Why I KNOW My Family Will Get A Miracle This Year!

"Miracle Sunday".... how do those two words resonate with you?  Do you immediately transform into an overly-educated skeptic or a full out dreamer filled with hope?  Do the words peek your curiosity?  OR do you pity the fools who would buy into such nonsense?  

Now, to make this more interesting, for a moment, imagine what it would be like to KNOW you can show up at a given place and time to receive a real life miracle.  Anything you ask, let's say, would be given to you as long as you publicly voice your wish and then dare to believe you will receive it.   

North Cleveland Church of God began announcing their Miracle Sunday service several weeks before Christmas; the official date was set for the morning of January 25, 2015.  The first time we heard about the event,  Lydia and I instinctively grasped one another's hands tight.  We'd never heard of Miracle Sunday before, and we were totally IN!  So, in response, we began counting down the days.  And talking about it.  A lot.  Three specific things were on our list:  

1.  Hope and Charlie to begin speaking words
2.  Natalie to be set free from Reactive Attachment Disorder
3.  Hope's heart to continue to function normally

The build up was nothing short of incredible; honestly, our excitement became nearly tangible.  Electrifying.  Nothing would stand in our way of receiving a miracle.  Or so we thought.

Mid-day on Saturday, less than 24 hours before Miracle Sunday, we received a text message from the special needs class leader who teaches Hope and Charlie each week while we are in the worship service.  She was sick.  UGH!  And wasn't going to be at church.  I read the text out loud to Lydia, just before bawling like a big baby.  We tried to find a babysitter, but with such short notice, couldn't make it work.  It seemed like Miracle Sunday was out of reach, but unwilling to give up hope, I came up with an idea.  

The pastor of North Cleveland Church of God lives near us, so I wrote a letter to him, explaining our situation.  I ended the note by stating the three miracles we are believing and faithing for, adding our offering, and then asked him to lay it on the altar for us in our absence.  Caleb and Lydia insisted that they be the ones to deliver my words to the pastor's door.  How awesome is that?  This had officially become a top priority for each one of us.

Now, this came with a bit of risk.  Pastor Maloney could've peered through the peephole in his door, and upon seeing two teens who were total strangers to him....refused to answer.  Or, hiding behind a wall, he could've pretended to not be home.  But that is not what happened.  Far from it.  The pastor swung his door wide open and welcomed my children into his home with open arms.  He read my note, talked with Caleb and Lydia, prayed with them, and then his wife got on the phone and found a qualified person to lead the special needs class so we could place our miracles on the altar.  So we could be there, in person, for Miracle Sunday.  And let me tell you, even an army of one thousand angry baboons armed with baseball bats couldn't have held us back.  They might have broken a few bones, probably ALL of mine since Caleb and Lydia can both outrun me, but nothing could've broken our spirit (hahaha!) You get the picture.

At the beginning of this post, I asked you to imagine a scenario where you could be guaranteed a miracle.  A guarantee is a powerful thing to possess, isn't it?  Well, that is the opportunity I believe my family was given when Pastor Maloney swung that door wide open.  I wonder if he realized how pivotal his role would be?  But isn't life that way?  One person's faith begets another...and another...and another.  It must be amazing from heaven's point of view.  Can you see the angels looking over my shoulder as I wrote the note?  hear them cheering on Lydia and Caleb as they marched up to that door?  and then jumping up and down and shouting 'Hallelujah' as Pastor Maloney went to his door to answer?  I can see it.  But the culmination had to be when the pastor's arms were open to embrace Caleb and Lydia.  In that moment, the Lord Himself opened his arms to them....to my family....and said: "Yes, come on in and let's get started on that miracle business."  It sounds nuts, right?  But as crazy as it may seem, I believe God is ready to do something extravagant in my family this year.  That He is ready to astonish us with how wide and how long....how high and how deep....His love is for us.

This past Sunday morning, we took our requests to church and sealed our faith with God.  It wasn't a bargain...a deal...a gamble...or a trade.  We weren't naming it and claiming it...or blabbing it and grabbing it.  Placing that card on the altar, with our miracles listed, was simply an act illustrating that we were willing to dare to accept the gift offered to us by the Almighty....the Creator....the One who holds my family in His hands and Who cares for us each and every day as we trust Him.  He's gotten us this far, so why not trust Him for more?  For nothing, absolutely nothing, is impossible with God!

