What Story Are You Telling?

"I experienced the most amazing gift this past Christmas week. Britton sat at his desk and worked on answering questions. (He has given up most of his academic work totally during Covid-19) But on this day of miracles... In the middle of the most mundane Monday morning...he sat down at his desk and pulled out his very first worksheets. He began with the basic questions. "If you go camping, where would you sleep? tent. If a child has a replica of a baby, what's it called?" doll. Silly questions to most of us, but they seem to help him keep his world straight. But then...right in the middle of all the mundane...He spontaneously typed two deep thoughts without being prompted.  He just wanted, or maybe he just needed to tell someone how he was feeling. We've all been there. That desire so strong to express our feelings, we might even spill it to a stranger we've just met. For him, the gift of clear thinking, and the ability to control his own body caused him to rejoice in this Season of Love and Compassion. Television screens, movie screens, and worst of all... his IPad screen. He has developed photosensitive epilepsy. So any amount of light flashing in his eyes can trigger a seizure. He is well aware and avoids them like the plague. He is now typing only on my cell phone. I don't know if the size of the screen matters, but on this day he was willing to risk it. In the list of words he was reciting he began typing his feelings.  "Say people pray for me and I feel prayers pulling and pulling on my mind. Playing God's promises."  How grateful I am that his mind plays God's promises. I recite them often. I write them on index cards and tape them on his walls. "That's how we win these dark battles, Britton." (I can be so preachy.) Nodding my head, eyes wide in grateful wonder. "God's word is the weapon that brings us the hope and peace we need." I moved right on, he really hates it when I get sappy. I have to be careful...my own emotions can affect him, and not always in a good way. He's like an emotional savant. He senses the feelings, emotions, and fears of everyone around him. His life has taught him that it is survival to know how others feel. I swallowed, took a breath, and moved on. But inside I was singing and praising. Thanking God for the brief glimpses into who he is. The unbelievable gift of his thoughts. I spend a lot of December wondering how Britton will manage Christmas. There's so much about the whole Holiday season that doesn't vibe well when you're an emotional seismograph. Other people's frustrations, fears, anger...can cause an earthquake that hits a ten on the Richter scale. As much as family tries to love him, and us...I do attempt to create a situation that he can feel peace in. It's pretty futile, but that doesn't stop me.  All families walk various tightropes during the holidays. Some struggle with critical in-laws, some with missing a lost loved one, and some with... trying to please people who can't be pleased. I knew exactly what Britton was trying to explain to me. For him, the OCD that drives him to futility had eased."Zero. I have Zero Needs to be crazy...mom be brave." I'm pretty sure It is how he expressed to me that he didn't feel all the brutal compulsions of Pandas. (Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorder) The unquenchable need to flap, hum, touch, or spin.  ​ His admonitions that I be brave, trouble me sometimes. He must know fear comes for the whole family when he seizes. When his mind becomes jumbled with inflammation and misfires... when he's angry. Fear is a brash, bully. It tries to overpower and be the loudest voice in our minds. It will elbow peace right out of our hearts and leave us consumed with its darkness. I'm sure you know this...but Jesus tells us to "fear not" about 365 times. So it's a fair assumption that we all must need reminding. Jesus showed us how to live a life without fear...a life of courage. In today's language, Jesus might very well say it like this, "Be Brave! Fear is a liar!" Britton is my blaring example of courage day in and day out. I watch him face his difficult life...usually with a smile on his face. About every 4-7 days I notice his countenance change into a serious young man. He knows a seizure is coming...I don't know for sure how he knows. Perhaps it's the common warnings...visual disturbances...or a strange taste in his mouth? I don't really have all the answers. But he will struggle through till the connections in his brain misfire. He will cry out, awake or asleep...his eyes roll back, his face turns blue...and he will spend way too much time struggling to breathe.  When it all finally ends...his bloodshot eyes will blink open and he will look for me. Reach for my hand and give it a squeeze...reassuring ME that all will be well. Somewhere between eight and twelve hours of sleep will pass as his body attempts to recover...then, he will drag himself out of the bed and try, try again. I am humbled by how much suffering and despair he lives through. Still, he tries to make the best of it all...refusing to even consider giving up. When he does decide to type...he always points me back to the God of all hope and reminds me His promises are guaranteed...never a gamble. Fear never sang a song...never delivered us from evil. Fear never paid our past due bills or saved our crumbling marriages. No, Faith does that...courage does that.  So for 2021...my plan is to say to myself... "you have zero need to fear..." and to remember that: "If Fear is born..out of a story we tell ourselves. Maybe, it's time we tell ourselves a different story."  *quote paraphrased into my own words. Click HERE to go to Amazon

