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?
As I reflected on Howard Thurman’s poem over the past several days, the proverbial light bulb suddenly switched on in a brain that's been dimmed by the too-muchness of Christmas. The "work of Christmas" of which the poet speaks is what we do every day as we parent children (and adult children) with disabilities.
For several years, a part of me dreaded the holiday season. By January 2nd—and sometimes long before that—I was exhausted, depressed and racked with guilt feelings for being self-centered and dragging others down with me. Thankfully, God has provided some tools that are softening the edges of my emotions and keeping me more mentally positive. I’m grateful to be learning about things that give me victory over the shadows.
In the last decade, since my son’s autism diagnosis, my prayer life has changed. After so many nights of asking for sleep and not getting it, after praying for help and not getting it, I find myself only asking for safe requests. I don’t want to demand what He isn’t willing to give. I don’t want to be disappointed. My prayers have gotten so safe, I wonder if they are even worth praying. Then God led me to a passage that reminded me He cares what’s truly on my heart and mind.