The Magic That Makes Christmas....Well, Christmas

We were victims of a three car bump up on the way to the Christmas Tree lighting festivities last night.  Lydia, Hope, Charlie, and I were only twelve minutes away from our destination, sitting at a stop light sharing what was left of two large orders of Chic-Fil-A waffle fries, when we felt the impact.  A car hit another car that finally hit us.  The cops came, traffic was backed up, and people were honking horns and waving fingers at us.  It wasn't pretty.  But thirty very long minutes later, we arrived on Broad Street to see the 45 foot live tree, planted back in 1960 in front of what used to be the old post office, already lit.  Standing tall and majestic.  Waiting for us.  We were twenty minutes late for the evening's festivities, but we made it.  

Noticing a very large group of people moving as one down the street, away from St. Luke's Episcopal Church, I darted off to join them, calling for Lydia to follow.  

"Where are they going?"  Lydia screeched, pushing Charlie in his stroller as I forged on ahead with Hopey.

What a crazy question.  Was it not obvious we did not have time to worry about details?  Couldn't the kid see the throng of strangers moving away from us at a fairly fast clip of speed, likely headed toward something joyful?  "I don't know where they're going,"  I pronounced, now pushing Hopey in her handicap stroller like a woman gone mad, my long black sweater flying behind me, "just hurry up and stay with me!" 

She was panting rather loudly, trying to keep up:  "Why are we running after them if we don't know where they're going?"  

"Lord, normal teenagers like to follow the crowd, right?"  For a split second I began to wonder why I was left to raise the one rebel.  "Listen, you should be thanking me for helping you burn those Chic-Fil-A waffle fries." 

"You look like Batman with a long cape,"  she snarked, trying to be funny.  It wasn't funny.  Bat woman might have been funny, but not Batman.        

How appropriate it was that we all stopped in front of what used to be my church, the former First Baptist Church building.  A quartet of men came out on the front porch to lead us in carols, and within seconds, the outdoor scene became a pseudo worship service as a mish-mashed group wondrously became one through familiar song.  "Joy To The World", "Hark The Herald Angels Sing", and "Away In A Manger" rang out through the voices of both the young and old, the rich and poor, the abled and disabled.  Then it happened.  Magic.  The Christmas magic we all anticipate each year.  The magic that makes Christmas....well, Christmas.     

The tempo slowed and voices softened from that of a roaring wind to the gentlest breeze, permeating the night air with the song of all songs.  However, what began as a delicate revering of the One for whom the song was written, crescendoed, without warning, into harmonies, growing louder and more powerful as each phrase of "Silent Night" was articulated....yes, what was initially a simple melody serenaded to the baby in a manger burst forth and erupted into the praise and celebration of Who that baby was.   Husbands, in response, reached for the hand of their wives, parents bent down and squeezed their children, and nearly everyone wiped a tear or two.   

Hope and Charlie are nine and six and still very much non-verbal.  Even though they couldn't physically sing last night, their spirits were rejoicing in song on a level beyond what my mind can imagine.  I felt it when they reached for me, hugging me and kissing me over and over again, smiles covering their faces, uninhibited love spilling out, covering me.  No words needed.  The Love of Christ.

You've experienced it too.  It's what keeps us all pressing forward even when times are so tough, we don't know where our next breath is going to come from.  It's what picks us up and dusts us off when we've been kicked down.  It's the filler for those empty spaces left by loved ones who have gone before us, the glue in families who are living far a part, a certain peace that settles in the midst of chaos, and the flicker of light shining in the face of darkness.  It's the baby in the manger, the cross on the hill, and the empty tomb.  And it sneaks up on us and finds us in the most unexpected places.  Last night, after a three car bump up, it found me in Cleveland, TN.

As you hurry and scurry about during the next days preparing for Christmas morning, my wish for you is that you find the magic that makes Christmas....well, Christmas.

Do You Ever Wish....?

Something profound happened in my home just a few days ago when one of our big kiddos asked me a question that began with four seemingly harmless words:

"Do you ever wish....."

The question went something like this:  

"Do you ever wish... you were like other women your age? That you could enjoy the freedom to go out and meet friends for a day of shopping or to meet them for coffee whenever you wanted to?  or to travel to other countries? or go to regular church like everyone else? or to just go to a restaurant without having to worry about Hope and Charlie having a sensory meltdown?"  

