I'm published!  Here is the link to my article in this month's The Kingdom Life Now, an online Christian women's magazine.

http://thekingdomlifenow.com/bahamian-flag/

Recently you may have heard the news stories.  One mother of an autistic teen boy murdered him and tried to take her own life.  Recently another mother of an autistic teen girl tried to commit suicide with the two of them together in their garage.  In both cases, the autistic teen children were becoming increasingly aggressive towards themselves and others, and the mothers were struggling to find any help – whether it be through therapies, state agencies, schools, etc.  They were desperately trying to cope and had both come to the conclusion it would be better for them and their Autistic child to die, than to go on living the hell that they were living.

My heart aches for these families, because I get it.

I have lived through years with Autism that were a living hell.

As I grieve for these families, I remember those years with my beautiful Autistic non-verbal preschooler where my nerves were literally on edge 24-7.  Years when she would behave completely irrationally and destroy things around the house, scream uncontrollably, bite herself on the arm leaving bruises, dig her fingers deep into her eye-sockets, make herself flat as a board and fall backwards onto a hard floor, and pull out her hair.  She literally pulled out so much of her hair that she looked like she had gone through chemo.

As a mother, when you watch your precious own dear child live this way, it is agony.

My emotions were completely frayed, as I grieved over realizing our daughter was broken, while at the same time I was completely stressed out, just trying to cope each day.   Each day for about 5 or so years, I literally felt like I was living in a war zone where my main objective was simply to cope and survive.

I never got to the point where I considered suicide or murder as options, but I did wonder how much longer I could keep up living this way and I did consider the possibility of institutionalizing her.  But I could never bring myself to seriously consider it, because that would break my heart too much.

So, as I learn of these stories in the news, I grieve. 

I grieve, because I get it.

I don’t know how I made it through those years except for one answer:  God.

Not only is God the anchor of my soul and the Rock that gives me strength, but God stepped in and helped me.  He orchestrated a meeting with some people who introduced us to some therapies that we tried out of desperation.  Thankfully, those therapies helped enough to move our daughter into a positive developmental direction.

I also survive on this journey because God has given me the gift of a wonderfully loving and supportive husband and amazing father to our children.  We are a team and we do this stuff together.  God knew we would need each other to make it on this journey, and I am so thankful for my husband.  My children’s daddy is a wonderful man.

My heart grieves for these families who have decided that death is their final option, and my heart grieves for the judge who will have the burden of convicting these mothers of murder and attempted murder. 

I hope that someday they find an answer for this Autism puzzle, and that families can finally find help.  It’s way too much stress to handle on our own.

We had minutes ago arrived in the door after a very full and emotional weekend spent visiting one of our sons at college.  Such proud moments, watching him march tall and broad in a parade that was the culmination of his hard work at VT New Cadet Week, plus precious hours spent together listening to stories from his adventures, mixed with tears as we hugged him goodbye and drove the four-hour trek back home.

Soon after we had unloaded the car, our beautiful 16-yr old princess suddenly discovered that some of her beloved Barbies, whom she has given names and personalities and birth countries, were smudged on the face from the pencil rubbings off of her sketchbook that was stored in the same carry bag with the Barbies throughout the trip.

When you have just collapsed on the couch after a very full weekend, the last thing you feel like doing is figuring out how to get the smudge off of Barbie’s face. 

But this was the crisis of the moment.  When you are living with Autism, the crisis of the moment becomes the priority of the moment.

My sweet husband grabbed one special cleaning product and began scrubbing away at Blonde Barbie’s (“Her name is Irene”) forehead.  …..Nothing.

I came up with the brilliant idea of nail polish remover as I took my turn at scrubbing Barbie’s (Irene’s) face.

Within a minute of my scrubbing, to my horror, I discovered my mistake.  The nail polish remover was failing in my attempts to cleanse Barbie’s forehead, however it was very successful in erasing all signs of Barbie’s (Irene’s) beautiful blue left eye. 

What we had once hoped would be a quiet evening of settling back in our home suddenly erupted into more than I ever wanted to have to deal with that evening.  Never would I have imagined that I would be spending the end of my day wrapping beloved Barbie in a Kleenex tissue shroud before laying her to rest in her final resting place.  Oh, the tears.  The grief.  Oh, the spilled nailpolish remover all over the floor. 

