The Game of "Life"

It’s family game night. Much is riding on the game as it’s coming to a close. Usually, in this competitive family, it’s a race to the finish. Normally, the kids are clasping their hands together with anxious laughter, hoping to get the best of their parents; especially dad. Oh how they love to beat the man of the house!

That man symbolizes half their heritage. Half of who they are and who they will become is shaped by their dad’s life – for better or for worse. By watching and listening, he both consciously and unconsciously tells them how to be, who to be. His kind and loving words, though sporadic and sparse, are felt to their core. They know that when he says them, he really means them. He is the one that teaches and guides. If the hours clocked teaching little boys about fast cars could build a stairway to heaven, this daddy would have reached the gates in just a few short years. The time spent hunting, fishing, and wrenching with his kids would be enviable by any parent’s standards.

At the beginning of the game, dad was so far in the lead it seemed no one was going to catch up to him. His game plan seemed so strategic and his confidence unshakeable. It was one of those games that seemed destined to go on forever. With each spin of the wheel, the excitement would build. For the kids, the anticipation of what the end would look like was almost too much to bear – with both fear and victory filling their insides until it felt like they might explode!

Towards the middle of the game, dad’s lead started to slow. The kids were beginning to see the holes in his game plan; the flaws in his strategy. With each turn, they began to catch up and even gain on their father. They watched intently, turn after turn, as dad lost his lead. They prodded and pressed forward with the hopes of coming in first. At one point in the game, they got so focused on the end in sight, they nearly forgot about their dad even being in the game. When they looked back to see how much of a lead they had, they quickly realized that somewhere on the multi-colored squares of the “Life” board, their daddy’s car had crashed. Nobody had even noticed the tiny black square dad’s car had landed on…it said “Meth Addiction”.

Our dad was stuck. It was as if his little, blue plastic car had landed in a tar pit and we weren’t sure how to help him get out. We hurriedly checked the directions that came with the game, but it offered no suggestions on how to get off that little black square. All we could do was sit and stare at each other. Feeling helpless, we kept spinning, hoping to land on the right answer to move our dad further along in the game – or better yet, to just keep him in the game and moving. Our worst fear being that dad would give up. Will he throw in the towel because the game has gotten too hard? Will he quit on us, leaving us to finish the game alone? Why are there so many rules to “Life”, yet when someone gets stuck on this one black square, the game suddenly becomes an urgent mystery?

Here we sit…at the end of the game. Crunch time. The time we normally relish. The time we are usually oozing with cockiness and loving every minute of it. Of course we learned that from our dad! We three kids are in the red zone of the game of “Life” but the chances of a tragic let down seem more likely than a score. We have now stopped spinning, even with the finish line in sight. We have quietly decided we will settle for a stalemate because we don’t want to win. Even more importantly, we don’t want to know who loses. We can spin and spin on our turns but it won’t matter. The driver of the car stuck on the little black square has to take his turn. He must spin and then emerge extremely ticked off that he’s lost so much ground in the game. But will he?

Has Anyone Seen My Thankfulness?

     When reading the story of the Israelites being led through the desert, provided for at every turn by God himself, I have admittedly thought to myself, "How could they doubt with all the Presence they were blessed with?" How could they, how could THEY, how could they? It seems so implausible given the circumstances, that they could actually complain, grumble, and doubt the fact that they were being Divinely cared for. The day's manna hadn't even digested before they were doubting and grumbling again. And again. And again.

     Four months ago, a doctor asked me if I wanted a chaplain to come sit with me while she and others tended to my son's medical emergency. Two words a parent never wants to hear in the same sentence...chaplain and son. She said, "This could get dicey". For about 20 minutes my little world became a monstrosity of emotions. When they came to get me from the waiting room, a flood of thankfulness overtook me as she said, "The ventilator tubing had kinked itself inside of him. We never see that." Thank God. The problem was not with my son but with the equipment and it was an easy fix. Thank God. Thank God. I wish I could say that was the first time I had seen medical staff have to perform resuscitation on my son. It wasn't. With his seizure disorder, I had seen it before. It looks the same in every doctors eyes. The first time it happened, no one had time to remove me or my mom from the room. We just sat and watched. We watched him seize for over half an hour. We watched him turn ashen gray.

     All of this to say, today, he's a healthy 14 year old boy with nothing medical looming over his future. I have witnessed miracles. Huge miracles. I have been fed daily manna from my God just the same as the Israelites. I have clung to God as my world threatened to crumble around me and asked Him to just stay beside me and give me what I needed to get through that moment. And the next...and the next. Here's the kicker: I have turned right back around and grumbled. Grumbled that I didn't have enough. Grumbled that I wasn't enough. Grumbled because I couldn't feel Him. Grumbled because He wasn't fixing some problem for me. I have grumbled and complained to the very God that has spared my son's life over and over again.

