This is actually not a post about autism...although because autism is in our house, there may be a mention or two...
So, since autism awareness is a daily thing in our lives, along with ABA therapists, as I have written about, I am fairly stuck at home. In a day and age where the book, "Radical" and others on that topic are pervasive, I have to fight the temptation to be frustrated or feel guilt for not physically, "going out and doing some BIG things for God." The Lord has made it abundantly clear to me that He has planted me where I am, and visions of "Christian Grandeur" need to be set aside on pride's altar. That being said, my heart's desire is still to serve the Lord in whatever capacity He chooses. So, I prayed. And, I've continued to pray, more specifically in this season of being "home bound" for opportunities for ministry. Nine months in, and the majority of the ministry had been on my heart-the Lord revealing some parental ugliness that needed to be repented of and fixed. Although I kept praying for opportunities, I honestly thought that perhaps my season was one of quiet ministry to our family, and I was finally okay with that.
If you've walked through seasons of learning, you know what's coming next. God determined I had at least passed the current quiz, so it was time for some "new material." (Sorry, I'm in the back-to-school mode!) Facebook has plenty of negative issues, but one positive is that it can and does connect people to others with a need. Long story short-a request for a babysitter turned into two little girls a few days later entering our home to sleepover so their mom could work. What began on a trial basis quickly turned into a solid commitment from Richard and I, and a blossoming area for service we did not expect. I was quite careful to guard my heart. I did not want to get hurt when the girls were pulled away from our family. I knew their mom was throwing around the idea of adoption, and with five of our own-two in the midst of therapy-we knew there were plenty of other couples who would be so much better suited to love and care for the girls.
Almost four months into our babysitting agreement, I knew where I stood. I loved the girls, and would happily take them each night their mom worked. I was quietly confident the Lord had worked in my heart to be grateful for this small area of service. Growing up, I was very blessed to have an incredibly stable home. But, my mom did not have that same luxury. The story of her youth is so horrible, if you heard it, you would think she made it up. One of the things I remember most of her story was feeling like a pawn, the constant moving from one parent to another, and the fear of being split up from her two brothers. Because of my mom's insanely difficult background, she's never been one to display a lot of emotion. When she described the fear of losing her brothers, though, I saw in her eyes a reflection of deep pain that cut me to the core. (Back to the present...) I received a text from the girls' mom that her living situation was unexpectedly changing, and she might have to split up the two girls.
As the situation began to appear more and more dire, Richard's and my heart were united in a common purpose. Within the period of a few weeks, the decision for us to be "Trucks plus One" was made. The older little girl would move in with us, and (by God's awesome work!) would attend school with all of our kiddos. Richard and I have felt deep conviction that we would not ask for any type of "legal" agreement (we are not legal guardians or foster parents). Just this week, she moved in. We are very much in a transitional stage right now. This is so very far outside of my comfort zone, but I'm so very grateful. I'm watching the Lord grow our marriage, unite our family, and see Him provide grace sufficient for the day. As a confessed "Type A Planner", once again, He's reminding me I cannot worry about tomorrow, but need to trust for today. I'm (working on) finding freedom in His sovereignty and His grace. And, I'm watching Him allow a full circle take place. For today, the girls will not be split up. There is no such thing as "coincidences." Our situation today has been divinely orchestrated...beginning over a half-century ago! As my husband said, Ephesians 2:10 applies just as much today as it did when it was written, "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."
Monday, August 31, 2015
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Let's Give 'Em SomePLACE to Talk About...
Life inside the ABA fishbowl. A family who has finally made the waiver's. A family who is sacrificing a second mortgage to get their precious child desperately needed therapy. A family who has a child in intensive therapy typically has therapists in their home or alongside of their child for 25-35 hours per week. Some families (like ours) hit the jackpot and have two kiddos receiving services at the same time. Anywhere from 50-70 hours per week (some overlapping) of therapy.
Frankly, there is no place to go. There are so few people who are walking through this daily grind that have someone who truly understands. Add to that equation the fact that we cannot just go on a play date. If it isn't built into the programming, we cannot leave. If respite isn't available, we may not leave. Shackled to the home, loving our kiddos, and completely alone with a house full of people. (I'm not even kidding, we had SIX therapists today for a home visit....)
