It's beautiful. It sucks.

"Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand." ~ Psalm 19:21

March 13, 2017: 

It shouldn't have caught me by surprise. I knew this day was coming. I hoped it wouldn't. I prayed it wouldn't. I almost convinced myself it wouldn't. And then it did. Today was beautiful, and today sucked.

March 14, 2017:

I don't talk about life as a "special needs" parent or about my "special needs son" because I don't see myself or my son in that light.  I am a parent - he is a child - we are both in the process of becoming. But there are some things that are unique to people in our particular position. There are some things that only another person walking your path can fully understand. There are words only another parent on your journey can say to make you feel like someone gets you.

Yesterday was beautiful. My husband and I had the rare opportunity to devote ourselves 100% to celebrating our son.  Thanks to the amazing men and women of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo Special Children's Committee, Landon experienced the kind of day dreams are made of - he got to be a real cowboy! Family members came to the rodeo to cheer him on as his cowboy buddy took him through the events. He got a trophy and real cowboy belt buckle. He was so proud. The image of him waving his American flag (that he somehow convinced the photographer he needed more than they did) as he rode a horse around the arena is beautifully imprinted on my heart.

Yesterday also sucked. It's funny, I didn't have the right word for how I was feeling, but when I mentioned it to the mom of one of Landon's friends (because I had to tell someone who would understand), she looked at me and said: "It sucks." And it does. I think I just needed permission to feel that way. 

You see, yesterday morning Landon was having a hard time. There was a problem with a game on his Wii-U. This seems minor in the realm of all things, but to Landon this represented a significant glitch in the matrix - this one thing stood to wreck his entire day. He sat on my bed, face buried, repeatedly saying the name of the game and rocking back and forth. His 4 year-old brother climbed up next to him, rubbed his back and said "It's okay buddy, it's just not working. It's not broken. It's okay. Mom and Dad can fix it." 

It was so sweet to see his little brother comfort him and try to help him understand the situation - and it was like a frozen shock through my heart. The little brother had become the shepherd, the guide, the comforter. The roles reversed. We knew it would come. We knew that even though Landon often presents as a neurotypical 6-year-old, he is still different in many ways. We knew one day little brother would surpass big brother in his abilities to navigate and understand the world around him. We knew that little brother would likely one day take on the role of "big brother," and for the first time yesterday - we saw it.  

Landon is amazing. Landon is perfect. Landon is our joy. Landon makes us laugh, and cry, and worry, and smile. He is such a blessing. But to be honest, I can't say "I couldn't imagine life any other way," because I can. I did. When I was pregnant, we struggled with choosing the right name - strong, solid, equally fitting for a future Texas high school football player and the outstanding adult he would someday be as he went about conquering the world. I imagined his entire life. His friends, his sports, his interests. And, I remember vividly driving away from a specialists' office on a snowy December day, when those dreams shattered into a million pieces. I remember excruciating days and nights, trying to collect all of those shattered shards and chips and forge them back together. Eventually, with God's help (and my mother's patience and intervention), a new and beautiful reality emerged from the destruction of the dreams I had built. 

Landon and his Cowboy Buddy

Landon with his trophy and belt buckle

Landon riding a horse in the arena

"Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand." ~ Psalm 19:21  

This life was not my plan. Sometimes the unfairness hurts. Landon didn't get to choose his path - it was chosen for him, for reasons I can never know and probably couldn't understand. But Landon is awesome, and I love him more than words, and this verse reminded me that even when my plans don't come to be, God's do. He is all--knowing, all-powerful, all-loving, all-seeing, and he loves Landon even more desperately than I do. I would never have chosen this life, but I am thankful for it. I love it for the highs and the lows and the daily reminders that God is bigger, God is greater, His purpose will stand, and that is beautiful yesterday, today and forever.  

When the church hurts the Church

"14 For the body does not consist of one member but of many. 15 If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. 16 And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. 17 If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? 18 But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. 19 If all were a single member, where would the body be? 20 As it is, there are many parts,[b] yet one body.

21 The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” 22 On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23 and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, 24 which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, 25 that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. 26 If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.

27 Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it."

