The Life We Never Expected


          The Life We Never Expected by Andrew and Rachel Wilson is an honest confession inside a home with two special needs children – both have different forms of autism. The Wilsons write about real life experiences mingled with sadness and hope. They taught me that it is okay to grieve the dreams I had envisioned for my son; the things all parents look forward to for their kids: little league sports, college, independent living, marriage and grandchildren. Some of those may eventually come true, but right now a typical life is not one of them.

Andrew, a pastor in the UK, is transparent with his own struggles, coming to terms with the life he never expected. All the “big” ministry opportunities he envisioned, traditional parenting, and a regular life, was thrown out the window. Rachel writes in a vulnerable voice, acknowledging that this is hard and messy; but they find moments of humor and sweetness too.

Having a child with any kind of disability is isolating. I feel like I’m in a foreign land most days, unable to relate to another parent’s struggles because we are on completely different plains. When I’m not in the right mindset seeing my son’s typical peers wrecks me. This book has been a lifeline to help me remember that I am not alone. Sleepless night after night? Yes. Multiple therapy appointments? Yes. Hyperactivity, missed social cues, and seizures? Yes, yes, yes. Sometimes it’s comforting to identify with someone else going through a similar situation. I highly recommend this book as an oasis for any parent with a special needs child. Furthermore, family, friends, and the church can glean a helpful inside look on what daily life is like in upside down parenting.

The hope Andrew and Rachel possess as believers is contagious. They live with a mindset focused on eternity – in a world free from autism, epilepsy, wheelchairs, tube feeding, or any kind of suffering. One day their precious children (and mine) will have fully functioning minds where normal conversation is possible. One day they will be finally and completely healed. The Wilsons have given me a breath of fresh air with their raw and truthful words. For that I am grateful.

Here is an excerpt from Rachel:

“We are, at best, sailing desperately into the fog, with ever-changing winds, choppy waters, blank maps, and no real idea what we’re doing.

But God is the Captain. He is the navigator, mapmaker, and expert […] as uncertain as our voyage is, there are solid landmarks ahead that are knowable and concrete because of the Captain.

[…] I know He will journey with us to the very end, at which point everything that is perishable and incomplete will be gloriously resurrected and healed.

So I fix my eyes, not on what is seen but on what is unseen. And I take a deep breath.” (p. 148)


Grace upon grace,




6 Things Every Special Needs Parent Wishes You Knew



“but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” -Romans 5:3-5


I hesitate to even write something like this because I can see how it would easily be interpreted as complaining. However, I think that sometimes when one can serve as the voice for many to be heard, it is beneficial for all. I have met other parents with special needs children and while our stories don’t look exactly alike, this list I think addresses issues most parents feel. Even parents with typically developing kids will identify on some points.

Children are a blessing from the Lord, and as we learn what struggles each of us face, “to walk in one’s shoes” so to speak, maybe there can be room in our hearts for patience, compassion, encouragement, and even prayer toward one another.


  1. We often feel overwhelmed mentally.

Feeling physically exhausted goes with the territory of any parent with small children. And you do sometimes feel like you will lose your ever lovin’ mind. But raising a special needs child is especially mentally taxing. There is a steep learning curve for parents to learn medical language for example. There are encounters with neonatologists, neurologists, audiologists, optometrists, GI specialists, geneticists, podiatrists, sleep specialists, along with his general pediatrician.

Then we learn the ropes (and jargon) for therapy with Early Intervention, the “experts” in Autism (or whatever the disability), speech, occupational, physical, and playgroups. We find out what our insurance will and will not cover, and then play phone tag with the insurance companies.

Parents with special needs children are later immersed into the world of education (and there’s a whole set of special terms to learn here as well). Obviously we want the best for our child, and I am personally grateful for the educational opportunities we have been given. But this also involves 2-3 hour long IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meetings with your child’s “team” to write out goals and services for him that are legally binding.

Sometimes when we don’t agree with the educational team about his placement or switching schools (again) there is push back. We are their advocates and sometimes that requires fighting “the system” to do what we feel is best for our child.

Most children with Autism have sleeping problems (as high as 80%). This affects not just the child, but also everyone else in the house. Parents are sleep deprived long past the newborn stage and are expected to function as if nothing is wrong.


  1. We worry about our child’s lack of development

We wonder if they will ever become independently functional. What will happen if one or both parents die? What will happen to her once she becomes an adult? Will I still be able to care for her?

