Special Needs

Reality at Its Best

2012-05-22T17:20:55-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

I had become a statistic. Again and again, I had heard about the extremely high divorce rate among couples supporting a disabled loved one. And then I joined that “extremely high” category—a divorced mom with children ages 8, 12, and 13. The years as a single parent were difficult. Misunderstanding, judgment, and condemnation had driven me to the point that I was never, ever going to consider remarriage. Then, along came a “good friend”—to whom I had clearly communicated the fact that I would never marry again. He was patient, loving, and kind and put up with my utter resistance. Toban and I married in 2009.

But before we married, I had to lay some ground rules for how to date a single mom with an autistic son. I recently came across the list below and had to share it with Toban because I had told him every single thing on that list when we started dating. He recalls my telling him these things. He put my fears at rest then about my complicated situation, and he continues to put my fears to rest. In that, I take heart!

I understand divorce and the confusion it causes. May the Lord lead you in the way you should go. And never hesitate to remind your significant other of number 10! If you have more to add to the list, please share with us and add some comments.

TOP TEN THINGS A GUY SHOULD KNOW
BEFORE DATING AN AUTISM MOM

1. Be patient. . . . My children and I are worth it.
2. Be understanding. . . . I may have to cancel at the last minute.
3. Be thoughtful. . . . If I did cancel, offer to come over for movie night and bring take-out that is kid-approved.
4. Sometimes I have a short fuse. . . . Remember what I deal with every day.
5. My children come first. . . . Deal with it.
6. Some things in my normal everyday life might be more than you can handle. . . . If that’s the case, say so from the beginning.
7. Being a mom is a full-time job. Being the mom of a kid with special needs is like having two full-time jobs. Being a single mom is like having three.
8. Never say “I love you” unless you mean it. We don’t have time for games.
9. Be kind. . . . That shouldn’t need an explanation.
10. My house is always a mess. It’s my reality.¹

1. Taken from Jennifer Hodgdon, “Top Ten Things a Guy Should Know before Dating an Autism Mom,” Autism Single Moms Blog Spot, http://autismsinglemomsblogspot.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/top-ten-things-a-guy-should-know-before-dating-an-autism-mom/, accessed May 15, 2012.

What We Need to Help Us through Trials

2012-05-15T13:49:23-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

When you encounter people who are going through a trial, do you find yourself thinking: I really want to help them, but what do they need most? As human beings, we all need the following qualities in our lives to help us through our toughest times. Perhaps pastors and leaders can consider including this list of qualities in their monthly meetings.

Trust: We need to sense acceptance and value from others without judgment of our behaviors, feelings, reactions, displays of emotion, and lack of functioning; this includes confidential and consistent care through a crisis.

Security: We need nonjudgmental support and confidential, consistent help with the management of our daily responsibilities.

Relational Support: We need the presence of people who are comfortable with silence, who are aware of our needs, and who are both consistent and dependable.

Hope: We need encouragement from other people; their help in locating resources; and their commitment to pray for us. We need their dependable and calming presence amidst our doubts, our coping techniques, our mood swings, our lack of control, and our familial demands. We need to see a ray of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Guidance: We need help developing new skills, healthy coping strategies, self-awareness, problem-solving skills, stress-management techniques, and the capacity to deal well with relational conflicts.

Affirmation of strengths: We need others to possess a positive regard for our personal development and character formation.

Time: We need time to cry, to be mad, to have a pity party, to let go of wishes and dreams, to express hardship and sorrow, and to adjust to our trials.

Discovery of meaning and purpose in life: We need the opportunity to rebuild, restructure, reframe, and release life as it was before our crisis, so that we can live life as it is now.

Next time you encounter someone who is struggling, ask God how He might use you to create a supportive environment where healing can happen.

Soul Truth

2012-05-08T13:38:01-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

You won’t believe what happened in a very formal church, years ago. My son, Jonathan, not quite one year old, had the fantastic gift of throwing up everything he ate. So much so that I thought I would catch a lung at some point. I had moved to Dallas several years before and life had been tough so I ventured out and visited a church. I needed the reminder that God was still on His throne, sovereign, and always faithful.

