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.
As I look at my life as a caregiver, I can see the temptation I have toward sinning in four specific ways. And even though it’s much easier not to talk about the uncomfortable topic of sin, Scripture says we can confess our sins to each other (James 5:16). So today I’m confessing to you some of the sins I struggle with in hopes that it will encourage you to look at your own life and see if these patterns are evident in you as well.
Special needs parents already live with a lot of stress and anxiety. But when you add in the extra uncertainty that comes with COVID-19 and what’s going on with back-to-school come the fall, well, it’s possible as parents to go into anxiety overload. But there’s a verse in Isaiah that is very encouraging for all parents during this time of uncertainty regarding your child(ren) and our future.
The interviewer asked how caregiving impacted Marjorie’s spiritual journey, and what spiritual practices she found most helpful. With a laugh, Marjorie responded that caring for her mother and mother-in-law was her spiritual practice. What she said hit me like a thunderbolt: for 25 years, caring for my son, Joel, who has autism, was my spiritual practice.
We are living in an unprecedented time of history. COVID-19 is a silent, insidious enemy that lurks around every corner. How do we, as parents of children with disabilities, not only face but confront the fear all around us? Here are ten scriptural weapons we can use to defeat the enemy. We can, and must, teach at least some of them to our children, who are dealing with their own heightened anxiety.
