In process

Routinely throughout the year, we get these forms from Garrett's teachers. They are notes based on his education plan and the goals that we have set and they have options like "met", "not met", "satisfactory", and "in process". The forms are filled in by his teachers and I make an effort to open the envelope and read through them. Most often the box is check marked "in process". Two simple words that pack so much meaning.  G ( and maybe a few of us) is a work in progress. He hasn't fully mastered lots of things in life from group interaction, to handwriting (God bless his handwriting), to managing his impulsivity. Recently while I was listening to a particularly good sermon, our pastor used the same term to describe our christian walk, in process, not perfect or complete but somewhere along the way,  and then a book that I am really enjoying right now talked about the period of time in life where we are preparing for the next adventure, trial, or experience in life. "In process" isn't necessarily fun in my eyes.  Preparation means hard work to my ears. I am more of a "met" or "satisfactory" kind of girl but let me tell you that I am in a period of life where I most definitely have felt like God is "in the process" of something.

Often G gets the "in process" mark across the board; socially, academically, emotionally, developmentally.  I, too, feel it across the board. I feel it physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  A few months ago, I felt a stirring. I felt that God was working something in me and, to be honest, it wasn't a something that I was super comfortable with. I felt my weaker parts being exposed and worked on but I didn't allow myself to resist it because I know God's work is always good and I could also very much feel His peace when I would allow Him in and let Him fill me with it. I felt the things I thought I knew for certain becoming uncertainties and my comfort zone being washed away and expanded. I felt myself losing, instead of gaining and it weighed on me. Lonely but not lost, I tried to surrender and rest and trust but the path has seemed unclear and a little daunting.  I really prefer to be a conquerer, victorious and strong, and I view myself as a very capable and able person but in reality I am just a work in process and preparation is a necessary evil.

God has shown me recently little things and big things that he has been working on and molding and shaping and preparing and I have felt both blessed and stressed by all of it.  The work of God sometimes involves big changes and conquering those major fears and anxiety inducers and I really try to avoid that type of work. When I think of my story, I feel like I have enough of the hard to live the rest of my life in the soft (ish). I like predictable and known and, let's be real, confidence that I can do it. Lately, God has asked me to remain faithful when He takes away the easy and known. It's the big and the little, G had an amazing teacher at the first of the year. She totally got him and loved him and he was doing excellent, then she took another position and we had subs for months. Every day new faces and unknowns and G and I felt the pains of the process. We have always loved our community, our town, our church, and our little slice of the world. Sometimes though your world shifts just enough that you see the ugly and the hard and the the pretty loses its luster.  Sometimes the process, the preparing means seeing the things you thought you knew for sure differently, accepting change and disappointment and different life paths. I hate change but what if God is preparing me for a change, I need to let him work the process.  I need to accept the growth and preparation for whatever life might bring. Even my quiet times have become different. I used to feel like God and I just picked up where we left off each morning but recently I have been feeling the pull to walk His path, not necessarily the one I had started down. At first I felt afraid and almost wanted to avoid it, as if that is even possible. My prayers have shifted from thanks and assuredness to prayers for peace and an obedient heart. I have had to look directly at my weaknesses, my sinful ways, my ugly wrongness, and even my fears,  but I have seen them covered in grace. God doesn't want me or any of us to be incomplete or less than. He wants to work in my weakness, then show me how very capable He is and He wants to use my sin and my hurt to prepare me for a victorious battle.  I want to live and love as He has planned for me, even if I can't always clearly see what the destination going to look like.

