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?
While recently listening to an afternoon radio program about “worry,” the woman being interviewed was asked, “I know God says not to worry, but how do we NOT worry?” When we worry, we don’t trust that God can make a way for us. For many of us, we’ve had years to learn this, and are still learning. What’s the key?
My son James has his hair cut about four or five times a year. As long as we keep to a routine, all is fine. Any change would be enormously difficult for him, and therefore for us. The reason I share James’ haircut story is to illustrate that routine and familiarity are fundamentally core to the coping mechanisms of many children and young people with additional needs. And just like the routines followed by special needs families, churches have opportunities to make similar choices regarding children and young people with disabilities in church-based work as well.
The time quarantined with 8 children, including five teenagers and one child with profound special needs, has been intense. Prior to the worldwide pandemic, my husband Ryan and I successfully prioritized self-care. We understand how fragile our mental health can become in stressful circumstances, having each experienced bouts of overwhelm, PTSD, and anxiety. May is Mental Health Awareness month. Here are ten routines we have incorporated to preserve the integrity of our well-being that may be helpful to others as well.
Guest blogger Sarah Lango shares honestly about her anxiety and fear in parenting her daughter with special needs. She writes, “As I wrestled with God on how to handle this anxiety I found myself face to face with some basic Biblical truth. I didn’t trust God with my child.” Do you relate? Read more of their story in today’s post.
Except for posters on 9/11 saying “We Will Remember,” life has returned to normal for those who were not directly impacted. For those of us with a child impacted by disability, there is another date that is cemented in our minds. We each have our own twin towers moment, that moment when our world came crashing down.