Worrying about the future is fruitless because no one knows the future except God. But the fears still haunt us and for me it calls for daily trust in the One who designed my child.


  1. It can feel very isolating

We can’t carry on the same conversations with other parents about our kids. While yours is playing tee-ball and learning about rockets, mine just learned to drink from an open cup without spilling. We celebrate in a big way those little milestones because it’s a small step toward progress for him.

I have to work at not feeling angry or cursed in isolation just because others “don’t get it”. Honestly, it isn’t their job to understand my situation although it would be nice. I have to remember that Jesus sees me and He has carried us through so far. When Christ lived on earth He was misunderstood and even rejected. The Lord sympathizes with my heart.


  1. We love our kids!

It pains us to see them struggle or not quite fit in but its just part of the deal. Other special needs parents I know Google like crazy, research like grad students, take their child to a renowned doctor states away, sit in a waiting room while their son has a 6 hour operation, inquire over the best therapy places in town, or special sports teams/activities and attend parent support groups.

These parents are warriors for their kids, utilizing all the resources available to them. All so they can give their kids their best chance to thrive.


  1. We may not be great at relationships

This goes back to the isolation thing. It is very hard to connect with someone who looks at you as if you’re from a foreign land when you tell them about your day-to-day activities. And sometimes when we sense a lack of grace in how we raise our kids, we draw back. If you thought there wasn’t a manual for parenting a typical child, there definitely isn’t one for raising a special needs kid. It is a vast frontier of uncharted territory for us and we are doing the best we can just like you are.

I also just do not have the mental energy at this time right now. Even scheduling lunch with a friend outside the regular routine makes me want to hyperventilate.

Friends and family who stick by us understand if we don’t call enough or visit enough. There is already a load of guilt for not doing “all the things we should”.

We long for community and a support system, and some of us have it, but some are in a season of life where survival mode is the only option.


  1. We connect differently with our kids

Like I said before, we love our children, but for me personally, communication is an obstacle. I understand (and interpret) what he says some of the time. My little guy is persistent though and will repeat the same word a few times hoping I’ll make sense of it. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t, and we just move on both a little disheartened.

We tell our children we love them over and over, even if we never hear it back. We play their games, the habitual ones (spinning, anyone?), because we long to meet them where they are, so we step into their world.

It’s mind numbing for sure, but for that time he looks in my eyes, holds my hand, falls asleep on my chest, or squeals with delight? Well, that makes all of this totally worth it.

To the parent of a special needs child, you are doing a great job just for getting out of bed each day ready to take on the daily challenges and demands. Don’t give up on your baby.

To others who know of someone with a child who has special needs, show them grace. Understand that their lives function differently than the rest. Give them a hug or shoot them an email of prayer/encouragement. Parents need it!

Hopefully we can all take a step closer toward loving others right where they are, however messy or hard. It is in those moments the light of Jesus Christ is reflected back to the ones you reach out and serve. And isn’t that what we all want in the end? For the world to see Jesus in us, because He is the very best thing for every parent and every child and every person.


Grace upon grace,






Childlike prayer


We pull into the turning lane to enter our neighborhood and I start to tense because he does. My four-year-old son with autism, hates stopping in traffic. The onset of cars rushing toward him on one side and whizzing by on the other is sensory overload for his system. I can’t say I blame him. He starts to scream, and kicks the center console from his car seat. He cries, “Pray!” And then there is a whimpering, almost begging in his voice, “pray?” My heart splits right in two.

So with my eyes still on the road I lift up my son’s fears to the Lord, asking Him to bring calm and peace to my son’s heart. He quiets and settles down a little, and the two of us turn into our familiar street leaving the chaos of the road for another day.


I’m often convicted of my anemic prayer life after hearing my son ask for prayer. He prays about everything. I taught him the singing one, “God our Father, God our Father, we give thanks, we give thanks, for our many blessings, for our many blessings, Amen. Amen.” So now whenever he is fearful, in trouble, about to eat, or thankful he puts his little hands together in prayer.

I want to be more intentional, and frequent like that. When we cry out to God offering our pleas or praises, the heart calms. The reason we are admonished to “pray without ceasing” is that our spirits need reminding of Who is in control. I am helpless and needy. It is when I pray that I feel even closer to the Lord. He designed it that way.