It was an honest question and a good one, so I paused to consider it. But my silence, although brief, was too much for this teenager who instantly kicked into guilt mode:  

"Mom, you know I'm not saying I would change Hope and Charlie, don't you?....I love them exactly the way they are....I was just wondering how YOU FEEL sometimes.  If you ever wish you could just be YOU instead of being Hope and Charlie's CARETAKER.  Is it OK for me to ask a question like that?  I feel bad for asking it now."

Isn't it funny how human nature forces us to tip-toe around certain subjects even in our own families?  

"No,"  I answered, "please don't feel bad about asking the question...I was just thinking about how I wanted to answer it."

Do I sometimes wish little bodies were SITTING ON my chairs instead of STANDING in them?

That those same little bodies were USING the potty instead of PLAYING in it?

That they would simply LIE DOWN in their beds instead of playing BENEATH them?

EAT from tables and not SIT ON them?

Do I sometimes wish I didn't have a child who has a SERIOUS HEART CONDITION?

And do I ever long for children who don't enjoy PAINTING THEIR BODIES in dirt, mud, or mulch on a daily basis?

Do I wonder what it would be like if a certain boy didn't enjoy HANGING from precarious places....

LEAVING a marked trail behind him wherever he goes....

And ALWAYS FINDING SOMETHING to get into?

My answer, when I found it, took not only my older child off guard, but me as well.  This, in a nutshell, is what I said:

"Before Hope and Charlie, I was a different person.  But once they came along, I believe the Lord gave my heart a complete overhaul. He changed the way I think and feel, my wants and my desires, and He even turned my dreams around.  Don't ever worry about me, because I have no desire to do anything more or different with my life, and I can honestly say I have never resented a single moment. Not ever.  And THAT is God."

I paused again to bring the conversation back around to the one who had asked the question:

"But do you know what is most amazing?"  I asked, enjoying the full attention of a wide-eyed child who is fast becoming all grown up, "I get a glimpse of Jesus every day because I get to see the truest, most perfect love played out for me as I watch YOU selflessly love your brother and sister.  And it never ceases to blow me away."

This is a few seconds of 15 year old Lydia, unknowingly caught by me on camera, displaying exactly what I'm referring to:

What I realized, when I took those few moments to consider the question, is that I actually believe I am one of the most fortunate people in the world.  Each day of my life is an adventure, promising to present at least a challenge or two.  I get to laugh, cry, scream, and celebrate multiple times throughout every day.  Life is never boring.  And even more remarkable than that, my love is reciprocated unconditionally and I am always needed. 

Do I ever wish?  The answer is NO!

1st Corinthians 12:  "Love is patient and kind; does not envy or boast; is not arrogant or rude; does not insist on it own way; is not irritable or resentful....Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things....Love never fails!" 

Meet The "REAL" Jesus In The Special Needs Church

Most ministries begin with a goal; ours began with a purpose.  Unable to find a church home where Hope and Charlie could fit in, our family decided if we were to fellowship with other believers on Sundays, we'd have to step out and begin our own service.  So several months ago, in cooperation with a local church (The Refuge Church), we began a service specifically geared to meet the needs of the special needs community.  I'll be the first to unapologetically admit that we've smacked inclusion in the face, but it works.  

Our mission is simple as we set out to deliberately extend the love of Jesus to all people, regardless of ability or disability, by simply offering an opportunity for whole families to celebrate Him freely, without hindrance.  And the keyword here is "freely".  Can't sit still for 45 minutes?  Need to move around?  No problem.  Is your child non-verbal?  Does he/she make loud noises?  You'll fit right in.  Medically fragile?  Physically handicapped?  Bring it on.  This place is intentional.  No one is going to stare or judge.  Those who show up at this service, with the exception of the few who regularly come to support what we're doing, are walking the same walk.  Each time we meet, I welcome the experience as an escape from real life.

Each service begins with upbeat easy-to-sing-along-with music and closes with a prayer tunnel.  We started utilizing puppets several weeks ago, and were pleasantly surprised with the response.  Last week, a family brought several puppets to share with the group.  One of their sons, who has Autism, socked a dog puppet on his hand and stood up front next to me and my puppet, Rosey, before the service began.  For the sake of privacy, I'll call this little boy 'Smiley'.  'Smiley' has dark wavy hair, chocolate brown eyes, and sweeping eyelashes.  He is a gorgeous boy and is so smart, but he struggles with communication and some behavior issues.   With the puppet on his hand, he walked right over to me to show it off:

"Hey Rosey!"  (It never ceases to amaze me how the kids sometimes forget my name, but they never forget Rosey's) 

My puppet replied:  "Well hello there, what's your name little dog?"  