I had broken my precious daughter’s heart.  I had killed her Barbie.

“I know you’re sorry, mommy.  But I just feel mad right now.”  Bless her heart – how I love this child!

What do you do when you have killed your daughter’s beloved Barbie?  You promise to buy her another one, of course. 

Armed with a photo of the one side of Barbie’s face not damaged,  I knew the next day would be spent feverishly searching for her replacement.

And yet I wondered - - will the new Barbie completely erase the memory of the deceased one?  Will she be given the same name as the one lying embalmed in the coffin of my trashcan, or will an entirely new name and personality be chosen for her?

As I was trying to comfort this precious heartbroken child, I had to keep reminding her to picture beautiful Irene as she used to be, and not how she ended up looking at the end of that fateful night. 

Why? 

Because that’s how God looks at us.

When God looks at us, He sees us as beautiful.  The beautiful parts that once were, and the beautiful parts that are yet to come. 

He just sees us as beautiful.

And suddenly, as I was rocking my grieving 16-yr-old Autistic daughter and kissing her tear-soaked cheeks, I realized yet again how God sees her:

Beautiful.

He sees the beautiful parts that once were, and the beautiful parts that are yet to come. 

“For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

Recently we took Julia to a show at the Kennedy Center.  The reason we took her was because she loves Reggae music and it was a tribute to Bob Marley.  The show was fantastic and very tastefully done.  Throughout the show, the performers encouraged the audience to break out of the typical Kennedy center “mold” and to feel free to get up out of our seats and dance along with the music.  During several of the songs, Julia delightfully did so. 

The joy on her face was priceless.

Throughout the show, we noticed another audience member who seemed to love Bob Marley’s music even more than our sweet Julia.  He was an adult male, and he almost literally danced his way through the entire concert.  Even during the softer, acoustic pieces, he enthusiastically danced his heart out.  Daws and I smiled to each other at the recognition of some of his behaviors - - most obviously a sort of lack of filter regarding his behavior in a public place and zero concern for what others thought of him.

About half-way through the concert, however, something very sad started to happen.  The entire two rows in front of us were full of 18- and 19-year-olds, and they began to notice the dancing man.  They started to laugh.  The laughing became louder and louder, to the point where the entire section where we were sitting was laughing distractedly out loud.  They were looking and pointing at the dancing man and ridiculing him.  At one point, another grown man in our section actually stood up and began mimicking the dancing man, to which the teens loudly busted out in laughter, egging him on.

We couldn’t believe what we were seeing.  Everything in me was screaming “Have you never been exposed to an Autistic person before?”  “He isn’t bothering anyone and is clearly thoroughly enjoying himself – what gives you the right to make fun of him?” 

I wanted to say something to them, but I was held back by my fear because I have been seriously burned from my attempts to confront people in the past – somehow having your head bitten off in return has a tendency to make you think twice before trying again. 

As I sat there trying to think of what I could do that could bring peace in this situation, a young lady from a few rows behind us stood up, marched down to the man who had danced mockingly, and sternly spoke with him.  Then she walked over and spoke to several of the teens and their 50+ year old adult leader in a very stern manner.

Instantly, the group quieted down.  The ridiculing stopped.

I spoke with the lady at the end of the concert, and asked her what she had said to them.  She said that she works with special needs people and was sooooo angry at their behavior and she told them that clearly that dancing man has some kind of special needs and that they should be ashamed of themselves.  I thanked her for her boldness.

Good for her.

The whole incident kind of got me to thinking. 

I think our society has come a very long way when it comes to tolerance and understanding of those around us who are different.  I feel that 30 years ago, the behavior we observed is how I would have expected my peers at that age to behave and, regrettably, I probably would have been laughing right along with them. 

Sadly, today we are much more fully surrounded by folks with disabilities – how can we not be, with the latest statistics showing the rate of Autism to be one in every 50 individuals?  Society has come a very long way, and the schools I think have been working very hard to reduce bullying and increase awareness and understanding. 

But, clearly, we still have a long way to go.

It’s a natural tendency to chuckle at the behaviors of someone who is different from us, but greater understanding is needed.  Perhaps if those folks had a brother or sister, son or daughter, grandson or granddaughter, niece, nephew, cousin, or even neighbor with Autism they might not laugh so much because they would see the daily struggle, pain, hurt, and suffering that this disability causes.