 Just a couple of weeks ago, I ran a half marathon. Running a drive-able distance is something I never felt tempted to do for several reasons, the training takes too much time, I wouldn't have a partner to do it all the time, and, to be frank, what if I failed. The funny thing is that God used the entire experience to highlight all those fears and insecurities and process them into something awesome. The training time actually ended up being just a tad bit more than what I normally do and I really enjoyed the running and pushing myself beyond my norm. I not only trained alone but ended up running the actual race alone, except I really wasn't alone. I have had the best runs listening to worship music or enjoying my audible book. I have prayed and praised and connected with God in new and beautiful ways that wouldn't have been possible otherwise. When race day came, the only real uncertainty was could I actually do it. I had my friend for this one, which was a comfort and I was as ready as I was going to be. Also it wasn't raining or snowing, so prayers had already been answered. Mile 6 is where it got real for me. Somehow I had lost my friend in the masses. I was alone, running, running far. I turned my music on to distract me and focus me and God just filled my head and my heart with this amazing sense of BOOM (thats our family word for fantastic awesomeness). I looked around and put my hands in the air and let a few rouge tears drip down my cheeks. I thanked God that I was alone with just him, on this unknown trail, that I still had a long ways to go but I could trust that He would get me across the finish line. I thanked him that I was so very weak and unable unless I was running life's race with him and then I kept going. 13 miles worth of prayer and praise and peace. Do you know that I even missed the finish line? They had to call me back because I had made the next turn and was ready to keep going. My process didn't seem finished to me. I was and am still going. This prep work, it hurts somedays, makes me want to cry, gives me butterflies in my belly, feels unknown, but wherever the path leads, and however I have to get there, I trust hat God is strong enough. He will lead me and help me run without getting weary. I am weak but He is strong and He loves me too much to leave me where he doesn't want me or to let me remain unprepared.

I guess really, if life had progress notes, I would appreciate receiving them in a little yellow envelope. I would open it up and enjoy seeing the box marked "in process". I would let it remind me that I still have a LONG way to go in this race called life but that God knows where the trail leads and what lies around the next bend. He will prepare and go before and beside me no matter what.

These Shoes

These shoes. These are no ordinary shoes. These shoes represent game changers and lifesavers in this family. Theses are shoes for change and new steps. Shoes that will take us farther and beyond. Shoes that stretch us and grow us and they just straight up made me smile today when I saw them all together. Let me explain.....

 The first pair, those little black and red ones, I bought those shoes last spring. I bought them because they were one size up for my growing G and, yet, they were the same style that he has worn for several years. I bought them because they were on sale (I am a frugal girl when I can be). I bought them and I was proud of them because I was sticking with routine while preparing us for the road ahead. I bought them and then I showed them to G and he rejected them, straight up said nope. His last pair was black and white, no red. His last pair had his old insoles. No, he doesn't require insoles but after he stole Parker's expensive ones a few years ago, we got him some Dr Scholl's and cut them down to size as a compromise. He rejected them because he hates change, any change. His old pair was worn and he had the straps adjusted and the tongue pulled out. They slipped on, kind of, because they were getting small. I did what I do, I left them sitting out on display. We talked about them and said how cool they were. We showed him how everyone gets new shoes as their feet grow. We bought insoles and let him put them in there just right. We still lost. He had steadfastly refused those new shoes until this week, Sunday, to be exact. It was a lovely Sunday morning and we were running late (not a shocker at all). I, as usual, was becoming a tad frustrated over the lack of cooperation from my people and beginning to lose it a little. I may have said something like, "get in the car with or without shoes or stay home and I will let CPS know to come get you." Maybe not those exact words, but possibly close to that. G got in the car. I drove out, still lecturing, until we pulled hastily into the parking lot and we all got out. I was continuing my tirade when one of the boys complimented G's shoes and I looked down. He had on his new ones. He looked hesitantly at them and then said that he actually liked the fit. It was amazing. Simply astounding. Months of all the right things and trying so hard and when I lose it, he gets it. The best part is that he has worn those shoes all week without missing a beat. I found his old ones and threw them away, somehow mourning and celebrating our growing up at the same time. Those shoes represent change and new steps and are a cause for celebration in our world.

