Author: Sarah Foster

I used to dread summer. Having children who need, and I mean NEED, structure and routine to thrive meant I was facing the daunting task of figuring out how to best meet those needs for 3 completely different people. When they were young and still prone to frequent meltdowns, sensory overload, significant bouts of stimming, crying, and screaming when those needs were not met, well, let’s just say summer was not my favorite.  By mid-July I often felt completely defeated, found myself praying for school to start, and wondered if I had developed a disorder of my own as I unraveled inside while trying desperately to make my outside match what each of my children needed in each moment of the day. To all of you mommas out there with children on the autism spectrum, children with other disabilities, and children with medical challenges – I am praying for your summers. I pray you never run out of their favorite juice. I pray there are no unexpected changes in the daily schedule. And I pray that at the end of each day your sleep is restorative.

FAST FORWARD.

Today is June 1st. I intended to sleep late, but at 7:30 my body was like,” Hey lady, this is late enough. Get up!” I got up, had my morning Spark and decided I better update the family calendar before the children wake up. Let me pause here to explain the family calendar.

Many years ago when we were early in the autism journey, a full size classroom dry erase board was given to us. Yes, we have the perfect wall for it and yes, I was thrilled to have it. It allowed me to post daily schedules for my structure needing children. It started with magnetic picture cards and then moved into written schedules as they learned to read. As they grew and developed this board morphed into our family calendar. And grocery list. And chore list. And project list. I call it Brain Central (In my head. I bet no one else calls it that or even knows I call it that in my head.). The calendar portion is color coded by person so that everyone can see what everyone else has going on. It was a way to teach perspective to my rigid thinking children. “No honey, I’m not saying no to the pool because I don’t love you. I’m saying no because I have office hours at work, and your brother has speech therapy, and you sister has a doctor appointment, and Dad is out of town until Thursday. See, it’s all here on the calendar. God gave us a big family and that means we sacrifice wants for each other’s needs sometimes.”

Our family calendar carries quite the teaching burden and I love it. It shifts the blame from me to a very objective and impersonal object. This calendar at times was the difference between an “I hate you” meltdown and a defeated, pouty, stomp off to my room and sulk for two hours meltdown. It has helped protect my momma heart many a day, because let’s be real – no momma holds up well under the yelling of “I hate you” or “You don’t love me” or “I wish (insert sibling here) was never born” from one of their children. When our Brain Central comes down one day I think it will deserve a special ceremony of some kind.

Back to today.

I knew I better get the calendar updated before the children got up. All of them are more flexible in their thinking. Their skill sets have grown so much that they now cope pretty well with unexpected changes in plans. HOWEVER, there is no reason to stack the deck against them and waking up in June with no visual representation of the the family plan for the month would undoubtedly result in frustration for one or more of them. No sense in starting the summer with frustration and anxiety because they don’t know what is coming so the calendar is now done.

Guess what. Brain Central taught me something awesome. I no longer dread summer. As I filled up the calendar I realized, that our summer is busy. It is busy not because I spent panicky hours coming up with a plan to keep the kids just busy enough that they don’t regress in their language,social, and academic skills, but because the kids have found their own things, interests, and passions.

Distracto has a summer full of youth group activities, dance, service, and officer responsibilities for the school drill team. The Gaminator has a summer school class to take so he could free up an elective spot in his school schedule and hopefully take art. He is also going on a vacation with my parents and has some robotics and game design classes for fun. The Growler  has summer school to make room for athletics in her schedule next year, volleyball clinics and camps, church camp (which she is going to on her own for the first time!), orchestra camp, and a dance camp. They have each found something they love and they are doing it.

Brain Central also showed me the beautiful slower pace our family will enjoy over the next couple of months. Yes, the days are still busy, but the evenings….the evening are amazingly empty. We will watch shows together, read Harry Potter together, build a pergola and remodel our back deck and patio together, and play games together. Sometimes Perfecto and I will get to say “Y’all be good, we are going our for dinner just the two of us,” because they are now old enough and so totally capable of staying home by themselves for a few hours. The evenings belong to us and I will rejoice in them.