And, having experienced this pain, instead of laughing at him because of his differences, they would recognize the pure joy he is experiencing in that moment and smile with him as he demonstrates that joy so visibly.  In fact, they might actually get up and stand next to that Autistic individual who is dancing his heart out and join in with him in his joy, savoring his moment of beauty.

“The Word of the Lord came to Jonah son of Amittai: ‘Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me.’  But Jonah ran away from the Lord and headed for Tarshish…” (Jonah 1)

Jonah ran away.

Why?

God gave Jonah a directive to go preach to a wicked, foreign people.  Ninevah was considered by the nation of Israel to be a great menace.  At one time it was the capitol of Assyria, which was a very real threat from the north.  After Israel’s latest triumph over them, she began to gloat over her newfound power and became “jealously complacent” about her favored status with God.  (Am 6:1)   Israel looked forward to the day when God would judge the other nations, “leaving Israel to bask in His light.“ (NIV study Bible notes)

It is in this context that God instructed Jonah to go to Ninevah.  Why wasn’t Jonah so eager to go preach a repentance message to the people of Ninevah?  Clearly Jonah feared for his life and didn’t want the Ninevites to kill him.  But I also think there was more to Jonah’s rebellion against God than pure fear.

I think it might be because Jonah knew God so very well.

Perhaps Jonah knew that God doesn’t speak to a nation about their character or spiritual condition unless He cares about them.  A quick look through the book of Isaiah, Jeremiah, or Ezekiel makes this abundantly clear as in those texts and others God hammers away at the character of the nation of Israel, His chosen and beloved nation.  Jonah was an Israelite.  ….Perhaps Jonah didn’t want God to care about any nation other than his own. 

If the nation of Israel was God’s beloved, then, in their mindset, there was no room in God’s heart for any others. 

…Or was there?

In running away from God, Jonah wasn’t just refusing to obey a simple command, he was refusing to submit his heart to believing in the real character of God – a God whose love cannot be contained or confined to borders or nations.

I think sometimes we have a tendency to be just like Jonah. 

We want to define God and His actions according to our own definition and we refuse to admit that perhaps He is bigger than our own self-centered picture of Him.

Perhaps God is the God of extending grace to the guilty who continue in their sinful ways, the God who sometimes blesses those who have brought disaster upon themselves, the God who loves the unloveable, the God who lifts up and honors very unlikely people, the God who makes a way through the impossible, the God who doesn’t always remove pain, suffering, or heartache and instead offers His comfort and companionship through it, the God who turns ashes and ugliness into something of incredible beauty, and the God who is compassionate and empathetic towards any of us who are stuck in our sin even when we might not even be looking for a way out, and the God of sooo much more.

Perhaps God is much, much bigger than the box we would rather keep Him in. 

Are we going to choose to avoid acknowledging the true character of God, running away from Him like Jonah did, or are we going to truly get to know God and join Him in what He is doing, allowing the walls of our self-made box to be smashed open as we recognize and acknowledge the mysterious, mind-blowing character of the Almighty? 

He is more.  He is so much more.

Sometimes God gives us difficult experiences to change our perspective.

For me, this is a huge understatement.  Yes, God uses difficult circumstances in my life to change my perspective.  Ridiculously so.

Compassion is not one of my spiritual gifts.  I used to be the kind of person who had little patience for children who were unruly in public.   Even as I mothered two raucous boys of my own, my personal high standards translated to judgment on strangers and their children when they were unable to contain their children in public.  God must have been chuckling at my horror when I turned around in the grocery store to the sight of my own two young sons on the floor, practicing their wrestling moves in the aisles. 

Then, God gave me a child with Autism.

As we began living through those hellish early years with her that to me translated into a living nightmare, I began to develop a new outlook.  It was as if God gave me a new pair of glasses to see things in a way I never considered before.

I began to fully understand that maybe, just maybe, those strangers were dealing with things way beyond the scope of their strengths or abilities. 

Maybe, just maybe, those parents were using every ounce of strength they could muster in order to make whatever best they could of a horrible situation.

I am lucky.  For me, the journey has been made sufferable because of one and only one reason:  Jesus Christ.  He is my Anchor.  He is my compassionate Friend.  He is always with me and has comforted me like no human ever could.  He gives me hope.  I don’t know how I would have survived without His hope.