Jon had so many struggles that getting out the door for church, with three kids under the age of five, was nearly impossible. Eventually, we made it and just as we walked into the formal, gorgeous, well-known, and respected church, Jon began to empty the contents of his stomach everywhere. I heard a big splat, and then Jon gasped for air, and then another splash, which spread across the beautifully polished, expensive tile. One usher came over with such care and offered to help. In the meantime, I grabbed a stack of church bulletins, hoping they would soak up something. On that day I discovered paper does not soak up vomit effectively! I also learned a few other lessons:

1) God doesn’t care about how we try to look, but He does care about our hearts. That is freeing.
2) We can’t possibly live without some messes, either inside or outside our lives. That is relieving.
3) Pride refuses help, but humility welcomes help as God’s hand reaching to you. That is refreshing.

I also learned some funny lessons:

1) Because vomit and stink go together, wear your junk clothes.
2) If throwing up is even a slight possibility, stay home.
3) Church bulletins don’t soak up a single drop of anything, so carry paper towels.

I recently found this prayer written by a man who lost his children and needed some help drying his tears. I love his humble, thoroughly honest words.

Lord of reality
make me real
not plastic
synthetic
pretend phony
an actor playing out his part
hypocrite.
I don’t want
to keep a prayer list
but to pray
nor agonize to find Your will
but to obey
what I already know
to argue
theories of inspiration
but submit to Your Word.
I don’t want
to explain the difference
between eros and philos
and agape
but to love.
I don’t want
to sing as if I mean it
I want to mean it.
I don’t want
to tell it like it is
but to be it
like You want it.
I don’t want
to think another needs me
but I need him
else I’m not complete.
I don’t want
to tell others how to do it
but to do it
to have to be always right
but admit it
when I’m wrong.
I don’t want
to be a census taker
but an obstetrician
nor an involved person
a professional
but a friend.
I don’t want
to be insensitive
but to hurt
where other people hurt
nor to say
I know how you feel
but to say God knows
and I’ll try
if you’ll be patient with me
and meanwhile I’ll be quiet.
I don’t want
to scorn the clichés
of others
but to mean everything I say
including this.¹

1. Joseph Bayly, “A Song of Single-Mindedness,” in Psalms of My Life (Wheaton, Ill.: Tyndale House, 1978), 40. Used by permission.

Porcupineish

2012-05-01T14:04:03-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed recently, which is a nice way of saying I was cranky. It hadn't been a superb week, so perhaps my snappish self emerged from hibernation that morning. By sundown, my attitude had gone from snappish to cantankerous to pretty much porcupineish. Usually, I try to find humor or a hobby to enjoy, but that didn't really help. Since my quills were coming unglued—and sticking into my loved ones—I did a little study of porcupines; the news wasn't so likable. Just read on:

1) The word porcupine means "spined pig" or "quill pig." That day, I could relate.
2) The porcupine uses its sharp quills for body armor. If the porcupine hits an animal with its quills, the quills become embedded in the animal; and each quill has about a dozen barbs. Once implanted in an attacker's flesh, the barbs swell from the surrounding skin moisture and heat which force the quill in deeper. Death can occur if an infection sets in or if the quill prevents the victim from swallowing water or food.
3) Finally, porcupines are solitary, isolated animals.¹

It's nothing new to discuss people and their animal-like traits. Take a good look at Scripture. Remember the hard-working ant, the gentle dove, the shrewd serpent, and the sparrow's needs being supplied by Christ? Most commonly in Scripture, people are referred to as sheep; now that's one humbling study! Porcupines are never mentioned in Scripture, but that doesn't mean we're off the hook. So often, Christians behave like porcupines, which is so opposite to God's desire that Christians be in harmony with others—that is, with others, they are honest, kind, peace-giving, merciful, and gracious, to name a few.

