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.
Resilience is defined as the ability to withstand or recover quickly from a difficult situation. To have a resilient faith we need to build into our spiritual lives the actions needed to recover from the hurts, the pain and the relentless suffering that dealing with disability brings. By keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus we will be able to withstand the challenges that we face. Mary Underwood shares about having resilient faith for special needs parents.
What DO you do when a child works harder to escape a room than he does work the puzzles at the table? How can you possibly know where the boundaries should be with a child who inherently has none? Where is the line between nurturing and structure? While there aren’t clear answers to these questions, there IS clear theology about our family’s place in the Body of Christ. Sherri Wirt writes a short devotional for special needs parents that feel they don’t fit at church.
Over the years, I have been through multiple seasons of planting and harvesting skills with my daughter. My daughter is now entering adulthood with disabilities. There are still skills that she needs to develop to make her life easier. The learning does not stop as she ages, however, the pressure I put on myself all of those years is gone. I don’t need to fix issues. I simply need to support her through them. Evana Sandusky writes on her daughter’s growth through the years and likens it to planting seeds and yielding the harvest.
