by jphilo | Jan 2, 2012 | Church Newsletter Columns
In my book, this past month did not qualify as a Hallmark perfect Christmas. Too many friends experienced too many tragedies too close to the holidays. One friend lost her husband to a brain aneurysm. He was only two years younger than my husband. Two of her sons were preparing for college finals and the third was adjusting to a new school. Another friend faced the first anniversary of her husband’s death on Christmas Eve. Someone else received a grim prognosis concerning a disease she’s battled for years. A nine-year-old boy with the same esophageal anomaly as our son developed complications. His mom said her active, food-driven boy may soon require a feeding tube.
Tears flow when I think of the the loneliness and heartbreak of two widows, three young men without their dad to guide them to adulthood, and a woman destined to leave her family far too soon. When I think of the nine-year-old boy who may need a feeding tube for the rest of his life, I can imagine what our son’s life would have been like in similar circumstances. Then my tears give way to sobs and a profound, deep, unending grief.
In those sorrowing moments, I don’t like God very much.
I question His timing. Did you have to do it now, God?
I question His decisions. Did it have to happen to these people I love so much?
I question His compassion. Do you know how they feel?
Then I think of Mary in this year’s Christmas program. She’s waiting in the wings, holding her baby close. I close my eyes and picture God looking down on His baby, looking ahead through His Son’s life on earth to His death on the cross. I see the Father’s tears flowing into the bottle to join the tears of His Son, mixing with the tears of this past December’s new widows and orphans, of a little boy and his mother weeping while she pours bolus into a feeding tube. I see God’s tears mingled with theirs, with mine, and with yours.
I may never understand why God allowed such suffering into the lives of these people when He did. But I do know this. God understands how they feel. He has experienced their pain. And when his children cry out in the darkness, they never cry alone. God weeps, too, blessing them and us with His tears.
This past Christmas wasn’t Hallmark perfect. But, like the first Christmas, it was bathed in the Father’s tears. Not even a Hallmark perfect holiday can be better than that.
by jphilo | Dec 23, 2011 | Family
I have asked Mom that question twice in the last two weeks and received the same answer both times. “I don’t know. I don’t really need anything.” But what she means is this: “When you give me stuff, I worry about what to do with it. Being a Depression era child, I can’t throw it away. But, being in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, if I put it somewhere, I may not be able to find it again.”
But of course, she would never say that.
My friends suggested getting her a gift card to a restaurant. Which is a lovely idea. Except I’m the one she takes out to lunch each week. So purchasing a gift card is a lot like purchasing a gift for myself.
Feels sorta self-serving.
Another possibility is buying a set of Amish fiction books. When she’s finished, we could donate them to her church so she doesn’t have to worry about them. It’s another lovely idea. But with Christmas only 2 days away, there’s no time to call her church and compare what’s available to purchase to what they need and double check it against what Mom’s already read. Which is most of the Amish fiction that doesn’t include vampires, and she doesn’t like vampire fiction.
Not even Amish vampire fiction.
Yesterday, I had a third great idea. How about a digital picture frame loaded with family photos, old and new? It would eliminate the problem of not being able to throw out the pile of photos people have sent because they could be scanned and added to the digital collection. This idea sounds like a winner, especially since Staples sent an email with a 20% off coupon for guess what? Digital picture frames.
Score!
This could be a sign from God. Or at least an answer to a conundrum common to children whose parents have reached a certain age. Of course, it’s only an answer if my technological skills are up to loading the thing with photos, and that’s debatable. But I’ll give it a try. Which means I’m down to just one question.
Mom, what do you want for Christmas next year?
by jphilo | Dec 23, 2011 | Different Dream, Holidays, Special Needs Parenting
Christmas, the holiday of joy and peace and hope, is almost here. But for parents of kids with special needs, it can be a time of sorrow and restlessness and despair. We wonder how a perfect and all powerful God can identify with the struggles our children live with every day.
The more I learn of God, the more convinced I am of his complete understanding and empathy for our children. After all, God is the creator of the special needs Christmas. When his Son came to earth in human form, he laid down perfect power, knowledge, and communion. Encased in human flesh, he was encumbered, dependent, and limited. The Son, both as a child and as an adult, lived with his own version of a special needs life, and it all began with a special needs Christmas.
May that thought provide a new perspective as you read the Christmas story (Luke 2:1-40, The Message Version) below.
The Birth
About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David’s town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiance, who was pregnant. While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.
The Announcement
There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God’s angel stood among them and God’s glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David’s town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you’re to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger.” At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God’s praises: Glory to God in the heavenly heights, Peace to all men and women on earth who please him. As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. “Let’s get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us.”
The Joy
They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed. Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they’d been told!
The Dedication
When the eighth day arrived, the day of circumcision, the child was named Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived. Then when the days stipulated by Moses for purification were complete, they took him up to Jerusalem to offer him to God as commanded in God’s Law: “Every male who opens the womb shall be a holy offering to God,” and also to sacrifice the “pair of doves or two young pigeons” prescribed in God’s Law.
The Promise
In Jerusalem at the time, there was a man, Simeon by name, a good man, a man who lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel. And the Holy Spirit was on him. The Holy Spirit had shown him that he would see the Messiah of God before he died. Led by the Spirit, he entered the Temple. As the parents of the child Jesus brought him in to carry out the rituals of the Law, Simeon took him into his arms and blessed God: God, you can now release your servant; release me in peace as you promised. With my own eyes I’ve seen your salvation; it’s now out in the open for everyone to see: A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations, and of glory for your people Israel. Jesus’ father and mother were speechless with surprise at these words. Simeon went on to bless them, and said to Mary his mother, This child marks both the failure and the recovery of many in Israel, A figure misunderstood and contradicted – the pain of a sword-thrust through you – But the rejection will force honesty, as God reveals who they really are.
