Sword Fighting at church

He sat down and would not move. I asked him again which of the life groups in the room he wanted to join. He turned his face away from me. “Look,” I said (pointing), “do you want to join this group or that group over there?” No movement. Just silence. “Dude, please look at me. Which group should we join?” *crickets* “Okay, what do you want to do?” More looking away and silence but this time he added an eye roll. Instead of drop kicking him, I took a deep breath and tried to exhale all my frustration.

Because I know violence is never the solution, I resorted to praying. “What should I do, Lord? This isn’t working at all.” Then God opened my eyes to the fact that a routine had not been established yet so he didn’t know what the schedule was or what to expect next. He was struggling with all the changes and needed some control. The thought occurred to me that if he wanted to sit in silence then maybe I should stop talking. I let out another sigh and said, “I get it, we can sit here and not talk. That’s okay.” I got out of his face and just sat next to him while we both processed the situation.

A minute, that felt like 10, passed and he whispered something. I turned and said, “What’d you say?” A smirk formed on his lips as he raised his voice about half a decibel and whispered again. “I can’t hear you,” I said, “If you want me to hear you then you need to talk louder.” Cue more silence. The smirk got bigger though. Finally, he said (at an audible volume) “Ball?” “Oh no”, I said, “we can’t play with the ball in here during life group time.” At this point I had released the whole forcing him into a life group idea. I saw the foam swords we had used for an earlier game and I instantly knew what we were going to do. “Hey, you wanna go outside and have a sword fight?” His face brightened and suddenly there was eye contact and clear speech. “YES!”, he exclaimed.

I grabbed the swords and off we went battling all over the courtyard, across the playground, and up and down the slide. When the sword struck it made a very satisfying “Fwap!” causing both of us to laugh hysterically. It was an epic contest that looked slightly uneven when he got a few strong loud fwaps in on both sides of my head. But, believe me, I got quite a few jabs in myself. When life groups were over, we calmly went back inside and played ball with everyone else.

I want so much to teach him about Jesus but end up feeling like a failure more often than not. Then God reminds me of the lesson He teaches me every week. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, PATIENCE, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and SELF-CONTROL. And once again, the student becomes my teacher. Sometimes the answer to WWJD is: have a sword fight.

Who needs you?

Here's another post I wrote for my church's blog. 😊


http://thewellcommunity.org/blogs/kids-connection/who-needs-you

time did not fly

One year. 

Since my last drink of Pepsi. 

Feels like a lifetime ago. 

I miss having a favorite drink. 

I don't miss getting sick every time I ate. 

Who knew it was possible to be allergic to sugar?

Not me. 

My body doesn't digest sugar. 

Of any kind

Whether plant or mineral

It all feels like poison. 

It still tastes good though!

There in lies the problem. 

But it's been a year and

I've gone down 3 pant sizes.

I miss sugar

But I don't miss fat pants and stomach aches

For such a time as this

Sometimes we get to see evidence that God has a purpose for our lives, or rather our eyes are opened to be able to see what has been in front of us all along. Having a kid named Logan and his family in my life, is definitely proof that God had a good plan for leading me to The Well Community Church. Here's a post I wrote for my church Kids Co blog. Click on the link and enjoy.

http://thewellcommunity.org/blogs/kids-connection/for-such-a-time-as-this  

Blessing disguised as a curse

Having a sibling with a disability is a blessing that disguises itself as a curse. An outside view highlights the tantrums, drooling, hitting, yelling, biting, anger, confusion, awkward appearances, slurred speech, and all the rest of the embarrassing and permanently hard stuff. Once the difficult task of looking through and past the disguise is accomplished, the inside view reveals the truths that stands in front of the lies; laughter that breaks through tears, peace that isn't offended by your fears, and a deep, genuine love that binds them all together and enables you to truly see the blessing. You are rewarded with a capacity to understand and recognize hardship in all its forms and to gain wisdom from looking for the breathtaking beauty that can be found in pain. You learn how life giving and devastating it can be to celebrate every accomplishment. You learn that joy and sorrow have the same pulse, they do not exist apart from each other. But their fusion is not bad news. It's actually a relief. 

People learn these things about blessings and curses from a myriad of life experiences throughout their lifetimes. The difference I see in siblings of people with disabilities is that we tend to learn them long before our peers do. This knowledge sets us apart in ways we didn't sign up for and can't control. It's easy to feel like an alien in a strange land when you know the true love that others are searching for and you know the answers to some of life's toughest questions. You know how to spot a curse disguise a mile away, call out the blessing, and run towards it. 

Hope

There are so many times in our individual lives and in the world as a whole when confusion, fear, hate, and desperation threaten to swallow us. These times cause us to panic and swim towards the danger when we think we're swimming away from it. We feel trapped, hemmed in, and paralyzed. And we lose hope.

But God, who is rich in mercy (Eph. 2:4), has overcome all evil. He has defeated death. He is LORD, dependent on no one and no thing. He can and does give us a living hope that can never perish, spoil, or fade (1Peter 1:4). So no matter what explodes around us or in us, we have everything we need for life and godliness through the power of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness, He has given everything for life. (2 Peter 1:3).

Without Him we have nothing we need. With Him we have everything we need. When we look at the people around us we can see them as God sees them--His creation who He bought with a price. We can see them as being just as in need of salvation as I was before Jesus and just as lost as I would be with out Him. My fellow human beings are held captive by sin. Condemning them for their captivity may be what they deserve but then it's absolutely what I deserve and to the same degree. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23) and While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8).

Understanding, insight, wisdom, compassion, and our security come freely from Him because He loves us and He is love. He has promised to never leave us or forsake us because His love endures forever. (Psalm 106:1) His steadfast love endures. Forever He endures.

