am not the artist. I have to surrender the hardest thing, myself. How is that possible without a struggle? It isn't. The only thing that keeps me going somedays is that Someone else has the BEST plans for me. He has a picture that I can’t see yet because it just isn’t done but when it is it will be a prize winner. Somehow, by grace, He is going to take this mess of mine and turn it into a canvas that could hang in galleries. He, who gives the snow and the cold and the good and bad news, is painting a masterpiece in the midst of my mess. When I feel frustrated with all of the messiness of life, when I just want to get out my eraser or yell at skies, I have to remind myself that God doesn’t forget or neglect even the tiniest details. He hung the stars, individually. He know the hairs on my baby's heads, each and every one. He sacrificed the greatest gift for me, for all of us, but I trust He would have done it just for me. He is in my mess. He made it and He loves it and, to Him, it is perfect. This life is but a blink of an eye to the Eternal One. Surrendering myself means accepting the ugly to be made beautiful, in the Master’s hands. In a book I am reading, the author puts it like this, “Hear me: whatever He does with our lives, He is good and is fighting for us in the most noble ways; He gave His Son’s life to win us back. So might He pour our lives out in difficult ways? Yes” The author goes on to say that just as we can trust the moon and stars, the rotation of the planets to Him, we can also entrust our entire lives to Him. He wants it all, even the mess.

So how do I rest in His peace while still living this crazy life of mine? The only thing I can say is that I keep going. I find my food in His daily bread. I get my mind as quiet as I can and I let Him speak to me through the same words that He has used to change centuries of lives. I accept who I am and who I am not. I see my sin and I work at surrendering, letting go of all that I want, and all that I have, and all that I think I control. I thank Him for the snow days and I thank Him for the coming spring. I finish my coffee and say amen. I get out the bathtub (my quiet place). I say the “I’m sorrys” and accept the ones said to me. I fix the broken video game and give a bearhug to the overstimulated one. I make pancakes and cereal and I trust in His best through it all. We spend the thirty minutes getting dressed and then go sledding. We watch too much TV and play a riveting game of Mall Madness. There will always be hard moments and fights and times of struggle, but I trust my mess to the Master. When I do get a glimpse at His work, I am always blessed and amazed. Those two babies that came too close are the best of friends and make great big brothers. That chronic illness that shouldn’t have applied to my husband reminds me daily of how much I love him and how lucky we are to have each other. That diagnosis of autism helped me to see the awesomeness of not being like everyone else. His plans have proven themselves over and over again. I trust this day and all the others to Author and Artist of my life.

Was it enough?

This question has been on my mind lately. Was it enough?  Am I enough? Am I a good enough mom, wife, friend, sister, daughter? Did I spend enough time with the people that matter? Did I teach my boys enough kindness? Did I show them enough kindness? Did I discipline enough? Did I love enough?  Am I respecting my husband enough and loving him enough? Was I sufficient in being what God wanted me to be? Or am I failing in someway? And finally, how will I know?

When I sent my two oldest off to school with well wishes, full backpacks, and new shoes, I found myself wondering if they were making new friends. If they were good friends? I hope they know the difference between right and wrong and that they always choose right. I am hoping they are confident and yet humble, sweet and yet strong. How would they fare in that big crazy world? Did I prepare them enough? Would they be ok?

When I sent my G-man out into the unknown universe of kindergarten I had the same fears and more. Seven hours without me, would he be ok? Would he feel overwhelmed? Would he act out or remember to hold his hands tight and count backwards? Would he be kind and would others be kind to him? Would he laugh or be laughed at? We work so hard for every milestone but, really, was it enough? Was I enough? And, still, how will I know?

