This side of Heaven...
I keep typing these words over and over again.
This side of Heaven, we won't understand X, Y, or Z...
This side of Heaven I absolutely will not understand my daughter's journey.
But, I've decided to skip the stress of it.
"While your light absolutely impacts hers, your child is (wait for it) NOT YOU. She is her own little or big person. She is responsible for her own light. Can you support her brilliance? Absolutely. Is it entirely up to you? Nope."
It’s Sunday night - we are on an airplane ride home – and the most beautiful little girl on the planet is sprawled across my lap. Her feet brush our neighbor’s leg...
Fortunately, as my Father would have it, Lisa is a friend from church and she knows our Bliss. And by knows, I mean knows.
“When you do something for someone else, don’t call attention to yourself. You’ve seen them in action, I’m sure—‘playactors’ I call them—treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that’s all they get. When you help someone out, don’t think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out." - Matthew 6:2-4 MSG
This is me at a pretty cool photo shoot for postpartum doula life a few weeks back. Before I realized we would be homeschooling, I thought I would just be working with and writing for moms. But alas, God had other plans. Homeschool being one.
Homeschooling a special needs child gives you hundreds of opportunities practice small acts of kindness with great love in the dark. When nobody is looking, we're tidying the tornado that rips through our world again and again and again. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with a squeeze. And sometimes by avoiding eye contact - because, like a dominant doberman, my daughter will aggress with too much social stimulation.
When life gives you lemons - a.k.a. all the wildness - you can either make some super delicious lemonade with it... or you can not. With six years of mothering a gorgeous child with sensory processing disorder and fifteen years mothering me - a woman living with chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS/ME) - under my belt, I have personally come to the conclusion that either we choose to thrive... to make the lemonade... or we choose to not thrive.
"We just need to get through these days. But also, I don't want to miss them! This is going to fly by."
Today I'm trying my hand at poetry. We'll see if I can convey the joy I'm experiencing. I pray I can.
Blessings, sweet friends
Hey beautiful friends! Welcome to the adventure. I am so incredibly honored to explore life with (and speak life into) you! My prayer is that this is another post full of exploration tinged with hope.
A few years ago, I wrote about bed rest with my Wild one. I was 31 weeks gestation when early labor terminated our adventures out in the world. And while I struggled deeply during that time, I also grew. I've been reflecting on this a lot lately, as I dig into supporting the postpartum and special parenting community that I know and love.
Picture captured by one of my favorite people in the whole world. When I visited Washington, there was an abundance of this practice that keeps me whole. Whenever I adventure anywhere, I bring my mat. But sometimes, in special places and spaces (like overlooking the pacific ocean on water-smoothed rock), I don't need it.
There is an editorial from a Christian magazine that I have pinned to a bulletin board behind my computer station. The header says: Invade the Secular with the Sacred. It's what I do. It's what I have always done.
Over the last 33 years, I have had a plethora of life experiences that have led me closer and closer in my walk with the Lord. One of the greatest? Yoga. (Another is motherhood if you haven't clued in on that yet!)
Love the one you're with.
As a mother, father, caregiver, spouse - do you ever feel like you struggle with this?
Yet living with chronic disease continually reminds me of how fragile this life is; I'm shot right back into reality with each stumble. Today, I want to share with you an excerpt from a post I wrote a long, long time ago. A post that popped up and reminded me of how important it is to love well exactly where you are.