 

"Courage is Fear, that has said its prayers."  Life is a dangerous endeavor. Saddle that same life with autism, vaccine injury, and seizures...the danger amplifies. Saddle it with tragedies, deaths, sickness... I find that no matter who you meet if you talk to them long enough...they have walked through fire once or even twice. Most of us pass our days in the shadows of victories and defeats. Life is full of stark realities. This past year we've sat in stunned silence as those with the power to annihilate humanity...happily contemplate the possibility with itchy fingers. Discussions of global attacks, chemical warfare, and viruses that have the capability of cleaning the planet of "undesirables..." These are real conversations spurred from the days' news, not the movie we all saw on Netflix.  We struggle to figure out who is at fault, who is in charge, and, where it all went wrong? The cumulative question... "How did we get here?"  Is it okay if I confess to lying awake at night worrying that the wrong person is about to push the red button...and asking myself, "How can things get any worse?" Britton had seizures through most of the night last night. Sadly it's become something HE, and our whole family endures several times a week. It knocks the air right out of my faith, and I hover over him in helicopter momma style, praying and crying and begging God to do something!  This morning when Britton was finally awake, he wanted to read. He has probably a hundred books by various Christian authors and we read lots of them again and again. But the last few months we've been reading straight from the source. The words of God himself.  I flipped to the New Testament...which is not where I marked our place. Can't say why I did it. I began reading in Matthew, Chapter 24, 4-14. It's a sobering, expose' of what Jesus told his disciples was going to happen in the world. I encourage you to take five minutes and read it for yourself. Bottomline, or maybe my summary is that Jesus said, "Things are going to get bad...REAL BAD, before they get better. But then he added, "See to it that you are not alarmed."  I admit it, I smirked when I read it. In today's lingo, He basically said, "Don't freak out and don't be surprised!" The funny thing about it is...those may be the exact words, I say to myself...every single time Britton seizes. "Don't freak out! Why are you so surprised?"  My heart stung a little when I thought of Jesus warning his disciples. He knew what He Himself would suffer, but He also knew what they would suffer for their faith. Jesus warned us..."Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of MOST will grow cold."  He didn't say "some of you will grow cold...or a few of you, he said, "MOST!" It's sobering..."MOST!" I can't help it, I'm gonna say it to you one more time. "The love of MOST will grow cold!" WOW!  Britton jumped up and went to the bathroom, came back, opened the drawer with the thermometer, and asked me to take his temperature. It's not something he's done very often, so I asked him several times and he took the little gun-shaped thermometer and put it on his head.  I took his temperature, and he giggled and squealed and jumped back in his bed. It really did take me all that time to put it together.  I picked up the bible and reread the words..."the love of MOST will grow cold." I swallowed a huge lump that grew large in my throat and looked at Britton. "I get it, son, I finally get it." I smiled a half-smile and promised myself that I would not be one of the "MOST."  I asked myself SOME raw questions. I refused to allow any excuses... "Is your love for the Lord as hot in 2020 as it was in 2019?"  After all that 2020 has thrown at you, what's the temperature of your heart? I cried and asked God to forgive me if I'd let my love grow cold. I know He gets it. I know He knows I'm human and that each and every seizure is like an ice bath to my soul. But I also know He is a consuming fire. In His presence...there is no lukewarm heart.  One of my favorite Scriptures is Psalm 37:7  "Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for Him to act. Don't worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes."  The reason we aren't supposed to be terrified by wicked schemes...is not because they aren't scary. It is because every trial and every trouble has a place in God's plan. My uneducated interpretation of Psalm 37:7 says... Be still and wait...wait patiently. Stop wringing your hands, and losing sleep. THE LORD WILL ACT! Maybe not as soon as you wish for, or the way you want Him to...but HE WILL ACT! Don't worry about evil people, their wicked shenanigans are their own business." LOL! that's my uneducated translation! It sure gives me peace.  Above all the chaos...reigns a divine plan. When the world appears out of control, it isn't. When evil appears to be in charge...it isn't. When you feel hopeless, you aren't. Take a lesson from Britton...Take your temperature! This is one time you might wish for a fever...or perhaps the right word would be fervor.  No matter what your temperature today..."see to it, that you are not alarmed!" Matt 24:6.  "Everything will work out in the end...if it's not working out, it's not the end." ​ P.S. **I need to solicit your help with Book 2, No Choice. I launched the book on Black Friday. But I knew...I really did. Facebook has ban the majority of everything I post. I post too much Vaccine information. That's where all the banning began. I noticed that even Ads I paid for on book one, The Choosing, began to be blocked. The COVID VACCINE has become a huge political point, Facebook won't allow anything negative to be written about vaccines, truth, or not. So unless I post about family...you can't see my posts-unless you place me in your top 10 friends. You can see them if you go directly to my page...or The Shadowlands. OH...I forgot, I renamed the Book's page, FROM, The Choosing, to The Shadowlands. Because, well...it's about THREE BOOKS NOW!  Even though FACEBOOK blocked 90% of the ads...the book still climbed to #20 on the New Releases, Bestsellers List. The Book still sold over 1000 books since its release! THAT WAS GOD!  If you're on FACEBOOK, I'm asking you a favor. PLEASE SHARE MY ADS for my books.  If 80% of books are truly sold by word of mouth...then an army of readers could override their censorship. If you feel good about it, I'd appreciate your support. Here is one of my latest Ads. You can find  all my ads on my personal page and also on Facebook @TheShadowlands. You can share from either or both places. Here's the link to the book if you would like it.  Button BE BLESSED...AND DON'T FORGET...TAKE YOUR TEMPERATURE! ​ ​

