For My Niece

My oldest niece graduated from high school today. I was only 14 when she was born, and if you had tried to tell me then that I would marry her mother's brother, I would have laughed at the obvious improbability of your prediction. Were there not already plenty of evidence in the world that our God has a sense of humor, I would offer as evidence His liking for making me do things I said I would never do. My marrying the man I did, given our history of interactions up until the day God started messing around with my heart, would be top of the list. The very first conversation I had with my now husband (I was about 12 and he was about 15) he made fun of my being homeschooled. (Yes. I was homeschooled, the old-fashioned, uncool way.) I don't remember all the details of the conversation. I probably said something very immature and silly in my defense, but I do remember thinking later, 'well, public school obviously did you well, teaching you to pick on a younger kid and make fun of the educational decision their parents made for them, cause I know your momma didn't teach you that.' (He fell for me, though didn't he? Hahaha!) Yet more evidence of God's sense of humor, we just got done with our second year homeschooling through a special program (the same fully accredited homeschool program my niece just graduated from). My husband is now the parent of homeschooled children, and his homeschooled wife is teaching them. Hahahaha! See. God doesn't just like doing those kinds of things to me. I'm pretty sure it works across the board. Now, my youngest son (the one with autism) will be going back to public school this next year (I'm actually getting more and more excited as I process this recent development), and this post isn't intended to applaud or condemn one educational method or the other. It's actually about my niece and her graduation, I promise. See, she's the reason we made the decision to try the homeschool program in the first place. This whole homeschool thing, at least for my husband, started with her. She's the one that changed his mind about homeschooling, not me. She is the product of a parent led home education program, the same one we hope our oldest (and maybe eventually our other two) will graduate from MANY years from now, and I'm really proud to say that.

I've been through my rough moments, regretted marrying the man I did and thought through plenty of 'what-ifs' and 'if-onlys' to eventually come around convinced that I have received more blessings having been with my husband than without him. While there are obviously three very important little blessings that would be at the top of that list, one of the other blessings would be my niece. I know it's common to list the memories you have, mostly embarrassing (why is that?), of someone reaching one of these milestones (like the time she was convinced that I spray painted my toe nails), but I think I'd rather just say I wish I had had more time to get to know her. Any time I see her, we're able to talk, and I mean really talk. It's nice. Makes me feel less old and out of touch with reality that an 18 year old can enjoy a conversation with me. Well, I guess I might be assuming a lot with that last statement. She could just be humoring me because she's too nice to abruptly end the conversation and leave, but I enjoy our conversations. I'm very proud of her. You know how you tend to say that a lot about the kids in your life. It's almost expected to say that at ball games, awards ceremonies and graduations, but I really mean it. I'm proud to call her my niece, nose piercing and all, and I'm so glad I married her uncle and got to be a part of her wonderful family.

It's also common for us old people to give the young'uns advice as they embark on their life as an adult. Well, my sweet, awesome Niece, I wish I had some advice to give that would blow your socks off. One of those gems you'll look back on when you watch your niece walk across that stage and think to yourself, 'holy moly, where did the time go?' The truth is, I don't. I still feel as lost and unsure many times now as I did the day I finished high school (I didn't get a graduation, though, maybe that would have helped). I will say that there will come a point when you have to stop preparing for your life and start living it, and I mean really living it. You will have all kinds of voices telling you what you should do and not do with your life. They'll chime in with their opinions on the big and the small decisions. You'll be motivated by many of their words. You'll be hurt by many, too. The best advice I can give you is to learn how to filter all the advice you get through God's Word and the convictions He's given you because when it comes time to live out the decisions you've made, God is the only one who will ALWAYS be there. You won't be able to stand alone and make things happen based on what someone else thinks you should do. It's gotta be you. It's gotta be yours. It's your life, and you're the one living it. Live it well, Baby Girl. Live it well.

Kindergarten Graduation

Jackson and his teacher

Super big smiles. Bebopping his little head through the songs. Of course he knew all the words, he LOVES music and has an uncanny ability to memorize things quickly. He was so proud and so happy to finally be a first grader. So proud he was still talking about it when he went to bed tonight.

My autistic son just graduated from Kindergarten, and loved every minute of the ceremony and reception. So why am I so overtaken with fear and sadness? Why am I sitting here hoping that typing this out and sending it into the void of cyberspace will bring some comfort? Should it hurt like this? Maybe it's the struggles we went through this year. Maybe it's the fear of the unknown, facing another school, another schedule, another transition. Or maybe it is yet another sign that I'm not as well adjusted to his diagnosis and all these changes as I have made myself believe I am.