     Hi my name is Cynthia and I am like the Israelites. How could I? How dare I?

     How quickly I can forget the tender mercies of yesterday. The miracles I have been witness to. I have personally seen God do big things! I have had some of the best seats in the house and yet, I have found myself telling God I need more, I want more, show me more. Someone said something today that got me thinking about this. I have seen such great wonders of God. The Israelites had seen such great wonders of God. What if, because they saw such huge and obvious blessings literally pour from the heavens, they became addicted to the constant shower of Presence and the rush of adrenaline God provides. What if the greatness of what they saw made everything else about life mundane and boring? Laborious and monotonous. Thus came the grumbling and complaining. What if they had seen God provide so much they wondered in their humanity when God would stop showering them with blessings and do away with them because of their lack of faith or disobedience?

     I would be lying if I said I never think those things for myself. I have experienced the Presence of God in huge ways -- as if He were sitting next to me. So in between those huge experiences, I find myself asking Him why I can't feel Him. As if He has left me. Yeah right. It's my attitude that has tried to leave Him. It's the world, Satan, that has crept back in to my thoughts telling me I don't have enough, I'm not enough, I will never be enough.

     So, what is enough? When has He done enough? When will I stop complaining? When I force myself back to the beginning. When I pull myself out of my stinkin' thinkin' and grab hold of my foundation again. Christ dying on the cross just for me is enough. I know that, it's huge. Yep, that's enough. But He didn't stop there for me and He doesn't stop there for you either. He's already done enough but He keeps doing. He spared my son's life multiple times when the reality is He didn't even spare His own Son's life.

     I tend to read the Israelite story with disgust at how they could lose heart with God right there, providing just because they were His chosen people. And yet, I, four months out of my son's surgery found myself losing heart and becoming frustrated with life's situations. I found myself asking God where He was and why I couldn't feel Him. Once I get my heart right, I realize He's still here, still right next to me. Still doing big things, but how could I notice when I won't pull my head out of my worldly "ars" and look with my heavenly eyes? God never abandons us, but too often our perception does.

I Prefer Distractions and Delusions...

     Today my thoughts have been ripped from my delusional, happy place back into reality. Let me tell you about my happy place. It's wonderful, really, really wonderful!

     My happy place exists only in my mind but being the imaginitive and highly convincing soul that I am, I exist there pretty much daily! It brings peace and contentment to some otherwise unnerving situations. It is a place where no one is sick, there are no medical issues, no specialists, no doctors, no bad news, no special needs, no worries about the futures or safety of my boys, no major medical bills, no blended families, no past baggage. In my delusional world, BOTH of my boys are healthy. My husband and I do not have a blended family but instead are a wonderful, solid little family -- who see eachother every single day. Our family is the most awesome in the whole world! We have grandkids and a daughter-in-law to die for. We have no one meddling in our lives, no one stirring up trouble. The awesome family, daughter-in-law, grandkid thing is actual REALITY. The farce of that is the blended part. There are parts of our lives that blend about as well as oil and water. Those are the things I ignore in my happy place. On a regular basis I am effective at ignoring those things and existing as if all is well. It has become a self-preservation mechanism for me, my health, for my marriage, for my sanity (well, what little sanity I had anyway).

     I have been re-doing my bathroom this week while my hubby was on business in Pennsylvania. I jumped into this project quickly initially thinking it was just because it needed done. I quickly realized it was really just a distraction from what was to come. I knew I was expecting a call at the end of the week. Today is the day the call is supposed to come in. Today I am sitting by my phone waiting...waiting on a  Neurosurgeon to tell me what the future holds regarding my 13 year old son and a spinal cord surgery. I am weepy, on edge, and yanked from my happy place. I have a good idea of what is to come. This spinal cord surgery is in question. But even if it doesn't happen, there's another definite spinal surgery immediately waiting in its wings. So the only question is: will he have one surgery or two? And when will this nightmare begin and end?

