Lauren’s Story

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Anxiety, autism, brothers and sisters, children, Christian Women, Developmental delay, Family, Fear, high functioning autism, hope, love, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, raising children, unconditional love, Women

My daughter is the best person I know. She is made of sparkles and sunshine. She is kind and caring and loving, and she’s so incredibly special. She sees people. She’s sensitive, and sensitive to those around her.

She sees her brothers. She plays with them. She makes them laugh. She leads, and a good amount of the time, they follow. They are a team in the best ways they could be.

Lauren wrote a story at school. She had to come up with characters and a plot and weave all the components of a story together to tell the tale she wanted.

In her story, Princess Lauren is locked in a tower by an evil king. In this story, Princess Lauren needs a hero. Of all the people she knows, she picked a hero who would do anything for her. She picked Ethan. Well, she actually picked Prince Ethan.

Why is that important?

It’s important because Lauren doesn’t see Ethan as her little brother who has autism. Lauren sees Ethan for all that he is. He is her friend. He is someone she can trust. He loves her, and he would do anything for his sister. She knows that. She sees him for all that he really is.

In her story, her brother is the hero. He kills the evil king and put his body in water- which is more violence than I expected, but he stopped the threat to his sister and then made sure he couldn’t get to them. He defeated evil. He risked everything in the way every true hero does.

After the defeat of the evil king, Prince Ethan rescues Princess Lauren. They go home where King Daddy, Queen Mommy, and Prince Joshua are waiting for them. They have dinner as a family, and everyone goes to bed safely (after brushing their teeth). They are all together and happy.

Here’s something you may not know about me. I worry about what will happen to my kids when Rob and I are no longer alive. I worry about what Ethan might need and who will help him. I worry about whether or not they will always love each other like they do now. Not all siblings do.

Moments like these allow me to let go of my worry a little. Moments like these remind me of the times I see my kids becoming best friends. Moments like these let me know that they can always be a team that vanquishes anything they come up against. In all the adventures that await them, I know they’ll get through them all. Together.

It’s a real weight to wonder and worry about life after you’re gone to make it good and right and safe for your babies.

If you know someone who has a child with exceptionalities and challenges, would you do something for me? Be their friend. They need people. It all can feel so isolating and lonely. It all can feel so impossible. Take them for a cup of coffee. Send them a text to see how they’re doing.

They may just be waiting to tell someone about why they cried today or about the story their daughter brought home from school that filled them up. Either way, they need the support of not feeling alone in it. For all the friends who do this for me all the time, thank you.

My Weary World…

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Anxiety, Christian, Christian Women, courage, Family, Fear, God's love, Healing, hope, hope in Christ, hurt, identity in Christ, love, motherhood, oh holy night, parenthood, Parenting, prayer, the gospel, trials, unconditional love, weariness, Women

Oh Holy Night is one of my favorite Christmas hymns. I love the melody, the lyrics, and the way it cuts right through me and into the places that need to be reminded.

I feel so connected with this song and to God when I raise my voice to sing it. As the words fill my ears and heart, I’m reminded of what a wonderful birth did for me.

I’m also reminded of one phrase I wish I cherished more. On Christmas there was born a Savior, and “…a new and glorious morn.” The morning breaks the dark sky with light. Darkness is dispelled and conquered by a magnificent, colorful sky. In the same way, Jesus broke all my darkness with the light of hope, but I am not always mindful that is true everyday.

In times of anxiety, in times of restlessness, in times of sickness, in times of acclaim, in times of triumph, EVERY DAY IS A NEW AND GLORIOUS MORN!

I forget that. I forget that when I’m so tired I don’t want to get out of bed. In this long season of sickness I’ve been fighting through, I forget that each day is an opportunity to fall on my knees in my weariness and rejoice. In all things. Through all things, my Savior was born in a stable, died on a tree, and is alive at the right hand of God. He is praying for me.

He knows the hairs on my head so even in every affliction, my preciousness to Him is not lost. In suffering, He knows my name and intercedes for me. When I stumble and end up scraped in bloody fight to get on my feet again, He is singing over me and rejoicing in the fact that I am His.

He has promised to make something beautiful on the other side of the refining fire for my good and His glory.

In my weary world, I can remember that in this focused season of remembering the start of Christ coming to save me, He came knowing what I would be up against. He came knowing how far He would go to defeat it, and He did. In the moments that I feel like His face has turned from me, I am wrong. He endured that so I’d never have to. He is there. He is waiting. He loves me.