Before you stop reading thinking this is a "Woe is me" post, it is not. I cannot put into words how grateful I/we are for the therapy our boys are receiving. In fact, today during our home visit, we talked about some of the life-altering changes we have seen in just under a year. Changes I honestly never thought possible-a haircut without tears. You have no idea. It's amazing, a gift, a day-by-day blessing we get to experience. But, it's difficult. Like, way harder than I ever thought I could ever put up with. let alone handle. These hard-working therapists walk alongside me during my everything-my ugliest, my failures in parenting, in my marriage, even me without make up. They see my dirty bathroom, my dirty dishes, my unswept floor. They see dirty diapers, unvacuumed floors, dirty and/or unfolded laundry, and unmade beds. Some of you are now wondering what it is I do, and why I don't clean. They may not see all this in one setting, but they see where I am pitifully behind on all I need to do. And, I have to be okay with it. As long as I am out of the shower (and dressed), and the kids are not walking around naked, I have to be okay with whatever else they see. For a (desired) perfectionist, this has been a big, nasty, difficult pill to swallow.
In the autism community, there is a LOT of blaming. A lot. People are passionate about what they believe, and if you dare to think otherwise, you will be proven wrong with one medical study or another. But, there seems (at least to me!) to be very few places to go ("go" being a loose term for a virtual connection) to just be supported. To "reach out" and "touch" someone who is there to just say they understand. So, I decided to try and start that place. I have been told that if you bring a problem to the table without a solution, you are just adding to the problem. Not desiring to do that, here I go...
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1593403414253254/
Frankly, there is no place to go. There are so few people who are walking through this daily grind that have someone who truly understands. Add to that equation the fact that we cannot just go on a play date. If it isn't built into the programming, we cannot leave. If respite isn't available, we may not leave. Shackled to the home, loving our kiddos, and completely alone with a house full of people. (I'm not even kidding, we had SIX therapists today for a home visit....)
Before you stop reading thinking this is a "Woe is me" post, it is not. I cannot put into words how grateful I/we are for the therapy our boys are receiving. In fact, today during our home visit, we talked about some of the life-altering changes we have seen in just under a year. Changes I honestly never thought possible-a haircut without tears. You have no idea. It's amazing, a gift, a day-by-day blessing we get to experience. But, it's difficult. Like, way harder than I ever thought I could ever put up with. let alone handle. These hard-working therapists walk alongside me during my everything-my ugliest, my failures in parenting, in my marriage, even me without make up. They see my dirty bathroom, my dirty dishes, my unswept floor. They see dirty diapers, unvacuumed floors, dirty and/or unfolded laundry, and unmade beds. Some of you are now wondering what it is I do, and why I don't clean. They may not see all this in one setting, but they see where I am pitifully behind on all I need to do. And, I have to be okay with it. As long as I am out of the shower (and dressed), and the kids are not walking around naked, I have to be okay with whatever else they see. For a (desired) perfectionist, this has been a big, nasty, difficult pill to swallow.
In the autism community, there is a LOT of blaming. A lot. People are passionate about what they believe, and if you dare to think otherwise, you will be proven wrong with one medical study or another. But, there seems (at least to me!) to be very few places to go ("go" being a loose term for a virtual connection) to just be supported. To "reach out" and "touch" someone who is there to just say they understand. So, I decided to try and start that place. I have been told that if you bring a problem to the table without a solution, you are just adding to the problem. Not desiring to do that, here I go...
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1593403414253254/
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
I Choose You
The more I think about it, the more I realize Cinderella sold me a tale that I actually bought into. She lost her mom (now as a mom, I consider this highly unacceptable!), which is really sad. Then, she lost her dad-completely heart-wrenching. To top it all off, she ended up with a money-squandering abusive step-mother who was hateful at best. So, Cinderella's early life was not anything anyone would desire. Suddenly, though, all her pain was over. Prince Charming rode in and swooped her off of her feet. From this point on, all of her working, cares, financial woes, and pain were over. She had reached the "pinnacle of pain", and her suffering was over.
It seems ridiculous to admit, but I believed the premise of the story. Not so much with my pre-husband life, although he's pretty awesome, but with my kiddo's. Two boys on the spectrum and four miscarriages seems like perhaps I had reached that "thresh hold". My perfect little joy baby should grow and develop exactly (if not slightly better than) the norm...right? As she is about to reach her eighth month, she is behind in almost every area. She won't eat solids, and will gag if anything larger than a drop is placed on her tongue. She is very small and close to underweight for her age. She cannot sit up, nor is she even close to crawling. She can roll over one way, and then gets stuck on her tummy. Once again, for the third child in a row, we needed to start Birth to Three services. I was fine with that, until I had to call the County. Just hearing the voicemail message was like getting hit in the stomach. It took me back two and a half years to the beginning of our journey, and I almost couldn't speak for the message I had to leave. It took well over a day for me to "recover."
