Fit to serve

I am sitting on the couch, fingers wrapped around a cup of warmth and deliciousness, also known as coffee. It’s raining outside and thankfully there aren’t any urgent errands to run. After dropping Jesse off at school this morning, the house is still, and I take a moment to savor the quiet. As a stay-at-home mom, this is the career I’ve always wanted, but it requires me to be my own boss.

I’m responsible for how much gets done each day at home. If the laundry isn’t clean or the dishes stay piled high in the sink before dinner it’s on me.

Discipline is key. This principle applies to all of life really. Structure, routine, rhythm, whatever you call it, time management helps things run smoothly. Even structuring time for margin is important. One way I do this is intentionally taking time throughout the week to take care of myself.

“Self-care” is a word that in the past, I gave a suspicious sideways glance. It gives an impression of selfishness, curated by our culture’s post-modern vocabulary which I don’t trust as a general rule of thumb. But over the years I’ve learned it is actually very important. As a mom to a boy with autism, my days are demanding physically, mentally and emotionally. I need healthy ways to relieve the stress that internally builds up.

Imagine you’re flying in an airplane that is in distress. The emergency oxygen masks pop down and they tell you to put yours on first before helping the person beside you. That goes against every mama instinct, but the logic behind it is that if you aren’t getting any oxygen, you can’t help someone else put on their oxygen mask.

One way I’ve practiced self-care is by exercising a few days a week. I don’t make it a huge deal, just around 30 minutes is fine. But I feel better afterwards, for doing something good for my body and mental health.

After collapsing a few years ago with just my son at home it was a wake-up call to take better care of myself. I want to bless my family and friends and community by being around for as long as I can. The best way to do that is to make sure I’m able to function first.

Listening to my body and its warning signs: Am I breathing too quick and shallow? Brain fog? Short temper? Fatigued? You get the idea…It’s just about making simple changes to improve my overall health. Even if it’s just sitting for 15 minutes alone or not turning on music in the car to declutter my thoughts. Maybe you have to hide out in the bathroom to get away from the chaos of little ones for a few moments. That’s okay.

When we know that a short break will help us be a little more patient and kind to those we take care of, it’s actually a service to them too.

Our bodies are made to honor God, and He only gave us one. Moderate exercise, better food choices, even how I spend my time, are all ways to worship the Lord by demonstrating His authority over me. I don’t think it means we’re rigid with our lives, but I don’t want to abuse this gift either. I can please God by taking care of my body, which enables me to serve others well.

What is one way you take care of yourself? Or what simple change can you make to help your overall health? I’d love to know. Feel free to share in the comments below 🙂

 

Grace upon grace,

April

The joys and challenges in parenting a special needs child

January has been unexpectedly hard- and cold, but well, that one is to be expected.

We’re still settling into the “new house” as my son calls it. This doesn’t seem like home yet,  so we’re all a little displaced, since we don’t belong at our old house either. But I figure this will soon wear off and be a safe haven rather than feel like a guest in our own home.

Along with that there have been particularly stressful moments recently trying to mother/referee his rollercoaster emotions. Sobbing one minute and laughing the next, mixed in with a good dose of hyperactivity and whining tantrums.

It’s taken me off guard because it isn’t his typical behavior.

Is he tired? Should I change his diet? Special vitamins? Is this a normal part of growing up?

I can guess all day and go mad trying to figure out the solution- or better yet, the problem. He isn’t able to articulate all of his big feelings, so outwardly I try to calm him down. But inwardly I internalize.

Worry.

Stress.

Until the other day when Jason and I were attending to “new house” stuff I had chest pains. Normally I would shake it off (perhaps foolishly) but since I’ve had a run in with AFib there was concern. Each breath hurt my chest.

I’m fine now, but this pain lasted a day and a half-  soreness like maybe I pulled a muscle. Ironically Jason has had the exact same chest pain for 2 years. I did rest that day, just in case, but my fears of another heart problem were put at ease realizing he experiences the same thing.

In fact, it makes sense now.

I’ve heard it said before that parenting a special needs child is on the same stress level as a combat solider. Well, I don’t know about that, but it serves up a great deal of learning challenges, misunderstandings, isolation, acceptance, self-help skills, and sleep deprivation.

This isn’t a sob story because goodness knows we have been tremendously blessed. I know that.

God has given us our son with a purpose. Some of the reasons I see so clearly and other times I do question why there are disabilities at all. It doesn’t seem fair. Looking at other cases just breaks my heart.

But here are two things I know:

One, I don’t want to ever pity another family with special needs children, but love them by being their friend. Enter their mess. Show compassion. Listen. I can’t understand the exact situation, but I can pray for them and even with them. This is what these families need.

To be heard. Seen. Validated. Loved.

Two, God gave me an amazing son who blesses others in a way I can’t fully understand. Sure he’s not perfect by any means but he loves cheerfully. My prayer has always been that the Lord will allow others to see His kindness and goodness through my son.

I believe God has honored this. 

My Father teaches me more and more and more patience when it comes to working with him. My son is the only extrovert in our family so he keeps me and Jason constantly climbing out of our comfort zones. God is inwardly refining my character, as well as showing me how to practice seeing others like my son does.

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This job is for life and I know there will be more joys and challenges with it. The joy is found by recognizing those moments as gifts and giving thanks. The challenges prompt me to pray more specifically and consistently.