Recently, I observed a young mother and her son at a community event for individuals with special needs.  They’ve stuck out in my mind because – quite frankly, I get her.  I have watched her young son and noticed the behavioral issues that he struggles with.  And I see his mother and I completely get it.  I understand.  The look on her face – the stress she is trying to hide.  I totally get it, because I’ve been there.  I know what she is going through, because I’ve lived it myself.

My heart breaks for mothers like these.

Because of what I have experienced, God has changed my perspective.  Instead of passing judgment, I find myself asking God to guide me in how I might be an encouragement to other mothers who are living through difficult circumstances like mine.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.  For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.”  (II Cor 1:3-5)

I recently read a great devotion (Streams in the Desert) about patience.  The points they made were really good – I have found them to be so very true in my own life.  I have expanded on each of those points here. 

Being patient is very active.  It’s never a passive thing, and always involves quite a bit of intentional effort.  We may struggle to grasp that patience is not equal to weakness.  Instead, patience involves great strength, as God is working out His divine purposes in us through the process of waiting on Him and submitting our will to His.

Being patient involves getting rid of all worry, and entrusting ourselves to the God who is in charge and in control of the entire universe.  The more we worry, the less we are waiting patiently and submitting ourselves to God’s authority.  Easier said than done, but so very worth it, because then we are able to wait on God with a peaceful heart.

In practicing patience, we choose to forego tears, and choose the path of joy instead.  This is a gold mine of opportunity to glorify our heavenly Father – when we are able to wait with a joyful heart.  Those of us who have children understand the incredible blessing it is to us when they choose the path of joy instead of sadness or grumbling when we ask them to wait.  How much more so could our joy be pleasing to our Heavenly Father when He asks us to wait.

True patience means letting go of trying to fix it ourselves – relinquishing all control to God and waiting for His divine works instead of our own pitiful, petty solutions.

As we grow in patience, we learn to align our hearts to His divine purposes, so that ultimately the thing we want most is for God’s desires and plans to be fulfilled over our own. 

As we grow in patience, we may notice that we become more sharply focused - - our gaze becomes steady and fixed as we learn to keep our eyes on Him.  And as we wait on Him with our eyes firmly fixed on Him, our spirit can’t help but rise up in joyful praise of Him who patiently suffered and endured great pain on our behalf.  He makes our joy complete!

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”  (Heb 12:2,3)

It’s 7 am, and the sound of piercing screams is coming from the bedroom.  Her back is hurting again.  She has a pinched nerve not unlike that which so many of us have experienced.  But her Autism removes a lot of the buffers that allow most of us to cope with difficult or painful situations, and with every scream I feel like a nerve of my own is being pinched.  I suffer with her, as my heart breaks over her pain.

She is under the care of a chiropractor, but it will take time and lots of visits for him to get it back to normal.  Until then, there is still much pain.

In my last blog, I wrote about mountain climbing.  This is another of those mountains.  Many times I feel that I am somehow climbing 5 or 6 mountains at the same time – either that or they are all combined into one long, harrowing, heart-thumping iron man course.

“He gives strength to the weary, and increases the power of the weak.”  (Isa 40:29)

So many times, in the midst of those moments  - the ones when her screams are piercing my heart, when the mountain crags seem most foreboding – I cry out, “Oh God, please help!” 

And in the midst of those moments I discover a calmness of heart that wasn’t there before, and a supernatural surge of strength and skill and patience.

My trail guide is suddenly right there beside me, supporting me and helping me to find secure footing and keep going up.  I catch a quick glimpse into those Eyes of understanding and love.  Oh how He loves me!  Oh how He loves her!

And so we press on. 

Soon, I find myself on a level place on the path.  It’s just a small level place, but it’s enough to stop and set my pack down and grab a quick drink of cool, refreshing water. I look back at what I’ve just come through and tears fill my eyes.

My Savior is quick to surround me with His comforting Arms of compassion, and I take a few moments to cry. 

I wish I could just stop here and be done with the climbing.  But I look down and see that these boots have so molded themselves to my feet that they are somehow a part of me.  It’s who I am.

And so I pick up my back and get back on the trail.

It’s difficult to write when you’re busy climbing mountains.

I finally realized why it took me so long to start this blog site, or even begin writing anything at all. 

