Loss

Calvin is still doing fantastic. Last night he slept from 11-8! I thought I woke on that solo vacation I've been dreaming about. But no, there he was snorting, smiling, and craning his head towards the light from the window. We haven't slept like that in almost two years.

I have no idea how long this good stretch will last. It's the longest it's ever been, perhaps due to the summer weather and lack or respiratory issues that always put him in such a downward spiral. I worry about this fall and winter but for now it's all enjoyment and relief in our home.

This peaceful stretch has made me realize some level of normalcy again in life and how stressful it is to be living in constant loss and suffering. I wrote a small little piece on loss. One of my weaknesses may be feeling things too much, but I that's all I know how to do. Feel it, think it, write it.

Loss comes in different ways. I've been thinking about my friend's mom with Parkinson's, a girl recently separated from her husband and struggling to care for her disabled daughter, a father fighting cancer, a family whose children have been unjustly taken away. I think all of those situations, especially those that surprise us, leave us with these sentiments.

The cool thing about having a blog is you can write what you like. So here it is folks, the editor's nightmare. And that's okay. I have no idea if it's poetry, an essay, or just freehand words. Whatever it is, it spilled out on paper and I wonder if you can relate to it too.

LOSS

Loss sweeps you off your feet.  

It comes, uninvited, with no apology

It lifts you up, tips you upside-down

and shakes you til you're empty

and it's hard to find any piece of you left.

It broadsides you. You may be 

looking up at the sun, reaching 

for the next mercy that's before you.

It hits you from behind and your feet,

they flail wildly unable to touch

the ground and find security, stability.

Survival makes them quiet. Makes

them set down beneath you and move

forward shakily on this new ground.

Your hearts stays behind but your feet

they move, driven by routine,

producing a stilted rhythm but

it's in moving that your heart keeps 

its beating and your life keeps on living.

They say time heals. Maybe it does.

But when I look back I still see

a deep, deep, hole. It has a sign

called LOSS at the edge. And a face

of a little boy there. 

What face do you see?

But these feet shuffling forward 

point my eyes to another spot. It is 

a sign with GAIN written all over.

It also has the picture of 

a little boy there. 

In the folds of His providence

there are mercy treasures and 

unexpected joys that my tired eyes 

and slow heart never thought to see.

It continues beyond even what my 

eyes can see.

                                                                    So all these holes and 
                                                             all these mercies exist, together.

The gains do not erase the loss.

And the loss opens our hearts to

gains we never imagined.

Duty Filled With Delight

Many times I unwittingly insinuate God as a burden in my life instead of being my burden-bearer. Prayer, worship, evangelism, and just plain old living out the gospel in my life become tasks instead of the joy and refuge they were created to be.

Take my day for example (maybe you can relate).

I came down bleary-eyed and ready for that hot cup of coffee my dear hubby had waiting for me. (Bunny trail here: My parents gave me this coffee-maker  for Christmas and life has never been the same. WOW. Now my friends come over for coffee and to visit...in that order.)

The pile of dishes also greeted me along with a dirty sink in need of scouring. I inwardly sighed, thinking of all the straightening and cleaning that needed to get done.  I caught sight of my bible study book..."Oooooh yeah. That's this morning. I have so much to do, I really don't feel like going..." I chewed my lip deciding what to do. I packed up my Bible and workbook and headed out with Duty at the wheel and Delight in the backseat.  

It never ceases to amaze me how willing the Lord is to pour into us even when we come with such unprepared and unwilling hearts. I'm distracted but He is purposeful and intentional in my life. I'm quick to put other things before my "duty" of seeking the Lord and yet He responds joyfully and at any time to those who call on His name. 

Through His word and reminders of Himself (revealed in the Bible) my dead heart loses the the heavy burdens of duty and thoughts of self and becomes a pulsating heart beating with life, joy, and longing for Him. All my baggage gets dumped out of the wagon and gets filled up with thoughts of Him and my life IN Him. 