With the swiftness completely a-typical of a government office, a few days later our new case worker was in our home. I had not even noticed all of my little one's delays. Not only is she behind in physical development and in eating, she is completely non-verbal. This realization sent me into a tale spin. My heart was broken, and even though I spent hours in the Word, I could not stop mourning for what was, and what could be. I knew I was borrowing trouble from tomorrow, but my heart would not respond to the Truth I know. And then there was Grace...in a mirror. I saw the reflection of me holding her in her incredibly awkward position, and He whispered. If we were not able to have a final biological child, we knew we wanted to adopt. As I stared at her, I knew in my heart of hearts that I would have "chosen" a baby with some kind of special needs. Not because I'm a "good person" or even a good mom, but because it's my God-given passion. In my very short time being a (paid, out-of-the-home) teacher, my passion was for the kids too difficult for everyone else, and I loved them. The Lord, in His abundant grace, reminded me of my passion, and gave me the quiet assurance that that passion was "for such a time as this."
My Joy baby was chosen for me, and I chose her. Over the next few days, I quietly whispered to her, "I choose you." I know this might seem silly to horrendous to you, and I know my words cannot do justice to what the Lord did in my heart, but the healing that came has refocused me to just love on her and all of our children. It wasn't a quick "zap" of spirituality, but the culmination of hours spent in the Word and on my knees. And the peace that the Lord provided won't stay if I don't stay close to Him. Forgive me for my soap box, but it is awfully hard to hear a whisper when you aren't so close to the Speaker.
For now, I will relish her, and all of our little ones. I will chose each one, with all of their needs-"special" or not. I will be grateful for the passion He gave, and the grace He daily gives.
It seems ridiculous to admit, but I believed the premise of the story. Not so much with my pre-husband life, although he's pretty awesome, but with my kiddo's. Two boys on the spectrum and four miscarriages seems like perhaps I had reached that "thresh hold". My perfect little joy baby should grow and develop exactly (if not slightly better than) the norm...right? As she is about to reach her eighth month, she is behind in almost every area. She won't eat solids, and will gag if anything larger than a drop is placed on her tongue. She is very small and close to underweight for her age. She cannot sit up, nor is she even close to crawling. She can roll over one way, and then gets stuck on her tummy. Once again, for the third child in a row, we needed to start Birth to Three services. I was fine with that, until I had to call the County. Just hearing the voicemail message was like getting hit in the stomach. It took me back two and a half years to the beginning of our journey, and I almost couldn't speak for the message I had to leave. It took well over a day for me to "recover."
With the swiftness completely a-typical of a government office, a few days later our new case worker was in our home. I had not even noticed all of my little one's delays. Not only is she behind in physical development and in eating, she is completely non-verbal. This realization sent me into a tale spin. My heart was broken, and even though I spent hours in the Word, I could not stop mourning for what was, and what could be. I knew I was borrowing trouble from tomorrow, but my heart would not respond to the Truth I know. And then there was Grace...in a mirror. I saw the reflection of me holding her in her incredibly awkward position, and He whispered. If we were not able to have a final biological child, we knew we wanted to adopt. As I stared at her, I knew in my heart of hearts that I would have "chosen" a baby with some kind of special needs. Not because I'm a "good person" or even a good mom, but because it's my God-given passion. In my very short time being a (paid, out-of-the-home) teacher, my passion was for the kids too difficult for everyone else, and I loved them. The Lord, in His abundant grace, reminded me of my passion, and gave me the quiet assurance that that passion was "for such a time as this."
My Joy baby was chosen for me, and I chose her. Over the next few days, I quietly whispered to her, "I choose you." I know this might seem silly to horrendous to you, and I know my words cannot do justice to what the Lord did in my heart, but the healing that came has refocused me to just love on her and all of our children. It wasn't a quick "zap" of spirituality, but the culmination of hours spent in the Word and on my knees. And the peace that the Lord provided won't stay if I don't stay close to Him. Forgive me for my soap box, but it is awfully hard to hear a whisper when you aren't so close to the Speaker.
For now, I will relish her, and all of our little ones. I will chose each one, with all of their needs-"special" or not. I will be grateful for the passion He gave, and the grace He daily gives.
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