~ 1 Corinthians 12:12-27

*** I want to start this with a MAJOR disclaimer.  This is coming from my personal conviction - from having my eyes opened to where I have been failing as a member of the Body of Christ.  I am not directing this toward anyone or about anyone. If you find it strikes a chord, I pray it quickens you to action, and I pray that you help hold me accountable to my attempts to do better as well.***

This week, I had the opportunity to teach a Life group (Sunday School. Bible Study, Connection Group... whatever you want to call it) for a friend.  Nick was teaching our class as he does every week.  We taught the same lesson (admittedly the lesson he researched and developed - I was just a delivery vessel) on the Church - both the Church with a capital "C" and the little "c" church - the first one being the body of believers in Christ, and the second being the brick and mortar unit with local members where we act on our expressions of faith in a communal setting.

The lesson addressed the "test" against which every activity of the church (and the Church) should be measured, with the reminder that anything not committed to glorifying God is outside the realm of healthy church activity.  1 Corinthians 10:31 - “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it for the glory of God.”  This simple instruction is the charge of every believer. Mutual accountability to this command must be the “DNA” of our churches. This is the only pure motive. Anything less is an impure offering. 

This is where the conviction started to rise up.

Here I was, teaching a class and realizing that I had been in church with these ladies for 2 years, and I didn't know them.  I had seen some of the faces, but I knew nothing about them.  Are they married? Widowed? Divorced? Single? Do they have children? Grandchildren?  Where do they work?  I recognized one from my son's karate school - we had never talked there.  I recognized then that I had failed as a member of both the Body and the body.  

I wondered then - on a larger scale - is my church hurting others in our Church?  Are we hurting them by leaving them unnoticed?

During the service, from the vantage point of the platform, I surveyed the congregation.  There each family sat in "their" rows.  I found the ladies from the class, primarily scattered around the back of the church - many sitting alone.  I recognized looking around that my church looked an awful lot like a high school cafeteria.  There was the youth row; the "cool kids (adults)" row where you only sit if you know you are "in" that group; the young marrieds row; the family rows (where each family literally fills their own pew).  There were faces in the places I expected them.  And then I noticed, around each of these rows were scattered the occasional lone male, the woman who is there without her husband (whose kids are sitting with the youth so she is left alone), the middle-aged woman who is just another face in the crowd... and my heart broke.  

The first time I visited my church, I was alone.  I remember looking around for a seat and knowing intuitively where I could not sit.  The spread out belongings, the group conversations - the fact that I seemingly passed by unnoticed - so I finally took a seat off to the side.  An older member of the church came and took a seat next to me.  She introduced herself to me at the "welcome" and at the end of the service, she stopped me to say "I'm glad you came today," and she asked me "is there anything I can pray for you about?"  That single act was the greatest influence in my return visit, my eventually joining the church, and my finding my place of service within the body.

As I considered this, I wondered, how many times have I missed an opportunity to give that welcome.  How many times have I passed a "face in the crowd" on my way to "my row", or been so caught up in catching up with my church friends, that I failed to greet or acknowledge another?  How often am I preoccupied with my friends while waiting in the nursery line that I fail to to engage with the visitor in line behind me?  

I am not saying that it's wrong for me to have friends in the church, but I think often the church becomes the hub of our social world such that we inadvertently become exclusive.  We say we welcome others - but do we really?  I wonder if we took a survey in the church - how many people would say they felt welcome?  How many people would say they feel "included"?  Are we taking people back to the days in high school where they could hear kids at the next table talking about weekend plans they aren't invited to?  Are we asking people to join our "organization" (our church body), but not allowing them into our exclusive unit within the body?

The Body - the Church with a capital "C" - is made up of all of us as believers and in many instances, we are neglecting parts of our own body as we pursue relationships and "do life" (a new catch phrase in a lot of churches) with others.  It's a tricky balance to reach in making sure that "doing life" with others means community and not exclusivity.  It struck me as I sat in a Life Group that was not my own that when they "do life" together, and my Life Group does "life" together, and the young marrieds "do life" together, sometimes instead of creating community and being the Body (the Church, made up of many parts - each contributing to the whole) - we are create the high school cafeteria.  

So what do we do?  I am not a theologian, but I think it's a simple answer with a tough follow through.  Jesus gave some clear directives: love the Lord with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength; love your neighbor as yourself; and go into all the world a preach the gospel...