My heart may be tired or my emotions worn but He finds a way to make me feel full of life and hope. The hope from His word turns into a song for my heart.

Look up, look up. Look away from the desolate landscape. I pour blessings in desert places. I find broken backward places and I redeem them. Give me your broken heart, pour out your heart to me, I will hear. Open your mouth wide, let me fill it. I will fill it up with my glory. I am greater than your fears. I am greater than death. I am your hope. I am the reason you go on. Trust me. Are you tired? Here is the Bread of Life. Receive strength from it. Are you crying? I am the Word made flesh. I know your sorrow. Do I understand? I have dwelt among you and am a man acquainted with grief. Do you long for protection? I will hide you away in the cleft of the rock. You are mine, I will keep you, I know the very number of hairs on your head. 

I did get to those dishes and that dirty sink and wondered why on earth I drag my feet when it comes to seeking God. He gives freely to even the half-hearted. He fills up places we didn't even know were empty. I didn't mind the long lists of duties anymore, I stood at the sink like any other day. But on the inside I was bowing down and singing hallelujah till I was hoarse. 

Community

They say that the way to man's heart is through his stomach. Darryl must have some other routes--believe me, I did not find the way to his heart that way. My excuses are many, but mercy, my children have got to eat.

That's why I rather sheepishly asked a friend for help. She has provided many a simple, nutritious, tasty meal for our family. That's how we like it, simple and wholesome. Thankfully she did not gawk at my having four children and still having no skill in the kitchen. Instead she's compiling her recipes and we are having a serious meal-planning pow-wow this week.

(I feel like I need to include a disclaimer for my mother here. My mom is a great cook. My older sister is a great cook. My younger sister is a great cook. Only I am the flunkie in the kitchen. So it's not that my mom wasn't willing to teach me. Nope, there were just so many other chores to choose from. Like sweeping out the garage, I always wanted that one. A beautiful garage to stare at for a whole week to remind me of my gracious servitude, rather than a meal that disappeared in 20 minutes. Or reorganizing the furniture, I would have done that every week if she let me.)

This is the great part of being in need, you let people in where you may never have before. You learn about them, hear their perspectives, and enter into their life just as they are in yours. Cambodia was a perfect training ground for this. Training ground for appreciating community and escaping isolationist tendencies. When you wake up in the morning and find five people in your kitchen you develop a tolerance for lack of privacy very quickly. When you pop out your back door to grab a bath towel off the line you begin to relish little moments of rubbing shoulders with others doing their chores, grinding spices, chopping fish, hanging laundry.

I missed this when we moved back here. I missed having people around me. On the other hand, it's still hard for me to let people in to my mess. I'm so grateful for the folks that come and help me out, however my house can rarely be ready for guests these days. When people come they see my dirty kitchen floor and stacked dishes. Laundry baskets sit by the steps waiting for me to fold their contents. Children may be spotted still wearing pajamas.

And when folks stay a while they find out even more. Yes, my children argue and there may be one particularly prone to temper tantrums. They are not always grateful and sometimes need a bath. All these are things we try to stuff away as we put ourselves on display for others. It's not easy letting people see our flaws.  However, I am learning to be grateful for those who are willing to come in and realize we are just another family. Another family needing large measures of God's grace on a daily basis. A family living and learning and making mistakes along the way.

That's why I'm so thankful to let real women into our real mess in our real need. Now when I clean you may hear me muttering,"Clean like Mary, clean like Mary," as I attempt to copy her stellar, super-speedy cleaning tactics. The list goes on, love like Lois, listen like Roelie, and more.

Hopefully I will be able to cover that ground from Darryl's stomach to his heart in the near future.  I hope someday I will have the opportunity to be knocking at your door, and please, just let me in already. Don't worry about the mess; let me in to your messy life or your messy house. Let someone stand by your side and sort it out together.

