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?
How often do we, as parents of kids with disabilities, crown ourselves King or Queen when it seems obvious that no one else can perform the miracles we pull out of the hat on a daily basis? We crown ourselves indispensable, don’t we? But if Jesus didn’t consider himself indispensable, why should we?
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.
The emotions I felt at this point were profound, as this wasn’t just another service on another Christmas; this was me and my son, once again in a new church community, strangers in a familiar yet unfamiliar place, trying to find our place. What helped me get through it, what allowed me to get to a place of hope for this new church and my son’s place in it?