I am not naive. The summer will still feel long. There will still be some meltdowns. The sisters will still yell, and smack, and fight with each other and I will threaten to make them pay me a dollar for every time one of them tells the other to “Square up.” I will most likely have to threaten to take away electronics from one or more of them every day because they either haven’t done their chores, or they are taking their gaming and music WAY to seriously. We will inevitably run out of someone’s favorite food and they will loose their mind over this clear and personal exhibition of our lack of love for them.

But here’s the thing I realized today – I LOVE IT. I love these children. I love the amazing young people they are becoming. I love that the sisters giggle and fight. I love that the boy sasses them both and has a sense of humor that leaves us all surprised and laughing. I love busyness that represents their growth. I love the random dinner dates I will get with Perfecto. I love that this is our normal. And today, today I really love Brain Central for showing me how far we have come.

So hey Summer, bring it. You don’t scare me anymore.

April is Autism Awareness and Acceptance month. Today, April 2nd, is the specified Autism Awareness and Acceptance Day. I feel equal parts obligated to post today and completely and humbly honored that I might speak some of our truth as a family with autism into the world for others to read.

This morning Facebook reminded me of how many times I have posted on this day. On most of them I have invited people to ask me whatever they want to know. I am an open book on the subject of our family autism experience and truly do believe it is part of my calling and ministry to share our journey so that others might find understanding, or at the very least learn to enter into dialogue about the subject. Very few have taken me up on the offer, and usually they ask something fairly general like “What is the one thing you wish people understood about those that have autism?” It’s a valid question, but a hard one to answer. There is so much that I wish people understood.

But even more so I find myself thinking that there is so much I wish I understood about my people with autism.

I wish I understood why sometimes my people can roll with the punches and get through days without hardly a grump and sometimes they hit the meltdown wall completely  unexpectedly and can’t seem to function beyond crying or yelling in that moment.

I wish I understood why one of my people needs only to be told once what the expectations are and will meet them every time thereafter and another one of my people requires near constant nagging to complete recurring daily activities.

I wish I understood my youngest person. Not diagnosed on the spectrum, but let’s not kid ourselves. This one has grown up in a family with autism. There are things y’all. There are things. And I will never really know if those are slivers of the spectrum genuinely innate in this one or if they are behaviors learned from environment and ingrained so deeply that it really doesn’t matter which the answer is.

I wish I understood the magical relationship my people all have with our dogs. The oldest seeking a career working with small animals, the middle actually coming out of his room to engage in giggling play with our pups, and the youngest who can be brought back from full on meltdown status by simply placing a dog in her lap.

So many things I don’t understand. So many questions about their future I’m mostly too scared to think all the way through.

But there is a flip side.

There are some things I understand so well that I want to shout them from the mountain tops for all to hear.

I understand that this is not a disease, it is a way of being. It is the way my people were crafted by God and I love them just as they are.

I understand that much of the world’s genius would not exist were it not for those on the autism spectrum.

I understand that contrary to some “expertise,” my people are not lacking in emotion and empathy. They feel everything and they feel it BIG. They feel more deeply than I can express. Their hurts are more painful, their anger burns hotter, and their love – their love runs deeper than you can possibly know.

I understand that my people bring beauty, humor, creativity, and joy into this world.

I understand that every single day is a battle for my people. That each time they successfully navigate school without incident is a victory won, and that may mean they are exhausted when they get home.

I understand that is my job as their momma to love them fiercely, give them space to feel what they feel (you may throw a fit but you will do it in your room – and you will clean up whatever mess you make in the process), support them through the hard spots (seriously, middle school girl friendship is hard), require they learn responsibility (daily chores and consequences for disobedience), teach them to problem solve so they can do what seems impossible (like the dishes – it’s amazing what a pair of gloves can do!), and always, always push them towards independence even while my heart breaks at the fear I will feel as they fly from this nest.

There are individuals in my home with autism. I don’t think of them that way. They are just my people. We are a family with autism. We bear each other’s burdens. Sometimes we feel each other’s pain. We always share each other’s joy. We show up for each other whenever it is possible, and we extend grace to each other when it is not. We understand that everyone has limits and that stretching and growing those limits takes patience and grace. And as it turns out, that goes for people not on the spectrum too.

The awesome earrings pictured above were made by For the Love of Wood and are displayed on a piece made by Distracto in her floral design class.