As I pondered that porcupineish day I had experienced, some saddening similarities between porcupines and my attitude sunk into my soul. Thus, we in the body of Christ need to remember a few things:

1) We often are well armored and prepared to fight against what we don't like.
2) When we don't like "whatever"—and the list can be endless—we speak words which sink quill-like into another's soft soul.
3) When we attack others, the barbs sink deeply, and those people can suffer from the pain of being attacked. Some quills we use have names: gossip, betrayal, rejection, pride, false hope, pretense, judgment, and resentment. Thus, our porcupineish actions cut off the circulation to Christ's transforming work.
4) Finally and most specifically for many within the disabled population, church often is a place where porcupines reside. Many visitors to a church may never return because of the quill punctures they receive to their already beaten-down souls.

If you act like a porcupine, you have work to do. I apologized to my family for being armored and quilly. And my own soul has been pierced with many barbs, but the Lord can remove them if I'm humbled and willing to let Him do so. That's one I'm working on today as I write.

Do you need to take off the quilled body armor? Then ask for forgiveness, help someone in need, and speak with kindness. Or have you been pierced by a porcupine? Then pull out the quills of bitterness . . . PULL THEM OUT! Remember, we are all sheep that need direction. The Lord can guide us past the porcupines . . . and make sure we don't take on their qualities as well.

1. NatureWorks, "North American Porcupine," New Hampshire Public Television, http://www.nhptv.org/natureworks/porcupine.htm (accessed April 24, 2012).

Keep in mind that Insight for Living Ministries cannot endorse everything other Web sites print, so we encourage you to approach with wisdom and discernment all Web sites referenced on insight.org or insightworld.org.

Ageless

2012-04-24T11:02:24-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

It’s confession time. I am now 44 years old . . . I think. I remember at age 13 thinking that people in their 40s had reached the summit of being “over the hill” and were gaining speed down the back side of life. Older people (ha! those 40-somethings) seemed to my 13-year-old mind to be constantly irritated, as if they had breathed acrid air for 40-ish years. Between ages 14 and 44, life has been to me a highly skilled teacher, revealing that age and attitude are not connected at the hip. I used to be bothered when my plans fell apart . . . annoyed by people who are bummers to be with . . . bitter when I was judged by others . . . selfish—which makes people very lonely . . . suffocated by anxiety . . . insecure . . . and controlling toward people, which drives them nuts—not a far drive.

The skilled teacher—that is, life—still teaches me today and uses pain as part of its curriculum. At any age, those bothered, judgmental, bitter, selfish, anxious, and insecure people might try to deny they have these unhealthful attitudes, but acknowledging one’s own flaws is the very thing one must do for attitude—and might I say—soul change.

Life is very painful. It doesn’t always agree with our plans or provide happiness. Life sometimes lets us down and rarely offers a satisfying answer to our self-focused questions. I found the following quote supposedly attributed to Winston Churchill very revealing.

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.¹

Remember what Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians. Get this: his living conditions were less than desirable—he was a prisoner of Rome, clad with iron chains every day to a Roman solider. Yet, the theme of his letter was on attitude—the attitude of joy.

I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. (Philippians 1:12–14 NIV)

I picture Paul grinning ear to ear, perhaps thinking, Who knew? I don’t have to yell because these guys are chained to me. They are the captives, not me. How could he write this? Because his focus was undivided and fully fixed on God’s work, not on his own comfort.

Focusing fully on Christ is especially important for those with special needs—and for those of us who love and care for them. Focusing fully on Christ is the only way we can deal with the pain of life. This connects directly with Paul’s words in the book of Romans:

We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:3 NIV, emphasis added)

Isn’t hope what we all long for? Hope infuses us with joy; it helps us to overlook and to undertake what we otherwise would not have. My dad, Chuck, has said, “Most of life is just showin’ up.” Showin’ up does not demand brains or brawn; it does demand that we examine what’s behind our attitudes—be it disappointment, or anger, or whatever—and make some choices, so that we might glorify God by becoming more like Christ.

