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.
How many of us counted the cost (both emotionally and financially) of what it would take to raise a child and/or care for an aging parent? Many are doing both…Because we love our child, we don’t often consider the cost because we simply do what is needed and want the best for them.
My daughter arrived in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) in the middle of the night on the eve of Thanksgiving. A tough respiratory virus attacked her lungs, and she needed a substantial amount of oxygen support. And now, this unexpected illness meant Thanksgiving was going to be completely different than we had all planned.
Are you scrounging for thankfulness this holiday season? Holidays can be a challenge for those walking through hard days. Perhaps you feel like you've been handed the short-end of the stick; your child is struggling, you’re exhausted and it seems like everybody else has life with a bit more gravy. It’s easy to focus on our circumstances, take stock of what we have and where we are and end up feeling completely void of thankfulness. Is there a cure for this?
On a day when I saw several miracles, I was reminded again that I never really know what's happening. My brain insists on thinking the thoughts it has learned to believe. I continue to learn to resist, reframe and redirect my thoughts, so I can see the new thing that's already happening right before my eyes that I’m just not seeing yet.
It’s always easier to stay with what is familiar than to venture out into deep water when we’re already tired, when we feel like we’ve been fishing all night to no avail. Pull in the nets and go home, get a good night’s sleep, and do the same-old same-old tomorrow. But Jesus commands us to throw the nets back in, right here, right now. This is always the turning point: the present moment. Jesus knows what’s out there, waiting for us: abundance, over-flowing abundance.