Last weekend Distracto was brutally honest with me. As we were running through the weekend’s agenda on Friday she realized that The Growler had another volleyball tournament and that likely meant she and The Gaminator would be displaced and need to spend a night at my folks’.  Now, let be clear that my children LOVE their grandparents. This conversation that ensued had nothing at all to do with my parents, but rather was a simple and honest heart cry of perceived unfairness.

Distracto: Again?! Why does she have another tournament?

Me: Because she does. She plays on a club team Babe. The season runs through April so she is going to keep having tournaments for another month.

Distracto: OK. I get that. But why do you and Dad both have to go? You both always go.

Me: Because we love watching her play. Just like we love watching you dance.

Distracto: And you came to how many of my games? (she dances on the drill team)

Me: I came to all of your home games.

Distracto: Right. My home games. Not my away games. All of her tournaments are away. You don’t even stay for the whole football game when you come to see me.

Me: (Really nothing I could say that)

Distracto: MmmmmmHmmmmm. Salt.

Me: I’ll talk to Dad. Maybe only one of us will go this time.

In the end, only one of us did go. Perfecto took The Growler and I stayed home with Distracto and The Gaminator. We went to church together (tourney was on Sunday morning), picked up the week’s groceries, tended to some household chores. Nothing special. She wasn’t asking for special. She was just asking for normal. She was just asking to not have her life disrupted yet again so that both of her parents could attend one sibling’s event.

Raising three kids is not simple. Raising three kids with disabilities is really not simple. All the logic in the world about how this really wasn’t fair was not going to penetrate the rigid thinking of my eldest Aspie. They best way I could serve my kids was to let Perfecto go to the tournament.

Did you hear that? “Let Perfecto go to the tournament.” As though the prize is getting to go. So, here is the wee bit of a confession.

It really does feel like the prize is getting to go.

When we both go to a tournament, for that period of time we get to step totally out of the world of autism and life demands, and just be parents watching their kid play ball.

We experienced this when The Growler was younger and was playing tournament softball. We loved it. When that team fell apart (I’ll save the ridiculous softball parent drama rant for another day) it broke our hearts. After much contemplation I realized that I wasn’t really sad that we wouldn’t be spending endless hours at the ballpark. I wasn’t really sad that The Growler had no team because I knew she would still play rec ball and for goodness sake she was only 8 years old. This wasn’t life altering stuff for her. No, I was sad because I wasn’t going to get that bubble of “normal” on tournament weekends. For those hours I got to just be a mom watching her kid play ball.

I don’t think that Distracto really meant to convict me on this particular topic. I think she  was just saying that it seems unfair that both of her parents  travel for her little sister’s stuff and we don’t even stay for the whole game for her. She’s kind of right. I could have given her a speech about how as a family we have to sacrifice for each other, but what she was saying was that she doesn’t feel like the family sacrifices squat to show up for her. While the thought isn’t entirely accurate, I heard her point. It felt unfair. And I knew the truth. It was unfair.

So, I let Perfecto go to the tournament. I have no idea if he feels any of this stuff I am talking about. I haven’t really talked with him about it because on some level I am a bit ashamed of myself for wanting to escape life and go to the sports cocoon.  It’s embarrassing to admit that life raising three kids with disabilities is hard. I look around at our life and I see that we lack for nothing. We have more THINGS than we need, we have good friends to walk through life with, we have a church home that we are growing in. Why in the world would I need to escape life?

Mostly because I get tired. Nobody talks about the exhaustion of hyper-vigilance that parents of kids with disabilities feel. We don’t discuss the emotional toll it takes. We don’t even really talk much about autism much anymore because it just is. It is part of our life. But the truth is, sometimes I like to escape. I’m glad I didn’t go last weekend, but if I’m honest, I must confess that sometimes I like to escape. Sometimes The Juggler needs to just hold one thing at a time.

If you are hoping that I will start deciphering my word salad today, I apologize for the disappointment. My salad is still salad but I am listening, praying , and waiting as I seek the truth and the lessons God has for me. I promise to share as a hear from Him.

