Tag Archives: Stress

Rule Breaker

If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun. ~Katharine Hepburn

Having the time of my life.

Forty-nine years, 346 days. That’s how old I am as I draft this post. I will be 50 years old at the end of this month. This is a monumental birthday for me. It has certainly given me pause to think. I think about the fact that I’m now in the last half of life. I spend a great deal of time thinking about the fact that I’m (soon to be) 50 with a five year old with developmental challenges—and worry greatly about being here wholly, completely and physically for him as he grows up. I think about the fact that I’m not as sharp (in any respect) as I used to be. I think about the fact that my husband and I will most likely have to work every day we’re above ground in order to maintain life, as we know it. Please don’t misunderstand me. These are not regrets. They’re merely realities—realities you don’t think about at 20, 30 or probably even 40. (At least I didn’t.) But 50? Well that’s a whole other ballgame.

There is another side to the coin though. In addition to concerns I have about life, I also spend a great deal of time reflecting on how richly I’ve been blessed throughout my life. I didn’t always see it that way. I had many, many struggles as a young adult. I carried a lot of bitterness, disappointment and regret around. But I’m so thankful God has lifted those burdens from my shoulders. Grace covers a lifetime of heartache, and I am eternally grateful to Him for that.

Yet another byproduct of turning 50 is permission I’ve given myself to live a little—for me. As the majority of wives and mothers do, I’ve spent a good deal of my life living to care for others. We inherently put the needs of others above our own. I know I do. And I’m more than okay with that. I’m grateful to have a family who needs me. However, wives and mothers also need to feed our own spiritual and emotional selves. The last five years have been very challenging, and at times draining. That’s the nature of the beast. But I’ve recently found something I enjoy immeasurably. Skateboarding. Yes, you read that correctly. Skateboarding.

Greg and I initially bought boards in February so we could accompany Jackson to the skate park. Jackson has always loved to ride his scooter—something that required me to run alongside him—neck-and-neck, for safety’s sake. I was OVERJOYED (let me say that again—OVERJOYED!) to learn he could ride his scooter at the local skate park, as it was getting more difficult for me to keep up with him. (See paragraph one RE: lack of sharpness.) I thought the skate park would afford me the opportunity to put my feet up and relax while Jackson rode his scooter. Boy was I wrong!

Greg and I quickly learned how much fun it is to skateboard. We bought boards and started to skate ourselves. Then we bought new boards because we learned that our original boards were for “cruising.” Cruising? We wanted to skate!  We didn’t want to just putter around the park. We wanted to skate ramps and bowls! We wanted to drop in! And so we did. And you know what? We’ve been having the time of our lives! Literally. We go to the skate park as often as we can. Jackson rides his scooter and Greg and I skate. We encourage each other, watch each other’s progress and celebrate each other’s accomplishments. It is truly a family affair.

I recently treated myself to lessons for my upcoming birthday. I scheduled seven lessons with a young man named Tommy who works at our local skate park. Unfortunately, our final lesson was rained out. (I was deeply saddened.) Tommy was a saint. A saint! He could’ve taken one look at this middle-aged mother and begged off. But he didn’t. And I am so grateful for that. Not only is Tommy a great instructor; he’s truly a great person. (Tommy, your folks got it right.) My life is richer for the six hours I spent with this young man. I was drawn out of my comfort level every minute we were together. He had me skating switch/fakie at heights and speeds WAY above my comfort zone. And equally death-defying—Tommy had me dropping in independently by the end of our time together.

Here’s a video of my first independent drop in.

http://on.fb.me/1wjdUKM

I took a few spills, which were never Tommy’s doing. I simply didn’t know what to do with myself post maneuver. But I got up and kept going.

Overestimated my abilities to fakie a steep ramp, post drop in.

Overestimated my abilities to fakie a steep ramp, post drop in.

I learned so much from Tommy, not only about skateboarding, but also about myself. I learned that even at fifty I’m still as curious and tenacious as I was at 20, 30 and 40. But more importantly, I’m more intuitive and open to correction and instruction than I was at those ages. My life is so much richer for those six short hours. I’m so thankful I took that step and that time for myself. Contusions aside, I have a newfound appreciation for this body God has created, a deeper love for skating, a greater gratitude for my tenacity, and a new friend I hold dear to my heart. Thank you, Tommy, for letting me fly.

At work, pre-lesson.

At work, pre-lesson.

Sweaty! Tommy and me apres lesson (and first independent drop in).

 

I was out for a run yesterday morning when it started to rain.  My initial thought was:  Boogers!  I’m about to get wet.  And then I thought, is that such a bad thing?  It was hot and humid.  I was soaked with sweat.  As long as I protected my iPhone, a little rain should be nothing to fret over.  I continued on my run and as I approached a curve I looked up to see blue skies behind the clouds.