I have a friend who I meet with regularly to share life with. We have laughed and cried and grown together and she knows me well. The other day she asked me an important counter-question to these crazy worries of mine. I was sharing about a parenting study that I am doing and how challenging it is and, also, about a book on marriage that I was reading and she asked me if anything was ever "good enough" for me. I am a perfectionist down deep and she saw where the root of the struggle was. It was the standard, the one I couldn't clearly define and yet I strived after like it would somehow save me. I went home from our conversation humbled and took my sorry self to the throne room. I have spent the last week or so asking God to show me how to stop the cycle and where to find my peace. This morning He reminded of  a great verse from Proverbs that has long been a favorite of mine. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." I am not in charge. In truth, I will never be enough and that is ok because He is more than enough. He made me and knew me long before I was even born and He loves me anyway, just the way I am. He knows and loves my boys in a way that even I can't comprehend. I have also realized that this is a lesson that my boys need to see me live and love them with as well. I want them to know that they are always enough for me. That I will always love and cherish them, no matter what. I decided that it is all about how I define "enough". If it is defined by my boys behavior than I will fail because they will fail. They will not always be kind. They will not always choose right. Garrett will throw fits and forget his joy.  If I define "enough" by the kind of wife I am then on at the days when the laundry stays in the basket(s) and dinner is not restaurant worthy, I have failed. If I define "enough" by the type of friend, sister, or daughter that I am then when I neglect a phone call or a prayer request, I have failed. That is reality but, rest assured, God is always enough and is always ready to graciously help us on our way through life. Sometimes I need to learn to let go and let it be. Ok, most of the time I need to do this. God is in control, I just have to trust Him to steer. He knows the directions because He mapped out the course and so there is no risk of getting lost or failing. He is the standard and He is the measurer and I can graciously lean against Him and be "enough".  My "enough" is only and always found in Him. The definition of "enough has to be the only one who knows all and loves us anyway.

I often find that when God is teaching me a lesson, He sees fit to show me his Truth in the lives of my boys. This time it was with Garrett's hair. Garrett struggles with a lot of things that the rest of us take for granted, one of those things is haircuts. When he needs a haircut, Ryan and I both want to run and hide. It takes hours to give a basic, haphazard buzzcut. There are tears from all of us, bribing, disciplining, you name it. It is a painful family event. It tends to take us a week or so before we gather the strength and courage needed for such a traumatic experience and this past week or so was no different. We finally opted for something new and I trimmed around Garrett's ears and neck while he was asleep one night. Obviously, this was not a professional or perfect cut and for the next few days I felt like everyone who saw my boy had to notice his unique hairdo. Then I got a message from another friend of mine. Her little brother is in G's class and she wanted to share with me that her brother had been a bit obsessed with Garrett's hair. She said that he couldn't get over how nice his "swoop" was. He wanted his like it and he wanted her to check it out because it was so awesome. Isn't that just God's way? My not "enough", what I saw as failure or imperfect, was downright admirable to a 5-year old. It's all depends on the standard.

I am not enough and, actually, I never will be, but I have a Father who calls me to lean hard into Him so that He can show me the way. He doesn't need me to do anything perfect. He doesn't expect me to. He doesn't want me to be in charge and call the right shots or map out the course. That is His job. What great news! I can just enjoy the view on this crazy trip called life. He is the standard, but He measures in grace, and there is always enough of that to go around.


*As a side note, my lovely sister, who is a professional, fixed Garrett's haircut and we all love his "swoop" now.

Parker is 9...Do not delay!

Have you ever had one of those moments where some word, phrase, scripture, saying, thought, -something pops into your head and you are certain it is from God? You can't say how you know it but it is just settled in your spirit that God is getting your attention in that moment. Likely there wasn't  flashing lightning or thunder or great heavenly lights shining, just you hearing Him. I had a couple of those moments recently. One was in the car on our way for a weekend of skiing. We were driving along through some of God's most beautiful country and I was praying and reading and feeling peacefully blessed when plain as day I heard God say to my heart, "Parker is 9". My first thought was in agreement. "Yes, Lord, he is 9 and I am glad we both remember his age today"! Then I dug deeper and wondered why God was reminding me of this. Quickly my thoughts turned to those of fear. As I began contemplating his age and how he is growing up fast, I felt my heart constrict and my mom- grip tighten on my boys. I started thinking back to when I was 9 and before long I was trying to calm my racing heart. You see, when I was 9 was when my eyes and heart were first opened to sin and the hurt that it can cause. Certain circumstances that year in my life changed me forever. I was still a sweet, innocent, blond-haired, blue-eyed smiley child on the outside, but on the inside my innocence was marred. In my panic, I looked to Ryan with tears in my eyes and told him my concerns. I explained to him that Parker was 9 and when he questioned the significance of that, I went on to tell him that my first memory of hurt as a child happened when I was 9. Parker is 9 and Carter will be there all too soon.  How were we going to protect our growing boys? How could we stop time? What was our plan and, lastly, why did God want me to struggle with this?