When I started this blog I knew that sometimes I would need to write about raising three children with disabilities. I know I need to write about our experiences not only for my own therapeutic release, but because there are many of you that need to know you are not alone, and perhaps a greater number of you that truly want to understand what our “normal” consists of. There are a million things to be said on this topic, but today I think I’ll just share with you about a recent Sunday, a decision I made, the guilt that ensued, and the peace that followed.

Last Sunday I found myself having one of THOSE days. The kind of day that feels totally overwhelming. The kind of day that no matter how hard I tried, I kept running into the hurdles of my children’s particular quirks and challenges. Sometimes we can leap right over the hurdles (or maybe walk around them) and even if we are a bit slower than the rest, we can keep running the race. Not so much last Sunday. I guess if I’m honest, I didn’t even run into the hurdles. I took a look ahead at the evening, saw all of the hurdles standing there, immovable, and I decided to sit on the sidelines.

Here is what was on the agenda for the day:

• Perfecto left that morning to spend 3 days at the deer lease.
• The 3 children spent he night with my folks so they were meeting me at church.
• I was on “work” duty at church promoting an upcoming event for the preschool.
• Sunday afternoon chores/homework/meal planning for Thanksgiving week.
• Sunday afternoon also mentally prepare for two challenging days on the work front.
• Sunday evening:
  • Small Group Friendsgiving (family style potluck with the college students that normally provide childcare)
  • Youth Group Intersection followed by Girls vs. Guys Volleyball Game and dinner

Now let me give you that list again with my internal thoughts added…

• Perfecto left that morning to spend 3 days at the deer lease. Truth be told, I kind of spaced the fact that he was leaving town for three days. It made me sad and it also irritated me because that meant I was in charge of and responsible for all the things while he was away with friends in his happy place. 
• The 3 children spent the night with my folks so they were meeting me at church. Praise Jesus, I love my parents! Perfecto and I got a day and night kid free on Saturday. It was fantastic.
• I was on “work” duty at church promoting an upcoming event for the preschool. Oh yeah, I need to promote that event and man the ticket table before and after class and worship service. Oh, wait, Perfecto won’t be there. Poop. That means I’m not free to do my job while he manages the kids. Instead I get to do my job while managing the kids. At least they are older now so it shouldn’t be too bad. Crap, they don’t know I have to be on work duty though so they are going to be less than pleased. Unexpected changes to the routine never go well. Oh well, we’ll survive it.
• Sunday afternoon chores/homework/meal planning for Thanksgiving week. All. The. Things.
• Sunday afternoon also mentally prepare for two challenging days on the work front. Stretch and grow Foster. No one said this job was going to be easy. Program will go great, the parents will love it. Don’t forget all that super important paperwork that needs to be turned in to Licensing by the end of the day. As for meeting day, just do your best, be honest, and model servant leadership. Deep breaths. You can do this. And don’t forget to do payroll.
• Sunday evening:
  • Small Group Friendsgiving (family style potluck with the college students that normally provide childcare) Oh yeah. I have no food to take. That means I need to go to the store. When am I going to to have time to go to the store?!?! Oy, and what in the world is The Growler even going to eat at this event? Chips? Eye roll. She is going to, well, growl about it too. She doesn’t even hang out with the other kids because she is older than all of them and the chaos/noise level bothers her. She will be glued to me the whole time. No adult interaction for me.
  • Youth Group Intersection followed by Girls vs. Guys Volleyball Game and dinner Seriously? After surviving Friendsgiving I am supposed to then join the youth group in the gym for a volleyball game that The Gaminator won’t participate in because an athlete he is not, The Growler won’t be allowed to participate in because she isn’t old enough which will totally make her GROWL, and then stay around for dinner that will be food not a single one of my children will eat. All of this without Perfecto. All the things. All the emotions. All the stimming that will happen. All the moments of me not actually feeling free to engage in conversation with other adults because I will be far too busy trying to get The Gaminator to participate in SOME way, The Growler to understand that this event isn’t for her just yet but next year she will be all in, and hoping that Distracto eats something besides just bread – and please Lord, let there be no cornmeal on the breadsticks so she can at least eat that. NOPE. I’m out. I’m not putting myself through this. Sorry, Distracto, I know you really really want to go, but I just can’t do it. I just can’t go and endure the not normalcy of our experience. I don’t have it in me tonight. Not on my own. Not without Perfecto to help buffer the awkwardness. I can not be all the things to all the people with all the expectations tonight. I’m not Jesus. We’re staying home.