The next pair, the white ones, and the boot, let me tell you about those, especially that darn boot. This was our first time with the boot transition from a cast and at first it was great, then it stepped on me and, it was forgotten downstairs and, in his bed and, it was wet and dirty and yet walking on my floors and then it started smelling like a boy's foot might smell after being in a boot or cast for weeks. I began to hate the boot, maybe even loathe it. So, last week when Parker's doctor said he could go bootless, we all rejoiced. I mean it, we all literally yelled with gladness. (They love us there!) The doctor and I and Parker, we all agreed that he could still use the boot for school for this week since his walking in real shoes was a struggle at first.  To be honest, this whole ordeal has been a bit of a struggle. Parker put in perspective for me a couple weeks ago. One night when we were discussing our fears, he said that one of his greatest fears was never being able to walk normal again. My mom's heart shattered. I didn't tell him, but it was mine too. Two foot surgeries and one year of hoping and praying and pushing and trusting and doubting and then hoping again, that we had made the right choice, that it really would be ok, that it was all worth it. Those white high tops tell the ending...it's all good! He is back to walking, albeit a little slowly and with a slight limp, but we are seeing major strides and expect a full and quick recovery. Being at the end of this long journey is such a relief and such a praise. Seeing him feel confident and strong about something that could have turned out differently warms me and blesses me beyond belief.  I love those shoes and I will keep that boot for always (after I febreeze the heck out of it). It will always remind us of where we've been and that God has many places left for us to go. Those shoes will follow in the plans and purposes that we trust in for every single day.

Lastly, my shoes. These are the lifesavers. You might wonder how unless you know my daily routine. If you know me you know that those shoes, although I've only had them a couple months, have already traveled many miles. They help me walk out my anxiety. They take me wherever I am headed while I listen to sermons or worship music as loud as my earbuds will allow. They run around town or my little neighborhood with friends or by myself but they always bring me back better. Those shoes have known sunshine and rain. They have witnessed a couple of tears and many, many laughs. They have heard my whispered prayers and my deep and personal praises.  They have walked the dog and jogged with Carter and even did some trick or treating. Those shoes represent thriving, not just surviving, through all of life's ups and downs. When I need a break, they take me out the door and, when I'm all done and feeling refreshed, they bring me home again. They help me have life and live it abundantly, like a lifesaver to a mom's soul.

These shoes, as I hope you now understand, are much more than they seem. They each tell a story, our story and they take us from where we were, to wherever we are headed. I love these shoes today and what they represent for our tomorrows.

A Hot Cup of Coffee

One of my most favorite things is coffee. Hot coffee in a big mug, half full with a dab of creamer. I like it best in my soft pants in either my rocking chair or on my back porch. I love to share it or just sip on it while there is love all around me. It warms me. My coffee pot is one of my most favorite and most used items in my house (might be tied with my vacuum but let's not go there). I start my day with it, often taking it with me to the bus stop. I am one of those crazy folks who drinks it all day and all year long. When I need a reset or rest in the afternoon, when I am done with dinner and need to wash down a little sweet, at bedtime when I just want a warm belly, I drink my coffee. I love to share it with my friends and family. You can find my dad and I sharing a cup most Sunday afternoons. My sisters, my friends, even my Ryan, we all enjoy a good cup of joe. It provides minimal hydration, a quick caffeine fix, and a moment to exhale. Coffee is for enjoying, for savoring, for connecting. Lately I have been thinking about my favorite beverage and how it links me to others and opens the door for deeper connections and I wondered if I am a little fearful to share beyond one cup. Am I willing to dig deeper, to keep going and share more of myself, my heart, my soul or do I settle with  a quick "to go" cup and move on. My hope is that I am known as the whole pot kinda girl. Come on over and let's spend some time and drink some coffee. I have read a couple of books over the summer that were all about sharing and what that really means and looks like. They challenged me beyond my coffee and casualness to go deeper and be real. It made me search myself and question how transparent I really am.
We have a very open house. Kids, neighbors, old friends, and new ones are always welcome in. I can perk a fresh pot or whip up some cookies quick as a cat. I try to keep a tidy living room and have hiding places for all the mayhem. Ryan and I even bought our house all those years ago with the intention of it being a place to host and serve others.Now, I realize that coffee and cookies and even a listening ear might not be enough. This quote sums up my challenge, "...everything that looks like it's breaking apart might actually be falling together. Isn't that what I've been longing to be, broken and broken free to be a key person? One of the soul emancipators who unleash others into who they already are in Him, no judging skeletons in closets or the size of a waist or the performance of anyone's kids or anything that might threaten to break us." Maybe what the world needs is to see my messy counters and hear my hard parts. They might benefit more from my hot mess than my warm baked goods.  Maybe seeing where I am far from perfect, where I am broken would make be more welcoming and real. I need to be open and sharing about the things that wake me up at night, the worries that steal my peace and my joy. What drives me tears or makes me cry out to my Lord? Am I willing to share just my coffee or also my heart?
Let me be honest and say that I don’t desire to tell you how I pray for complete healing while constantly preparing for and expecting the worst. I’m not proud to say that I used to tell Jesus that as long as he never made me move too far away, I’d be happy. I realize that somewhere inside that everyone wants their kids to be independent and happy and healthy but is there anyone else out there that tries to plan out who will take care of your son when you can’t. It literally takes my breath away. I have found that I lack faith in God and the world he has put me in because some things are just to hard for me to bear. I can be full of unforgiveness if you hurt any of my boys and yet share with you stories of deep and purposeful forgiveness in my life. Let me transparent and tell you that before every single smiling family picture, I have yelled in my mean mom voice at one or all of the people posed there. Yes, I keep a gratitude list, but sometimes I force myself to list things that I am thankful for about the the people I love the most, the very souls that I spend my days serving.  I love Jesus but, I only want him, and you all, to know about the quiet times and the good parts. The ugly and wrong, I would much rather tuck away and keep to myself.