I pray that I would have eyes to see that the morning we will celebrate tomorrow is the first that changed everything. With it came “The thrill of hope…” and that hope is mine- in all things, at all times because of that blessed holy night.

Sorrows

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affirmation, Anxiety, biblical truth, Christian, Christian Values, Christian Women, Death Grief, faith, Family, God's grace, God's love, God's truth, grace, gratitude, grief, Healing, hope, hope in Christ, hurt, identity in Christ, love, miscarriage, prayer, pregnancy, the gospel, tragedy, trials, trusting God, truth, unconditional love, Women

Today I’ve been listening to a song over and over. I woke up with it in my heart not knowing God was preparing a balm I would need.

“In all my sorrows, Jesus is better. Make my life believe…”

This is something I didn’t know would be necessary for today. In the heaviness in knowing people you love are suffering, it’s hard to see the truth over the situation beyond the devastation in it.

It has been a devastating day. I have sat frozen, unable to know what to do or think. Then the melody fills that empty seeming space…

He’s better. He is our hope. Today, He’s having to make my heart believe, but He has gone before. He prepared the way. He knew this grief and suffering, and He made a way for Him to be our eternal comfort. He isn’t angry at our needing to be comforted. He is standing by- ready to remind, to restore, to heal, and in that, my heart can believe.

Truly, in Him the anthem is “Glory, glory…” In Him there is something to be eternally grateful for- even if we have to wait until then to hold that and be wrapped up in it for a never-ending love and celebration.

Today, though my heart is better, Jesus is better and bigger, and in that, my soul can rest.

Open Letter from a SPED Parent

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autism, Christian Values, courage, exceptionalities, Fear, God's love, high functioning autism, hope in Christ, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, protecting children, raising children, Serving, special education, special education parenting, sped teachers, trusting God, unconditional love

I am the parent who buys extra Kleenex. I’m the parent who will bring you whatever you need for your classroom. I will show up for parties and field trips.

I’m the parent who stresses and prays all summer for a teacher who has the heart to take the time to see my children for who they are and who will give them a chance. I hope that for every child around them too.

I hope you realize that I am so nervous to entrust them to you. I hope that you realize that I have lost sleep over the idea that because I have a child on spectrum, you may not want him in your class.

This is not true of the teachers I am friends with and for that, I am thankful, but I know these people are out there. These people will never look at Ethan and see his potential; they will only see someone burdensome to deal with.

To the teachers who love kids no matter their challenges and struggles, thank you. Thank you for creating a safe, loving environment where my child can be seen and loved and included. Thank you for wanting them to flourish and grow. Thank you for showing up for him. Thank you for adoring him on the hardest of days. Thank you for showing them the very heart of God by loving them unconditionally.

For those who would try strip any part of his personhood away from him, GO DO SOMETHING ELSE WITH YOURSELF. You do not deserve the honor of knowing him, and you certainly should not have other children entrusted to you. To these people, I hope I never have to know you, but if you ever try to harm my child through your disdain of his presence, you will not succeed.

If you can see a person with an exceptionality in any situation and hate their very existence to the point that you would be disgusted by having to interact with them, you are the worst kind of person and your heart is filled with the kind of hate that makes this world a scary place for my son and for me.

If you are the parent who wonders and hopes that your child will be loved, you are not alone. If you are the parent who ever faces this teacher, stand up for your child, and do not give them an inch of room to degrade your child.

Ruined

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anger, Anxiety, Christian, Christian Women, desperation, Family, Fear, God's love, grief, identity in Christ, justice, love, prayer, sadness, sorrow, trusting God, unconditional love

The last few months have been hard. That word isn’t adequate. I have been slain. Things have been broken and torn that will never repair. Yet…

In this suffering I am reminded of how much this world is not my home. In this suffering my heart has known tremendous grief. In celebrating the ending of the life of someone so beloved by me, I grieved. In her life, she was always for me. She always loved me and advocated for me. In that, the pain of loss has been great, but yet, I could still celebrate her reception into the presence of her greatest Love.

That my mind can celebrate. That my heart can find relief in. The assurance of knowing that I will rejoice with her again is a balm for my soul.

There is one I can not reconcile. There is one who I feel is so lost to me. There is one I’m grieving while there is still life in their body. There is one wound I do not know what can mend.