So, I made the call. We were sitting this one out. Distracto was pretty salty about it. As I worked on the afternoon tasks I had waves of emotions roll over me. The biggest was guilt. There I sat with a teenager begging to go to church and I was saying no. What kind of mother does that? Also, I committed to being a fully engaged participant in our small group and now I’m bailing because it just seemed too hard. Bad group member. And gracious, aren’t I always telling the kids how important it is to try the hard things even if it seems impossible because that is how we grow? Hypocrite.

BZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZZ

In the midst of my guilt party that was heading straight towards a pity party, I got a text message from our youth minister checking to see if there was anything he could get for The Gaminator at Fazoli’s for dinner that night since the main meal would not be gluten free. He was reaching out to make sure a need we have was met. That tiny action snapped me right out of my funk. I responded quickly with a huge thank you and let him know that we weren’t going to be there.

And then came the peace.

No, my family doesn’t work like everyone else’s. There are going to be times that we have to take a hard look at things, even the really good things, and determine if they are the best and right things for our family. Sometimes that means a member of the family will be unhappy. Sometimes it will mean not doing things that we really want to do. For last Sunday, with those circumstances, the best and right thing for us was to stay home. The hurdles were too big for me. AND THAT IS OK.

But Sarah, you could have asked for help! Oh yes, that voice screams in my head too. But really, there was no help for this one. Too many of the details simply could not be changed. And I did get help. That little text message from the youth minister helped me more than he may ever know. I’m sure he thinks it was a text about food, but what it felt like was acceptance. It was someone saying, “Hey, I know this is an issue for your family. We want you here. How can we make this happen?” That reminder that we are in fact accepted and loved just the way we are freed me from the mountain of guilt and allowed me to spend  the evening comfortable with my decision, having quality time with the salty teenager, and making sure we were all physically, mentally, and emotionally ready for the week.

There is such rest in acceptance.

( I do believe those words are in my salad…)

I find myself needing some structure. My intent is to write and post at least twice a month, but October seemed to fly right out of my grasp. I thought of many things, considered writing about some of them, but in the end felt as though I had nothing but Word Salad.

Like a salad encased in Jell-O, a ‘word salad’ doesn’t make a lot of sense. The individual components (vegetables, words, cocktail olives, lime gelatin) might be all right, but they don’t work as a coherent whole. – image and quote courtesy of merriam-webster.com

Any Boston Legal fans out there? I loved that show and Alan Shore is an all time favorite character of mine. In truth, I have a celebrity crush on James Spader. I mean, my dog is named Reddington and everything. If my life was made into a movie I would cast James Spader to play Perfecto. I digress.

I was first introduced to the term Word Salad on an episode of Boston Legal. (Word Salad Days, Season 2 Episode 21) While the formal definition of word salad indicates that it is most often associated with advanced schizophrenia or other significant neurological issues such as Alzheimer’s or brain tumors, Alan Shore experiences Word Salad as a result of anxiety.

Currently, I am going through a year long life-coaching/mentoring process to help identify and move toward my purpose. Part of the process involves identifying roadblocks that keep me from taking intentional steps in the direction I want to go. The process is resulting in some frighteningly honest self examination, and thus, increased anxiety. I am seeking God’s will. I am seeking God’s presence. I am seeking God’s guidance and discernment. And right now I have Word Salad.

rest need listen forgiveness acceptance speak advocate restoration lead

What?

Word Salad. Except it’s not. My God does not speak in word salad. He is intentional and He is leading me so I will follow. This Not Word Salad will be the focus of my next several posts; the structure I need to press on and process these thoughts. When I get through I do hope it is a prettier picture than that jello salad up there, but I’m not holding my breath. Life is messy. Growth is messy. And God is mystery.

You ever sit in a Sunday morning sermon and just get hit with a truth that blows your mind? This morning I had one of those moments. First things first,  a quick shout out to Dustin Bartee for allowing God to speak through him. Well done sir, well done.