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There are so many great stories we all learned in Sunday School. Over zealous volunteers telling us bible stories with flannel graph figures… I personally met God for the first time in Vacation Bible School at the age of nine. I was being tormented at night…I couldn’t sleep. Fear was my constant enemy and I hated the darkness. Though all my sisters slept in the same room with me, four bunkbeds in the middle of one tiny room…when I talked about what was happening, it was more like telling ghost stories than real to them. To me…I really thought my life was in danger. I never slept, I was always afraid and I cried a lot. I’d pull my pink quilt over my head and shake and imagine evil all night long.  At that same time my momma was bedridden, sick with a pregnancy that almost killed her. Only rich people had insurance back then…I knew she was really sick, she never got out of bed, never got dressed, never fed us. I was always afraid she would die. I used to lay in the bed beside her after daddy left for work, telling her how I stood on a chair and cooked rice for the “kids.” She struggled to stay awake for more than a few minutes… I would wait til her eyes closed, and then whisper how afraid I was. She knew nothing of God, but one afternoon she opened one sad brown eye and whispered, “you need a bible.”  A couple of days later I walked a few blocks to a large Presbyterian church that we passed on the main street nearly everyday. I can still see the church secretaries face, when I pulled open the big glass doors and asked where I could get a bible. The shock…She had hairspray plastered hair all teased up, a good ten inches high. She was very professional and handed me a flier about their Vacation Bible School program. She sternly informed me I could certainly earn one.  Disappointed, I took the flier and hoped there was some way. I crawled into bed beside my momma and begged her to let me go. I remember pushing her blonde hair off of her sweaty face and wondering if one day she wouldn’t wake up anymore. My nightmares and the torment drove me. I needed relief…momma said I needed a bible. I walked to that church everyday for six weeks. No one else wanted to go, so I just went by myself. My daddy was at work and my momma wasn’t awake much. No one knew where any of us kids were.  Through most my life, my daddy told stories of his childhood spent with his aunt and uncle. They were pastors and the little bit he knew of God, he learned from them.  He told us how his aunt always prayed for hours, and he loved laying under a tree around sunrise and listening to her rhythmic sing song prayers…It stayed with him all his life. He taught us how to be “good” based on what his aunt taught him. After six weeks of faithful attendance at VBS, memorizing the 23rd Psalm, and the Beattitudes…I was rewarded with a bible. It was black leather and the pages were trimmed in red, and it even had my name on it in gold.  No one told me I was a sinner there, no one asked about my parents…They taught me some of God’s word. It was the end of summer by then and I had to wait till I got home from school…but I would crawl into bed beside momma, and recite the 23rd Psalm. I like to think it always pulled her back from the edge…and she would open her eyes, smile and pat my leg.  People raised in church so often take their amazing heritage for granted. Not knowing that the people who cross their paths need God like they need air.  