The lessons I learned while raising a child with EA/TEF have been many and varied. That’s to be expected since our son was born in 1982 with esophageal atresia (EA) and a tracheoesophageal fistula (TEF), two conditions that left him unable to swallow and required immediate surgery. Many of the lessons came about as a result of the surgeries and invasive procedures he endured between birth and age 5. Other lessons came later as he became more independent in adolescence and adulthood. I encourage you to use these ten lessons as a springboard for considering what you’ve learned as well.
Kingdom Focus is what first comes to mind. Those of us who are married and have someone in our life with special needs for whom we have responsibility (often 24/7 and 365!) know that without focus, we are doomed. AND for those of us who are believers in Jesus, we add to that His Kingdom focus and our part in it.
For us, we have 5 top ways to work on our marriage and keep it strong. There are more, of course, but let’s not get overloaded!
A few years ago, I made a change in the way I interact with my children. It’s a small practice, but it has profoundly helped our family understand and grasp the truth that God loves and delights in us. Every single day, I tell my kids, “I love being your mom.” This intentional habit has transformed not just my relationship with my children but also how I relate to God.
As the New Year begins, we are often bombarded with messages encouraging us to aim high, make big resolutions, and do more. But as parents—especially those navigating disability—this approach can feel overwhelming. Instead of striving for lofty goals, what if we embraced the sacredness of small steps and new beginnings? What if we allowed ourselves the grace to parent differently—in a way that meets the unique needs of our families and honors the season we’re in? For many families like mine, Sunday mornings don’t look like they “should.” We are navigating multiple invisible disabilities—diagnoses like autism, ADHD, anxiety, and more—and we’ve had to embrace flexibility, creativity, and sometimes just letting things go when things feel too hard
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.
Some marriages have moments of disappointment, some have challenges that are discouraging, and some might even be in dangerous and dysfunctional situations that can be devastating. whether you have a loved one with special needs or not, all marriages may show tire marks on the road that give us cause to stop and see what is needed to make the relationship better. Here are lists to help determine if you need marriage mentoring or counseling, and what each can accomplish.
I am no stranger to struggles as someone raising a child with special and medical needs. It is easy for me to downplay the degree to which I am mentally struggling. But I now see that when I claim to be fine when reality suggests otherwise, that’s an unhealthy denial. Here are four signs that my struggles are not “fine,” and some things that have been helpful for me, when I acknowledge these symptoms.
I am exhausted, moody, yet eager to soak in what could be the last nice day of autumn. I hear Joel’s footsteps quicken and turn to see him approaching at a near-run. He grabs my hand, looks me in the eye, grins, and pulls me forward. I wait for him to drop my hand, as he always does, but instead he squeezes it and swings my arm, his grin widening at my delight. For a moment, it feels so right, his hand a perfect fit in mine.
This text was the first in a long thread to lighten my spirit. The thread began the day before when a couple in our church small group sent devastating news about the death of their grand-baby. We responded with pandemic-style support—text messages—and then the response from a mother in our small group who had lost a baby many years ago.