The angry monster who came home from camp

This is a story from "way back" as Nathan would say. But as I encounter families in my work who are at this stage of life, it catapults me back to that time and that place and I am reminded of the pain, anguish, and deep lessons learned.

I remember Nathan going to camp for a whole week in summer. I know he went several years but I don't remember if it was a yearly thing. I don't really even remember the time being home without him. All I know is that it went by with lightening speed. It felt less like 7 days and more like 7 really long minutes of hold-your-breath anticipation of an explosion. It was like a New Year's Eve countdown that started days ahead of time, but didn't end with kissing. It ended with anger. Lots and lots of anger. Looking back, I think it might have been a whole week's worth of unexpressed, pent up emotion that he had been saving for us, like a reverse welcome home present.

He had spent a week without his own room to escape to. A week without his music. A time filled with fun activities but also a week of putting up with everyone else's moods and behaviors. The boundaries, rewards, and negative consequences were all different that week. I can imagine that being a very difficult adjustment.

He would say that he liked camp and would want to go again the next year so I guess it was worth it for all the fun he had. I was never quite sure it was worth it for me though. Sure, I got a week without him and I enjoyed it and missed him. But the truth is he would come home and instantly suck all the joy, and respite I'd just experienced, right out of me.

He was a ball of rage, an angry monster, who paced up and down the sidewalk outside, banned from coming inside until he calmed down a little bit. He reminded me of a predator in a movie, who was stalking his prey. I'd watch him from the edge of the front window as though I was in a shootout and needed the wall for protection. There he was huffing and puffing and pacing, his eyes wild with fury. If he made eye contact with me, he'd lunge at the window and I would flinch and duck because he scared me when he was out of control. I wanted to follow my mom's lead and not give him him any attention but I also wanted to watch him to see if he would self destruct or decompress. I wanted to understand him and wanted to help him. But more than those things, I wanted to know exactly where he was at all times so I wouldn't be the victim of a surprise attack.

He made me so angry because I wanted so badly for him to be able to come home like a normal person and not like a home invader! I felt like camp should be taken away from him, as punishment. But he had already gone and waiting a year for a consequence was ludicrous and ineffectual. I just wanted him to feel what we were feeling, to know the pain he was inflicting on the rest of us. I wanted him to suffer enough to change his behavior.

But my logic was flawed. The fact is he was suffering. He was sleep deprived, hungry, and actually happy to be home. So the answer was not to punch him out, unfortunately. The answer was to welcome him  home, like the prodigal son, with unconditional love and compassion. He still couldn't come inside without taking a few deep breaths but he didn't need any more punishment than he was already experiencing in his own body. He knew home was a safe place to act this way. He knew he was a member of this family and that would never change, even if he self-destructed. Eventually, he would come into the house and the process of reentry would continue. After some time in his room blaring his gospel quartet music, eating some good meals, and sleeping in his own bed for a few nights, he would be back to his usual self.

Though these experiences, God teaches me more about Himself. When I am completely out of control, He sees me. He knows my weaknesses and my depravity. He is acquainted with all my ways (Psalm 139). Yet He never leaves me or forsakes me. He never regrets His decision to send His Son to die for me. He never fails to show me that His grace covers all my sin and His love endures forever.

I can't help it, he's my role model.

It was Sunday, September 20, 2015. I was visiting my parents, as I often do on Sundays. When he's there, I always show up. I respond every time. If he's there for the weekend, i often get a text on Friday evening. He tells my mom, "Text her this 'Go Dodgers! Come see me. your brother". And I respond, "Go Dodgers! I'll be there on Sunday." If I listen hard, I can hear him exclaim from 30 miles away "Yessssssss!!! She's coming!"

When I show up, he is waiting for me. He used to wait all weekend but now he knows I come after church and usually after they have eaten lunch. If he's had a rough day, and is in a bad mood, then he won't be there but if it's any other kind of day--average, fare, borderline, meh, good, great--then he is the first to see me and announce my arrival. Before I even open my car door, he opens the front door and yells, "It's about time you got here! Hi sister! Go Dodgers sister! Here's a cold one! Here you go sister! A nice cold pepsi!!" In the time it took me to turn my car off, grab my purse, and get out of my car, he had already seen me, gotten, up, gone to the fridge, grabbed a can of pepsi, run to the front door, flung it open, and started celebrating my arrival. 

He doesn't do greetings half way. He either ignores you and disappears into his room or he mauls you with excitement. 

He used to open the can of pepsi for me but, after years of yelling at him for that, he finally stopped. What can I say, I felt strongly about opening my own soda.

So back to September 20, 2015. I wasn't sure yet but I was getting closer to making the decision to stop drinking soda. What would that do to me? How would he react? I could think of a million excuses not to stop. But I found myself floating the idea out there to my parents that day. He was in the room but I didn't think he was listening. I said, "I think I need to stop drinking pepsi." I felt myself cringe in anticipation of--I don't know what--a bad reaction, a mournful reaction, something else that would make it harder for me to stop and validate my excuses. I think just the act of saying out loud was made it more real in a way that sacred me a little. I knew I'd been dragging my feet as I searched for an excuse to build a foundation on. I even thought that since this might be hard for him, maybe I shouldn't do it. I was getting altruistic in my desperation! 

Then he made a simple statement that, looking back, closed the door on all my excuses. He said, "Drink water! It's healthier!" And just like that, the deal was done. I was at the end of the road of reasons to keep my habit. The next day I had my last drink of pepsi. 

It's been almost 9 months since that pivotal day. And as I've pulled up to my parents house, I still hear, "It's about time you're here!!" 

It was this experience piled on top of many others that I realized, I can't help it, he's my role model.