One of the most amazing things about my life now… Though it is a life of intense isolation…there is Britton's love to read. He loves Max Lucado books and he loves John Eldredge as well… but this year we started reading in Genesis out of a David Jeremiah Study Bible. It has been fun and fascinating. The things I’ve learned and relearned have blessed, and inspired me.  We were reading the story of Samuel going to anoint Jesse’s youngest son, King. David and Goliath is a story Britton likes to read over and over again. That’s what got me thinking about when I was such a little girl and how afraid I was that one year. How I walked by myself to that big old scary church. No one knew me there, and no one knew that I needed to slay a really big giant…but God knew.  When I think back on that little girl. I am so very proud of her. She was determined and brave, even though she was very small for her age. If they asked her to memorize the whole bible I happen to know she would’ve given it a try.  Armed with the 23rd Psalm, she had become a giant slayer.  After that summer in “training” I’d crawl into the bottom bunk at night…recite all I had memorized, and lay that hard earned bible open across my chest. The fears never came for me after that.  The word of God gave me the peace I sought… How could I have known that it laid the foundation for how I would live my life in the future? It is the same battle strategy, because it is the same enemy. If there is a giant of fear, blame, condemnation or shame? No matter the giant that calls out your name, and screams for you to be afraid…The same sword that slew Goliath, slays all the giants of fear. ​ ​“The weapons of our warfare are not of this world, but they are mighty…and will pull down strongholds!”  ​ BOOK Update!!! ​ EIGHT DAYS TILL BOOK 2 0 No Choosing Releases! YEP 8 DAYS!!!!  Fifty people have read it, and the reviews will be added to Amazon over the weekend. In case the back cover is too small to read...here it is. ​ Fear crawled up his spine and curled around his neck. If you couldn’t hear and you couldn’t see, were you even alive? Britton Donovan seemed like a regular guy. He ran an autism center; he had a wife and two kids. He made a decent living. Most folks didn’t know he had secret. Sure, he spent most of his life as a “Defective.”  If only that was his biggest secret. Fifteen years since that day…He woke up in the back of an ambulance. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning, or maybe the hand of God Himself. But he was no longer “defective.” He was whole.  That miserable life was something he needed to forget, so he snuffed it out like it was a forgotten fire. He left it all, the good and the bad. Why dwell on those dark years?  Then on a flight across the Atlantic, huge rifts tore through the veil, allowing the spiritual to bombard the world. Light Warriors rushed through to protect, large spears and shining swords at the ready. Demon trolls crawled through the aircraft as it barreled through the sky. Injecting fear and blindness into the passengers. Britton watched, helpless. The spirits infected each passenger with a virus causing them to loose their sight, their hearing. He alone was left...untouched. It wasn't a virus that attacked the immune system. It was a virus that attacked the soul. The world would need reminding...no vaccine ever made anyone immune to sin. ​