     I have faith in God. I have faith that He will come through for my son. I pray about it all the time and many others have joined us in regular prayer. It's not a lack of faith that makes me cry. It's not hope for the future. It's the pain my child will have to endure no matter what outcome awaits us on the other side. We sometimes question how much our son absorbs due to his mental challenges but the other day in the car when he sat quietly for a long while, I asked him what he was thinking about. He said he was thinking about his surgery pain. I would be stupid to think that I'm the only concerned with what is about to happen. It weighs on my child's mind. It weighs on all of us. However on a normal daily basis we could ignore these thoughts because they weren't yet imminent. Now it's staring me in the face and I miss my happy place. I can be so delusional regarding my son that his limitations will shock me all over again because I see him as so normal on my daily radar. My son has a speech problem???? Oh yeah, he does, I forgot! He isn't "normal"???? Oh yeah, I forgot. He has severe scoliosis??? I guess I remember that.

     I love delusionality and when I can't be in that space, I love me some distractions. It's not all bad though, my bathroom now looks AWESOME! And my happy place is vacant now for a (short) while, so if anyone is looking to get away, I would be willing to rent it out for a small charge!

And most importantly, if and when you think of us, say a prayer for our family. What is to come for us is the biggest mountain we've had to climb with Kasey in about 10 years. Good or bad, I feel out of practice with handling reality.

10 Reasons To Adopt A Special Needs Child

I found that keeping this list to 10 reasons is..well…impossible. So my 10 reasons are only going to focus on you…the adoptive parent. Not what you can bring a child but more what a child can bring you. Please note that I in no way, shape, or form believe adoption to be about what a child can do for you. A most important piece in adoption is what you can provide a child. But the rewards that come from parenting a special needs child are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My 12 year old is my “handi-absolutely-capable” son, then I have a younger son that is ”not special needs” and I am also a birthmother. So, I can offer my knowledge from many perspectives. I find it rewarding to parent both my children, but my older son (Kasey) has brought the perspective that often gets lost on parents of healthy children who sometimes take their children’s lives for granted.
As an adoptive parent, I’m sure you have a plethora of love and life to give. Let me tell you, if you adopt a special needs child, you will get more of these things than you ever could offer. So, enough of that…let’s get to the list:
1) Do you want life on a whole new level?

This is a picture of my boys giving end of life care to our 15 year old dog, Shep. When we took him to the vet for euthanasia it was Kasey, me, and my husband. My husband and I both cried. Kasey held it together through the whole thing and pet our dog to the final breath. Later when we went to my parents home in the country to bury him, Kasey lifted Shep’s ear before we put him in his grave and told him “goodbye Shep” –still never shedding a tear. I asked him if he was sad that Shep had passed and he said yes. “So, why haven’t you cried?” I asked. “Because Shep is in heaven and I will see him again.” Cut and dried, plain and simple. Eternal perspective. The same perspective that caused him to excitedly wave goodbye towards the casket of my grandma when she passed. I am always the bawling mess and he consistently gives me the right perspective on things.
2) Do you want to feel alive?

That scar right down the middle of his chest is from open heart surgery when he was 15 months old. He had a hole in his heart the size of a quarter. The doctors said that up to that point even having a bowel movement could have given him a heart attack. He had drainage tubes, wires, stitches, a monitor stuck in his carotid artery to measure pressures, he was black and blue and yet in just a few days he was standing in his hospital bed shaking the crib. It was like “Yeah, I just had open heart surgery, so what?!?!” I wish I could say I handled everything well then but the truth is, I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone and he was suffering more than anyone I had ever known. I was lost and looking for something to drown my pain. In so many ways I wanted to be the turtle with her head in the sand. I felt alive alright. But not in a good way. Yet, looking back on his times of greatest infirmity, he still lived. He still showed care for others. He handled everything given to him with grace. He never seemed to lose sight of life. In all emotions we are reminded that we are still alive. Parenting special needs children isn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but around every turn you WILL feel alive. You WILL be reminded in sickness and health of what is important — and **that** is living.
3) Ever wondered what it would be like to entertain an angel?

Enough said.
4) Need a reason to smile?

A special needs child will give you oodles every single day — and they won’t be smiles cracked from everyday triggers. They are unique!
5) Want acceptance for just who you are?

So do they I hate comparing them to dogs, but honestly, it seems the only ones with the natural, absolutely pure, God-instilled, deeply rooted gift of unconditional love is special needs children and dogs. I love them both!
6) Want to feel God’s love in a tangible way?

If you are lucky enough to get a hug or kiss from a special needs child you can very readily assume that God is just passing His love for you through a child. They embody God’s love and affection for you.
7) “Normal” kids reach hearts. Special needs kids penetrate them.

Everyone remembers Kasey. Everyone loves him. Even if they haven’t met him, he captures their attention. And the best thing about it is, it doesn’t go to his head. He’s just the same to anyone and everyone.
8) Do you struggle with feeling sorry for yourself?