To know you love someone so deeply who you may never see again, ever, is heavy. It is excruciating. It hurts without there ever being a promise of any kind of relief.

Everything hurts for what all has been ruined. All the lives. All the pain. All the suffering.

Yet God in the midst has reminded me that breath in lungs mean that the story isn’t over. It is not over. His heart is still for them. There is room at the cross for them. The mantle given to me has been prayer. I am praying so much I can not sleep.

Though I am tired and slain and my heart is ruined, I know that in this suffering God is good. He is merciful. He endured a scourging and a separation I will never know. The cross broke Him and showed that God’s heart is about justice. Justice is not circumstantial, and our ideas of what that means can not give way- no matter the situation. Our hearts are made to seek justice all while remembering grace. There is grace. If there was grace for my sin that killed Jesus, there is grace for anyone else.

That is what haunts me and make me pray, but I want my own anger that feels so justified. As I pray and God rips my heart apart over my disobedience, I am moved to love.

I can not help but love all those involved, but more than that, I love my God in this suffering. He suffered worse. He knows the grief in my heart because I truly believe it is in His heart too.

So today, where it all feels ruined, He is doing something with what we ruin. When there is only grief, He has a dawn assured to bring new mercies that can wash it all clean. In these hours, I will trust in the Lord to be everything all of us need- sanctifying, healer, and redeemer.

All is not lost, God is on the move.

In between

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ABA therapy, Anxiety, autism, Christian Women, Developmental delay, expressive language delay, Family, Fear, high functioning autism, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, special education

Do you ever feel like you are right in between the moment where the things are about to change? It’s like spotting a wave coming from the horizon. As it inches closer, you know things are about to be different, and that can be so exciting- or it can be so so scary.

I’m in a place right now of waiting and hoping. I’m not afraid. I feel like we’re been working so hard just to get to this place and the feelings of being in between are about to catapult us into the exciting and long anticipated unknown.

Next month we finally get to start ABA therapy for Ethan. This has been more than a year in the works. We have sat on a waiting list just waiting and hoping that we would move up to the top- any day. We are finally there.

For so long we’ve known that this behavior based therapy would be such a benefit to Ethan. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath in the waiting. I feel like I’ve been super annoying every month that I call to see where we are. I’m fine with that. Asking someone to pull up a list is the least of what I’d do for any of my kids.

In this in between, we’ve watched Ethan struggle and work and cope and begin to find his way. We have watched him become such a loving and funny person. He’s brilliant. The times that are sweet are so so sweet, and I truly believe that all of this in between time has been leading us to this moment of stepping into something that will help everyone around him know him better.

In this in between, I’ve been patient and oh so very impatient.

I’ve been shifting what feel like puzzle pieces in a picture so big that the edges are clear but the middle is unknown. I feel like some of the pieces just aren’t there- yet.

I hope this piece is a really big one. I hope this piece helps us move toward a more clear picture of giving Ethan everything he needs.

“There’s something we need to talk about with you…”

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Anxiety, autism, Christian Women, Developmental delay, expressive language delay, Family, Friendship, grace, high functioning autism, identity in Christ, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, raising children, siblings, siblings with autism, special education, speech pathology, speech therapy, unconditional love

That’s how the conversation started. We’ve been talking about the need to have it more and more. We had to sit our 7 year old down and explain to her that her little brother has autism.

The biggest catalyst for this day was Ethan getting upset in the truck. He hit Lauren. That’s not a normal response for him. He can be upset to the point of meltdown, but he hasn’t ever hit one of his siblings.

He’s gotten so much better at self-soothing. He calms easier now that he ever has. On Mother’s Day we went out for lunch. Joshua reached over after we sat down to eat and pulled Ethan’s hair. That caused him to jerk and bang his head on the table. He covered his face and quietly sobbed. It hurt, and we knew it.

We both looked at each other in a second conveying that Rob was sorry if lunch was over, and that if it was, I would be okay. That didn’t happen though. We offered to take him outside, but he said no. He stayed in his chair and took deep breaths. He was fine. He did it, and we were so proud.

We were not proud of him hitting his sister. She had hurt feelings. We stopped at home so Rob could stay with Ethan so he could have time out in his room along with giving him space to calm down. I took Lauren and Joshua to Costco. That’s not a big deal for us. We have to make adjustments moment by moment sometimes. This conversation was the overflow of that constantly having to adapt.