The Hope
Anna the prophetess was also there, a daughter of Phanuel from the tribe of Asher. She was by now a very old woman. She had been married seven years and a widow for eighty-four. She never left the Temple area, worshiping night and day with her fastings and prayers. At the very time Simeon was praying, she showed up, broke into an anthem of praise to God, and talked about the child to all who were waiting expectantly for the freeing of Jerusalem. When they finished everything required by God in the Law, they returned to Galilee and their own town, Nazareth. There the child grew strong in body and wise in spirit. And the grace of God was on him.
God had a great purpose in mind for the Christ child encumbered by special needs. He has a great purpose for your child, too.
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by jphilo | Dec 22, 2011 | Different Dream, Holidays, Special Needs Parenting
How do parents and children experience joy beyond special needs at Christmas? Guest blogger Kathy Guzzo shares her journey to experiencing joy while celebrating Christmas with her adult daughter.
Experiencing Joy Beyond Special Needs
The holidays are a time for so many heartfelt events. From the excitement of the children as they write their letters to Santa, to the gatherings large and small of family and friends there seems to be laughter, and fun everywhere. Yet, for many families, like ours, there are times when the joy is dimmed by the reality and reminder that life isn’t all laughter and good times.
Physical Reminders of an Illness are Tough on a Mom
Every time our adult daughter, who’s had many complications from lupus and other chronic illnesses, comes home for a visit, especially during the holidays, reality hits. My mother’s heart wants to see the beautiful vibrant and athletic young girl with the thick long hair that I remember as a teenager. So when she walks in with her hair piece on, heavy makeup to cover the open ulcers on her face, long sleeves even in the heat of summer, because she’s so thin she’s always cold, and a sadness around her eyes my heart breaks a little. I’m sure part of my gut reaction is because she lives 500 miles away so I don’t see her very often. The other part is that as her mom, I just don’t want to see her like that.
I remember going out to for lunch after helping her move a couple years ago, and I got so frustrated with the people who would stare at her when they saw her. I knew it was really uncomfortable for her too. I wanted to tell them to quit staring, that she’s a fighter, that she’s honest, loyal, responsible, and loving, because I wanted them to see beyond the outward appearance.
Looking Beyond the Disease
Not long after that, when she came home for a visit, I realized I was acting like those strangers in the restaurant, looking at what the disease had done to her physically. This was a real jolt to me. I didn’t want to be the mom that looked on the surface. I never wanted her to doubt that she was loved unconditionally regardless of her appearance. Why? Because she was not the disease that had attacker her body. She was still the amazing young woman God had created to be my daughter and so much more.
From that point on whenever I’m going to see her or even talk with her on the phone, I ask God to give me the strength to go beyond than the disease, to see her with His eyes which go so much deeper than the surface. I can honestly say my heart is more at peace and our relationship has grown because I’m not constantly focusing on her illness. I’ve chosen not to always ask how she feels, if she’s been to the doctor recently, if she’s on new meds, if she’s eating or if she’s getting enough sleep. Instead we discuss the same type of topics I discuss with my kids that are healthy, and if she chooses to bring up her health we go from there.
In fact, I recently had a great time while visiting her. It wasn’t until I looked at some photos I took that I realized I hadn’t thought at all about her physical appearance the entire time I was with her. It was obvious by the photos that all the symptoms were still apparent, but I hadn’t noticed them. I was truly focused on enjoying my time with Andrea.
Joy Is a Choice
So as Christmas approaches I can’t wait for the time I’ll spend with my family laughing, eating lots of Christmas cookies, playing games and reminiscing. My heart will still ache each morning when Andrea comes downstairs extremely thin with a bandana on her head, because I hate that she has to deal with so much, but I know I’ll be able to focus on her, because she really is so much more than the diseases that have invaded her body. She is my daughter, and I’m choosing not to allow her illnesses to dim the joy that I experience this Christmas.
How Do You Experience Joy Beyond Special Needs?
Oops, I forgot to warn you that Kathy’s post carried a two tissue warning. Take a minute to grab some before leaving your comments about how you experience joy beyond special needs.
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by jphilo | Dec 12, 2011 | Daily Life
Small mercies.
Those are the words that come to mind to describe yesterday afternoon. Two other women and I went to Des Moines to visit a friend. Her husband collapsed on Thursday and was rushed to Mercy Hospital where he was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm. He’s been unresponsive ever since.
God, in his mercy, has not yet answered our prayers for healing.
Our friend and her husband have three sons. Just before we arrived, she sent the two older ones back to college for finals week. The family moved from our town to the Des Moines area this fall. So their younger son, a junior in high school, is still adjusting to a new high school and doesn’t have many friends there yet.
Where’s the mercy in that?
Our friend’s faith is strong, but her heart is broken. She is grieving, facing hard decisions during a week when she’d planned to wrap Christmas presents, plan meals, and buy groceries so her three sons could eat their parents out of house and home during Christmas break.
Instead, they face a grim and seemingly merciless holiday.
And yet, her sister’s family was with her at the hospital. Her mom flew from Arizona to be with her daughter. Her boss and her husband’s boss are compassionate men who have shown great kindness. Friends have been visiting, bringing food, giving hugs, praying, laughing, crying.
Small mercies.
Too small for the enormity of the decisions they must make. Too small for the changes they face. Such small mercies cannot be enough, I think. And then the image of the Christ child in the manger comes to mind. So small. So weak. So humble. So poor. The Son of God who would one day bear the sin and suffering and pain of the world.
Small mercy it seemed at the time. Yet, more than enough.
Dear God, by your people, continue to pour mercy upon this family. Give us and them hearts to trust your mercy to be enough and more than enough. Amen.