Communion in prayer and fellowship with the Father depend on how often I’m speaking to Him in prayer as His Spirit speaks to me through His Word. It doesn’t have to sound super spiritual or stifled with formality. We have the freedom to speak from the heart and plainly present our requests, like a child. God knows what we pray before we even say it, but He also knows that prayer forms belief. It is for our benefit.


Prayer allows us to see God at work on a personal level. Intimacy blossoms with the Lord as we get a front seat view to His power and faithfulness in answering our petitions. We experience God in those moments. Also, when we don’t get the answers we want, it doesn’t mean the Father is absent or a hard God. It simply means He has a better plan in mind, meant for your good and His glory.

No matter your situation, big or small, nothing is too insignificant or too hard for our Great God. I’m learning to pray and praise God for the everyday things, not just go to Him with emergency crisis prayers.


My son asks to pray again when we get home. This time it’s because he’s thankful. I can learn from him about how to pray. To be dependent on God through the power of prayer is an opportunity to grow deeper in love and trust with the One who knows us best. It is only then that I understand what it means to have the faith of a child.

Grace upon grace,


The Autism Label


I guess I already knew. Jason and I had been using this term to describe our son for quite sometime: autistic. Something about seeing it the other day in black and white confirmed by the education specialists just felt like a punch in the gut. My son’s autism was now “official” for all educational purposes.

The diagnosis we were given when he was a baby was “developmental delay” and “hypotonia” (which just means he has low muscle tone). I already accepted this. My little guy has always had to work a little harder and longer to accomplish a milestone task. He didn’t start walking until he was 23 months for goodness sake.

The last week or so has been compiled of meetings/interviews/observations with what I like to call his “team”, to go over his Individualized Education Plan (IEP). I am so thankful for these women who have made it their professional calling to help kids like him. His team includes his speech therapist, occupational therapist, physical therapist, specialized Pre-K teacher, and Special Education coordinator from the public school system. The supplemental helpers are his teacher aides (who are fantastic), the Autism teacher, his peers, and basically any other teacher or staff member at the school that he has befriended. He knows more people in the school than I do which I find hilarious and comforting. They all know him and love him and can see what I see in him.

At the same time, recognizing that the label of Autism is now forever attached to my son is hard to process. It explains why he acts the way he does, but Jesse is a lot more than a stereotype too. As I went over the confirmed results with his team I wanted to cry because I could no longer put a veil over the obvious, admitting my son has a disability. There is grief for the parent of a special needs child because I want so much in life for my son just like every other parent. I want him to speak in sentences, to hear ‘I love you, mom’, to understand why we celebrate Christmas and get crazy excited about it like other kids, to pretend to be a fireman or superhero running around the house saving the day!


And yet there was relief in finally coming to terms with his autism. For so long I have wrestled with feeling like a failure as a mom because he hasn’t been able to keep up with his peers in skill level. I thought part of it was something I wasn’t doing right. It isn’t my fault and it isn’t his either. My son has autism. The consolation of having an explanation for his delays, quirks, and irrational fears and the sadness of the reality is an odd emotion to work through.

When the Special Education coordinator looked at me and actually told me I wasn’t a failure I wanted to throw my arms around this almost stranger and give her a huge bear hug. Did she know I needed to hear that? She must have, it’s her job. I’m sure she has seen that look in parents’ eyes before when something really hard to accept becomes concrete. This is my life and I mostly try to focus on the good rather than dwell in self-pity over the hard. Yes, Jesse has autism, but it looks different in each child. He is the happiest person I know and loves to laugh. For the most part he is unaware of himself, which is so refreshing. He doesn’t know he is “different”.

What I want other parents of special needs children to know is that it is not your fault and you a not a colossal failure in parenting. The way we teach and raise our kids just looks a little different. Show yourself some grace and I when I forget this, tell it to me too. Our lives are filled with a bit more misunderstanding from outsiders, worry, and stress. But I know you love your child ‘to the moon and back’ as the saying goes. You wouldn’t go to the insanely long IEP meetings if you didn’t. I know that you take her to all of the doctors’ appointments, the neurologist, audiologist, therapy, and playgroups to help your baby. Breathe a little because you are doing the best you can so give yourself some credit now and then. You wouldn’t do all of this if you weren’t an amazing parent! Today, count the blessings you see in him. Look for it because I know that through the hardship there are silver linings you can be grateful for. I see you today and I’m rooting for you.

