The End Is Near

The end has come....for the 2012 election, that is. It's over, finally. No more ads or political telemarketing. No more celebrities jumping on one band wagon or another. For this I am very thankful. However, the end of the election has sparked the beginning of something else, doom.

There is nothing like the election or re-election of a liberal President to bring out the doomsday prophets. My Facebook news feed was immediately filled with all kinds of angry and fearful posts about how this is the end of the US and probably the world. Well, some of those posts were from friends up in Sandy's path, and for them, it probably really did look like the end of the world. I had one friend posting about how eerie it was to see New York City dark and how she was fully expecting to see zombies come out of the deserted buildings and try to eat her. Maybe she watches too many horror films, but I digress.

The depression and disillusionment of so many Americans, particularly conservative Christians, was palpable in the days following the election, and is still very tangible even now. I live in the conservative South, and it felt like it was almost in the air or the water or something. The sadness seemed to fuel the theories. I've heard all kinds from Obama is the anti-christ to Obama is working with Al Qaeda to destroy us from within. I didn't see the movie 2016, but I've heard all about it, more so after the election than before. There's talk of demonic activity in our government, the old Illuminati conspiracy theories, and more practically, the inevitable collapse of our economy. Now, I'm not going to tell you who I voted for, or where I tend to lean on some of these theories, but I will say that I feel very strongly that in the eternal scope of things, for those of us who believe in God and Jesus, it isn't the end of the world, even if it is the end of this world.

Even if the last days, prophesied for thousands of years, are actually upon us.... even if we are facing the possible revoking of our right to worship God as we see fit.... even if things do progress to something similar to the days of Nero when Christian men, women and children were fed to Lions for the entertainment of the 'civilized' Roman people.... even if we do find ourselves in another depression that creates a national famine.... none of this changes who we are and what we've been called to do.

"But now thus says the LORD, he who created you....He who formed you.... "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine." Isaiah 43:1

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27

"O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" Micah 6:8

I particularly like Micah 6:8. It's so simple. Yes, we should seek justice in our homes, our churches and our government, but true justice will not come to this Earth by any human hand. And, I'm very thankful I will not receive justice but mercy from that Hand. I want to extend the mercy and kindness I was given by my God to those around me. If the times do get dark, how much brighter the Light will shine.

We are not called to fear the times in which we live, but to trust the God who put us here. Take heart in the stories of those who have come before us, those who suffered and must have believed the end of this world was upon them, too. I often look at the life I've been given and wonder to myself, why me, why now? Why wasn't I born into a time when living out my beliefs meant being burned at the steak or stoned to death? Why wasn't I born in a time of great revival and church growth? I don't know if I'll get the answer to that question in this life, but I know that if I can't trust the God who put me here, then I can't trust anything. Even if my idea of the perfect president is elected and everything is going the way I think it should, if my God is not in control, then I have nothing.

Now, Lord willing, I intend to enjoy the Holiday season, plan my next trip to Disney, train for a half-marathon, help my children grow and develop into healthy, happy adults. I intend to see them go to college, get married and have children of their own. I intend to enjoy the life I've been given by loving my God and the people He has placed in my life, by walking humbly with Him and offering kindness and mercy to everyone I can. All the rest, the details, the things that are out of my control, all that is up to Him, and I trust Him completely.

So, Happy Thanksgiving! Let's ditch the doom and gloom and be thankful for our God, our Country, our families, and our lives. Let's thank God for the food we will spread out on our dining room tables, for the souls that will gather to eat it with us whether connected by blood or another bond, and for each breath He allows us to take. For those who know Him, there will never be an end. The feast will continue with Him for eternity. Thank you, thank you, Jesus.

That's What God Sounds Like

It was a typical start to the weekend in our house. Kids in bed. I'm trying to catch up on some computer work (i.e. Facebook, Pinterest and Blogger) when my husband hands me a letter from Georgia DHR saying, "this is going to ruin your night." It was a notice of termination regarding Jackson's Medicaid.

