When God redeemed my worst Christmas ever by using it for good, it came as a big surprise. Most likely because 1982 was the year of my worst Christmas ever, and the using it for good part didn’t come along until December of 2024. 42 years is a long time, which explains my surprise.
Seasons help us to realize we’re not alone. We might still feel alone but we can see things differently and then change our thinking, and even our responses. We know everyone goes through “stuff” but sometimes we need to recognize it just happens to be our turn. The harder part is that we still have someone we are caring for full time, 24/7 added to the new hard stuff!
For families like mine, with an autistic child and my own ADHD and anxiety, Christmas is rarely “calm” or “bright.” In fact, it is often loud, noisy, and overwhelming. Our children get overwhelmed by the lights and the new items. We, as parents, get overwhelmed by all the mess and noise. There are so many sensory inputs flowing through that you feel like you are in a never-ending vacuum of noise. And, that doesn’t even take into account that I’m operating on just a few hours of sleep after leading multiple Christmas services as a pastor.
Ruth saw a bright future for herself. She didn’t have an exact plan in front of her. But at 18, she vaguely knew what she wanted in the future: a master’s degree, a husband, a job she enjoyed, and children. Emma was on another path altogether. When Emma turned 18, she was already enrolled in a school for students with more significant disabilities.
Zechariah, despite being visited by an angel, doubted what he had been told, and so Gabriel told him that because of this doubt, Zechariah would not be able to speak until his son was born. So, he became unable to speak, and therefore unable to communicate through speech. What did he do? And what does his story teach us about people who cannot communicate by speech, or choose not to, today?
My father, brother, and nephews possess much knowledge to grow soybeans, wheat, and corn, but some vital aspects of farming are out of their control. Similarly, my husband and I plan and plot care and opportunities for our daughter who has developmental disabilities, but there are some things out of our control. We wait, pray, hope, and support our daughter, until the time when we reap what we have sown into her as a child.
I once served as a volunteer missionary for nearly 2 years and as a missionary, I was willing to do whatever was asked of me. I often sit in church and listen to the different mission programs, especially short work trips and wonder why? Why do we raise thousands of dollars to send courageous, self-sacrificing individuals to visit far off lands in the name of Jesus when there are so many we neglect in our own communities? We need the Church to be the hands and feet of that powerful calling we claim as Christianity. Outside of the church walls. It might be time to get our hands dirty.
The quarantine events in the past few weeks have presented new challenges. My daughter's health, which is usually the major trigger for me, was no longer the cause of my stress. Instead, life's drastic changes overwhelmed me. The sudden changes to my familiar routine put me in old battles with stress and eating.