Grace upon grace,


Trust the Process


When I am making bread from scratch and pouring all the ingredients in a big glass bowl it doesn’t look like much. Flour, oil, sugar, salt, starter, and water look more like sandbox soup. It isn’t until I start mixing and kneading that the ingredients slowly combine and the bread begins to take shape as the dough I intend it to be. Still, whenever I’m in the middle of hard stirring I say to myself, “trust the process”. There are necessary instructions to follow in order for bread to be made into something delicious. I always know what the end result will be, but the first six steps I doubt just a little. It bears no resemblance to the warm melt-in-your-mouth carbohydrates I want to devour!


Sometimes in the small day-to-day tasks it is hard to see the final outcome for whatever I’m trying to achieve. Whether I am attempting to train my son toward an obedient heart or help him in his developmental delays, I focus on one day at a time. I can’t even think about how impossible the tasks seem if I try to envision what or who he will be at age 20. The “what-if’s” start to crawl around in my brain and I just might hyperventilate.

What if he never gets potty training?

What if he never rides a bike?

What if he never has the mental understanding of his peers?

What if something happens to Jason or me?

Who will take care of him? Will he ever be an independent adult?

What if I fail as a mother?

The “what-ifs” are no help at all. It just creates fear and doubt and shrinks my faith.

A lot of things in my life right now resemble sandbox soup. I’m just not quite sure how it will all turn out yet. But here’s the thing: God does not ask me to have everything tied up neatly in a pretty bow. Or quite frankly, He does not feed my arrogance and insecurity to know the future. My finite little mind is not meant to handle such things. My Father just asks that I trust Him, trust the process of daily perseverance. Prepare. Practice. Pray. Patience. Persevere.


Not only does each day have enough worries of its own, there is also enough grace for every day. On Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and every day through the week God makes His mercies new, His grace is fresh and able to sustain me as I navigate through the trenches of teaching a child with special needs. His supply is infinite because He is and because “He tends His flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young” (Isaiah 40:11 NIV). Trust the process. Take it one step at a time.

I also take comfort that as He makes each day new, so He also renews my heart of faith. Every morning when I wake up I can choose to follow Him and trust in His plan for that day. Sometimes when I decide to go ahead of the Lord relying in my own strength the spiritual lessons learned are hard and humbling, peeling back the layers of sin in my heart. As I learn to walk in step with Him, I know there will be days I stumble, flounder, and flat out fail. But then my heart always circles back to the cross and I cast my anchor upward. Forgiveness and redemption are found there.

Friend, when the days are long, filled with your stubborn three year old who refuses to eat the lunch you prepared, or the youngest one just marked up the walls with colorful permanent markers, or your other child needs constant attention right now, remember that God makes all things new: days, seasons, years, and even people. It can be tiring when I’m in the thick of it and I see little to no progress with my son, but I trust Jesus Christ to carry me through another day. I can come before Him and say:

“You make all things new. You continue to renew my heart each day to transform me into the likeness of Jesus.

You make all things new. Your mercies never end and my heart is light as I receive Your flood of grace for this day.

You make all things new. You turned my lifeless heart into one that beats with the rhythm of Your Own.

You make all things new. You say that my wailing will turn into dancing, my sorrow into joy. Beauty will rise from the ashes.

You make all things new. Your promise of a new heaven and a new earth is true. I will wait in expectation as You make all things new.”


And the promised return for our perseverance in trusting Him with our tasks? The end result is bountiful fruit; fruit of the heart that the Lord will use to glorify Himself as we begin to reflect His Son more and more. Excuse me, I hear the oven timer going off. My bread is done.

Grace upon grace,



Caution: Sanctification in Progress!


I like to sleep, perhaps too much. Slowly the Lord is stripping away this desire toward slothfulness. You see I am not really a morning person. I do try to get up early to have quiet time but not always. It is hard to get going some mornings! I am definitely not a night owl either, that title goes to my husband. An ideal evening for me is to be in bed by 8:30pm. Sweet blissful sleep! I think I can be most productive around 11am, but even that is iffy.

Part of having a son on the autism spectrum is his inability to stay asleep through the night. He seems to not require a whole lot of it, which for me is bad news. I can be pretty cranky if I have not slept well, especially if those sleepless nights occur one after another. Let me re-phrase that: I am downright ill without sleep (Southern translation: “mean as a snake!”).

I have a beautiful life and I am abundantly blessed, but my life is also messy and broken. Lack of sleep has shown me more than any other trial just how ugly I am in my flesh. God has used this to peel back the layers of my sin. Just when I think I am “doing okay” and “spiritual enough”, I get hit with a holy 2×4 to knock some sense into me!