1. Churchill by Himself: The Definitive Collection of Quotations, ed. Richard Langworth (New York: Public Affairs, 2008), 578. (Langworth is of the opinion that this quote is misattributed to Winston S. Churchill. The actual source is unknown.)

Getting Out the Door

2012-04-17T11:47:36-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

At my house, getting out the door, especially to church, is almost an Olympic event. There are wardrobe crises, tired teenager tensions, sibling struggles—at times it’s more a combat zone than a home. I’ve observed many families with the same struggles. But isn’t it amazing how our attitudes change when we finally clamor into church and sit down? Those early-morning entanglements dissipate, and we worship. And no matter what went on before, God is delighted to have us there.

When my son Jon was born with disabilities, the freedom to do things like get out the door with ease was removed. I’d never considered that a freedom until it was lost. But now I hold in high regard those without the freedom of ease . . . ease in movement, seeing, hearing, tying shoes, brushing hair. In his book, Always Looking Up, Michael J. Fox describes his morning routine:

I blindly fumble a plastic vial from the nightstand, dry-swallow a couple of pills. . . . I swing my legs around to the side of the bed, and the instant my feet hit the floor, the two of them are in an argument. A condition called “dystonia,” a regular complement to Parkinson’s, cramps my feet severely and curls them inward, pressing my ankles toward the floor and the soles of my feet toward each other as though they were about to close together in prayer. . . . The aching will persist for the next twenty minutes or so. . . .

Grasping the toothpaste is nothing compared to the effort it takes to coordinate the two-handed task of wrangling the toothbrush and strangling out the line of paste onto the bristles.¹

Fox explains how the disease overtakes the body, affecting his emotions, intellect, and physical, social, and spiritual well-being. Even as I type, I’m reminded to be thankful for the freedom of controlled movement, of small muscles working together.

As I raise Jon, I realize how many freedoms he will never have. Throughout life, he will regularly struggle to get out the door . . . yet, right now on Sundays, he is the one person in our house who doesn’t complain. He puts on his favorite suit and tie and finds no reason to fuss. In that, he is more free than most.

Job recorded these words right after a devastating loss:

The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
may the name of the LORD be praised. (Job 1:21 NIV)

This verse brings to mind a few things we all should remember as we get out the door and face the world.

1. To those with bodily ease—praise God for your freedom. It’s a gift, not a right. Call each part of your body to praise Him. Thank Him for your eyes, arms, legs, back, mind . . . every part. When someone else is slow, messy, shaky, or mentally unstable, resist judgment. You have no idea what that person went through just to get out the door.
2. To those without bodily ease—I deeply admire you and applaud you for your courage, determination, endurance, and humility. You’re a hero, a person of grand character. You long to be free and whole in heaven, but you’re changing lives right here without saying a word.
3. To all of us, with and without bodily ease—learn to love one another, serve one another, and live peacefully together.

1. Michael J. Fox, Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist (New York: Hyperion, 2009), 2.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

2012-04-10T09:32:23-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

His name was Theodor Geisel, but everyone knew him as Ted. Born in 1904 to German immigrant parents, Theodor and Henrietta, the family settled on Howard Street in Springfield, Massachusetts. Ted and his sister Marnie recalled a happy childhood; Ted’s favorite memory was being soothed to sleep by his mother’s soft words she had learned from her mother. For Ted and his family, there didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about his life (or so he believed).

But Ted was enormously creative and inquisitive. He attended Dartmouth and Oxford, pursuing what he loved most: writing, art, and journalism. Like acting jobs in Hollywood today, journalists then were a dime a dozen. And, like actors today, Ted took the odd jobs and open opportunities as they were presented. Over the course of time, his goal was to write of great moral issues in a simplistic fashion.

