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?
In October 2014, I was in the middle of a short period of personal chaos that had created a fair sense of anxiety and fear in me: job loss; my mother experienced an accident that required surgery; my mother-in-law required hospitalization as well. I felt confused and insecure, but did my best to remember I was serving an important purpose in my family’s life. And at Halloween, the purpose to my time at home was finally realized.
Halloween is a fun time of year for many children, but it can be a really difficult time for some, including many children with additional/special needs. For them it can be a confusing, anxiety-inducing, or even utterly terrifying time. But it doesn’t have to be like that. If we stop for a moment to think about the things they might find hard and how to put things in place to help them, children with special needs can safely join in the fun, too.
I am exhausted, moody, yet eager to soak in what could be the last nice day of autumn. I hear Joel’s footsteps quicken and turn to see him approaching at a near-run. He grabs my hand, looks me in the eye, grins, and pulls me forward. I wait for him to drop my hand, as he always does, but instead he squeezes it and swings my arm, his grin widening at my delight. For a moment, it feels so right, his hand a perfect fit in mine.
Acceptance is a word that has several meanings, and which can mean different things to different people. Within the context of a blog about children and young people with special needs, these meanings can be complex and very individual. But the meaning that I love the most is the meaning that Jesus brings to it, the example He gives us about how we should accept each other.
As I look at my life as a caregiver, I can see the temptation I have toward sinning in four specific ways. And even though it’s much easier not to talk about the uncomfortable topic of sin, Scripture says we can confess our sins to each other (James 5:16). So today I’m confessing to you some of the sins I struggle with in hopes that it will encourage you to look at your own life and see if these patterns are evident in you as well.