He quickly answered:  "I'm Ralph!"  (which was such a genius response for a whole other reason)

Rosey told him how happy she was to meet him and how she hoped he'd sing along with her when the music began.  The entire time Rosey spoke, his sweet face lit up like the sunshine.  When Rosey finally took a breath (she is sometimes way too talkative), he pointed above the stage with his free hand while still working the dog puppet with his other hand.  Creating a voice for Ralph, which was very unlike his own voice, he asked me about a sign hanging on the wall behind the stage:  

"What's that?"

The Refuge Church had added a large glowing detour sign to go along with their brand new quarterly sermon series.  I hadn't really paid that much attention to it, but this little guy had not only seen it, but was disturbed by it.  His dad had told me a few minutes earlier Smiley almost didn't walk into the sanctuary because of it...so I was prepared:

"I don't know, looks like a sign to me....a big orange glowing sign....what do you think about it?"  Rosey asked him in her high pitched voice, adding lots of her typical drama.

"It's a sign."  he replied, still working his puppet.

I continued through Rosey:  "It doesn't bother me.  I think that sign is just going to hang out up there on the wall and not bother us at all while we sing.  By the way, will you sing with me today Ralph?"  

"YEH!!"  Smiley replied, shaking the puppets head up and down.  

And he did.  When the music began, Smiley and his puppet remained up front, helping Rosey, me, and the others lead worship with songs.  

At one point, I used my puppet to bend down in front of Hope and Charlie to sing....Rosey kissed their cheeks....Hopey even reached out and hugged Rosey's furry body.  I didn't know "Smiley" was paying such close attention, but he was.  Next thing you know, he took his puppet and bent down to allow it to sing for Hope and Charlie, he then went over to an older gentleman sitting nearby and allowed his puppet to give the gentleman a kiss on his cheek.  The joy never left Smiley's face.  He led worship, openly sharing the love of Jesus.  He was comfortable... endearing...  charismatic... and perfect.

Later in the service, a new visitor raised her hand during prayer requests and asked if she could say something.  I'll call her Jubilee.  This young woman has Multiple Sclerosis, is legally blind and dependent upon a walker.  Though her words and thoughts form easily, delivery is difficult.  I had already watched her letting go of her walker to raise her hands during praise and worship, singing out with her whole heart, so I was anxious to hear what she had to say (this is me trying to remember it all):

"I had MS since I was four.  I went to the doctor because I was in so much pain.  I asked God to take my pain away because it was so bad.  My parents put me in a mental facility and I was there for a lot of years until my aunt and my grandmother got me out.  My time there was very bad.  When I got out I was baptized in February.  He saved me.  I'm still in a lot of pain but I trust Him and I want to tell everybody that Jesus loves me and He loves you too."

A few other people shared and then Jubilee's hand shot up once again.  She had something else to say:

"Can I sing a song for everybody that I wrote?" she asked. 

Well of course we all wanted to hear it.  She made her way up to the front, sat on the edge of the stage and sang a song written from her heart called: "Don't Give Up".  I imagine it had been her battle cry for those years she was shuffled from one treatment center to another.   She sang it again for us during last night's service.  Blind, body wrecked with pain, Jubilee became a minister, leading worship as she openly shared the love of Jesus.  She was comfortable... endearing... charismatic... perfect. 

There's another woman.  She's in her thirties and her disability has never been diagnosed.  I'm going to call her "Ruby" because to me, she has become a treasure.  "Ruby" loves my Charlie.  I mean, she LOVES Charlie.  She can't say his name, so she calls him "C" along with giving the sign for "C".   Each week, when Ruby walks in, she immediately begins to bellow:  "C"...."C"...."C" .   Charlie, sitting in his stroller, is then pushed away from me to go along and sit with Ruby and her momma.  Charlie, at age 5, has a mix of Down syndrome and Autism.  If left to his own devices, he'd be happy to stay in what we call "Charlie's World" most of the time, not interacting with anyone.  

