Repentance: my new best friend

Today's prayer prompt on the Turning the Tide! April Calendar leads me to confession. I've fallen into a common trap set for strong women who are motivated by challenge. It's a deep hole that can trip you up at various points for long periods of time on the autism journey. Beware!

"...for I can do everything God asks me to with the help of Christ who gives me strength and power. Philippians 4:13 The Living Bible

My mom taught me self-esteem through this scripture--or at least a portion of it. Whether it was my warped listening or her incongruent circumstances of being a single parent, I mostly heard the first part: you can do all things! Abruptly cropped there, the verse became a distorted lie and my head swelled past the healthy percentile. She had me convinced I could be president of the United States if I just put my mind to it. "Mind over matter" was inflated to more than mere axiom.

So, only mildly daunted by the impossibility of conception, I entered adoptive motherhood of twins confidently. I can do anything I set my mind to. I kept marching through early intervention and autism diagnosis, I can do this, watch me. My strong-willed self-talk escalated until it approached ugly fallacies like, "my love will make the difference" and "I know better than anyone" and "I don't need help, I'm fine." Floortime, 40-hr. week intervention, team meetings, PRT, Brain Highways, GF diets, homeschooling, bring it on. I was invincible--and deluded.

I shudder to think now, how great God allowed the demands to become before I would admit the truth, even to my own husband. The raw reality was clear to us both when I finally said, "You're right. I can't do this." I had long before started calling my own shots and was far off base from things God had asked. That's not self-esteem, it's not scriptural; it's sin straight up. I had agreed and perpetuated an ugly mess of pride, self-sufficiency, idolatry, unbelief and control. As each layer of wrong thinking is revealed, the Lord has graciously led me to repentance.

Repentance is my new best friend, for without it I'd still be mired down in that trap with no way out--still trying to do the impossible...alone...or with the added weights of shame and guilt.

Repentance is a powerful punch to the enemy of our souls that's actually deceptively simple. As I come across a verse--like the one today--that I've either misinterpreted, misconstrued or missed the mark in living out, I simply turn around from what's false and agree with the truth as laid out by my loving Father in heaven.

This is amazingly similar to what Reid does at school when he missteps on one of a myriad "School Rules." They call it "turning the day around." Maybe he left the area during morning meeting. He has a chat with one of the teachers to recognize the rule and hopefully choose to turn it around. No condemnation. No permanent penalty. Just returning to life as usual with new resolve to abide by whatever rule. Let's just reason together.

Whether in the natural realm with school rules or the spiritual realm with God's stated principles, freedom begins by recognizing we got something wrong. Then turning away from that, I can agree with truth and walking increasingly toward it. It's a process made habitual by individual small steps.

For example, as I read Philippians 4:13 and realize my flawed thinking, I pray something like this repenting and agreeing with Scripture:

Lord, forgive me for thinking I can do anything without you. I repent for giving ground to pride and selfishness and control. I repent for putting other people and things (idols) in the center of my life. Thank you for offering me Jesus' help. I want to operate in His strength and power which is far superior to my own. I ran myself ragged chasing solutions and doing a million things you never asked me to do. I am so sorry for listening to so many experts before my own husband, let alone You. It went awry like confetti following the law of gravity, when I made my own rules. I need your strength and power. Thank you for the help of Christ. Help me stay close enough to you to hear only what you are asking me to do.

"...for I can do everything God asks me to with the help of Christ who gives me strength and power. Philippians 4:13 The Living Bible

Correlated with Children of Destiny's Turning the Tide! Prayer Thrust.

“Come now, and let us reason together,”
Says the LORD,
“Though your sins are as scarlet,
They will be as white as snow;
Though they are red like crimson,
They will be like wool. Isaiah 1:18

Always laughing?

Having a sense of humor is:

a. valuable

b. preferable

c. mandatory

d. all of the above

Standing at the sink, I made statement "a" like an opening bid then raised it to "b" before Jim added "c" and the correct answer "d."

In progressive waves, we have realized this truth. Was a time, we could not laugh. At the mere suggestion we'd make the cynical retort, "It's that or cry." Worse yet, "shut up, it is not funny!" which I think I actually said to my mom when she suggested, "it helps to have a sense of humor about it, don't you think?"

"It" being the precarious predicaments Reid gets himself (and us) into or our inability to control him. At the time, it may have been climbing into a recycling bin or cutting to the front of an ice cream line unabashedly.

Another time, a college buddy of ours came to visit with his family of four from Ohio. We hadn't seen them in years nor met each other's kids. The hallmark of this guy (and his wife coincidentally enough) has always been his sense of humor. On and on the stories go, of spring break trips when he used cream cheese to soothe his sunburned face since Noxema was unavailable. Or numerous one-liners he's coined which live on in our collective family lexicon but make no sense cause "you had to be there" for his Chaplin-esque delivery.

Leave it to them to identify the humor in our family dynamic. It was his wife who said, "So are you just laughing all the time?" For that was their experience of a day with Reid. What a funny, entertaining household must be created by his antics. Hahahaha...the possibility gave me pause. When had amusing become annoying and how could we go back?

Yesterday, for whatever cumulation of reasons, Jim and I were genuinely, simultaneously, heartily both belly laughing with Reid (not at him which is a key distinction) in public! It felt like a milestone of joy replacing grief. Reid's exuberant joy superceded any vestige of anger and fear we used to hold.

