I've got the joy down in my heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holiday hassles and Hope

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

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

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

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

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

An "almost" lie and labels

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

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

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

The bee sting

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

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

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

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

Best supporting role goes to.....

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

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

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

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

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

Exceptions

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

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

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

Shame-less

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

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

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

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand.And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings,because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

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

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