Other Side of Exhaustion

I think I have walked around feeling tired since the day I had a child. Who knew these little creatures didn't arrive ready to sleep through the night? I was lambasted by the constant demands of parenting. 

It wasn't just nights with many interruptions, it was the constant responsibility for a caring for a little person's physical needs, cultivating their spiritual life, and feeding their voracious minds. 

Usually this care is my delight. I like interacting with each one as I get them dressed and do their hair (although some days neither of those things happen). We love nothing more than dramatic readings around the supper table. Flash cards give me an opportunity to joke around with Sophie and connect.

Kids soak it all up. The problem enters when I feel completely dry, worn-out, with not one more ounce in me that can be squeezed out.

Many moms and dads can relate. Exhaustion existed for me pre-Calvin but it was taken to a whole new level once Calvin arrived. The constant care every day and every night made us physically exhausted. Stress was always intertwined with every activity and nearly every thought.

I've struggled with God many a time over exhaustion. Begged for a night's sleep. Prayed for strength to go through another day of all the medical and care issues while struggling to keep the rest of the brood out of complete chaos and insurrection! 

Maybe you're exhausted. Chronic illness and pain can constantly rob you of sleep, leaving you to drag through the days. Young kids are wonderful but their care can be exhausting. Maybe you're a caregiver to someone else. 

My hands are tied most every day with Calvin. It frustrates me. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired :). I have a lot of ideas and goals but no time or energy to accomplish any of them. I want to take my other kids places, I want to home school, I want to take older ladies out for lunch. The list is endless. And so is my pity party at times. 

Whatever you situation is, I want to recommend a resource that has completely changed how I view exhaustion, I'm Exhausted by David Powlison. It is published by CCEF (Christian Counseling and Educational Foundation) and is part of a larger series. It can be purchased here. It's not a self help book, rather it fixes your eyes on the Lord and His purposes for everything in a believer's life, even exhaustion.

It's just a short little booklet but one of the most valuable resources I've come across for this issue. Plus, who can read a massive volume when they're exhausted? In the next few days I'll post a bit from this resource, it has changed my perspective so much that I want to share it with you, in hopes it will help some of you. 

In the meantime here is Calvin with his haircut, side view for ya. No he's not sleeping, his eyes always close because of low muscle tone. I wish he was sleeping by this time of night! But he is awfully cute, eh?

 Ok, maybe not so cute anymore...

 And now, for fun, Evie's recent drawings.

Is this us? So flattering. I love kid's first renditions of people.

a day in the life (12)

His haircut made him look like such a big boy. Calvin sat on my lap, still in his jammies and turned his head towards the daylight streaming through the windows. His neck rested in my palm and his arms hung loosely. It was just me and him again, and all the good folks on the tenth floor of Helen DV Children's Hospital. We were there for another 24 hour EEG to evaluate his seizure activity.


The hours passed. Comfortable silence. Contentment with one another. His eyes couldn't find me but he could feel me there. Today was an opportunity to come away for a little while, just what I'd been hoping for. When the noise fades from the people on the streets, and the shoes scuffing in the halls, and the children clamoring in the kitchen, there's room for the quiet parts of the heart to find their way out.


Last night I'd dreamed again about the day the doctor found something wrong with Calvin's head size. The day I knew our lives would never be the same. Noah and I had gone to Bangkok together, the rest of the family was to follow in a week. "Mommy, can the doctor fix our baby?" Noah had asked in a perplexed way as I tried to keep breathing and stuffing the tears. "Why are you crying? Are we going to the doctor again because our baby is sick?" These things were too heavy for a three year old. They were too heavy for me. And all I could do in the taxi was cry silently, Lord Jesus. Help, Lord Jesus while Noah munched his chicken nuggets and counted pink taxis. 


It was the beginning of a road of pain that plunged depths I'd never imagined. It shakes me still many days. When I see a boy in a Kohl's ad that looks Calvin's age or when I want him to reach out and put his arms around me. 