 I'm sure you've felt it too. You wake up and instead of the joy that another sun has risen over your world, you groan. I've been doing that a little too often lately. Thinking about each day as something to survive, something to try to get through. (Me and the rest of the world?) Trying to get to the next thing...that I also dread. I really do know this is no way to live.

Today as I laid there wishing for the energy or the motivation to get up...I wished for a nudge, a gentle push to get me going. Then all the sudden there it was...That tingle up my spine, the overwhelming presence of spirit to remind me I am more than this flesh that encases me.

I heard a gentle "you got this" and "what you do, does matter." Even though I may not FEEL like it does. God's assurance that He has things for me to do...things that matter to Him was the "kick in the pants" I needed. So I threw my legs off the side of the bed and sat there. Hair in a tangled mass, pajamas twisted around my torso...Pondering, how my life could possibly matter to anyone or make one bit of difference to the universe. 

I'm certain I'm not alone. That these are questions we all ask...please tell me I'm not the only one.

Sure it has to do with my mom's death. I'm certainly evaluating life, purpose, meaning, with a fine tooth comb. Deciding if anything I do matters enough. 

Do I have a legacy that I can be proud of? Heck, do I have a legacy at all? 

Listening to people talk about my mom I realized that all the little things we do matter...at least to the ones we do for others. All the times we reach out, all the times we pick up the phone to check on someone...Maybe we don't think much of it, maybe it's just who we are...but the souls we touch, bless, help...remember. I confess to being surprised at how many people remembered my momma. They remembered her kind words and her amazing hugs. They remembered her Sunday School lessons and how steadfast she was. She made a difference in their lives. That's no small thing.

Pondering those thoughts, I drug myself upstairs to begin the endless supplement, medication regimen that is, supposed to make a difference in Britton's life. I sat down on the side of his bed, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and asked him. "Does anything I do matter to you?" He laughed his dolphin squeal, jumped up, and ran to the bathroom. So much for fishing for compliments. 

But he came back after, and he kissed my cheek and handed me a book he wanted us to read. I felt it again, that little nudge, the gentle push to keep doing what I'm doing. I took the book and sat down. Getting us all set up so I can read out loud and he can place his finger under each word. 

Twenty-seven books in 2020. Most all of them have been amazing, encouraging, and kept me going when I was just going through the motions. Some of them we've read multiple times. He loves Max Lucado, Beth Moore, Kris Vallotton, and John Eldredge. If you need books to encourage you, just ask me. :) I always feel guilty for struggling for "purpose" when I can't begin to imagine how often my son does the same. 

Some days it feels like trudging through deep sludge. Another step, another book, another seizure...on and on. So much introspection...I worry my blogs sound like one sad complaint after the next. I don't mean them to be that I mean them to be REAL.

If autism has done anything to my family, I pray it has peeled away layers of costumes that we used to wear. Believing that we are the family that has our lives together. Nice house, educated children, decent cars... a vacation every year...blah blah blah. It's laughable, we are not that family. 

Sometimes I describe us as if we are a used car sitting on a lot somewhere. We've shined ourselves up, used putty to fill in the dents and dings. On Sundays, we've been covered in a coat of wax and shined till we sparkle. But the question should be, what's under the hood? 

The truth would be a startling contrast if someone asked for the carfax. The break downs, the betrayals, the crisis of faith...the wrecks that totaled us. But, thankfully unlike a car, our lives are molded and enhanced by our pasts...increasing our value to those around us. Each of those situations created a strength that kept us standing when the next "crash" came along. God can use all the battles of our pasts to give us purpose. 

I want to remember that. I need to. You might need to remember it too. 

Consider this your nudge. A gentle push to keep doing what you're doing. It matters to the people you reach.

Teresa 

P.S. Book 2 NO CHOICE will release NEXT MONTH! That's right NEXT MONTH!

I hope you will consider being part of my LAUNCH TEAM! There's a free book in it for you! I know what you're thinking, there must be a catch. I confess, there is one. I'll be asking you to promote the book. To share it on your own social media. To tell your friends, to WEAR THE TATTOO! LOL, Yes, I'm serious..I'll explain...later. (You don't really have to wear it, but...) 

For now, please keep me in your prayers. I need to meet deadlines and most days I have a kind of a buzz in my head. A voice telling me I need to keep living. That it's true, my mother, my one and only mother is gone...gone forever, gone to the next life. No, you cannot call her, no you cannot text her, she is gone...she really is. 

So nudge me, or if necessary give me a kick in the pants, I'll be happy to return the "favor." 

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." Antoine de Saint-Exupery​ ​

 

Flipping through youtube channels I stopped to listen. The prosperity teaching/preaching was really getting to me. I wonder how Christians in Cambodia or Venezuela feel about it. If that was a biblical principle wouldn't it work all over the world? So I started wondering about expecting God to DO for you. Like some kind of genie in the sky. I read this quote a few years ago, 

"He who serves God for money will serve the devil for better wages." 