One thing that I read recently encouraged believers to share their story because that is how God is most shared with others.  It used the stories of the Bible as examples and said that every main character (besides Christ) had a shady side to their story. Noah built the ark but what did he do after it landed? David slayed the giant for God's glory and then later in his life committed murder with only selfish, sinful motives. The stories of the Bible are not pretty, packaged, and perfect. They are real folks like me (and maybe you too). They have highs and lows, ups and downs, days when they win and seasons where they lose big. Living a life of faith is not always pretty but it also doesn't have to be. The author went on to explain that the hero of the stories in the Word is always God himself. God, using a bunch of normal folks to show His power and bring Him glory. He loved them right on through their fires and brought them out refined and beautiful.  She put it like this, "What if we were meant to summarize the highlights and lowlights of our stories?Sure, there are some nice things people would say about us. We've each had our share of glowing moments. But there are a lot of bad things people could say about us too, because we've each had some dark moments. Those dark moments don't typically make our highlight reels...We're all a mixed bag of good and bad, sinner and saint." My story is sometimes ugly. I don't always get it right. I yell for wrong reasons. I fake it sometimes. I lie and say that all is well when it really isn't. I lack faith. I struggle to love. I chose wrong. My story does't always have a fairy tale ending and I am most definitely not the hero. But, (I love a good "but") my mess can still be used for His glory, if I am willing to share it. 

I guess the moral of the story is this, come on over. My house may be messy and my life isn't perfect. Still yet, come on in, pull up a chair. I'll make a pot of coffee and maybe even some cookies. Let's talk and listen and let's be real. It might not always be pretty and perfect but it's my story and I'm willing to share it. If you've got the time, I've got the coffee.

Things I Have Learned This Summer

The Summer...three months of fun and memories, sunshine and lotion and bug spray and car rides and hikes and baseball and manhunts and ice cream. Thank God for the chocolate ice cream!! I am always learning and discovering new truths about life and love as the days pass and this summer was no different. This is a very small but important list of a few vital things that I have learned in the last couple of months of no school but lots of fun and sun with my boys.

#1-I really will do anything for my kids.
This is one of those things that we always say but are not often given the chance to prove. This summer gave me opportunities to prove it. I really and truly will do ANYTHING for my boys. I will watch hours and hours of ball. I will sleep in a hotel bed and share a bathroom with 3 boys for days, even weeks. I will cheer. I will comfort. I will have your back and be your greatest fan. I tell my boys to choose right, be right, and I will always stand beside them. This summer, I got the chance to show them just how that looks. I stood beside, in front of, and had my boys backs and we all grew closer and stronger because of it. These boys of mine make be proud and I am grateful to do life with them, whatever that "doing" may look like.


#2-We were raised by good stock.
When you have parents who will take your hardest offspring for 10+ nights and never complain or curse or quit, you realize just how precious your parents are. They fed him, bathed him, survived him and all without complaint. That's the best kind of blessing. When you have parents who will drive hours and get eaten by bugs and hang out in hotel lobbies in no-mans land just to cheer for your babies, you realize that your fan base and family base are big and strong and amazing. When you have parents and siblings who text you before, after and during games and watch them online and cheer from wherever there are for your babies, you know how important family ties really are. If Ryan and I do anything right as parents, it is because we were raised by good parents who loved and continue to love and our world is better because of them.