Well, for two hours each Sunday evening, Charlie can count on being yanked out of "Charlie's World" by Ruby.  She dotes on him, pets him, picks at him, gets down in his face and says:  "C"...."C"...."C"  over and over and over again.  She kisses him, hugs him, and pushes him in that stroller through the building.  Ruby absolutely showers the love of Jesus upon my little Charlie every week, and in the process, she ministers to me.  Ruby is comfortable... endearing... charismatic... perfect.

I could tell you more stories..... about a mother who's teenage son was kicked out of school by people who couldn't understand his disability....about how she is teaching him to continue to stand with a heart of forgiveness in the face of adversity and to be strong in the Lord..... 

I could go on for days about the father who patiently dances with his daughter each week because he can't resist how she comes to life with the most infectious laughter you've ever heard when the music begins... I could tell you about how this little girl has impacted my own daughter's life....about how Lydia can't wait to see her each week.

I could share with you about a single mom who has adopted two beautiful girls....about how she sacrifices so they can have all they need...

and I could also tell you about two parents who spend hours teaching their young son to recite scripture so he'll be ready for a world that won't always accept him... and about how they're teaching their daughter to come alongside him as an encourager and helper. 

For me, this is church!  This, I believe, is a place where Jesus might choose to come and worship if He were still physically living among us today.  In my mind's eye, I can see the Savior hoping Smiley would use his dog puppet to give Him a kiss on the cheek.  He'd probably raise His hands and sing along to Jubilee's song:  "Don't Give Up!"  And who knows?  Ruby might nickname him "J".

At one time I wondered if Jesus were to show up, would He put on a big healing service and heal them all?  Would He give Hopey words to speak?  And heal her heart defect?  Would He bring Charlie out of "Charlie's World" for good.... and would He give sight to Jubilee?  A "normal" life to Ruby?  With one big swoop of His outstretched arms, would He bring complete healing to them all?  

I don't believe He would.  That thought doesn't even cross my mind anymore.

Worshipping with these precious ones who have been perfectly and purposely created has taught me they are the true ministers of the gospel.  Through the veil of something society has deemed to be a disability, the Father has imbued these special soldiers with the supernatural gift of being real.  Like Him.  And the truth is, they can be nothing less.  No masks.  No hidden agenda.  No false pretenses.  Uninhibited, they are child-like, free, and present.  

And that's who I want to be.  

If something frightens me or makes me uncomfortable, I want to muster the strength and honesty of Smiley....to find a way to verbalize my fears and insecurities instead of hiding them.  

When God places a song in my heart, I want to have the courage of Jubilee to get up in front of a crowd and sing it with abandon.  And when my heart is overflowing with love for Jesus, I want to have Jubilee's unwavering excitement to raise my hand and share my story. 

And finally, when someone around me is in need, I want to have Ruby's keen perception.  Oh, to have her unwavering compassion, willing to pour myself out for others with nothing to gain from it. 

This is our ministry.  This is our Jesus.  This is our life.  If you are ever in the Nashville area on a Sunday evening, please come meet Smiley, Jubilee, and Ruby for yourself.  Consider this an open invitation to come see Jesus in a brand new way!   

Parenting A Special Needs Child

"Everyone needs to experience what its like to parent a special needs child!",  said a friend of mine more than 10 years ago.  Long before I had Hope.  I watched Andrew play soccer on Caleb's team week after week.  Andrew was born with an extra chromosome and was precious.  Our whole team loved him. 

When Andrea made the comment, I remember thinking to myself:  "It can't be that difficult to parent a child who has Down syndrome....just look at Andrew, he is sooo sweet!"  And then came Hope...followed by Charlie.  And when I have days like today, I repeat Andrea's words almost like a mantra:

Everyone should experience this:

This morning, Hopey found mud in our backyard.  A whole lot of mud.  So much mud we had to give her a bath in the plastic pool in the back yard:

Then as soon as we got her cleaned up....and I do mean just as soon as we got her cleaned up....Charlie comes waltzing into the great room completely nude and covered in poop from head to toe.  While Hopey was outside bathing in mud, he was inside bathing himself and my foyer in poop.

While it was a mess....a TOTAL mess....oddly enough, this experience was actually great sensory stimulation for both of them!  And the fact that Charlie was able to disrobe from his pants, shirt, and pull up....wow!  That took motor planning!

ONLY the parent of a special needs child (or two) could find the silver lining in a morning like this.

"I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint."  (Jeremiah 31:25)