I am grateful for God's "benefit package." That He first loved me. That I can expect him to bring me peace, and that He will take me to heaven when I take my last breath. But, here's a newsflash - financial prosperity is NOT God's stamp of approval. Lots of very prosperous people are VERY EVIL. Lots of Godly people are very poor. It's not an either-or. At least that's what I believe.

It's difficult when life drops you on your head, things break and lots of what you used to believe begins to fall away. Those beliefs that were once such an integral part of who you are...become weights that hold you down. You let them fall because life has proven to you, they won't hold up under pressure.

So much of my rough exterior has been sanded away over the years. Autism is the "sandpaper" in my life. Included for my family are seizures...lots and lots of seizures. Some years have sanded to the bone, leaving my heart a raw, and bloody mess. The sanding away of things that did not serve me. The sharp edges, the rough exterior. The benefit of all that sanding can leave your heart far more sensitive to the voice of God. 

The sanding has done away with a whole lot of pretense I didn't even realize was part of me. I was always determined to display a life of excellence and perfection. It was such an enjoyable illusion...

The good news is, once it was too heavy to carry, I dropped it without a second glance. I was finally free of its bondage. I had no idea that I allowed other people's opinions of me to decide if I was worthy or not. 

Maybe some of you think the same things I do. Concerned that others watch your lives (your mistakes) and come to the conclusion that serving God is a lesson in futility. That there is no "benefit package" to being one of His kids. 

It's one of the reasons I wrote, The Choosing. I truly believe that some of our lives...are lessons for others. They watch us persevere through things that truly ought to kill us, and somehow we survive it. (FYI - I did not sign up for that! I bet you didn't either.) Others can clearly see that it's not human strength that gets us through. So even if they aren't positive it's God, they're pretty sure it isn't something we are capable of.

Maybe...or maybe I'm back to thinking too much and making something out of nothing? 

I'll let you decide. 

I confess that I don't always keep up my end of the bargain when it comes to being all that I'd like to be. But, one of the biggest benefits to knowing God, is that He hears me when I whisper His name. He forgives me the second I ask him to. I trust Him to bring justice into the world...in the way He sees fit. Mostly I know that He will take the difficulties of this life and make good out of them. I know that because His word is full of those promises. Here are a few of my favorites.

*(2 Corinthians 1:3-5) All praises belong to God. For He is the Father of tender mercy and the God of endless comfort. He always comes alongside us to comfort us in every suffering so that we can come alongside those who are suffering too. We can bring them this same comfort that God has poured out on us. TPT/The Message

(Ps 40:1,2) I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heard my cry. He lifted me up from the pit of despair, out of the miry clay; He set my feet upon a rock and made my footsteps firm. 

(Luke 18:7,8) Will not God bring about justice for His elect who cry out to Him day and night? Will He continue to defer their help? I tell you, He will promptly carry out justice on their behalf. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth.

*PS-If you have read this all the way - I am asking for prayers! 

No Choice, Book 2 in the series The Chronicles of The Shadow Lands will be launching SOON! 

THE CHOOSING - Book 1 has sold more copies than I ever hoped. 

I need prayers to get NO CHOICE out there at this wild and wooly moment in history. 

You guys are the reason I keep writing. I can't express how much I pray to write the words you need to hear. Please, please feel free to send me how I can pray for you. Your prayers, your dreams. I would love to partner with you in prayer.

I'm excited about Book 2. It's just over 235 pages. I dreamed it...way back last summer. I tell you this because...the story is about a virus. Yep...I know, but who could've imagined that a deadly virus would show up almost a year later. I think you will love the spiritual twist on a virus invading the world. I pray it will encourage you, and hopefully draw you closer to Adonai. 

PSS - I will be asking for volunteers to join my launch team in the next few weeks. I'll email out the info so you can decide if you want to be part. There is an advanced copy of Book 2 in it for you. So be thinking about it. 

God bless you, and keep you!

