Are you scrounging for thankfulness this holiday season? Holidays can be a challenge for those walking through hard days. Perhaps you feel like you've been handed the short-end of the stick; your child is struggling, you’re exhausted and it seems like everybody else has life with a bit more gravy. It’s easy to focus on our circumstances, take stock of what we have and where we are and end up feeling completely void of thankfulness. Is there a cure for this?
I first suspected I had ADHD as a teenager, but finding the right professional to take me seriously was much harder than I expected. Previous attempts only ended in frustration and tears.
Enjoying the holidays with a food allergy sounds like an oxymoron doesn’t it? After all, eating together is an integral component of the holiday season. I looked forward to making our traditional holiday foods until I was diagnosed with a dairy allergy in 2012. What was to enjoy about the holidays when the foods associated with it were off limits to me?
It was a short, ten-minute drive from the hotel to the residential facility. I maintained composure while I navigated the busy public roads, and then residential streets. I had a whole range of emotions racing through my body, mind and spirit as we pulled into the campus. This was not just a pleasure drive or a routine errand, this was a significant milestone in the life of my son and our family.
While Halloween is a fun time of year for many children, it can be a really difficult time for some, including many children with additional/special needs. For them it can be a confusing, anxiety-inducing, or even utterly terrifying time. But it doesn’t have to be like that. If we stop for a moment to think about the things they might find hard and how to put things in place to help them, children with special needs can safely join in the fun, too. So what are some of the things about Halloween that children with additional needs can find hard?
The emotions I felt at this point were profound, as this wasn’t just another service on another Christmas; this was me and my son, once again in a new church community, strangers in a familiar yet unfamiliar place, trying to find our place. What helped me get through it, what allowed me to get to a place of hope for this new church and my son’s place in it?
I began writing this series, Post Tenebras Lux, for the purpose of offering the only thing I have to give those who are weary, grieving, and hopeless, including myself: hope. I have learned that when someone is processing through grief and trials, it is good to let them say whatever it is they need to say without offering immediate answers. This song feels very much like a therapeutic biblical counseling session, where the celebrant is asking the congregation questions of how they feel and what they desire.
As I reflected on Howard Thurman’s poem over the past several days, the proverbial light bulb suddenly switched on in a brain that's been dimmed by the too-muchness of Christmas. The "work of Christmas" of which the poet speaks is what we do every day as we parent children (and adult children) with disabilities.
In the last decade, since my son’s autism diagnosis, my prayer life has changed. After so many nights of asking for sleep and not getting it, after praying for help and not getting it, I find myself only asking for safe requests. I don’t want to demand what He isn’t willing to give. I don’t want to be disappointed. My prayers have gotten so safe, I wonder if they are even worth praying. Then God led me to a passage that reminded me He cares what’s truly on my heart and mind.
In scripture, Jesus doesn’t tell us just to be passive prayers, but to be thankful for what God has done and to seek God’s kingdom and righteousness. We’re called not to be worriers, but to be warriors! Taking action spiritually, emotionally and physically can transform our situation, and be of much more help to our child, too.