On the way home from the beach we had stopped for the ritual Roberto's burrito. Often we get it togo. Tonight Kool and the Gang was wafting through the outdoor patio seating area which drew Reid out like a magnet. While Jim ordered at the window, Reid was in plain view. I saw him approach a solitary male diner but could not hear what he said. The man bemusedly looked around for a parent or some explanation. I laid low in the car in my barefeet and modest cover up. He hadn't done enough to require my intervention.

Then began a series of dance moves in between the two-top tables. Starting with a little step ball change, he transitioned to the Snook torso twist, the Linus and Lucy dance, then what looked like the Elmo slide from my vantage point. The sequence brought unavoidable chuckles from a neighboring table of 2 men.

Jim rounded the corner of the building, grinned at his dancing fool and offered his own woot woot and Latin hip movement to the party. To which Reid shouted, "let's get Mom!" "Let's all dance....come on mom get outta the car."

I tried to duck, hide behind my hand, and lower my gaze but the entire town had eyeballed me by the time Reid got to the driver's side car door. He opened it and tried to pull me out across the front console. I had to go now. The last time this happened I was in a wedding dress back-paddling out of the mosh pit Jim's (they-don't-call-him-Gumby-for-nothing) relatives had formed at our wedding. I've changed since then. For this time I raised my hand above my head and busted out my best John Travolta Sunday Night Fever move as I came around the car.

So much for take out. We sat there groovin' and movin' enjoying how contagious joy can be...and grateful we'd caught it!

Dancing with Mal

I just finished Emily Colson's book, Dancing with Max. It is a terrific read disclosing her journey getting to know both her dad and her son all at once. Her faith and immense love--themselves gifts from God--are central themes enabling her to appreciate that her son with autism is a gift. Her masterful writing and disarming humor refresh the familiar story line of diagnosis to acceptance. I could particularly relate (as in, laugh outloud) to this excerpt:

Max had an appointment with a doctor who specialized in integrative medicine. He wasn't one of those crystal-worshiping, incense-burning practitioners, but a rather sophisticated doctor utilizing both alternative and conventional practices... He needed Max's treatment history, and of course, in the process, he would realize I was not neglectful crackhead parent, but a serious overachiever-type mom. The cross hanging around my neck would speak of my faith, my commitment, my clean lifestyle. I even found a way to tell him that I'd spoken at several area conferences, just in case he might need such a service. All those years as a graphic designer creating corporate identities taught me the power of communicating the right image. I pictured this doctor eventually inviting us into his home, telling me secret cures for autism, while he stood at his kitchen counter mixing Chinese mushroom powder into wheat grass. And he would realize that helping Max, the innocent child of a loving Christian and by-no-possible-fault-of-her-own single mother, was his life's mission.

"Does he have any language?" the doctor asked as Max sat silently outside the door.

"Oh, yes. It doesn't come easily, but he uses full sentences now," I answered.

He fired off a list of questions about sleep habits, diet, digestion, but kept coming back to the issue of language. "You said he does speak, is that correct? He's right outside my office door, and . . . I don't think I've heard him say anything."

"Yes, he's just very anxious here," I explained as if we were colleagues.

Our appointment was nearing an end, and I was pleased at the doctor's willingness to order numerous laboratory tests. "Could your son come in so that I could talk with him a bit? Would

he do that?" he asked.

"Maybe," I answered. "Max," I called as I looked into the hall. "Can you come sit with Mommy for a minute? Then we'll be all done and do something fun." Max stood up as if he always followed my requests and entered the examination room. The doctor greeted him, but Max brushed past his desk and stood silently at the window gazing out over the Cambridge neighborhood. "Good job Max," I proudly commended. "We're going to do something fun next."

And then it happened. My son must have a locator device implanted in his brain, because it only took him two seconds to see into a storefront window on the street below that obviously had commercial refrigerators. And with that motivation, my son spoke his first, and what would be his only, words for the doctor to hear.

"Mom, after this we can go to the liquor store."

Delighted at the prospect, Max walked out and sat beside my mother, who looks as much like an alcoholic as Mary Poppins.

The doctor's eyes shone on me like headlights. I was so busy being perfect that I forgot to laugh. The more I tried to explain, the worse it looked; he wasn't buying the whole refrigerator-obsession thing.

She has been there! I have been there. She has been where I have been! Thank you Lord that you do whatever it takes to free us from a spirit of pride.

It happens bit by bit--like becoming real. Reid, like Max, has taught his mom many things, not the least of which is to recognize embarrassment as the indicator light of pride. Having a son with absolutely no social inhibition continues to set me free from a fear of man.

Allie too. Just last week, she recalled sitting in a theater dying a thousand deaths because her brother was "so embarrassing." "What was he doing?" I'd forgotten. "Being overly happy," was her description. Is that such a crime? It's exactly what he does though. He expresses uncontainable joy so much so that it's socially unacceptable.

Even when he was a toddler, I found it hard to correct him for being too gleeful during library storytime, too excited to meet Mary Poppins at Disneyland, or euphoric when Souplantation had Barney bean salad (our term, not theirs) in the buffet smorgasbord. Gradually (unable to control or contain it), I've come to realize that it is more my problem than his. He embodies joy. That is a gift to those who receive it. And if it bothers someone on the way, that is their problem.

Now only a vestige of my pride remains. I recognize it in this clip of Reid cutting loose at a recent Banding Together coffeehouse concert. He's the one--the only one--on the dance floor doing aerial 360's. I am one feigning nonchalance in the black and white raincoat. Who's the woman dancing with him unabashedly? That is Malvina. Thank you Lord for friends who have more love than pride . . . who dole it out liberally all over everybody . . . who don't squelch his exuberance. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away. Isaiah 35:9-10

The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him. Psalm 28:6-8

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:7-9