First we asked Lauren what she thought about Ethan. She said, “He’s the coolest!” We both smiled. We could see in her smile that she loved her brother. We talked about all the things that make Ethan cool- his kindness, his love for play and laughter, how smart he is, how passionate he is…

The list went on and on. We talked about the things that are hard for Ethan. We explained why Ethan has a hard time calming down or why he gets so upset that he screams in his room for a long time. We told her that his brain works differently than hers. We told her how differences are cool, and Ethan’s differences make him unique and cool.

We told her that we are getting him therapies like speech that will help him express how he’s feeling so we can help him. We told her about how his classroom at school is set up to help him learn the way his brain works.

We talked about how different isn’t bad and that we can never treat Ethan that way but that other people might. I asked her if it would be okay for other kids to leave Ethan out or pick on him or call him names because he has autism. She reared up in the most defensive posture I’ve ever seen her in and said, “No!”

We talked about the importance of embracing people no matter how different they are from us. We talked about that being possible with every person because we all have our own challenges, but that doesn’t mean we can’t love everyone we meet.

We told her Ethan would always need her to love him and accept him with understanding and patience. She assured us she would always be there for him!

Lauren’s response isn’t surprising to me, but it’s something I’ll hold dear forever. I’m so proud of the person she’s becoming. I’m so proud of the way she fiercely loves her brothers.

We will all get where we are headed, one step at a time- remembering what it means to love one another unconditionally. I’m so thankful for our family.

Mad at Autism

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Anxiety, autism, Christian Women, Developmental delay, expressive language delay, grace, high functioning autism, letting go, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, Women

Some days I get really mad at autism. Some days I see my son struggle under the weight of not being able to process, and it crushes him- which crushes me. Some days I’m less patient than I want to be with the meltdowns, and that makes me mad at myself.

I know I’m only human. I know I won’t do it right all the time. I don’t fancy myself a super hero who is impervious to frustration. I am not.

In the last few weeks Ethan has had more hard days than good. He’s been battling a double ear infection, and out of that, he’s had a hard time. Because of his verbal delay, he can’t always tell us when something is wrong. It usually has to get bad before he tells us something hurts. We have to always be extra mindful and pay close attention to him. I long for the day that he can just say, “My tummy hurts.”

That makes me mad at autism. It makes me mad that the pain has to get so bad before he can make the connection and verbalize it. It makes me so mad that his meltdowns are becoming more aggressive.

I recently started doing CrossFit for this very reason. He’s almost 5, and he’s already a giant and is incredibly strong. I need to make my body stronger so that as he grows, I can help him manage those feeling and help him physically when he needs to be comforted and kept from harm.

Sunday was a bad day. We couldn’t get out of the house to go to church. We couldn’t get out of the house to go to the Autism Walk. It was paralyzing and exhausting.

He’s getting so much better at calming himself down. He’s rebounding quicker, and I’m glad to report that we are finally at the top of the list for ABA therapy. I can’t wait to see where this takes us.

Some days I just get so mad at autism, and it helps to let myself feel that. If I can see it, I can know how to deal with all that comes with it. It also helps me still see Ethan in the hardest moments. I see him and see him struggle, and it breaks my heart. I see the little boy who loves to play and sing and cuddle even when he’s so overstimulated he can only scream. I can still see him and work to get him back to who he is.

Be mad at the behaviors. Be mad at the struggle. That’s okay. Just don’t forget to see your child and yourself. Don’t forget to give yourself grace as you put on foot in front of the other on a path that won’t be exactly like the one anyone else has taken. Your child deserves that, and so do you.

Beautiful Daughters

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beauty, Christian, Christian Women, daughters, gender, gender roles, identity in Christ, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, protecting children, sons, trusting God, Women

My daughter is stunning. She is sunshine personified. She is kind and brave. She is incredibly resilient and strong. She is wise and so incredibly smart. She is the best person I know, and she’s only seven.

At first glance the world will notice how beautiful she is. That’s right on the surface. There’s no work required to see that. There’s no digging into the depths of who she is to see that.

The world and most people in it will probably assume too much to soon about her. That’s what it’s always done to us. Women. We have always been put on display. We’ve always been counted out before we could step into the ring.

Boxed in. Trained to be quiet. Trained to just deal and go on. NOT MY DAUGHTER!

I don’t teach my daughter to be thin. I don’t talk to her about diets. I talk to her about making her body strong and healthy.

