God is Incredibly Concise (and could blog)

I was miffed, to be honest, when my Beth Moore junkies wanted to break for the summer. Rats! What about me? How will I function without the accountability of facilitating and hosting the group? (The only time I vacuum is the night before they're due!)

Now I think I understand why. God had something else in mind for me. A summer prayer group based on Alex Aronis' "Developing Intimacy with God: An Eight-week Prayer Guide Based on Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises" caught my eye on the church website. Same day, 8 weeks, fit my time slot like a glove.

So this morning I rekindled an old love of meditative, contemplative, listening, centering prayer. Call it what you will, it frees me from the confines of my own sin, judging, and having the right answers in a Bible study. We sat in silence letting every niggling thought float by in the current of an imaginary river overhead. After 8 minutes or so, the leader led us to listen for God's answer to four questions about our basic wants and needs. Somewhere between those single-word responses came this poem.

While I admire the gift of sparse and succinct communication, I am certain I've not written poetry since 3rd grade! One of my favorite non-autism-genre bloggers is Abraham Piper at 22 Words. Every single day, he poetically conveys content on a myriad of theological and literary points. Each post is 22 words which puts a cool parameter on his design.

Personally, I err on the side of amplification, rephrasing, and overuse of synonyms! How I love words. The only blogger I know with longer posts than mine is Beth Moore herself! Limiting myself to less than 100 words would take either a great deal of discipline or divine intervention.

Today, I had a smidge of both: the discipline to clear away extraneous thoughts and an experience with the one, true, and truly concise, God.

What does this have to do with autism? You decide...or better yet, ask God.

From Still to Know

still

crazy

years

whoa!

woods

silt sinking into bedrock

know

Do you have a summer study?

I beg you to click on "comments" below the scripture.



"Be still, and know, that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46:9-11


" 'Your mother was like a vine in your vineyard planted by the water; it was fruitful and full of branches because of abundant water. Ezekiel 19:9-11


Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Galatians 5:24-26

photo credit: www.seentwo.com/.../photo_current_projects.jpg

Hide or See?

It's the morning after...World Autism Awareness Day. Yesterday, I was betwixt and beholden to post something, anything....but not knowing quite what?

I actually struggled all week with procrastination. My husband's absence on a two week surfari and several extra writing projects (Form 1023 for a 501 C3, brochure copy, and website for Banding Together) have combined to erect a sizable writer's blockade in my mind. My expressive language may be delayed but the receptive is graciously intact; I am still reading my RSS feed! Listening to this talk by Jess Wilson's at the Greater Hartford Autism Speaks Walk Kickoff released the floodgates for me:




So, I pray this morning after and all month (since April is Autism Awareness Month), that people will take that momentous first step and be more aware. As Jess says, "awareness is not the end goal but the first step." Like a parent witnessing a toddler take her first wobbly steps, I audibly gasped to open a post yesterday on the Living Proof Ministry blog. To my surprised delight, Beth Moore, the mega-Bible teacher, acknowledged World Autism Awareness Day by sharing the testimony of a mom and a call for prayers in the comment field for others experiencing autism. I love it when worlds collide like that and I hear about autism (my one planet) in an evangelical faith blog (my other zone) or in my husband's surfing environmentalism sphere. Truly, that cross pollination is evidence of growing awareness.

I spoke a couple weeks ago to the Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) group that meets at our church. The topic they gave me was "Raising a Special Needs Child." Knowing there'd only be a few in the audience who'd consider themselves in that category (in those tender years), I tried to generalize my points to make them more widely applicable. At the outset, I asked for a show of hands, "how many of you know a child with autism...be it neighbor, cousin, nephew, or classmate?" I was stunned when 80% of the hands went up. Had I known, I might have prepared differently and shared our story with an emphasis on "ways to help a child with autism." Next time:)

As Jess Wilson mentions, this is why we tell our stories, it is why we blog, and why we don't hide in our houses. Our transparency and willingness to be vulnerable in our own circles of influence, are how awareness happens. If the world is ever going to be a hospitable place for our kids to live independently, we need to educate. If awareness is the first step, then the ultimate goal is full inclusion.

I've been convicted lately within our church of ways that I have chosen to cop out and take the easier path of hiding, rather than doing the instruction that must precede inclusion. We practice our own avoidance strategies don't we? First for survival, and then out of habit. For example, my family has not been to an All Church Retreat in 11 years. Reid has not been included with his same age peers in Sunday school since 3rd grade. At that point it seemed easier to keep him with us in the sanctuary, under the shelter of our wings, so to speak. To side-step the unstructured, choatic coffee hour, we've taken the liberty of letting him watch a video in an empty upper room. Not too many people are "aware" of this arrangement; Reid is truly out of sight out of mind, for them.