#3-G is more like an appendage than a goiter.
This one is kind of a joke but then again maybe not. G is my “BFF”. He wakes me every morning and stays close to me all day until he finally falls asleep to do it all again. I hear his sounds, know his ways, speak his language and that is what makes our world go round. Now imagine us separated for almost 2 straight weeks. Crazy!!  On the rare occasion I am sick, he is concerned and clingy. He calls me if I take a walk or a run just to check on me. He tells me several times a day that he loves me. He twirls my hair and steals my pillows and still loves to sit on my lap and rock in my glider. He breaths my air and is totally in my bubble most of the time. It might seem to some like an awesome break and, while it was easier to do baseball craziness without him, I missed my sidekick like crazy. My sister Emily said it perfectly when she said, “well there you have it! G is more like an appendage and less like a goiter!”


#4- I need Jesus and to move in order to function appropriately.  On rainy days, on early mornings, on stressful trips and beautiful beaches...two things  necessary for me to live and breath and function appropriately are Jesus and motion. I am definitely a better version of myself when my day starts with Jesus (with a coffee on the side) and, in order to survive the day successfully I should follow up Jesus time with walking or running or some form of physical activity. Those two things wake up my soul and body and then I can live the day, any day. I walked parking lots, streets, the beach, baseball fields, rail trails, etc. You name it, Iʼve walked it and it has helped me. As for Jesus, He really does go where I go and Iʼm blessed daily by my time with him. I had quiet times in my car, in hallways, in hotel laundry rooms, at the beach and on my backporch (my favorite non-bathtub place) and every time He met me and fed my soul. Jesus and movement make me a better version of myself.


#5-The seeds of worry are destroyed by prayer. 
Oh the things a mom of boys can worry about! I could write a book! Life is full of unknown and curveballs and what ifs. We never get to know all the answers or the way the story ends. Handling the easy and hard and figuring out how to not screw it all up in the meantime is tough. To deal with that, I have to pray. Itʼs like breathing, an absolute must. When Satan fires an arrow of worry at me, I put my shield up and call on my victor. I pray in the car, the back porch, the bath tub, my favorite chair. I pray out loud and to myself and through my tears. My prayers are far from fancy but they are the real words from a mom, wife, sister, friend who wants to trust and live each day as I should. Wherever I live, wherever I worry, I pray and that is non negotiable.


#6-Coffee pots in bathrooms help with bathroom odors.  This is a very helpful tip for anyone who finds yourself in a hotel with one bathroom and multiple males. If there is an odor (and there will be), make that free coffee, even if it is awkwardly placed on the bathroom vanity. You donʼt have to drink it for it to drown out any unwanted odors. Your welcome for that one!


#7-Always laugh...always! 
A lesson I learn and live and love! Laugh at yourself. Laugh at your husbands. Laugh at your kids. Make jokes and be merry. Enjoy each moment and chuckle as much as you can. A smile changes the world and a good hearty laugh might possibly change the universe! I am usually joy filled and joyful and when Iʼm not my boys remind me and restore me. We have laughed and cried this summer. I try to be real with my boys and that means that sometimes we gotta shed a tear or two and, we might even holler just a tad but, at the end of the day, we find the joy. I always say that one of the first things that drew me to Ryan was his smile and his personality and now I get see that witty character coming out in our boys. It makes me happy and helps me get through each day, no matter what it brings. My biggest blessings and my greatest joys are my boys (including the daddy of the group!) They are my loves and they make me laugh every single day!! Thank Jesus!


Well, thatʼs it folks! Summers might not be for book learning and classrooms but life lessons never stop! This summer has been jam-packed and beautiful and hard and fun but as it draws to a close, I am grateful all of it. My certain hope is that Iʼm never going to be done growing and learning and becoming and this summer was proof of that.