As I look to others further along on this journey, I see no sign that this burden gets easier to bear as our children grow. Why do I expect it to get lighter with every milestone? Why do I get disappointed when a goal met often gives way to two more we didn't see. Am I still holding on to hope that autism is curable, that I can fight this fight and win, that I can somehow put this diagnosis in the grave and leave it behind? That would explain feeling like a failure when faced with the fact that he isn't cured, that we haven't left autism behind. That would explain the desperation and anger that wells up when I look back at how much we have fought with so little to show for the struggle. It would explain the disappointment when I'm forced to accept that victory for us isn't measured in hearing something like "you are now autism free" but in slow irregular progress. Progress toward what exactly? What is the end goal? For him to be typical? Dare I say normal? Is that really what I want? To be able to stand on the other side of this and say to myself and all those around me, see I did conquer this. To feign humble acceptance of God's plan only to harbor a desire to prove I won't be defeated by this nameless faceless enemy, that I will overcome it and free my son from its grasp, that I'm strong and capable and self sufficient, the perfect mother, chosen for this trial because I am up for the challenge. Is that what I want, to prove I'm not a crumbling mess afraid of first grade? Is it all about me, and this guilt I can't shake, that somehow there is more I could do, more I could try, more I could be?

Maybe I shouldn't hit the publish button on this one. I don't have any answers tonight, only questions. God, help me. I can't seem to accept my own humanness much less the diagnosis given to my son four years ago. Four years, so long but so short. Oh to learn to accept my failures and shortcomings and rest in my Savior's success and perfect provision. Oh to have nothing to fear and nothing to prove. God, help me.

Counting Blessings and Wrinkles

That's me with the Strawberry Shortcake doll. I was three. I think it was my birthday, and I think the doll was my birthday present. I'm sitting in my Granny's lap (my dad's grandmother), and next to us my older brother is sitting in my Memaw's lap (my dad's mother).

Today is my '29th' birthday. I say 29th because that's when I stopped counting. Let's just say a considerable amount of time has passed since the above photo was taken. :)

I've always loved to sing. My mother talks about it like it was such a blessing to her listening to me sing almost since before I could talk. She says I sound just like her grandmother. My brothers, however, probably considered my love to sing as more of a curse. :) Anyway, one of the songs I used to sing often was Count Your Blessings. You know the one...."Count your blessings name them one by one. Count your blessings see what God has done...."

Well, I have gained many blessings in the time that has passed, my husband, my three children, my in-law family (both my husband's family and my brothers' wives), and many wonderful friends. I've also been blessed with so many amazing life experiences and material possessions that if I were to try to detail it all in a list, to 'count my blessings,' I would be typing well into the night and would still not even begin to cover it all. My God has been SO good to me. There are many days I get overwhelmed at His goodness, and sadly many more days that I take each and every one of those blessings for granted. Today, I am thankful that I'm here, celebrating another birthday with my beautiful family.

Even a child can count their blessings. There is something, however, only living can teach you, and that is to count the wrinkles with the blessings. Along with all the people and things I've gained in my life, there have been some losses, too. One being that wonderful woman holding me in that picture, my Granny. My very first memory, the FIRST thing I can remember in my life is her holding me. I was still in diapers. Her voice was mesmerizing. I remember listening to her read books and tell stories. She had the best stories. Just sitting in her living room playing with tinker toys while she watched the Braves game (something she rarely missed) is a fond memory. She died my freshman year of college after living a long, full life. There are still days I ache to talk to her, but there is such hope and peace knowing I'll see her again. I'm very thankful that I had an entire childhood with her in my life, and heaven seems sweeter knowing she's there.

I've had to let go of some dreams and plans for my life, too. Every now and then I get sad at the thought of having given them up, but when thinking about what I gave them up for, I'm usually reminded that God's plan for my life is more generous than my own. I gave up my dream for full time mission work to marry a man who is both my knight in shining armor and the stone that keeps me sharp. We've struggled and hurt and come through together. I can say with all honesty that I wouldn't trade any of the storm for clear skies because so much of that struggle made me who I am today. Looking back at myself before I married him, I often cringe at how ridiculously immature and ill equipped for any kind of service I really was. One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes is repeated by Ravi Zacharias like this: "In loves service, the wounded soul serves best." Oh, how true those words are to me now.

Jackson's diagnosis would be one of those 'wrinkles', too. It is definitely not something I would have chosen for my son or our family, and when I heard the doctor say those words, autism spectrum disorder, I would never have thought I could consider it a blessing. However, I've learned so much about myself and the provision and nurture of my God because of that diagnosis that while I will continue to work to ensure Jackson has the best chance at a life on his own, I wouldn't trade this journey or the awesome people we've met along the way for anything.

Every stretch mark and scar, every gray hair and wrinkle (yes, they are there already!) serve as reminders of the life I've lived. Every birthday is another chance to reflect and remember those moments and choose to live this life well. So, here's to many more laugh lines and age spots. May I learn to wear them well and never forget the blessings and struggles they stand for.