Granted, it is emotionally draining to be exposed all the time. And educators have a high burn out rate. Lately though I am feeling that in our family, we've reached a tipping point where our "hiding" is doing a disservice to Reid and to others. In the name of self-preservation, I have robbed our friends and community of powerful, life-changing interactions that God may have intended for their personal growth.

Biblically speaking, my son (and everyone of us) is indispensable to the body of Christ. For a time-- in my exhaustion, isolation, and vulnerability to the Enemy--I bought the lie that it was selfish for me to ask for extra staff, a buddy, or modifications in order for Reid to participate in church events. I am beginning to see that without realizing it, I may have denied others the opportunity "to receive the gift of Reid" in the words of our senior high youth director. The truth is: it is actually prideful of me to take care of it myself.

It's the morning after...what have you learned?



The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, "I don't need you!" On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. 1 Corinthians 12:21-23


God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him. When I got my act together, he gave me a fresh start. Now I'm alert to God's ways; I don't take God for granted. Every day I review the ways he works; I try not to miss a trick. I feel put back together, and I'm watching my step. God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes. 2 Samuel 22:20-22 and Psalm 18:19-21 The Message


So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example that you also should do just as I have done for you. " I assure you: A slave is not greater than his master, and a messenger is not greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. John 13:15-17

A Song for the Road

You already know I'm a Beth Moore junkie. With five close friends--made even tighter by our weekly commitment together--I just completed her Psalms of Ascent Bible study. Who knew? The specific Psalms 120-134 were ones the Israelites had memorized, like a "Road Trip" playlist on their community ipod. On repeated treks to Jerusalem for the annual feasts, the men, women and children had those short, catchy, rhyming psalms stuck in their heads as if they were top 40 hits. Take a listen to these renditions by messianic Christian Chuck King.

The Biblical word for road trip is pilgrimage. After updating and unpacking it, I have come to love the ring of that word. I am on a pilgrimage. And so are you! Whether through autism, through marriage, through divorce, through cancer, through illness, or through a chapter in life, we are all on our way to some place else. Heaven, namely. We are never stuck but always moving on toward some thing better.

Songs make the time go faster don't they? On an arduous car ride or a harrowing adventure. Songs do a whole lot more than that. Like the hunch that there is a God, almost all of us know innately that music has a power over our soul. All agree and yet, it remains a spiritual mystery how and why music empowers our communication and binds us to the otherness of heaven. Music assists us in entering the spiritual realm. Singing enables the expression of our soul. Songs release God's power. Jesus sang with the disciples. Song originated with God and accompanied creation. Song can change our perspective. I won't pretend to explain but merely to illustrate.

Colloquially speaking, we say that, "music tames the savage beast" whether we attribute it to Shakespeare in Twelfth Night or William Congreve in The Mourning Bride. I have seen this to be true. Years before his Abilify prescription (which has also served to tame the savage beast), Reid came home from a day to top all days at school. Possibly his worst ever. Honestly, I've repressed the gory details. Suffice it to say that those days often included reports of him under a desk, chewing his shirt to shreds at the collar, hitting a teacher, being restrained by staff members, being dreadfully uncomfortable needing to poop but unable to relax enough at school to do so in their restroom with its buzzing flourescent lights, automatic flushing toilets, not to mention other patrons. It was hellish. Some combination of those had accumulated. By the time I rolled into the carpool line, the teachers could only scoop him into the car. Time to recuperate. Wait, we were due home for piano lessons.

His lessons are pretty similar to the classic variety although he takes from a beloved music therapist of 8 years. Because of her training, who she is and their established rapport, the 30 minute session retains a therapeutic quality. In fact, it often takes on a certain magic. Anyway, I was ready to bail that day, send her home and forfeit the fee. I couldn't see how Reid would ever pull himself together to attend. He collapsed into the house, eyes still red from crying and disheveled from the ravages of his day. After some ineffective cajoling and sympathetic urging to get him to the piano bench from me, Angela simply sat down herself and played something. (If I ever write a book it will have to be fiction since so many relevant details escape me.) I think it was a praise and worship song, maybe something she was dusting off for church that Sunday.

Thus began a slow-motion scene from the movie of our life. Stilled by the music, Reid rose from the crumpled pile on the floor, joined her on the bench and after 20 minutes skittered out to the kitchen a new boy. Music had transformed his day from disaster to joy. His emotional tank was refueled for whatever lay ahead. Dumbstruck and speechless, I stuttered to Angela, "how...did...i didn't...do that...can't." Angela's response I do recall, "music tames the savage beast." She's humble and accurate. I started scheming a way to have her take up permanent residence. We need a live-in pianist.