I do not remember my son having problems sleeping through the night as a baby until he was eight months old. I distinctly remember this because it was over the Christmas holidays and we were visiting my in-laws. Oh my stars that was rough! From that point on it has been a struggle for the little guy. Since Jesse does not sleep well at night he falls asleep sometimes in the most random places. He is well known for catnaps at restaurants, and on other peoples’ couches. A few times he has fallen asleep in the church nursery, on the floor. The other kids did not seem to mind, they just continued playing around him. No big deal.

It has definitely made me thankful for the gift of sleep when everyone in my house does get a good night of rest. Those moments in the middle of the night when he is up for two to four hours, I have a choice to make. I can become Hulk-like in my anger or I can earnestly pray for wisdom and compassion. I admit I often fail to extend grace to my little guy at 2am so when I have a supernatural work of patience and love I know it is from the Holy Spirit. Too many times I would get frustrated with him because I thought he was being disobedient. I would say, “Go. To. Sleep!!” for the 100th time without any success. However, I have learned as a fairly new parent a few things: I cannot make him sleep. I have also learned that his struggle with sleep is not his fault. It is a symptom of an autistic child and research still cannot answer why many with autism have this problem. Is it neurological, psychological, physical, or environmental? The list goes on.

When something as essential as sleep is taken away I see my truest self…and my need for Jesus. More than once I have had to apologize to my four year old for getting angry with him over this issue. I do not know if he even understands, but I say I am sorry anyway. I bend down to his level so his eyes meet mine, and sign ‘sorry’ to him. He signs it back. I explain to him that even mommy sins and I need Jesus too.

It has been a humbling experience to see how truly sinful I am. But then morning comes and God’s mercies are new, His grace is fresh. I am functioning on empty for the most part and yet on those days especially I feel His strength and sustaining grace.

I often have conversations with the Lord (sometimes in frustration) related to His Sovereignty and power to help Jesse sleep through the night, and why this is still an issue. I expect Him to fix it. And yet, God has a much better plan with how to use this trial- April’s sanctification. (Groan). No really, I am thankful for spiritual growth however small it may be, it is just the growing part that can be painful and inconvenient. It is a pruning process, necessary for the best fruit. Jesus is the Vine and His chosen ones are the branches. I must cling to Him as if my life depends on it, because it does.

So, to the mama with a newborn who has yet to sleep through the night; to the parent of an autistic child who sleeps poorly like mine; and to the parent with a child who has trouble sleeping or refuses to sleep, God sees your weary spirit and tired eyes. You offer up a plea to make this stop partly out of frustration and the feeling that you just might go certifiably insane if you do not get relief soon. God sees you and He knows your situation. It may be for a season or it might last a whole lot longer than you hoped. But friend, God can and will carry you through it! I do not know exactly how in the specifics of your life but trust in Him anyway. Those days you find yourself on survival mode, think of a Scripture verse or a worship song to sing over and over again until the attitude of your heart is at peace. “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You” (Isaiah 26:3 ESV). God is with you exhausted as you are. Remain in Him and see His grace at work. There will be beautiful, vibrant fruit in due season.

Grace upon grace,


Comforting Others


When my son had his 9-month check-up at the pediatrician’s office he still wasn’t rolling over or meeting many of the other milestones for his age. In the office I filled out a questionnaire to help the doctor gauge where he was developmentally. I was supposed to stop after reaching three “no’s”. ‘No’ my child does not raise his head, ‘no’ he does not attempt to roll over, ‘no’ he does not love tummy time. You would think after babysitting kids since I was twelve that I would have a pretty good idea what milestones should be expected by 9-months of age, but I had no clue. I just thought he had a laid back personality. He was content lying on his back on the play mat, swatting at the dangling ball in front of him.

At the check-up his pediatrician recommended we look into Early Intervention services as well as set up an appointment with a neurologist. The next month there was an in-home visit to see if my son qualified for therapy through EI. He was admitted after the evaluation, which led the way for physical therapy and occupational therapy. We learned a few months later from the visit with a neurologist in town that Jesse was a “floppy baby”, meaning he was born with low muscle tone. He would have to work harder in order to make his muscles work. Nothing came easily for him.

