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.
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.
What kind of faith do you have right now, is it sustaining faith, or mustard seed faith? A guest pastor challenged us on the quality of our faith and the nature of our prayers. He pointed out that we may ask God for what we need, but not our deepest desires. He then put forth this question, “Do your prayers make God sweat?”
I’ve come to realize that one of the greatest reasons He sent me out on the road was to teach me lessons through running that apply to the journey of being a special needs parent. Over and over I encounter similarities between the two. Most recently I discovered something that I truly was not expecting. I believe the Lord showed me this about running so that I would apply it to the rest of my life.
February 14 is the date to celebrate love in the hearts of two people, and it’s also Congenital Heart Defect Awareness Day. Initially, our daughter’s heart diagnoses came as a shock. My husband and I didn’t know how to process the diagnoses and the treatments. Years have passed, and we now have a healthier perspective. Today, I share three truths I discovered as a mom of a child with a CHD.
After months of pleading these questions and God not giving me an answer, I experienced a crisis of faith that scared me. Was God a good God? Was God even real? If He was, surely He'd be answering my questions and my prayers, right? One day while journaling my struggles, sorrows, complaints and whys, I felt strongly that God was telling me I was asking the wrong question.