Dr. Fryman, the world renown osteopath we were privileged to see, utilizes this pipe dream wish of mine in her San Diego practice. In her 90's and still treating infants, she has mentored nearly every young osteopath worth their salt. Her treatment protocol is incredible albeit elusive. Parents are consulted with but prohibited from accompanying their child in the treatment room. At first, this policy put me off tremendously. Anticipating Reid's first appointment with her I felt as if I was relinquishing him to a demented Oz behind a curtain only to wait in t he field of monkeys. Once I got to know her though, I appreciated the method to her apparent madness. She eliminates the triangulating that can happen with kids with behavioral challenges. In this intentional way, she can treat them more individually and without distraction. The kids quickly learn to trust her calculated, consistent, predictable routine and benefit immensely from each visit. Reid would emerge out of the corridor of her round building practically stunned by an epiphany. So deep was the transformation I could perceive it in his face, stature and dare I say, soul. Osteopathy is a holistic approach.

A large part of Dr. Fryman's effectiveness is her spiritual gifting and faithfulness. Another part is her understanding of music. She employed a concert pianist who accompanied her hands-on osteopathic manipulation with live classical music. She chose music that matched the energy of the child taking "music therapy" to a new level. As the treatment progressed, she would cue the pianist with a new composer or piece that synchronized with the patient and synergized her manual adjustment. I don't think I'm extrapolating to say that she was calling upon the powers of heaven through music to heal. Many miracles quietly occur in that place.

The Listening Program, AIT, Samonas, and many musical permutations are marketed as beneficial for our kids with autism. I am not endorsing any of those, nor one over the other. We have invested in several of them at different times. I am not certain their claims are valid, provable, or worth niggling over. What they do all indicate though is that music influences our brain function.

Can you add a little music to your life today? Open yourself up to be healed, restored, redeemed. Marinade in some sound waves. Steep in a psalm.

This is what the LORD says: "Sing with joy for Jacob; shout for the foremost of the nations. Make your praises heard, and say, 'LORD, save your people, the remnant of Israel.'
Jeremiah 31:6-8



"The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy. Zephaniah 3:16-18



You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. Psalm 32:7

High low points or low high points

We play a game at dinner which began as a way to structure conversation. Since it worked, we still do it. When all else fails for conversation starters with my now- teenagers, they will almost always play at High point Low point. It's easy. No board required, no dice, no pieces to chew or lose under the sofa. (I like the Food for Talk resource too if you prefer to spend money on the desperate attempt to get family to talk for food!*!*)

Here's how the low budget version works. Everyone shares their low point of the day. For Reid this is often, "I didn't get a star in Math" or "I didn't earn music today." Good to know. For Allie it might be, "We had three tests and you were late picking me up," revealing what bothers her most.

Then everyone shares the high point of their day. For my bottomless pit, always ravenous, celiac husband, it might be the meal I just served. Mine might be finding a comment from a non-relative on my blog! Yesterday, Allie reported that her high point and low point were one in the same. She wasn't just copping out to save time and get back to her ipod. In fact, her drama class is challenging her beyond her comfort zone. At the same time, it is surprisingly engaging and fun. 

This tied right in to my current Beth Moore study, Psalms of Ascent, which is awesome. Our assignment for Psalm 126 was to draw a timeline of the psalmist's record. In the first 3 verses he recounts the highest highs when God's work in his life seemed too good to be true. Then, leaving space between the lines for the lowpoints of fear and insecurity which coincide, he concludes with promises of what God will do again. He is confident that the Lord turns the limbo into a great harvest when we wait. 

Psalm 126 

The Message by Eugene H. Peterson

A Pilgrim Song

1-3 It seemed like a dream, too good to be true, when God returned Zion's exiles. 

We laughed, we sang, 

we couldn't believe our good fortune. 

We were the talk of the nations— 

"God was wonderful to them!" 

God was wonderful to us; 

we are one happy people. 

4-6 And now, God, do it again— 

bring rains to our drought-stricken lives 

So those who planted their crops in despair 

will shout hurrahs at the harvest, 

So those who went off with heavy hearts 

will come home laughing, with armloads of blessing.

In my own application, I'd take it one step further. There is something intrinsic to the lowest points of life, the hardest, biggest challenges we face that is actually a prerequisite to the highest highs. Allie's example was a required drama class which had her in trepidation of taking risks, not knowing the "right" answer, making a fool of herself, and blushing ten shades of red. It was the hardest point in her day. But from it came the highest point of glee and accomplishment because she mastered it, signed up to audition for a main part, and broke out of her shell!  