Let me pause here and share what exactly I'm talking about. Back when all this was new to us and we didn't know we had options, we accrued a pretty substantial amount of debt in medical and therapy expenses. The doctors, teachers, psychologists and therapists all told us Jackson needed these services to function, that without them, he wouldn't have a chance of developing properly and the developmental gap between where he was and where he should be would continue to widen. However, these services are expensive. We kept going, paying what we could when we could, but it was getting out of control. One of Jackson's therapists invited me to a parent night out where a Medicaid expert would be speaking about the Katie Becket Deeming Waiver. This is a special waiver for children with disabilities requiring extensive therapy. It is based on the diagnosis and prognosis of the child not the income of the family. Jackson's diagnosis qualified him for that program. It was a crazy set of hoops we had to jump through, but without this program, Jackson would not have received the services he needed to achieve what he has achieved over the past 4 years. He would certainly be in a very different place. If you are a Georgia family with a child on the spectrum, and you haven't heard about the program, you should check it out (and make sure you read all the way to the end). Now back to my story....

When I read the line "NOTICE OF TERMINATION" and then "YOU DID NOT GIVE US THE INFORMATION WE REQUESTED," my physical response was immediate. My heart started racing. I could feel the blood pumping through my temple. I felt hot and flushed at the same time. What?!?!? I'm telling you, if I didn't have Jesus, I'm afraid someone would have died. I immediately called the number on the form thinking I would leave a message. Good call, Rach, you're so clear headed and rational right now, you'll leave an awesome message. It's busy....Now, that's not uncommon. Back in my rational mind, the one I jumped out of for a moment, I knew DFCS doesn't have a voice mail. (Could you imagine having that job? No, thank you!) I've called them dozens of times over the past year trying to get the review paperwork we needed. See, we never got our review packet last year. Actually, we received absolutely nothing from them last year. I called over and over and got different answers from different people. No one could tell me his case worker. They would often refer me to another county's office, which would often end with the busy signal as well. I eventually got someone at the state office who told me, "we'll get to the bottom of this," and heard nothing. I've heard over and over again how overwhelmed they are at DFCS. I've heard over and over, just give them time, they'll get to you. So, we waited and waited, eventually receiving this termination notice and leading me to the brink of a total nervous system collapse....I can't get them on the phone? Fine, then I'll get them by email. Off to the website. There isn't an email account for our county's DFCS office. (Something else I knew in the back of my mind. Who would want that job either?) Awesome. Well, then I'll go above them. I emailed every commissioner, representative, office clerk I could think of. I must have sent out dozens of emails all stating our situation and how horribly my son's review was handled. I dropped names and dates for when I had talked to them and what they had said. I even mentioned my husband and his active role in our county's child advocacy programs. I sat at my computer for a long while executing vengeance on my keyboard until I rather anticlimactically went to bed. Nervous and unsettled, Monday couldn't come fast enough.

Kids fed. Everyone showered and dressed for the inevitable trip down to DFCS. I thought I would try it one more time by phone. First try, busy. Second try, rings indefinitely. Third try, busy. Fourth try, hallelujah someone picks up and says, "Barbara?" I quickly seized the opportunity before she could back track and said, "no, but I need to speak to someone regarding a termination notice." "Sure, hold on." Great, now I'm on hold. Someone gets on. I give her my information. I'm given another number to call, in another county. When I call this number, I get a very frustrated woman explaining to me that my county sent over all review cases between last July and this March to her county. Many were lost in the transfer either to them or from them, and while her name was on our case, she had nothing to do with it. And, even better than that, she couldn't help me. I would likely have to reapply, through my county's office. So, I take a deep breath, vent on Facebook and load everyone up in the car. Did I mention that it's raining. Wonderful.

Not sure what to expect, nervous and sick to my stomach, I wait in line. My boys settle into seats with their DS's while my daughter happily makes friends with everyone in line. The closer I got to the window the more impressed I was with how the woman working the window was handling everyone in line. She had a calming smile and a genuine interest in every case. She was unbelievably helpful and knowledgeable. I immediately thought about Proverbs 15:1, "a soft answer turns away wrath." Her gentle responses diffused any anger in the line, and by the time I got to the window, I was calm. Barely holding onto my tears because that's usually what happens to me after my blood boils, the water works begin. I asked her for an application and showed her the termination notice. She said to wait and someone would be with me soon. We waited. My older son and my daughter were making friends with the other children in the office. My older son was having a conversation with a girl who looked about his age about how boys play baseball and girls play softball, but she knew a boy who played softball, and he had a girl on his baseball team last year. They were smiling and talking, making the most of the situation, actually enjoying themselves. It was about this time, I checked my Facebook status. Remember I vented before leaving my house. There were comments from friends offering encouragement and prayer. I was suddenly overwhelmed with peace, and extremely embarrassed by the fact that I got so angry in the first place. And, by the fact that I had to vent my frustrations on Facebook.