When we started down this road I didn't want to hear about all the wonderful things that God could use this for. Nothing could have merited what was sacrificed. I didn't want to hear about other people triumphantly rising above incredible odds. They didn't understand the depths of this pain, this loss. And I didn't want to hear of healing. These wounds were so deep and the chasms kept going further down and down and down. There was no way back up.


God surprises. God is gracious. He doesn't fill those chasms but He goes down into them with us. Really, He does. At times things were so difficult that we could relate to Paul who "despaired of life itself". I did not turn with admirable faith to God. Instead I screamed at my husband, "If this is what God does to people that follow Him then I don't want this. What good is God? He took my son." I tried to make Darryl answer to me for God. He couldn't of course. We wept together. 


There was nothing to do but go back to our silent Father. And go back again. And again. Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.  -Psalms 27:14


His Word was our mainstay when the hand of providence seemed against us. Walk by faith, not by sight. His promises of consolation were our very breath. Slowly He worked healing where we never thought healing to be possible. His tremendous grace sought after us even when we turned to run away. 


We still struggle with overwhelming grief. We get frustrated with lack of progress, suffering, and the lack of ability to do so many things we want to do. And mostly we still grieve Calvin's loss. His loss and suffering is so hard for us to understand. 


But there's something new. It's that peace I didn't want to hear about. It's that comfort I didn't think possible. It's that trust I didn't feel safe with giving again. He has graciously filled our hearts with hope. Hope in Jesus. Trust in Him and His plan to take the most difficult things and flip them upside down for good. He's given us a glance to see how minuscule our faith is and how patient and gracious He is. Desire to praise God. Delight in the way Calvin is and who he is. The loving kindness of the Lord pursues us.


The road is hard but the flowers of His healing are springing up.

All Around Us

We found it on craigslist. "Eight years old. Super capacity. Bought wife new one for Christmas with all the bells and whistles. Want to sell old one as soon as possible." With six people a washer is vital. At least that's what the mounds in the hallway were suggesting. The price was right, super capacity was a bonus, so we called.

The next day an old white pick-up pulled up to the house with a washer and dryer teetering on back. My first glance left me less than impressed. But we had just returned home and I was busy giving Calvin his meds and hooking up his next feeding. Sophie was hauling in stacks of library books from the car while Noah and Evie were stuck with their boots on at the front door begging for help and then a story. I was glad Darryl was home to figure it all out.

The guy delivering the washer had a woman along helping. Was it his wife? She looked quite a bit younger and had some sort of disability. Show kindness, stop with the busyness. But I pushed it away and continued at a frantic pace to get everything sorted out. She paused awkwardly in the kitchen and shyly said hi to Evie, "So cute," she added. Something just didn't feel right. I wondered about her situation. Does she need a friend? A word of kindness? But it was too late. She was out taking orders from the man on what to do next.

The clanging and banging at the front door announced Darryl's decision. We were the proud owners of the washer and dryer. Let me rephrase that, we were the owners of the washer and dryer. As they shifted, shoved, and wrestled the machines down the stairs I forgot about the girl and instead irritation began to stew quietly. Looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years. Rusted. Piece of Junk. Gross.


"I'll give you a 90 day guarantee on that there set," the man announced under his bushy mustache and broken teeth. "I checked 'em all over, everything is good as new. It's an old one but ya know, they just don't make 'em like they used to." Really. Darryl said a hesitant thank you and took his card.


The door closed and Darryl sat down at the table while I started making dinner. What was he thinking?! What a piece of junk. I quietly chopped veggies. "I can clean them up," he offered.

Silence filled the room. "What do you want me to do?" Darryl (apparently catching on that I was less than pleased). I whacked at the onion a little harder, "Make money, and make a lot of it." I looked up and caught his raised eyebrows. Money, doesn't that solve everything?

Laughter pushed out the stiff silence. "I think we should reach out to them, there was something about that girl," Darryl mused. "I thought the same thing," I added. Something about being in need puts need-colored glasses on your eyes. You look up and find folks with all different colors and shades of need. 