He submitted his first written and illustrated manuscript to between 27 and 48 publishing houses (depending on whom you ask). All rejected Ted’s work. Undaunted, Ted kept writing because his soul had something to say. He was driven to communicate a message: each person is unique and tremendously valuable, regardless of size, shape, color, intellect, or measurable ability. Today, readers know Ted by his pen name: Dr. Seuss.¹

Of course, Dr. Seuss was not a theologian, but his artistic form and words remind me of the way Christ communicated deeper truths. Jesus—alongside many writers of Scripture—used simple things such as light, a mustard seed, rivers, roots, sheep, and fields to tell us of faith, foundational strength, and how to find help and safety in Him.

I’d like to leave you today with one such passage. Psalm 1 expresses one of the grandest truths I know: that God blesses those who follow Him:

How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
And in His law he meditates day and night.
He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.
The wicked are not so,
But they are like chaff which the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
For the LORD knows the way of the righteous,
But the way of the wicked will perish.

1. “All About Dr. Seuss,” Dr. Seuss National Memorial, http://www.catinthehat.org/history.htm, accessed Feb. 23, 2012.

Prayer Bear

2012-04-03T10:56:15-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

You may be surprised to know a little bear lives in our home. He showed up shortly after the birth of my youngest child, Jonathan (now 14 years old). He’s a softly stuffed, six-inch teddy bear that wears a light-blue and white striped night cap sewn on his little head. But this stuffed animal is like none we’ve ever had (and we have had plenty!). He is in a kneeling position, eyes closed, with little, furry paws crossed. He whispers the following words, which have been for me a balmy salve, saturating and soothing my rough, ragged, resistant and often resentful soul. He quotes this prayer of Jesus:

“Our Father who is in heaven,
Hallowed be Your name.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”
(Matthew 6:9–13)

Just before offering this prayer, Christ warned the people against praying like hypocrites. Back in the first century, a hypocrite was a reference to an actor in a play. Today, we refer to hypocrites as pretenders, swindlers (hey, careful there), outwardly pious people who pretend to be highly moral and deeply committed to Christ. However, when the church lights go out, the true character of the hypocrite is revealed—and it’s often shocking, bewildering, and compromised.

As I’ve ruminated over this blog entry, I’ve discovered some hypocrisy in my own soul . . . I’ve talked to Jesus, my husband, and my counselor about this simple prayer and how it has pierced places in me that need refining. My hope is that those who profess to believe in Jesus Christ will choose the simple life of sincere faith. I pray these truths sink into your soul as God continues to refine us into His image.

In this prayer, Christ said:

1) We pray to an intimate, infinite Lord, our heavenly Father, worthy of our worship. Therefore, prayer isn’t to inform God of something He may have missed (oops); it’s to begin with acknowledging His sovereignty, His faithfulness, and His presence. Whether we feel it or not, faith is about living in truth.

2) Because He is our Father, it’s okay for us to come to Him as a child—with no pretense and not “politically or socially” trained with the world’s rules. We come to Him as a child—messy, sometimes mad, in need, hurt, or happy.

3) Because we are to come to Him in a childlike manner, big words, long statements, and verbosity are NOT expected! Simple words suffice: “I need You.” “I can’t do this.” “Will you help me?” “I’m so sad.” We’re to come to Him with meekness, humility, and without fear. His care is so tender; call to Him as you are.

4) Because there are no masks we can wear to disguise our hearts from God, prayer should be simple. We are called to forgive. I’ve struggled with this one the most . . . to give full release of any damaging, painful wrongdoing that’s happened to me. And ask not to be led into temptation . . . how often we are tempted to think of ways to get even!

This prayer calls us to let go and then be free to praise Him forever and ever. Amen.

A Possible Revolution

2012-03-27T11:35:42-05:00

by Colleen Swindoll Thompson

It was a bustling Sunday morning at church. The children’s classes and adult fellowships overflowed with folks who appeared focused as well as fulfilled. The church was highly respected throughout the community and centrally located in one of the fastest growing cities of the nation.

