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?
There were young kids, teens, young adults, even his best friend, all playing together, learning and laughing. But, there was no sign of my child. I searching the parking lot where everyone was talking and hanging out with their families; not there either. Here is where most people panic. But, deep down I knew; look with the younger kids. It was there I found him, rolling down the hill, filled with that bold childhood laughter, having the time of his life. No pressure here. No one asking him to make quick decisions he had to worry about in that football game. There was only freedom and joy. I want him to be something he isn’t sometimes, but I’m learning to start finding the thankful in disability.
This text was the first in a long thread to lighten my spirit. The thread began the day before when a couple in our church small group sent devastating news about the death of their grand-baby. We responded with pandemic-style support—text messages—and then the response from a mother in our small group who had lost a baby many years ago.
It’s a question many Christian parents of a child with special needs or a disability ask, and it’s a question that can be really hard to answer, especially when the child in question has limited communication. But perhaps there are clues that we can piece together: things that Jesus did, or understanding the ways our child responds to God. In exploring this, it might stretch and grow our own understanding and faith in God, too.
I began writing this series, Post Tenebras Lux, for the purpose of offering the only thing I have to give those who are weary, grieving, and hopeless, including myself: hope. I have learned that when someone is processing through grief and trials, it is good to let them say whatever it is they need to say without offering immediate answers. This song feels very much like a therapeutic biblical counseling session, where the celebrant is asking the congregation questions of how they feel and what they desire.
I thought a lot about Jack, whether he had gained anything at all from his time at Spring Harvest, whether he had been impacted by any of the spiritual program in his sessions. Had he just been child-minded, busying himself with his Jenga wooden blocks, or had something more than that reached him? A few weeks later, I got the answer to my questions.
This morning, as I planned for the day, I saw that my son’s physical therapist would be coming to the house this afternoon. This morning there was a moment when I felt like a failure, but that feeling quickly passed. I remembered how several years back, that feeling often lingered with me for days at a time, but not anymore.