When will I put convenience behind calling? When will desire for comfort take the back seat and desire for serving Jesus take the front? All too soon I start pushing my tent stakes deep in the earth and find a need to surround myself with things to suit me. I need to pull out my tent stakes, and go forward with my eyes focused on Jesus Christ and travel on longing for His glory, both now and in eternity.

Maybe then it'll be a whole lot easier to stop worrying about my washer and start talking with the girl in my kitchen.

Hands and Feet of Kindness

I have written over twenty blog posts this weekend. The number of posts that made it from my head to paper? Zero.

Maybe it's due to all the sleep we're getting lately. So this is what it feels like to have the brain actually function? Fascinating. Sleep (yes, sleep!), six whole uninterrupted hours of it each night, is recharging our batteries and brain cells.

There's all sorts of things I'm bursting inside about. Before I start opening the accordion, I need to start with kindness. It's been bursting all around our family. Kindness of different shapes, forms, and aromas.

Delicious meals (yum! and so helpful, thank you),
a bright bouquet of tulips accompanied with a visit,
people spending time reading to my other kids,
family baby-sitting for us so we could get out together,
pre-packed snacks for lunches from a friend,
offers to hold Calvin for a few hours,
sisters and sister-in-law who have been my closest confidants and helpers,
a card in the mail written to Calvin,
surprise gifts in the mail,
comments on the blog (I love reading them!),
and even more!

We feel the tangible love from those around us and it is overwhelming. God hasn't answered our prayers in the way we wanted. We look around at all the confusion, pain, and seemingly unanswered prayers and cry, "Lord Jesus, are You here? I want to trust but I don't see Your hand in this!" And then we find little crumbs of mercy falling all around us whispering, I'm still here, trust me. You are in my everlasting arms. Trust me. Be faithful, not unbelieving. My ways are higher than your ways. His Word speaks like a soothing balm to our souls and His messengers of kindness bind us up.

I have never realized the power of being Christ's hands and feet until being carried and fed by them. It is beautiful. It is reassuring. It is humbling.

Thank you for being an example to me.

Go on, enjoy that coffee

I have long been thinking about the tremendous burdens we are exposed to. Cancers, illnesses, tragedies. It is too much sorrow to take in. It's impossible to feel the appropriate amount of loss or sorrow for each case. And that's okay. Really.

This morning I read a post by Dr. David Murray, it said exactly what I've been trying to articulate. Read it here. So many are on sorrow overload. I want to add my two cents from a mom's perspective. A mom of a disabled baby.

Maybe you've been there. Perhaps you've just read about the latest development in somebody's life. Maybe it was the Diagnosis post I wrote.

If you're anything like me, you feel guilt. You feel guilty that you can go on with your life while others suffer in pain. You feel guilty for taking your healthy child for granted. You feel like if you don't thank God every day for keeping your child cancer free then you are not truly grateful.

I think you are carrying unnecessary burdens. Yes, live a life of thankfulness. Realize your blessings. But don't forget to live the life God has given you. Live it fully.

It's okay for you to go on with your life. It's okay for you to continue drinking your morning coffee. It's okay for you to enjoy it. It's okay for you to hug your children tight and thank God for his blessing. It's more than okay, it's good!

And while you live it, yes, please do remember us. How do you balance it? Well, when we come to mind, pray for us. When you have time and want to help, please do. Show compassion, love, mercy.

I think God does sometimes place specific burdens for families on specific people. One friend told me about her mother in Mexico that will wake up in the middle of the night with Calvin on her heart. She prays for him constantly. Those are special tastes of God's care for us. But it's simply not expected or realistic for everybody to carry the burden to this degree.

I don't know if this has made a lot of sense, I hope it has. I obviously don't represent all those that you read about with particular needs. It's just a little shout out from where I'm standing.

