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.

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.