A visiting couple assessed the morning’s activities. Because their son was autistic with attention and behavioral challenges, they chose to have him stay with his caregiver that Sunday. They had attended several other churches—usually returning only once—due to their son’s challenges. But this time, the people involved in various ministries and children’s programs appeared welcoming—something the couple had longed for ever since their son’s diagnosis was confirmed 12 months prior. The two exchanged a hopeful glance. They enjoyed the worship service and spent extra time talking with the children’s pastor as well as observing the interaction between the kids and Sunday school teachers.

They brought their son on the second visit and observed his interactions with the other kids and the Sunday school teachers. Although the church did not have a specific special needs classroom or program, the couple hoped their son would adjust smoothly.

They met with the pastor that next week. They had questions and a few concerns, but they desired for this to become their church home. When the couple expressed their needs and the challenges of parenting a child with disabilities, the pastor tried to show sympathy. But his words came across as insincere pity, similar to the reactions of people at the grocery store.

After that, the couple gave up on going to church.

More often than most imagine, an “un-welcome” mat on the church doorstep greets almost 100 percent of families with a disabled child. In a place God designed for its members to extend understanding and acceptance, families are shunned or ignored. No one desires to be distasteful or disagreeable, but disapproval and distance occurs nevertheless.

Does this describe your church? Could everything else be in such precise working order that nobody notices the doorbell is broken? Although unity remains challenging, it is possible.

One of the strongest disability ministry organizations is “Joni and Friends,” founded by quadriplegic Joni Eareckson Tada. For more than 30 years Joni and Friends has developed outstanding resources for churches with disabilities ministries. The Web site address is:
www.joniandfriends.org/church-relations/

Here are some specific suggestions for how this ministry can help fix your church’s doorbell:

For individuals, families, K–12 educators, and interested church members, this overview shows you which course or set of materials is right for you:
www.joniandfriends.org/education-and-training/

Consider a one-day training seminar for your pastor, church leaders, and volunteers. The Web site address is:
www.joniandfriends.org/christian-institute-on-disability/international-education/

For further study for pastors or lay leaders, consider taking a graduate or undergraduate course on church ministry and disability. Joni and Friends’ The Christian Institute on Disability offers many classes online as well in specific locations. You will find an excellent listing of options here:
www.joniandfriends.org/christian-institute-on-disability/accredited-coursework/

Becoming Real

2012-03-23T10:20:00-05:00

While driving to work today, my attitude wasn’t so great. More often than not, I’m a bit like Tigger from Winnie-the-Pooh, but today I felt like Eeyore. I know in my head that stress and demands exhaust my spirit, but the journey from my head to my heart is a long one. On days like this, I look back through my journals. Doing this helps me remember that life is a process. Dated September 2005, I wrote the following. Reading it again today lifted my heart. I hope it encourages you as well.

I picked up one of my favorite books today . . . The Velveteen Rabbit. It’s a story about a soft toy rabbit who learns from an old rocking horse what it means to become real. The nursery setting delights me, and there is such wisdom shared in conversations between the skin horse and the velveteen rabbit. But who would have thought the process of becoming real would entail such anguish?

The old horse helps the rabbit understand just what it means to be real. Becoming real leads to shabbiness. It means we’ll eventually fall apart, something that won’t happen when we just sit upon the shelf and appear beautiful. The experiences of having whiskers pulled out, pink lining turning gray, and stitching coming loose turns a fragile person into a real person. There is a lot of shelf-sitting in my life, a lot of waiting and wanting to belong. But that won’t make me real. For the rabbit, love turned him shabby. And, though threadbare, he became real. The same will be true for me—if I allow myself to love and be loved so much that my layers fall apart.

I’m learning now a few things about being real:

Real is being able to say, “I don’t know.”

Real is allowing myself to fall into the arms of Jesus without worry.

Real is knowing that I may not understand God’s ways, then remembering that those of valiant faith were never told “why”—they simply believed and followed.

Real is saying, “I’m sorry.”

Real is being present in each moment and knowing that the present is exactly that . . . a gift to enjoy, not a possession to own.

In the next two weeks, I will continue talking about becoming real. Today, I hope you’ll let the lesson of The Velveteen Rabbit prepare your heart for the process. Have a great week.