Now, a little bit of context for you….today was Missions Sunday at my church. The church I call home is not a small one. It is very easy to get busy doing your thing, your own ministry work, and really have no idea what all else is going one in a church this size. I am grateful for days like today that open the eyes of many to the mission work that we as a body are involved in.

I’m sure many of you have sat through Missions Sundays at your own churches. Sometimes you get what you expect on a Sunday like that. A plea for money and a review of The Great Commission. Matthew 28 is most likely the go to text for mission minded lessons, teachings, and sermons. It is a fabulous text. Jesus has risen from the grave! He sends word to his disciples to meet him in Galilee. (Side note: Who did Jesus send the most important message in all of history through? Women. He told women to go and speak the truth of his resurrection. That is a post for another time….) The disciples find him there and worship him. And some doubt. Then in verse 18 we get “The Great Commission.”

¹⁸ Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. ¹⁹ Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations,^[b] baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. ²⁰ Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

This is the story I know. The story I was taught growing up. This morning though, we didn’t get a lesson from Matthew 28. We got a lesson from John 20.

In John 20 we have a similar context. Jesus has risen. Mary Magdalene has encountered him and received a message for the disciples. And then in verse 19 we read this:

¹⁹ That Sunday evening^[b] the disciples were meeting behind locked doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Suddenly, Jesus was standing there among them! “Peace be with you,” he said. ²⁰ As he spoke, he showed them the wounds in his hands and his side. They were filled with joy when they saw the Lord! ²¹ Again he said, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you.” ²² Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³ If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven. If you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

The disciples are being sent out, just as in Matthew, but the verses in John end with forgiveness.

You might be thinking, well duh Sarah, forgiveness of our sins is part of the good news. OK, I know that. But here is the thought that came to me this morning:

When we encounter people that do not know Jesus or perhaps that do know Jesus but are not like us in some way that we believe is sinful (in appearance, or language, or sexual orientation, or politics) and we interact from a place of only “obey all the commands” it is likely, or perhaps probable that they will not grow closer to Christ for having interacted with us. If we do not share the good news that they, just like us, are sinners that are forgiven through the power of the cross, it is even possible that they will be pushed further away from Christ.

If all forgiveness is found through Christ, and our actions push people away from Him, we are forfeiting their forgiveness for our rightness.

THAT is not good news.

The disciples, and I believe all of us, are told to go and share the Good News of Jesus. In Luke 24, Jesus says this:

⁴⁶ And he said, “Yes, it was written long ago that the Messiah would suffer and die and rise from the dead on the third day.⁴⁷ It was also written that this message would be proclaimed in the authority of his name to all the nations,^[f] beginning in Jerusalem: ‘There is forgiveness of sins for all who repent.’ ⁴⁸ You are witnesses of all these things.

So go. Go, and with the power of the Holy Spirit living in you, go and forgive.

Scripture references taken from the New Living Translation as seen on Bible Gateway.

 

Goodness I am tired. Life has been so full and hectic the last two weeks. The Growler has started volleyball, The Gaminator has had to face the reality that sometimes even he needs help with math and started attending tutoring, and Distracto attended her first homecoming with the boy next door (literally).

Gratuitous Photo Brag

My work has kicked into high gear as our students have finally started the school year. I’ve faced some health concerns that included having an MRI of my brain (yes, they did in fact find one – and it’s perfectly normal!). And in the midst of all of that I have dealt with my very least favorite thing. Grief.

If any of you reading this read my blogs before my very long writing hiatus, you already know that grief is hard for me. This post titled The Grief Wing from my Temple Remodel blog says it well. Now, in the midst of all the life that has happened in the last few weeks I have hung a new portrait in my grief wing. Hanging right between Sandy, my father-in-law, and my Nana is a beautiful picture of my Aunt Pat.

Aunt Pat is really Perfecto’s great aunt, but I claim her as mine just as she claimed me. Aunt Pat was the first member of Perfecto’s family that I met. It was terrifying.  Anyone who knew Aunt Pat knows that you never had any doubt what she thought about you or whatever topic you might be discussing. I’m not sure I have ever met anyone, especially not a woman, that was so willing to say what she thought without any hesitation. It was remarkable and intimidating. She was the most amazing combination of “suck it up buttercup” and “here honey, let me help you with that,” and I wanted to grow up  to be just like her.