Don't we all crave transformation? God brings it on through trials. In more of a macro lens, I spent the lowest 6 years of my life tearfully praying on the stairs of our condo. Plagued by shame and stymied by our infertility, I was in constant pleading with God for a baby. Little did I know (or trust at the time) what the Lord had in mind for us. In short order, once His perfect timing had come, He allowed us the incredible, ecstatic, highest point of my life: the blessing of adopting beautiful boy-girl twins! Jim and I walked on air for quite some time. Like a dry seed, our greatest trial contained the potential to burst forth like green sprouts in damp, rich garden soil but only when we gave it over to God, the master gardener. And only after we waited.

Life is full of highpoints and low points. The two pictures flanking the cover of today's Wall Street Journal show it clearly; the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat recur relentlessy from birth until death and from continent to continent. It is what universally unites humankind. Only the particulars vary from person to person.

I think maturity comes from experiencing enough low to high swings that we gain an ability to anticipate them. I am grateful that my daughter has made this association relatively early in life. The ultimate would be to embrace difficulty trusting full well the Father in heaven who "will do it again" and transform, do it again and redeem, do it again and turn the lows into highs. He promises that in Psalm 126 and there isn't one promise in Scripture that he's broken.

If I could load mp3's on my blog, I would put Chris Falson's "Like A Tree" here.  Arrgghh! Reid is home sick today singing, "I'm OK When Things Don't Go My Way" off the Kibbles CD segueing into "Feelings...make a frustrated face." Appropo! How does he know?

For no matter how many promises God has made, they are "Yes" in Christ. And so through him the "Amen" is spoken by us to the glory of God.  

2 Corinthians 1:19-21

He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."

Jeremiah 17:8

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  James 1:1-3

photo credit: www.doganart.com

Same Kind of Different As Me

By now you know how important Angela Neve is in our life. What you may not know, is that I take piano lessons from her too. Which means, twice a year I play in the recital which she hosts for ALL her students.

It is a moving event on many levels. The students are all shapes, sizes, and skills. Some strum a rhythm on an autoharp; some sing; some memorize; some improvise. All find joy in music. All are given dignity as performers. I was in tears (and I never cry) the first year I saw Angela accompany a young woman in a solo she'd written about "Going to Seaworld." It was profound in its simplicity, honesty, and delivery. Angela has a masterful and instinctive way of honoring and empowering student musicians at every level of proficiency. Her compelling belief in the student and her undeniable joy in participating with them moves everyone as much as (and sometimes more than) the perceptible beauty of any particular piece.

At the outset, it would seem that I--a college educated, able-bodied, mother of 44--would waltz right up on stage, play my Arabesque by Burgmuller, take my bow, then take my seat. No big deal. Well, let me tell you it actually was a big deal.

As previously stated, we all have different strengths. Mine are not performing or public speaking or even music. Three years ago, another grown woman (and my soul sister, dear friend) was also on the program. Being Angela's only neurotypical adult clients (and therefore the only adults in the recital) bonded us in yet another way. It gave us opportunity to commiserate and confide in each other how truly difficult and nerve wracking it is to perform. How is it our boys want to do this? We were sweating profusely, hands trembling from nerves, and at least I was frozen on the bench unable to find middle C. "This is really embarrassing, humiliating in fact. I should be able to do this, shouldn't I? This is not a big deal." The self-talk was not helping. My daughter was mortified.

The second year was easier I must say but, I was still mindful of my choice of anti-perspirant. This year, I had enough wherewithall to analyze my own behavior. Call it functional analysis (which always takes awhile to complete). I realized two things: how the nervousness came from my selfish focus and how much I am just like the "special needs" students.

It's not about me. This is a commonly required reminder right now in our culture. I am hearing it from our pulpit at church, from the podium at Allie's graduation, and from my Beth Moore study. It's not new though. Isn't it the tag line from Rick Warren's Purpose Driven Life? What kept me from being a total mess was the fact (or just my perception) that Reid needed a bit of support from me. So, his needs and my maternal instinct saved me from total self absorption. Giving (or better yet, self sacrifice) is actually the antidote for so many modern ailments from depression to anxiety to loneliness.

The other truth is: I was just the same as any of the young kids who sidled up onto that stage and plunked out their pieces before the adoring crowd of family and friends. I love music enough to want to produce some on my own. I can read music but am nowhere near prodigy material. I practice almost every day, especially the day before Angela comes. I feel more motivated to improve when I know a recital is on the calendar. I hope I won't flub up (like last year). I wonder what people think while I'm playing. I worry that I'll blank out and not recognize middle C (again). I enjoy the attention of my husband taking a photo from the front aisle. I feel proud when it's all over. I sigh a deep breath and smile when I hear the applause.

