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?
The interviewer asked how caregiving impacted Marjorie’s spiritual journey, and what spiritual practices she found most helpful. With a laugh, Marjorie responded that caring for her mother and mother-in-law was her spiritual practice. What she said hit me like a thunderbolt: for 25 years, caring for my son, Joel, who has autism, was my spiritual practice.
The cloth masks we wear to protect against COVID-19 obscure our faces. If people are smiling around me, I cannot tell. As soon as it is safe outside, I rip the facial mask off. I take a deep breath and feel instant relief. My state requires facial coverings while out in public, and I am not sure that I will ever get accustomed to them. But there are some invisible masks I am more than comfortable wearing.
Writer Annie Dillard says, “How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.” Those words may sound cruel to parents caught in the chaos of caregiving. There was a time in my life when I would have hated those words. While it was true that I couldn't decide what filled my hours and days, I could decide how to respond to the challenges our family faced.