Is it stressful? For sure. Is my son worth it? Always.

Knowing that God sees you even when no one else does can help you persevere. Jesus shepherds those that have young (Isaiah 40:11) and He will never leave or forsake His beloved children (Hebrews 13:5).

You and I can rest in this, then take a deep breath and trust God to lead. 

Grace upon grace,

April

A Matter of the Heart

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I failed with flying colors. This is not the Christian success story you were hoping to hear. Instead, it is a story of failure, failure to respond biblically and maturely. I don’t like admitting that about myself, but I am beginning to see how even my response in the midst of affliction is grace. Exposed and raw, I saw my sin amplified more than I thought possible. So God does this work of “letting bad things happen” to reveal our sin nature. I find out who I really am before He can rebuild again.

Corrie Ten Boom once said, “Before He can use us He must gently crush us.” This is part of an ongoing story because faith is never wrapped up in a neat little bow this side of heaven. Life is messy and unpredictable. That is when we are called to simply trust, working out our salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12) until Jesus takes us home.

Tuesday, October 25th I kept Jesse home from school due to a sleepless night before. There was nothing out of the ordinary that day as Jason went to work and I set about getting house chores done while Jesse quietly played. I felt completely fine with no warning signs to indicate the rest of the day. Shortly before noon I read a text from a friend when suddenly I became horribly dizzy and nauseous. The feeling sent me reeling, as I hit the floor to keep the room from spinning (which did not help). Right before falling to the ground I had the forethought of grabbing my phone if this became an emergency. It escalated to emergency status within seconds as I started vomiting uncontrollably. Jesse found me and started crying because he knew I was in distress. He ran to another part of the house, where I listened to him cry, and I didn’t see him again.

By God’s grace Jason answered his phone when I tried to call him. I remember feeling like I might pass out or die, because I’ve never experienced either until that moment. My body shut down as I lost control of my senses, becoming incredibly weak and incoherent. Jason called one of our neighbors to come over before he could get home. She was also an agent of grace, occupying Jesse while Jason took care of me. The paramedics soon arrived and took my vitals, which were fine even though I was the worst kind of sick I have ever felt. They noted my electrolytes were low and concluded that it must be a virus of some kind. So my very first ambulance ride I missed because I wasn’t all there to say the least.

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I remember the ER room. It was like a dream I wanted to wake from, being poked with needles, beeping machines, T.V. noise, endless emergency hallway chatter, and so many nurses in and out of a space that could have been a walk-in closet. Everyone hovers over the bed like I’m a riddle to be solved. But the medical staff is there to save lives no matter the cost, especially sans dignity. I’ve not had many hospital encounters, but there is none of that whatsoever and it doesn’t really even matter at that point. Everyone is there to do his or her job.

I’m told my heart went into an abnormal rhythm in the Emergency Room. Atrial Fibrillation. My heart was off running a marathon, leaving me in a hospital bed. The anti-nausea medicine finally kicked in and I became more lucid. Finally, I started to notice my surroundings more, trying to comprehend all that had taken place in the last few hours. My poor, sweet husband was wrestling with that same question too. He bore the brunt of my drama trauma fielding phone calls, text messages, and questions from paramedics, nurses, doctors, friends and family.

I wasn’t angry until the next day, even after God had answered many prayers from loved ones allowing my heart to convert back again to a normal rhythm. I was still grasping for answers, trying to wrap my mind around everything. I barely kept my head above water each day before all of this happened and now I was completely knocked down. I was tired. Tired of striving. Tired of wanting God to care because I thought he must not. I started listening to my fickle emotions instead of firmly setting my hope in the promises of God:

“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” He says in His Word over and over (Hebrews 13:5; Deuteronomy 31:6, 8). I forgot that God is always faithful, even when I’m wretched and hostile. But He calls me to be faithful as well, and I instead turned the other way. “How could God do this to me?” I asked in pride and anger. “Is it not enough to take care of an autistic son, sleep very little and live a stress-filled existence without this on my plate?”

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I was trying so hard to pursue God, and I believe I was, but at the same time I left little room to just rest. Rest in His grace that doesn’t require a juggling act or high marks.

Jesus used Peter, a common fisherman, hotheaded and impulsive to later become the rock of the church (Matthew 16:15-19). He called Saul, and renamed him Paul, from persecuting Christians to preaching the gospel to them. These two men were imprisoned for their faith and died because they followed Jesus Christ, knowing that the hope they had would be made sight. And it has for them.

I hope that for you and me too. Sometimes living out our faith feels more like a boxing match. But in the end, I want to say along with Paul that “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7). If anything, I’ve learned that we are not meant to have all the answers. There is still no explainable medical reason as to why all of this happened on that Tuesday – just a bunch of guesses.

We are called to simply trust that God is Good and Sovereign even when we don’t understand our life circumstances. And I am learning that He really is faithful. “Bad things happen even to forgiven people”, says Pastor Stephen Davey, but it doesn’t mean God does not love you or has stopped loving you. What if it means quite the opposite? What if growth can only happen in the storms?

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When you find yourself there remember that the heart of the matter is how your heart responds to Him. Will you run to Him or from Him? Don’t follow my example of pitching a fit when things get hard. God will show you the exact measure of your faith when life doesn’t turn out right. You might find it humbling. But it’s also grace – the hard places, because my pride and self-reliance was and is being chipped away. And that is very good news.

Grace upon grace,

April