During this peaceful moment of clarity, I was reminded of a question Jackson asked in church that Sunday. Jackson asks LOTS of questions, mostly pertaining to how 'real' something is. We're working on understanding the difference between fantasy and reality. He tends to lean more toward the reality side of things, and as it pertains to spirituality, I've long given up the Sunday School answers we grown ups often give kids his age. They seem to confuse him more than the grown up answers. [Case and point: asking Jesus into his heart, asking a God who is bigger than the earth, the universe and the boogie man to live in his chest would be painful and most likely result in an explosion.] He is definitely my kid. Anyway, one of the dozens of questions he asked during the service was, "is that what God sounds like?" Now, I did take notice of this question, and even thought about how precious it was, however, the full weight of it didn't hit me until that moment sitting in the DFCS office.

"Is that what God sounds like?" Yes, Baby, that is what God sounds like. He speaks to us through His Word and through His people. He speaks to us through His creation and His Spirit. He speaks through the pastor and Sunday School teachers that care for us. He shows himself in our moments of desperation through social media and the DFCS worker handling the window. He works behind the scenes in the hearts and minds of those around us to make things happen in record time, all to say He loves us and to remind us we CAN trust Him. He never drops the ball.

Jackson's caseworker came to the window. She gave me the paperwork I needed to get back to them, some had to be completed before we left making our visit with DFCS about 2 hours long. Things got tense there toward the end, DS batteries exhausted and other children to get into trouble with. However, that peace lingered.

It's funny how entitled we can become, and how offended we can get when something we feel entitled to is threatened. The Deeming Waiver allowed my son to receive therapy, paid for by the State, when we weren't able to pay, and rather than being grateful for what I had been given, I was quick to lay blame, point fingers and make accusations. How dare they terminate my child? I'll show them.

Later that afternoon I got a call from the supervisor over the Medicaid division that handles the Katie Beckett Deeming Waiver cases. One of those emails I sent out reached the right person. During my conversation with her, she apologized for the problem, confirmed it was a mix up between the two counties and she was able to reinstate my son's Medicaid benefits, immediately. They still need the review paperwork, but there would not be any lapse in care.

That's what God sounds like.

Not My Baby

When the diagnosis came out of the doctor’s mouth, I felt like he had kicked me in the stomach. All of the dreams and hopes I had for my son, Jackson, seemed to die when I heard, Pervasive Developmental Disorder. The doctor went on to describe the autism spectrum and where Jackson fit on that spectrum. On the outside I sat quietly and attentively listening to what he had to say, but on the inside I was screaming, “No! Not my baby!”

Nothing had really changed in that moment. Jackson was still Jackson, but it took me a while to remember that.

I went through weeks feeling like it had to be a bad dream. It just couldn’t be real. Every time I looked at him I cried. I remember thinking the doctor had to be wrong. There had to be something I could do. There had to be a cure. I remember searching for answers like I did with his food allergies. Only, the more I searched the more confused and distressed I became. What do we do now? What does this really mean?

Unable to really answer these questions, I found myself focusing finally on what this diagnosis didn’t mean. As hard as it was to face, there were no cancer cells eating away at his little body. I would not have to watch helplessly while some disease slowly took him away from me. There were certainly scarier things to face than autism. I was finally able to accept what I heard in the doctor’s office that day, and with acceptance came hope.

I began to see his diagnosis as a blessing, an opportunity to learn and grow. Through this precious little boy, I’m learning what it really means to love someone selflessly, what it is to persevere through difficulty, and that life truly is a gift. He is my angel, my tiny window into the heart God.

I know my God doesn’t make mistakes. I believe now more than ever the things we see as imperfections here on earth will look very different when we finally see our lives from heaven’s perspective.

My son has autism, and I’m so glad he’s mine!