Now I'm going back to my morning coffee. And I'm enjoying it too.

P.S. I don't mean this flippantly.
P.P.S. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Stronghold

I continue to blog in an attempt to "hammer out loud" pain, loss and how that all relates to being restored in Christ. And maybe you will gain a view into the challenges of the many (oh so many!) families with special needs children.

However I am often hesitant to post in this "day in the life" series. It's a lot more popular to talk about progression, healing, and happy endings. This series is rarely about that although someday I hope it will be :). There is no use in pretending self-sufficiency or security. Time has left me little desire to appear a certain way for people or to say what people want to hear.

There have been such sweet times within our family and with God this past year. And there have been other times too, times more akin to "I Been in Sorrow's Kitchen and Licked Out All the Pots" (title of a book I'd like to read) and there simply is nothing more to say and no more tears to cry.

It's been that way lately. Numbness. Prayers have dried up because I no longer can find any words. I don't know what to pray for, it seems no prayers have been heard.

I stood in the baby aisle at Meijer today, picking out baby wipes. I felt the familiar feeling of sorrow as I looked around at all the normal baby toys. Toys Calvin can't see. Toys his hands can't reach out to get. I felt like hopping in my cart and pulling my coat over my head (wouldn't that be quite a sight!).

But a little spark lit up in my soul and argued with my sorrow, Christ is a redeemer! He is one who restores. He is with you, He will not leave you.  Then where is He? Where is relief and respite? Why couldn't the results from Calvin's surgery stayed? Why does it have to so hard? Why so much suffering?

And there were no answers. But the little wordless flame of hope in Him flickers on quietly.

Turn you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope. 

Zechariah 9:12

This happened to be on my calendar yesterday. I'm thankful I can turn even when I have no more words to pray.

Here are some thoughts from John Calvin (this is who we named our Calvin after) slightly abridged:

It is then the same, as though one wishing to collect a dispersed and straggling band of soldiers were to say, “To the standard, to the standard;” or, “To the troop, to the troop.” Jerusalem itself had no high wall or strong towers, yet they had God as their stronghold, and this was impregnable. 

Zechariah teaches them, that in that state of things there was sufficient defense in God alone. Though then the Jews were not made safe by moats, or by walls, or by mounds, he yet reminds them, that God would be sufficient to defend them, and that he would be to them a wall and a rampart.

Sinners are prisoners, but they are prisoners of hope; their case is sad, but it is not desperate. Christ is a strong-hold for them, a strong tower, in whom they may be safe and quiet from the fear of the wrath of God, the curse of the law, and the assaults of their spiritual enemies. To him they must turn by a lively faith; to him they must flee, and trust in his name. -Matthew Henry

When Counting Your Blessings Doesn't Help the Pain

Sometimes we get so focused on the "bad" in life, we forget to see the "good". Have you had that? It takes a friendly nudge from someone or scripture to remind us of all the good things in our lives.

But there are times when a loss occurs that we simply are not comforted by the many blessings in our life. Let me tell you a story.

Imagine you were skiing with a friend. Can you tell I have winter on my mind??? I haven't felt weather this cold in five years! Back to skiing. So you're coasting down the hill and suddenly WHAMMO, you wipe out and hear a sickening crunch.

Here you are....ouch.

Lying in the snow you feel excruciating pain. Your right arm is hanging limply and you can't move it.
Your friend swooshes gracefully on down to you. She looks at you lying there and says, "How's your arm? Looks pretty bad."

Groan.

She continues, "I know it hurts, but look on the bright side, your left arm is fine! Let me see your legs...yup, they look good too. You're going to be fine. You should be thankful nothing else is hurt."

You realize there's a lot of truth in her words and yes, you really are thankful nothing else is hurt. But you can't get over the excruciating pain in your right arm to even feel thankfulness. You are almost ignorant of the other limbs' existance. Her words bring you no comfort. No consolation. It seems like she is dismissing the agony that you are in.