You won’t. They will teach you courage, perseverance, patience, grace, and standing firm in your own life’s plan.
9) Need someone to bring you out of your shell?

So did my younger son, Noah, and I. Sometimes Kasey is to us as a parent is to a child — embarrassing. To us who really value being unnoticed on a day to day basis…yeah that never happens with Kasey…we had to learn to stand out and be proud.  He will drop a beatbox rap or bust into a full fledged all-out YMCA rendition in any aisle of any grocery store at any time. This picture is of Kasey bringing Noah out of his shell and actually trying the school talent show. It’s a memory Noah still talks about to this day. I have no doubt Noah would not have had the guts without his brother by his side.
10) Everyday is an adventure!

Yep…that’s Kasey…After eyeing the fingernail polish sitting on the table, he thought it would be funny to paint his nails. Then, I talked him into a make-over, a dress, and a pose.
Luke 6:38 says, “Give, and it will be given unto you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”
In giving your love and parenting to a special needs child, you truly are getting multitudes more than you can ever give. I promise.
I wish I lived as abundantly, as joyfully, as simply, as boldly, as attentively, as lovingly as my special needs child.
I wish I could melt, penetrate, and soothe hearts the way my special needs child does.
I wish I understood God’s love and undying devotion the way my special needs child does.
I wish I held unswervingly to my faith the way my special needs child does.
I wish I possessed the massive amount of spiritual gifts my special needs child does.
I wish my intellectual capabilities were severely over-shadowed by my intuitive, soul softening, kind and caring ways.
Some reason that a life labeled “special needs” is best ended in utero because quality of life will be diminished. I only wish my quality of life resembled my son’s. I have yet to meet a special needs person who struggles have burdened them so greatly they would have preferred their parents to abort them. Just ask them.

Anti-Adoption Extremists

You’re pregnant. You’re now in a crisis pregnancy. You’re options are: parenting, adoption, or abortion. You know yourself best so you should be the one making that decision. You should never be coerced or guilted by others to make any of those 3 decisions. You feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. So many unknowns enveloped in each choice. You know people who will praise you for each decision. You know people who will look down on you for each decision. You know that this one decision, no matter what you choose, will change not only your life forever but also your unborn child’s. This is the cross you bear. Huge, stifling decision.
There are corrupt adoption agencies. There are agencies out there for the baby and the money – giving little concern to life implications and/or birthparents. There are agencies that will use coercion just to make a buck; and all the while possibly assuming they know what is best in every circumstance. This is not true, nor is it good business practice. There is also no doubt that there needs to be adoption reform on so many levels. Adoption is not novelty, commodity, or the new black. It is a woman’s life, at a major crossroads. It is a baby’s future hanging in the balance.
Adoption is not for every single person simply because they may have weighed the option. Parenting is also not for every single person. Lately, I’ve been encountering push-back from anti-adoption groups whose main argument is that adoption practices are corrupt and children were meant to be with their bio parents only. Period. Mind you, I specifically asked one of them what option a mother has then, when she is faced with an unplanned pregnancy – her answer? Abortion even but never adoption. And even after stating that I was in no way coerced, I made the decision to adopt all on my own, some still tried to convince me I was in some way coerced. When that argument was no longer working for them, they simply and hatefully told me that I must not have loved my child one bit. What kind of sick person does that? One that is broken. Hurt people hurt people. These extremists fight and argue that women are coerced into choosing adoption and they are fighting vehemently to find pregnant moms who are considering adoption so they can talk them out of it. They are vicious and nasty; attacking birthmothers/prospective birthmothers in the same coercive manner they say adoption agencies use to gain a buck.
I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around this. Women need and will continue to need options. Parenting is a great option, as is adoption – but you cannot go crazy ninja on adoption coercion when you are practicing parenting coercion just as much! Coercion is coercion. There will always be a need and a plan for adoptions. All options should be brought to the table and thoroughly examined for the pregnant mother, but not one soul should assume it is their job to help the mother lean in one direction or the other. She needs someone to lean on, not someone to lean her over. Could the system use an overhaul? YES. Are there adoptees with bad experiences? Sure. Birthparents with bad experiences? Yep. Guess what? There are also adoptive parents with bad experiences. I have seen firsthand while promoting my book, adoption agencies in it for a dollar. But what about the basic idea of adoption and those agencies that adhere to a high level of integrity? Adoption cannot be seen as black and white; always or never. And not one of us should assume we know what is best in any given situation let alone all situations.
No matter your choice, own it and stand tall. And when the haters come knocking – don’t take it personally – just keep believing in you. And always remember – Hurt people hurt people (Joyce Meyer). Just keep swimming!