As I have spent time thinking about Aunt Pat and the impact she had in my life I realized that what she did more then anything else was stand in the gap for people. She stood in the gap for Perfecto and his brother many times as they grew up in a broken home. She bought them school clothes, and gave their dad parenting advice (whether he wanted it or not I suspect), filled the void when their grandparents passed away, and was a constant prayer warrior over their family. When Perfecto came to A&M for school she took him into her home, fed him and cared for him as a mother or grandmother would, and took every opportunity to teach him life lessons that I know shaped the man he is today.

Aunt Pat stood in the gap for me too. About six weeks before our wedding, Perfecto accidentally burned down a part of the house we were going to move into. (Maybe you’ll get that story in another post one day.) So, when we got back from our honeymoon, we had about two weeks left on my lease in a fourplex, and then we had no home. There was Aunt Pat,  standing in the gap, welcoming us in along with my cat and if I remember correctly, our roommate as well. (We had a friend live with us for a while after we got married – it helped pay the mortgage.) I was starting a new job that meant daily commuting to Houston from Bryan-College Station, Perfecto spent almost every evening after school and work trying to get the house ready for us to move back in. During that critical time of our brand new marriage, Aunt Pat didn’t just give us a place to sleep, she gave us a home. I learned much about the kind of wife I want to be from sitting in her living room, Aunt Pat in her recliner, me on the couch, talking until Perfecto finally came in for the night.

Years later she stood in the gap for me again. I was pregnant with Distracto, Perfecto was working out of town for his job, and I had pneumonia. I was too sick to get myself to the doctor. I wanted my mom, but my mom was hours away. And there was Aunt Pat, standing in the gap until my mom could get to me the next day. I will never know if she cancelled plans or appointments that day or what else she had happening in her life at the moment, but she spent the entire day driving me to the doctor, waiting as I got chest x-rays, taking me to the pharmacy, and making sure I had food to eat. About a year later as Perfecto and I were adjusting to being parents and desperately wanting for a night out together, Aunt Pat was the first to babysit Distracto. We had a need and she filled it. That’s just who she was. She stood in the gap.

As I have strolled through these memories over the last few weeks I found myself smiling. See, what I understand now is that Aunt Pat stood in the gap not just for us, but for more friends and family than I will ever be able to count or know. Why did she do this? Why give of herself so often and so fully? Why share her resources, home, time, and love over and over when she saw a need? Because she loved Jesus. Because she modeled her life after our Savior who bridged the gap between humanity and God for all time. She sacrificed of herself so she could pour love into others, so she could teach them that the answers are all found in God’s word, and so she could speak the truth of Christ into their lives. That is certainly what she did in the gap for me. And when I grow up, I want to be just like her.

 

EEEEK! My first blog post!

That’s not entirely true. Once upon a time I blogged all the time. I actually had three separate blogs going at one point. There was this one all about the normal life happenings of my family. For while I  had this one all about our journey having a child with autism. Then there was Temple Remodel that was really about a physical and spiritual transformation I was going through. The last post I wrote was on Temple Remodel on December 28th, 2014. You can check today’s date and do your own math to see how long it has been. You can read that post here if you are curious.

(If you actually clicked on that link to my last post you now know that it included a “commitment” to start blogging again. I think this is what one calls an #epicfail.)

So, here I am working on setting up a brand new blog. My vision for this blog is not 100% clear just yet. What is clear is that I need to write. My goal is for this blog to have rhythm. No, it won’t have a beat you can dance to, but I do want it to be something readers can count on to have new content on a regular basis. I can pretty much absolutely guarantee that won’t be daily. It may not even be weekly as I am getting started, but at least I now that is the direction I am heading. As far as content goes I expect that some posts will be simply stories of the crazy that is normal for our family, some will be focused on the lessons God is teaching me and nudging me to share with whoever is reading, some will be about having children with disabilities and all that comes along with that, and some will be a mix of all those things.

Today my goal is simply to get this thing set up and figure out how to link it to my Facebook so it will be easier to let people know it exists.  I have no idea who might read this, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that God puts words in my heart that need to come out of my fingertips and this is the a way for me to do that.