I found no peace for a couple of days despite the fact that I was covering my concerns in prayer until Sunday morning. I was worshipping at church when yet another "word" was spoken to my heart. A line from one of the songs stopped me in my tracks. It was "do not delay". Something about that phrase silenced my song and sank deep into my spirit. I couldn't say exactly why but I know those words were meant for me. Over the next few days God showed me how Parker being 9 and not delaying were exactly what this mama needed to hear.

It took a week of pondering and praying and living life before it all came together. Over the following week a couple of things happened. First, I took a step of faith in service and ministry. It was one that a part of me resisted to take. I had lots of good reasons to say no; like busyness, or bad timing, or fear but, "do not delay". I sensed that God wanted me to say yes, so I followed through and said yes. The next was a career opportunity. Not even to the interview stage yet, but I was ready to walk away, because I am not great with change and wasn't sure if we were ready as a family. Not a sure thing, but a step, possibly an open door. Both took shedding my fear and anxieties and saying, "if you want, Lord" and not delaying.

Then I was sick and it all tied together. We had snow days and sleds needed ridden but I couldn't do it. My body was fevered and tired and done. So I bundled up my boys and sent them out without me. The 9 year old was actually sick too and was stuck inside with mommy but the other two, not known for getting along always, headed out to enjoy the cold. As I watched from the window, occasionally cracking it open to yell at the dog or remind them to watch for cars, I saw my boys growing up. I saw Carter volunteering to carry Garrett's sled up the hill. I heard encouraging words and laughing. Garrett loved going fast and Carter seemed to embrace helping him do just that. Carter was nurturing but not overbearing like usual and they played for hours without injury or issue. That was when I found my peace, reflecting on that. Yes, Parker is 9. He may know sin more clearly as he grows. All of my boys are breaking free from my cocoon and they will feel the joy and the conflict associated with that experience. They will feel pain. They will fail. They will survive. I can't delay what God wants me to do as a person and I can't delay what He wants me to do as a mom. I have to let them grow and go and to be whoever He wants them to be. I can't say no just because of my fear or my own past. Obedience and trust are not just relegated to our ministry or our careers. We have to trust and obey with our babies too. We can't delay their growing. The upswing is that I also don't have to delay my loving them either. I can do that as much as I am able. Eventually, like all good sled-riding adventures, there was a crash. I will admit that I was almost relieved to shove my feet into my boots and drag my weary body out there to hold and hug away the hurt like only a mom can.

 Looking back, I am abundantly grateful for being 9. It was a year that changed my life in good and bad ways. I am also glad that my God didn't delay. He kept going and growing me into today. He still doesn't delay in making me more of who He wants me to be. Parker is 9, next he will be 10. Carter will catch up with his brother in too short of a time. Garrett will graduate kindergarten. They won't always want me to sing our song at night and, eventually, they will outgrow my lap. They will know good, and they will know evil, and they may hurt from time to time, but ,God will heal and help. Just like my parents have always been there for me, whether I was 9 or 30, I will be there for my boys as long as God allows. I can't stop them before they get to those double-digits or before they lose their first friend. We can't delay it. We just have to have faith that keeps growing right alongside us. This week reminded me  that even though I may not be a little 9 year old girl anymore, I still have a gracious Father in heaven who will gladly hold me until my tears dry and fears subside. He will not delay in His love and neither will I.