Look up!  Blue skies are ahead.

I thought, what a great metaphor for life.  Oftentimes we fear something we have no need to fear.  If we simply look ahead—past our current circumstances, we just might see a favorable outcome within our reach.  All we have to do is stay the course and keep plugging along.  Things will get better.

So whatever you’re facing today don’t turn back, my friend.  Forge ahead and know you are not alone.  You’re in good company.  Folks like me are running right alongside you.  Just remember to look ahead and keep your head up.

The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. ~Dolly Parton  

FAIL

FAIL
I’m bummed.  Actually, I’m way more than bummed.  I’m greatly disappointed in myself.  I let my frustrations get the best of me this morning.  I’m 99% sure Jackson forgot the turn of events as soon as he walked through the school doors.  But my reaction to things left a bitter taste in my mouth.  I pulled into school with tears brimming.

My vexation almost always results from what I believe should, at this juncture, be routine.  I get flustered with things that Jackson and I (and his OT) have been working on for what seems like eternity.  To me, dressing (and undressing) should be almost second nature by now.  He’s five, for Pete’s sake.  Truth of the matter is, the act of getting dressed or undressed is simply not natural for Jackson.   When it comes to undressing, shoes are semi-doable, providing they’re Velcro and loose fitting.  He’s good with taking his socks off.  Pants?  If they have a fastener it’s a no-go.  Pull over shirts and tees?  Pretty good, but for the life of me I don’t understand how they become stuck on his head, which results in his spinning around in circles.  Getting dressed?  That’s very often, but not completely, a bust.  (Thank goodness we live in Florida where pull-on shorts, tees and bare feet are the norm.)  This morning’s debacle went something like this.  The jacket went on, yet again, without a shirt.  And the pants went on backward, replete with the zipper in back.  Really?  The zipper wasn’t a dead giveaway?  Doesn’t any of this seem strange or uncomfortable, Jackson?

All this happened after spending the first 40 minutes of my morning making futile attempts to literally physically extricate myself from the grasp of a whiny and whimpering munchkin.  He was bent on me not getting up this morning.  He was adamant I needed to come back to bed with him.  Unfortunately I needed to get to work today.  The end of the month is fast approaching and I have a lot to do between now and the 31st.  Plus, a shower was needed, as I hadn’t had one in a few days.  I know, TMI…

I lost it.  Not literally, but my jaw was set and my teeth were clenched as I set about undressing Jackson and getting him dressed and out the door.  He had to sense I was frustrated.  My touch wasn’t gentle.  It was hurried and silent.  I prayed aloud for the Holy Spirit’s calm to wash over me.  We made our way out the door and into the car and rode in silence for the nearly 25-minute commute to school.  Now here I sit.  My spirit is broken and I can’t think of anything I want to do more than race to school and scoop Jackson up and hug him.

I’m so grateful tomorrow will be a new day and I’ll get a do over.  And blessedly God’s grace and tender mercies will be new too.  Thank you, Lord, for not giving up on me.  I’m so unworthy, yet Your love is faithful day in and day out.   Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

 Lamentations 3:22-24

22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”

 


Sacrifice

This post isn’t about me, per se.  It’s a message for someone.  I don’t know who the person is (or people are), but I believe God has pressed it upon my heart to put the following encouragement out there, not necessarily as someone who has been-there-done-that, but as someone who daily IS there DOING it.  I’m talking about parenting a child with special needs—great or small, whatever those needs may be.  Whoever you are, God wants you to know you are not alone.  Not only am I in the trenches with you, but there are countless others out there who get it—and get you.  Of course everyone’s situation is unique, however, those of us battling it out in the parenting trenches know your internal, physical and spiritual struggles.

If my admittedly failing memory serves me correct, parenting a child with special needs is not something I neither signed up nor signed on for when I inked my parenting contract with God.  But then again, few people do.  (There is a very special place in heaven for those whose hearts God has set to seek out and parent children who have special needs.  Bless you.)  As the parent of a child with developmental challenges, pipedreams are no longer in my wheelhouse.  That’s not conjecture; it’s fact.  I’m not seeking sympathy, I’m simply telling you my reality.   I can’t see past today.  My son consumes me from the moment his eyes flutter open at the crack of dawn until he finally drifts off to sleep at night.  His days are fueled by a great deal of anxiety and nearly every second of my day is spent caring for or interacting with him in one way or another.  And the few hours I’m afforded during the school day are spent at my office doing full-time work on a very part-time schedule.

One of the many things I’ve learned firsthand over the years is this:  you cannot effectively parent a child without sacrificing yourself.  Every family’s situation is unique, however, parenting a child with developmental and/or physical challenges greatly magnifies the sacrifice required of parents and caregivers.