Jason and I were grateful for his therapy appointments. I learned a lot, as the therapists gave me homework. I worked with Jesse during the week with the exercises they gave me to do. Jason also helped in the evenings after he got home from work. Together we taught him how to stabilize on his hands and knees, how to crawl, literally moving his little body for him until he got it. We worked with him on pulling up and encouraged Jesse to “cruise” from couch to couch. These are things most parents take for granted. Their child will just naturally reach those milestones with minimal interference or help. We really worked for it, alternately practicing and praising him for his hard work. At times I felt like a solider in the Army or something with the phrase, “Motherhood: The toughest job you’ll ever love” going over and over in my head. I think it was my version of a pep talk to keep going and not give up on him.

When Jesse was 21-months he still was not walking, he just crawled everywhere and man did he get heavy! My daily workout consisted of just lifting him a thousand times a day. By mid-January of 2013 I was able to take him to outpatient physical therapy where he was harnessed to a treadmill so he could practice the sensation of walking. Like with everything else, I hoped the “walking” would help strengthen his muscles and just make everything click so he could do it on his own. This went on for about 6-8 weeks, driving to appointments, while practicing at home with a walker. He did great with the walker, and we cheered him on as he had to do the really hard work all by himself. I’m tearing up as I write this because I remember my mama heart breaking during this season, as I watched him put one leg in front of the other, over and over. I wanted so much to just do it for him, but I couldn’t. Isn’t that what we do as parents sometimes? We want for them to crawl, walk, talk, potty train, ride a bike, and tie their shoes on their own, while thinking, “if I could just do it for them”. It is part of the growing up process, which can be frustrating and joyous for both parent and child.

But then the best part happened in March of 2013. Weeks before his 2nd birthday Jesse learned to walk. That alone was cause for celebration in our home. It was a momentous occasion and we praised God for a wonderful blessing.

Sometimes I would get sad or bitter every time Jesse had a therapy appointment because it was a reminder that our family was “different”. Those are feelings I’m not necessarily proud of, but they are there. I just wanted everything to come easily for Jesse, like it did for other kids. But when I see the faces of the special needs parents at the therapy center, I know why we were placed in this situation. We are in a club that no one wants to be in. I see the tiredness, sadness, and longing to help their child because I’m there too.

When I look at Scripture I see part of the reason why any of us go through trials. It is to comfort others. “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV). When we go through those hard seasons it is somehow comforting to hear another say, “Me too, I’ve been there”. It helps us feel like we are not completely alone when someone understands our pain and empathizes. The veterans can maybe help the newbies navigate the turbulent waters, offering wisdom, love, and prayer.

Only another special needs parent can understand what life is like for me. Family and friends definitely offer their support and love, but they cannot quite understand. This became so clear to me one day after I dropped Jesse off to his classroom at school one morning. I was particularly discouraged that day, exhausted from Jesse’s seemingly endless sleepless nights. I ran into the assistant principal, Ms. Thomas, in the hallway who is wonderful at her job. She always encourages the kids as they trot to class, has a smile on her face, and a positive attitude whenever I see her. She asked me how Jesse was doing and perhaps by my limp response or half zombie-like appearance, she gently starts telling me about her 3 children. Ms. Thomas has one child that is special needs. I didn’t know this. She says that God had a purpose in giving her a special needs child, because if she didn’t have him, she would never be able to understand what I am going through. (Cue the tears!). Then she reminds me of the story in John 9 where the disciples ask Jesus if the blind man is blind because of his sin or his parents’ sin. The Lord’s response takes my breath away every time. He says that it is neither because of his sin or his parents’ sin, but “so that the work of God might be displayed in his life” (John 9:3 NIV)! Okay, by this point I’m choking back tears as hard as I can so I don’t ugly cry right in the school hallway. Ms. Thomas reminded me that Jesse is a gift that God is using for His glory in a very specific way. Truth be told, I’ve already seen how my little guy blesses others. Every where we go he waves at strangers, followed by a very cheerful “hi!”. I see him brighten up strangers’ faces every day. I don’t know if Ms. Thomas even realizes it, but that meeting in the hallway impacted me and greatly encouraged my weary spirit. She acted as the hands and feet of the Church in that moment. That is what we do as a body of believers when we comfort, encourage, love, and pray for one another, carrying each other’s burdens, as well as sharing in our joys.

Hardship helps us connect in our humanity, revealing our weakness and inability to control things. That is when we can hopefully lean on others and trust in the Lord for help. The moments, or years of testing will either bring us closer to the Potter’s Hand or harden our hearts in anger. I admit I yo-yo back and forth sometimes, feeling spiritually depleted. But even in those moments there is grace. There is grace for the weary because the Lord “will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths will grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:28-31 NIV). Praise God!