So that's what we do. We love God.  By loving God and truly loving His creation - we love people (yes, even if we don't like them; even if we feel they have wronged us -- we don't let the enemy get a stronghold in our heart and ultimately our church through bitterness).  We love the unloveable.  We love those we don't know yet.  We care. We speak. We invite. We share the news of the amazing gift God gave us through His son.  And we ask ourselves "is everything we are doing bringing glory to God" - and if it's not, we make a change.

I know what my first change will be - next week at my church, don't look for me in "my spot." I am moving someplace new in the sanctuary. I am going to sit with someone other than the same old friends. I am going to offer a welcome. I am going to ask someone how I can pray for them. And if more people do the same, maybe - just maybe - the "high school cafeteria" can be transformed into a community where we can see what it really means to "do life" together.  I know I am excited to give it a try.  

He Overcame!

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” ~ John 16:33

[I know I have used this verse in a blog before, but this verse returns to me almost daily and it's the promise that sustains us through so much.]

[I NEVER HIT PUBLISH!  I WROTE THE BLOG MORE THAN 18 MONTHS AGO - SINCE THEN DYLAN HAS MADE AN INCREDIBLE RECOVERY AND WE ADOPTED THAT FIRST FOSTER - OUR SWEET ALLISON.  BUT I STILL WANTED TO SHARE IN CASE SOMEONE NEEDED TO HEAR - HE OVERCAME!]

When I had my first son I thought I had a handle on the whole baby thing, but about a week after he was born, friends started sharing the truths no one tells you about the first months of parenting.  I learned about hormone slumps, marital stress, physical stress, and the horrors of what really happens to your body.  Everyone's tales were similar and the consensus seemed to be: this time is horrible in many ways and you might hate life for a minute, but it's all worth it.

Nick and I recently entered the world of foster parenting.  We were prepared.  We went to all of the classes, watched the videos, and heard the horror stories.  I have prosecuted multiple cases that involved children who were in foster care and had seen that side of the equation.  We have friends who foster.  We knew what we were getting into.  Right.

Our first placement came to us in mid-June.  About a week later, a friend who fosters reached out with the truths no one tells you.  Her words: "Praying for you!  When you do foster care or adoption, you are bringing hell into your home.  Many of these kids are firmly in the grip of the enemy.  There is no hope of meeting Christ in their birth homes.  When they are snatched from the enemy's hand, he fights for them.  He will stress you beyond belief, attack your marriage, attack your children.  Recognize it.  Claim victory."

The day after our foster arrived, the upstairs A/C broke.  The next day the dryer checked out.  The DVD player in the car broke at the start of a 45-hour road trip around the U.S.  Nick and I had to have a heart-to-heart about how to deal with the new stresses (if you read between the lines, that means it was a rough go there for a minute - I laughed to keep from crying and he "got something in his eyes").  Then just when we thought we were finally at least dog-paddling along in the deep-end with our head above water, our eldest son fell from a tree in another state while visiting relatives and landed in the PICU with a fractured pelvis, broken wrist, and a long recovery ahead of him.  That tree was 12-hours away from me and 15-hours from his dad, and we were heartbroken and scared and worried.  And you know what?  I was not okay with this new development.

You see, throughout the last month with our placement, I have prayed.  I have recognized the attacks.  I have claimed victory - but I always added the caveat "please leave my children out of this."  At first blush, it may seem that God refused to honor that plea.  But, I want you to look at the verse at the top of this blog.  "In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world."  

Yes, my son fell.  Yes, he was hurt.  Yes, I do attribute this to another attack.  But God has overcome.  He has overcome.  It is finished.  We may encounter attacks, but HE OVERCAME and the power of the blood of the lamb outweighs any weapon formed against us.  He protected my son and my little man will recover and have a tremendous testimony to share.  But God didn't just protect - no, he is our God of love and mercy who seeks to comfort His children, so He went further than we could ask and He also provided for us and our son.  Nick (my son's stepdad) was supposed to be in Las Vegas for work this week, but plans changed and he ended up going to a far less glamorous place in the middle of nowhere - less than 4 hours away from that stinkin' tree and our precious son who needed a parent by his side.  Nick's presence gave our son, my son's dad and step-mom, and me peace even though our little tree climber is far from home.  

Our little man has a long road to recovery ahead of him, and there are still many more questions than answers, but God's promise is the final answer - "In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world."