I don’t talk to her about fitting in. I talk to her about being herself. I never will encourage her to trade away what is precious about her for acceptance.

God didn’t make her for high school or popularity. He made her for His glory.

In a world filled with little girls who have been abandoned, it’s hard to relate to the idea of God the Father. We hurt because of those letdowns and deep wounds.

We cross our legs, wait to be asked to dance, and grit our teeth holding back our true selves.

Not my daughter. That will not be her life. She’ll know who she is should be celebrated. She’ll have a world full of room for possibilities and dreams. So will my sons, and they will be raised to make room for everyone around them to thrive. They will know there’s enough sunshine for all of us.

I will give that to myself. I will be the example of chasing down my dreams so they know they can too. They’ll know that gender should never determine opportunities. They’ll look beyond the surface. They won’t be trophies and they won’t look for them either.

I want their idea of what is beautiful to be what makes people uniquely and genuinely themselves. I want them to see that for themselves so conforming to any other expectation or standard of beauty isn’t what they reach for or want. They are effortlessly beautiful in who they are.

Not my sons. Not my beautiful daughter.

https://youtu.be/KiioYp28c7QThe Daughters, Little Big Town

Autism Mom

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autism, autism awareness, autism parenting, Developmental delay, expressive language delay, high functioning autism, Language delay, love, motherhood, parenthood, Parenting, raising children, special education, unconditional love, Women

I started the day with the idea that I wanted to write a post this morning. I had an idea, but it got lost somewhere in the shuffle of the day.

Today has included a real meltdown.

It was time to come in for dinner, and Ethan fell apart. Screaming as high and loud as he could. Somehow he willed all his bones to disappear. He grabbed and pushed begging to go to his room.

That’s his safe place. That’s the place he goes to calm down- usually after stripping off his clothes. He was screaming and crying. I went to his room to make his bed.

He’s four, but he still sleeps in a pull-up. He stays dry most nights, but last night he soaked through his pull-up and pjs. He was screaming at his door while he was supposed to be going potty. He had to calm down enough to be able to go to his room.

I made his bed, put on his new dinosaur pjs, and he calmed. He asked to go eat more. I was so proud of him. That was a terrible meltdown, but he eventually self-regulated. In the middle of that chaos, it feels like it will never end. It ends.

It ends sooner and sooner all the time, and I see the progress. I feel overwhelmed in those moments, but I mostly feel heartbroken. It’s crushing to see everything hit him so hard and fast that he can’t adjust. It makes me sad, but it also makes me remember who we are all becoming.

I have not always been patient. I have not always been flexible. I’m actually very structured and rigid in nature. That person could never have been an autism mom. Having a child on spectrum has required me to rise up and become who he needs. He needs someone who can be firm, but can also really see him in the hard moments.

I have to see Ethan, not the behaviors. I have to recognize the overload he is feeling and responding to. I have to be his calm in the storm. That’s who he needs, and that’s what I fight for every day. I do better some days than others, but I’ll never give up the fight.

Moments come that remind me we are moving in the right direction all the time. Last night while I was tucking him in I said, “Ethan, momma loves you all the time.” He said, “No matter what.” That is usually what I say to him, but hearing him echo an understanding I’ve hoped he would have made my heart stop. In that moment, I knew he knew that I’d love him all the time. On the easiest days, I love him no matter what. On the hardest days, I love him no matter what.

There are legions of autism moms around the globe, and I want you to see us. I want you to see us when we are in the grocery store during a meltdown. I want you to understand why we can’t be inside while you sing Happy Birthday at a party. I want you to know that when the switch flips, we are powerless. I want you to see the hurt in us as our child struggles. I want you to see their humanity and ours.

We are trying to be who they need. We are trying to lead them into the world, and we’ll get there with a lighter load if all you give us is kindness and understanding.

Please don’t pretend we aren’t there or be disgusted with behavior you “would never allow.” Please understand that in the battle to make progress day in and day out, just braving the grocery store may be a win for us.

I hope that this post gives you new insights into what days and moments are like outside your home. If these moments and heart aches are ones you know, I want you to know you are seen and never alone.

I wore this blue shirt in honor of my Ethan on Autism Awareness Day. I couldn’t have picked a better one. Today I hope and pray for a world full of kind humans for all of us.

Be that for someone. We all need more and more kind humans in our lives and everywhere we go.