Living Shameless

It was a gray and gloomy morning, but I was putting on a brave face. I grabbed an umbrella and sunglasses. One for the predicted rain and the other so I could avoid eye contact and hide my tear-filled eyes. As I walked through the gate to the local Special Olympics and looked around, I figured out why the day felt heavy to me. It took me back to years ago and conversations of potty training and new words that I felt awkwardly left out of. It reminded me of meetings in concrete rooms and recited lists of delays that strangers had noted in my child after spending an hour with him. It reminded me of the first handflap. Strangely, it occurred during his first ever psychological evaluation and directly in front of a two-way mirror  with scrutinizing professionals looking on from the other side. It reminded me of all those moments and so many more. The hard, ugly meetings, and doctor appointments, and evals and diagnosis. I felt that morning like I didn't belong. No, my child is not "typical" but he is lots and lots of other awesome things. It's an odd situation to find yourself in a crowd of people, surrounded by noise and life and yet feeling alone and lost.  I felt almost out of body, looking out at the other folks who probably felt alot like me. Our kids, our loved ones break the mold. It is impossible not to feel the tension of being different than the rest, different but not less, even though we feel comfortable and confident (ish) in our daily living of our lives.  That particular morning, I felt the weight of being different. 

This weekend, I heard a sermon that really put it all together for me. What I was feeling, what I was experiencing was a sense of shame. Our pastor described shame as different than guilt. He defined it as more like a label that we put on ourselves, maybe because of something we've done or maybe something done to us, or maybe just life and it's circumstances. The thing about shame is that we can't remove that label on our own once we put it there. It sticks and we live it until we find a replacement. We need people to share it with. We need to shed some truth, some hope on it. We need to let God take it from us, and lift up our eyes to Him and his glory. God is always faithful to teach me new things everyday and that morning at the Special Olympics,  he helped me to look up and I saw a few things that changed my perspective. I saw the sun peeking out and drying up the the ugly. I saw the familiar and perfect faces of my mom and dad. They were both sporting their "team G" shirts and my dad had his ever -present camcorder. Last, I saw G coming in with the other athletes. He was holding a sign and ran excitedly over to meet me at the fence line. His smile, the smiles of the others around him and the cheers of the people who love them the most, reminded me that different really is not less, and we all belong wherever we are planted. We can find others to love us through life.  I wasn't alone, none of us are. We can find hope in the everyday blessing of our all-the-time God. I will not feel shame, or alone, but I will proudly wear the label of "autism mom" as will many others. We are different and so are kids but they are special in more ways than what you think. They love and they live in amazing ways and we get to do it alongside them.  This label is not shameful or lonely. It is beautiful and perfect. It is a part of me, a part of us, and it suits us just fine! None of us know how to live the life we are given but my prayer is that we find a way to do it well. No life is "typical" or comfortable all of the time but it is all we get and I am grateful to live mine with my tribe. 

I texted my husband that morning when I felt sad and pulled down by the load of it all and I needed a lifeline. Once again, God shows me things in new ways everyday and that morning he used text messaging! Ryan reminded me that G isn't the only thing in our life that makes us different. There are times when we feel or have felt out of place because of our beliefs, because of our choices, because of our life circumstances. Sometimes being different is right and worthy. His words, his insight. they helped me to refocus. If given the choice, I wouldn't change any of it. The hard, the easy, the "non typical"-I wouldn't want another life or to go back make different choices. I am who I am because of my beliefs, my choices, my life's circumstances. Can it be lonely and heavy? Absolutely. Can it be beautiful and inspiring? Everyday. All of us have things that make us feel unworthy in some way. It could be a decision you regret or, maybe, don't regret. It could be something you did or had done to you. It might be inherited or passed down to you, something that is a part of your DNA. I recently read in 1 John 1:7, "But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his son, purifies us from all sin." The Light removes the darkness and brings us all together in fellowship, sharing and living together. It heals and binds us and lights our way. As I looked back over this crowd of moms and dads and caretakers, I want to find all their eyes and remind them that their babies, their sons and daughters and students, were all made in the image of an incredible, loving, and powerful God. Every single one of them. I wanted to tell them that He never makes a mistake and that he has perfect, purposeful plans for each and everyone of us. I wanted to tell them and myself that we aren't alone but we are exceptionally blessed. So, I smiled my secret smile, put my umbrella down, took my glasses off, and breathed deep. The breath of living a full and different life without shame.