Those who have suffered loss or in difficult situations often feel like this. Nobody wants the loss to consume them, but pain or sorrow overpowers. There is a time where one has to deal with grief before they can move on.

What do you say to someone who is going through loss or sorrow? There may be many times that it is appropriate to point out the blessings they still have, but often a person needs comfort. Spiritual comfort. Reminders of God's faithfulness and love for His children. Texts that remind us of God's character when everything seems blurred. Physical and emotional comfort is needed. Come alongside someone and let them know you care. You don't need to feel like you need to fix it (most likely you can't) or point out the silver lining in the cloud (even though there very well may be one).

Now, back to you lying in the snow. Do you need her to try to fix the arm? It would be nice, but no, she can't. Do you need her to point out that all of your other limbs are fine? Although it may be true, it doesn't help the pain at that moment. Your friend could bring you a lot more consolation by sitting down beside you and waiting with you for help to come.

So many of us are uncomfortable with the helpless feeling we have as we watch others go through trials. Sometimes I even avoid people going through hard things because I have no idea what to say. I don't want to sound trivial or be insensitive. But I have learned a lot from others this year. It has been an immeasurable comfort to have my family and friends stick by us even though they can do nothing to "fix" Calvin's needs.

I remember people's words and actions distinctly and they often replay in my mind.

I'll never forget my sister saying, "I want to walk this with you." Or a close friend stopping by and dropping off a basket of goodies for our other kids and a coffee treat for us, just to show they care.

It brings comfort to have people stop us and say, "How are you doing? How is Calvin?" It warms my heart when people want to hold him and touch his soft hair. One of the most helpful visits we had was from a couple who just sat and listened and offered comfort from God's Word.

I don't say these things because I'm an expert at consolation. Rather, I've learned as we've been on the receiving end of it. It has brought our family so much comfort to have others standing by, praying and caring in various ways.

Spilled Food and Dirty Napkins

Each day at camp I sat at lunch with other families. There was something very reassuring and bonding to be with these folks. Some kids are on feeding tubes. Others not.

And for those who weren't, their parents painstakingly fed them. Calvin is still at the stage where he can take a bottle but his facial muscles and sucking reflexes are also not working properly. No doubt we will soon be feeding him this way for a long time.

I felt ashamed of myself, really. We would be chatting together while I would almost avoid watching the dear child eat. Food trickles down the lips and chin, napkins are laid all over the top part of the body, and slowly--oh so slowly--some of the food actually makes it down the throat in a slow and deliberate swallow.

Why did I feel myself inwardly cringing? Wanting to pretend nothing is out of place? Maybe you have felt this too? Recently a friend told me that the first time she was in a special needs classroom she was so disconcerted, she passed out cold.

I think I respond this way because it is such a startling picture of humanity's dependency. Humanity's brokenness. It is easy to acknowledge that we are a broken and in need of God's redemption and healing. But, really, do I want to see it drawn out starkly in front of me? No, I'm put together, dignified, able-bodied. I can handle myself, right?

Today's mantra is that we are self-sufficient and empowered folk. No one can stop you from your dreams! You can do anything. You just need the right tools to become who you want to be. You hold the power.

I open my Bible and find that although we have incredible worth in God's eyes, we are not powerful. We are broken, fragile, dependent. I don't want to think of myself that way. It makes me queasy to see others that way. It mirrors my complete brokenness on a physical level. Something is wrong and I can't deny it.

Neither can God. He can see through even our physical wholeness, for those that are blessed with it. He sees our decaying hearts and broken souls. Does He shy away from our sinfulness, our helplessness? The Father does not turn away. He has compassion and sends us (sorry and pitiful people) the one most precious to Him, His son, Jesus!

I thought on this as I watched many parents lovingly and so tenderly feeding their child. Such compassion and unreserved love. They saw their child's beauty, his worth, his likeness like no one else. It touched me to see this beautiful and bittersweet scene.