When God redeemed my worst Christmas ever by using it for good, it came as a big surprise. Most likely because 1982 was the year of my worst Christmas ever, and the using it for good part didn’t come along until December of 2024. 42 years is a long time, which explains my surprise.
Seasons help us to realize we’re not alone. We might still feel alone but we can see things differently and then change our thinking, and even our responses. We know everyone goes through “stuff” but sometimes we need to recognize it just happens to be our turn. The harder part is that we still have someone we are caring for full time, 24/7 added to the new hard stuff!
For families like mine, with an autistic child and my own ADHD and anxiety, Christmas is rarely “calm” or “bright.” In fact, it is often loud, noisy, and overwhelming. Our children get overwhelmed by the lights and the new items. We, as parents, get overwhelmed by all the mess and noise. There are so many sensory inputs flowing through that you feel like you are in a never-ending vacuum of noise. And, that doesn’t even take into account that I’m operating on just a few hours of sleep after leading multiple Christmas services as a pastor.
Ruth saw a bright future for herself. She didn’t have an exact plan in front of her. But at 18, she vaguely knew what she wanted in the future: a master’s degree, a husband, a job she enjoyed, and children. Emma was on another path altogether. When Emma turned 18, she was already enrolled in a school for students with more significant disabilities.
Zechariah, despite being visited by an angel, doubted what he had been told, and so Gabriel told him that because of this doubt, Zechariah would not be able to speak until his son was born. So, he became unable to speak, and therefore unable to communicate through speech. What did he do? And what does his story teach us about people who cannot communicate by speech, or choose not to, today?
Ruth saw a bright future for herself. She didn’t have an exact plan in front of her. But at 18, she vaguely knew what she wanted in the future: a master’s degree, a husband, a job she enjoyed, and children. Emma was on another path altogether. When Emma turned 18, she was already enrolled in a school for students with more significant disabilities.
Over the years, I have been through multiple seasons of planting and harvesting skills with my daughter. My daughter is now entering adulthood with disabilities. There are still skills that she needs to develop to make her life easier. The learning does not stop as she ages, however, the pressure I put on myself all of those years is gone. I don’t need to fix issues. I simply need to support her through them. Evana Sandusky writes on her daughter’s growth through the years and likens it to planting seeds and yielding the harvest.
As soon as I woke up, my body revolted. My hip somehow fell out of place again, making each movement painful. It’s a bizarre situation for a caregiver to find herself in. I am not supposed to be the one who needs help. For me, caring and giving happens regardless of how I feel. As Jaycee grows, I see now how we can help each other.
Jaycee is a person with Down syndrome. Not everyone with this diagnosis will be exactly like her. For World Down syndrome Day, I encourage you to get to know those around you who have Down syndrome. You may be missing out on an opportunity to meet a person who can enrich your life with friendship and love.