I’m less than happy and more than a little embarrassed to admit that oftentimes I look at friends and acquaintances (and even my husband/business partner) through green eyes of envy.  I had—and continue to have—so many dreams and aspirations I fear will never come to fruition.  But I’m learning to have peace with this possibility.  At times it’s been a tough pill to swallow, but our mighty Comforter is balm to my wounded ego.  When I get a case of the feel sorries, He reminds of this:  Jesus’ birth, life and death were foretold; His sole purpose was to be mankind’s Savior—our Redeemer.  He came to earth to be The Sacrificial Lamb.  Period. He didn’t juggle many roles in His short time on this earth.  Nor did he try to find a way to mitigate His purpose.  He had a singular objective.   Jesus never questioned that.  Never.  Ever.

Now, I am absolutely, positively NOT comparing my sacrifice or anyone else’s for that matter, to the ultimate price Jesus paid for you and me.  However, I firmly believe as mothers in general our lives must, to some degree or another, be a living sacrifice for our child(ren).  My experience tells me this is especially true for adoptive parents and parents of children with special needs.   Both bring so much to the parenting table.  We simply cannot have it all.   There are many folks who believe differently.  There’s a host of people out there who either try to convince us we can have/do it all or guilt us into believing we fall short if we don’t aspire to be supermom.  But as the mother of both a soon-to-be 32 year old and a five year old on the autism spectrum, I can tell you it’s an unreasonable goal and trying to do so can be a real spirit breaker.  In this instance I have most definitely been-there-done-that.

So, my dear friend—whoever you are, the only counsel I can offer is take it easy on yourself.  Please, please, please give yourself a break, and while you’re at it, a pat on the back.  You deserve it.  I guarantee it.

Overwhelming Grace

For the first time in weeks I took (as in forcefully snatched it out of the day) the time this morning to go for a run.  I took our two energetic pointers with me.   Since it’s been awhile since our last run, It took a bit for us to get into synch.  As we were plodding along (read: sucking wind) early in the run, i was struck with the following thought.

Through the precious blood of Jesus, my husband and I are God’s adopted children.  In turn, God birthed the desire to adopt a child and facilitated Jackson’s adoption.  Then the three of us adopted these two knuckleheads (thought with all the love in my heart) running along with me. Truth be told, all five of us are as broken as the day is long.  Seriously.  Our family is a whole bucket full of whacky dysfunction, but God’s amazing grace covers each and every one of us.  And that makes it not only okay, but it makes life doable.  Even on the worst days when I want nothing more than to pull the covers up over my head and pretend I have nowhere to be, HE has got this. HE carries me.  Everything is gonna be alright.  And for that I’ll praise Him and worship Him all the days he grants me on this earth.  Thank you, LORD! Thank you.

Who Rescues Who?

Image

“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our life whole.” ~ Roger Caras

This photo is an accurate portrayal of the love our son has for our dog, Geoffrey—a rescue from Ruff World Animal Adoptions in Central Florida.  He is the fourth canine family member (and third rescue) we’ve been blessed to share life with in the past twelve years.

Our dogs—the last two (Felix and now Geoffrey) in particular—have been vital to our family. They have proven to be effective touchstones for our son—having a somewhat grounding influence on him.  For me they have proven to be great stress reducers.  My favorite part of the day is lying in bed at night waiting for munchkin to fall asleep.  Geoffrey snoozes with his front and back legs draped over me while his head rests in my lap.  The room is dark except for the soft glow of a nightlight.  As I stroke the side of his face and run his velvety ear repeatedly through my fingers I can literally feel the stress of the day wash away.  (Studies have shown that petting a dog can lower your heart rate.)  Truth be told, if it weren’t for my husband waiting for me to spend some time with him, I could conceivably stay there all night for the inner peace I’m afforded in that sacred space.

If you are contemplating bringing a canine family member into your home I urge you to please consider adopting from a rescue or shelter.  There are so many wonderful, loving dogs in desperate need of a loving forever home.

An estimated 2.7 million healthy shelter pets are not adopted each year, and only about 30 percent of pets in homes come from shelters and rescues.

U.S. shelter and adoption estimates

  • 83.3 million—Number of owned dogs
  • 20 percent—Percentage of owned dogs who were adopted from animal shelters
  • 3,500—Number of animal shelters
  • 6 to 8 million—Number of cats and dogs entering shelters each year
  • 25 percent—Percentage of purebred dogs in shelters
  • 3 to 4 million—Number cats and dogs adopted from shelters each year
  • 2.7 million—Number of adoptable cats and dogs euthanized in shelters each year

                                                                                     ~ 2013-2014 statistics according to the Humane Society of the US