Whether 8 with autism or 43 without, we are so human! We are all growing in grace, poise, ability and self awareness.

I recall a phrase from somewhere in my continuing education as an autism mom that, "kids with autism are more like others than they are different from others." Never was that more obvious than when I waited my turn in the recital lineup.

Off topic, but a fabulous read is the book whose title I lifted for this post. Same Kind of Different As Me is the gripping story of an unlikely friendship between an affluent art dealer and a homeless black man. They could never have predicted how interwoven their lives became. If you have time for another summer read, I recommend it. It is another illustration of how universally human--and alike--we are down deep.

The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7



We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him (Jesus) the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:5-7



Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. Philippians 2:5-7

photo credits: www.pianofield.com, sandis-stickers.com

My Father in Heaven

I read this post from Bev at Aspergers Square 8 about the power her father's words had over her even at age 47. Asperger's or not, we all crave words of affirmation like that from a father. Fortunately, our Father in Heaven has left us The Word.

At 43, I still experience pangs of needing to hear something akin to what Bev's father said to her. I have lived most of my life not knowing my own father (for some very good reasons). That reality has at different times caused me to feel independent, smug, numb, and deprived. While the absence of a father leaves a void, it also presents a portal to knowing the one and only, truly perfect Father who is God in heaven.

As a young girl and college student I enjoyed creating an imaginary dad for myself by cherry picking traits from my friends' dads and other men I knew, to make a composite of the dad I dreamed of as my own. This fantasy man was perfect maybe, but definitely non-existent. Now as a 43 year old adult, I see that even those most glowing and desirable traits are merely a reflection of the very nature of God the Father. As a believer, why not go right to the source and relish in my position as His prized daughter?

The Wall Street Journal ran a story yesterday in tribute to a father who epitomized the tough love of a generation ago. It made me cry, but not with yearning. My personal fantasy dad was no Mr. Helliker (notice he did not have daughters)! His strength of character and courage are of a bygone era. What it underscored for me though, is how dimly we see in the mirror the mystery of all God encompasses. He is strong, yes and tough and just and fair but, all at once He is also gentle, good, kind, tender, affectionate and expressive.

One of the most moving weeks in my Bible study this winter was Week 7 in Living Beyond Yourself. Beth Moore, as only Beth can, drills down deep to illustrate each fruit of the Spirit. God not only comes alongside us in kindness to help us parent our difficult children but He is also our parent. He comes to us--no matter how old--and "allows His throne to become a rocking chair." Just as babies need to be held, rocked, and soothed by parents in order to grow and fully develop, we need to let God love us as His children. We "can't know God only as the Sovereign Judge. We must also know Him as the nurturing parent--or our growth will be stunted."

The Father's Love Letter was popular a couple years back. I copied its verses into a spiral journal to read to my kids at bedtime. It is still a beautiful compilation of The Word from the Father to his children. Take some time today to watch, read or listen to it. You are loved.


The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17



How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 1:3



For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." Romans 8:14-16

God's "To Do" list

The gospel I thought I knew pretty well has been turned on its head (in a good way) this spring. I am going through a Beth Moore bible study with a new group of friends.  Living Beyond Yourself explores the fruit of the Holy Spirit in great depth and application.  Beth's teaching is so fresh and so profound that I find myself applying it to everything including this  SimpleTruths Service Movie.  Click it and be amazed at the powerful example of one man. Click it and be amazed at the false assumptions we make about ability.  Click it and imagine your own child's impact on the world.  Just click it!

"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

  Ephesians 2:9-11

God has designed good works for ALL of us to do.  ALL of us!

The word "good" has lost its meaning.  We teach our kids not to use it in writing; it is as meaningless and nondescript as "nice."  In reality, in Greek word, agathosune implies energized action and benevolence. Goodness is a product of the Holy Spirit fueling us to take action with good deeds--not that we are saved by them but we are saved in order "to do" them. Isn't it motivating to think that every circumstance, every tear, every struggle, every single victory, every friendship, and every conversation we experience in life has been ordained by a sovereign God to equip and prepare us for a Grand Master Plan of good works that He has already picked out and designed specifically for you to do?  Nothing is wasted.

What's more, is to think that the same loving, miracle-working God has done that for my son. Yes, my son who has the behavioral challenges, the language delays, the sensory issues, my son who has autism.  Just sit back and imagine that for a minute.