Grace upon grace,


The Healer


I was 28 weeks pregnant with my son when my OBGYN stared at the ultrasound monitor, looking serious and concerned. She noticed Jesse had cysts and enlarged ventricles in his brain. My doctor referred us to a high risk maternal/fetal specialist in Birmingham, who told us that this problem might be related to the heart. He explained to me and my husband that the chambers of Jesse’s heart were enlarged, specifically the right ventricle, because of the increased pressure in the brain. He said it might be because the valve isn’t opening like it should thus preventing good blood flow to the lungs. The doctor also told us there might be a hole in the atrial septum known as Atrial Septum Defect (ASD), which causes the oxygen rich blood to mix with the used blood from the right to left ventricles. The prognosis was grim. My head was spinning as the doctor’s words sunk in. Jason and I felt helpless and numb.

I remember one evening in particular during this time we were hosting a small group Bible study and I had to leave the room to try and compose myself. As I stood in Jesse’s prepared nursery and looked around wondering if he would even get to see it, I broke down and wept.

Sometimes God uses hard situations to draw us closer to Him and this was definitely one of those times. During the next few weeks I poured over Scripture that would help remind me not to fear or worry. I prayed, Jason and I prayed together, our families prayed and our church family prayed over us. It was a bittersweet time, going through the unknown but feeling the comforting presence of the Father in the form of believers who loved us.

Every week until my son was born I went to the maternal/fetal specialist for an ultrasound so we could monitor any changes in his condition. Jason and I believed God could work miracles, and we continued trusting Him throughout the whole process.

At 32 weeks we went to see a pediatric cardiologist in town and he gave us news we were not expecting to hear. This very matter-of-fact doctor looked at Jesse’s heart in utero and point blank said, “I don’t think there is anything wrong with his heart. There doesn’t seem to be a problem.” I wish at that moment I could have captured what mine and Jason’s faces must have looked like when the cardiologist told us that. Dumbfounded, mouths open, me mentally responding with, “Say what now?” We walked out of his office certainly confused, but praising God that Jesse just might be okay.

So throughout the rest of the pregnancy we had two conflicting opinions from doctors. But when the pediatric cardiologist checked Jesse again the day he was born, and then 4 months later, he confirmed for us that his heart looked just fine.

The other medical concern were the two cysts on his brain. After staying in the NICU for 2 weeks, Jesse had an MRI. The day I picked him up I asked the nurse what the results were. She looked at me and said, “Oh they couldn’t find any cysts. Everything looked good.” I distinctly remember God’s overwhelming grace in that moment and I wanted to cry and shout with joy at the same time. God did not have to heal my son, but I believe He did so that He would get the glory.

One of my favorite names of the Lord is ‘Jehovah Rapha’, which means, “the Lord who heals”. Think about the many times Jesus performed miracles of physical healing: “When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, He had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matthew 14:14 NIV). Jesus healed the blind, the lame, deaf, mute, demon-possessed, even raising the dead! While the Son performed all these miracles to showcase God’s glory, the most important healing He did was on the inside – our hearts. That is what He came for. Jesus could heal someone from a physical ailment but if their hearts weren’t healed from sin, they would still go to hell. Jesus is the Healer of our souls, and any physical healing that He does is an added demonstration of profound grace.

We are all born with a “defect” in our heart, our sin nature, so this is what Jesus did for us: “He Himself bore our sins in His body, on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by His wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24 NIV). My prayer is that one day Jesse’s heart will truly be healed by the only One who can “perform the operation”, the Savior, Jesus Christ.

“Grant me to hear Thy voice assuring me:

that by Thy stripes I am healed,

that Thou wast bruised for my iniquities,

that Thou hast been made sin for me

that I might be righteous in Thee,

that my grievous sins, my manifold sins,

are all forgiven,

buried in the ocean of Thy concealing blood.

I am guilty, but pardoned,

lost, but saved,

wandering, but found

sinning, but cleansed,

Give me perpetual broken-heartedness,

Keep me always clinging to Thy cross,

Flood me every moment with descending grace,

Open to me the springs of diving knowledge,

sparkling like crystal,

flowing clear and unsullied

through my wilderness of life.”

-Valley of Vision

Grace upon grace,