Because I was busy climbing mountains.

I’m in the midst of more mountain climbing, but this time I’m going to try doing it with pen and paper in hand, so to speak.  I hope you’ll bear with me because writing while you’re climbing doesn’t make for the best penmanship.

We’ve come a long way, and sometimes I find myself amazed that she is in high school.  She has come soooo far!  The last two years of middle school were absolutely amazing.  Now that we are in a whole new building with an entirely clean slate of staff, though, I find myself yearning for what was.

I actually had a dream last night that I bumped into her case manager from middle school and ended up doing a lot of crying on her shoulder.

Once again, I find myself strapping on those old familiar mountain climbing boots, picking up my pack, and heading up the trail.

I have a few cliffs to scale this week.  I am hoping just this week, but something tells me it might take a lot longer.  We have a few situations with some teachers that are a struggle.  (Running an Autism classroom like boot camp, for one.)  I have a lot of discussions and meetings ahead of me. 

I’ve done this before.  Maybe that’s why I find myself staring at the precipice with dread. 

Because I know what an exhausting process it is.

The good news is I’m not in this alone.  I have a Guide and Companion.  He works miracles.  He’s done it before.  I’m confident of His skills and expertise.  I’m counting on Him.

One step in front of the other.

[Ha.  Just as I was typing up the verse below, her glasses broke as she was getting ready for school.  Autism folks don’t react well to those kinds of set-backs.  I’ve dealt with the meltdown, and sent her on her way – sans glasses.   “I’m blind!!!”]

We’ve done this so many times before, yet every time it’s exhausting.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” – Isa 40:31

Are your eyes on the sky today?  Mine are. 

Today is the day many have said that our world is supposed to come to an end.  I’m not sure I think it will exactly happen today, but that doesn’t mean I’m not looking up.  Especially after the events of that horrible day, one week ago.

It has taken me a while to pull any words together to even begin to try and say anything after the horrific nightmare of Sandy Hook Elementary.  I think the thing that has punched us all in the gut the hardest is the fact that these were precious, innocent, vulnerable little children who were senselessly, ruthlessly slaughtered. 

Julia said just that after watching the first newscasts with me after getting home from school.  She looked up at me with sad, confused eyes and said, “They were just innocent little children.”  Yes Julia, they were.

It has been so incredibly difficult to even begin to imagine the horrific scene played out in that little school.  ….It might not even seem real to us, because it is so incredibly nightmarish.  And yet, it is real.  And very, very evil.

The events of that day came straight from the pit of hell.  Evil, in its deepest, meanest, harshest sense raised its ugly head. 

Do you believe in hell?  I do.  And I believe there is a prince of demons who gave us a glimpse of his true essence in the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary.

I also believe in heaven, and in the God of the Universe, who created it all.  And I believe that God has allowed evil to run free in this world, because we are not in Heaven yet.  God, in His great love, is waiting for us to choose Him.

People have asked, “Where was God?”  I believe God was there, protecting many in ways we may never know.  I believe God was with those teachers who died trying to protect those precious babies.  I believe God was with that teacher who died cradling one precious boy in her arms.  I believe God was with the teacher who hid her children in closets, told the shooter they weren’t there, then died as he massacred her.

I believe God was there.  I believe He was standing there, with tears streaming down His face.  Perhaps He asked himself – “How much longer?  How much longer before I choose to call an end to this entire creation?”

God is not a stranger to death.  He wants all of us to be with Him in the end.  He has done everything He can to make it possible.  He watched His own dear Son suffer and die in order for that to happen. 

My dear friend tragically lost her sweetheart husband to sudden, unexpected death this past March.  In her Christmas letter yesterday, she wrote:

“God has reached out to the world with His gift of love named Jesus Christ so that the long, dark shadow death casts over us would be overcome.”

It has been overcome – Jesus Christ proved that by conquering death.  And in so doing, He paved the way for all of us.  It is the beloved fulfillment of Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

What He has given us is His love – a gift that we have a choice to receive.  And once we receive it, we don’t ever have to worry because our eternity is secure.  “I tell you the truth, whoever hears my Words and believes Him Who Sent Me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life.”  (John 5:24)

Someday, this will all be over.  Until then, I wait.  Today I am waiting with even greater hopeful expectation than one week ago.

Eyes on the sky.

Come, Lord Jesus.