Teresa

Link to The Choosing

The Mirage of Autism

 

I watched a lady recently talk about all her “troubles.” Randy sent me AWAY because there had been so many seizures and after being awake all night I was buzzed. Not on alcohol, on adrenaline that wouldn't shut off after the stress and sleep-deprivation. 

It was an exciting proposition. Getting my toenails painted by a professional. The water was so warm and the massage chair was hitting all the right spots…I was starting to fall asleep with the luxury of music and someone rubbing my feet. Then, a woman sat down beside me in the next chair. I heard her talking, so I opened my eyes, looking around to see who she was talking to. Apparently, it was to anyone who was willing to listen…or anyone who couldn’t getaway.

She began with how awful it has been not to be able to get her nails professionally done for all those months. How difficult it is to buy clothes online without trying them on. The cruelty of masks that wipe off her lipstick. The list was long and very "upper class." Which included no vacation outside the country, and the frustration of folks that can’t wear a mask not staying home when they should. 

I confess, I never even nodded, never turned my head. I gave every physical signal a person can, that says leave me alone…including closing my eyes and pretending to sleep. 

If I’m being honest, I frowned a lot, even with my eyes closed. I found it almost impossible not to say things like, “you’re kidding me right? I wanted to explain that I’m an autism mom, those things are not “regulars” in my world anymore. Those things have become extravagant luxuries… for a woman who has made herself not wear the same clothes she slept in.” 

I realized as I sat there, that she was going to make sure I heard her. It was a good lesson. 

I began to wonder about my own tenacity when it comes to speaking up about the autism life. I try to speak up, and even though I am painfully, transparent when I tell someone close to me what life is like…perhaps I still shelter those I know can't understand. It's not a judgment, it's just an honest observation. 

Even those closest to us still ask about things that leave me confused. Things I thought they understood. Usually, it's about things we can't do anymore or places we can't go. I thought I made myself heard. 

For families who walk the tight rope of seizures, severe autism, pandas, and Crohn's disease...we do not live the same life as most of the world. Our children don't fit in most places. They can be disruptive, they can often not handle the smallest events of everyday life. 

Maybe you see us out in public, and you think things must be going quite well for our family. It looks like we’ve found a way to balance all that autism brings. (Autism defined by Rain Man, or The Good Doctor). But really, we spend our days on the edge of a blade, never knowing which side of the knife we will fall on. 

You might notice his odd OCD behaviors, his constant need for me to squeeze his hand or kiss his cheek. But usually, people are gracious and tell me how well I'm managing our life. How good he looks, how amazing that we can survive under such difficulty. (Most don't know what the difficulties are, they just know they exist.) I have fooled you into believing that we safe rather than dangling precariously from a high trapeze of unpredictability. That's hard enough, but with autism, there is no safety net. 

IT'S ALL A MIRAGE. BECAUSE I am determined that you SEE only what I want you to see. 

At church, when he's capable of going, he seems like a calm, easy-going young man who is participating in life to the best of his ability. Maybe that is what he is. But underneath that facade of perceived calm, there is always the autism storm that brews so constantly...I pray to hear the thunder and the crackle of the lightning before anyone outside our world notices.

We are so blessed at church. People are kind to him, they include him, they speak to him. They touch him, shake his hand, treat him like he belongs... like he matters. I cannot express how amazing that is to us...how it blesses us, and also, how uncommon it is. 

I want people outside our world to only see the best of him. I purposely leave the broken world out of sight, my goal is to make others more comfortable with autism. But the pressure, of controlling the uncontrollable...I have often had two or three panic attacks before I even get to church. My heart palpitating, I’m sweating and terrified that he will have a meltdown inside the big auditorium full of people. But I get there and do my best to pretend I’m good, he’s good… it’s all good. I try so desperately to remember why I am really there.

Those with autism have become a type of disposable population. So many are tucked away in group homes, and state schools. They are not easily understood or managed outside the safety of their world where they know how to function. We have bravely or perhaps foolishly decided to take our son with us everywhere we go. It’s important, for my son's life and future, that he is seen as a valuable human being. Someone that has something to give back to the world, even if they have to dig to find it.

The younger children with autism are still treated like there is a possible future for them, but the older they get the less likely the world is to consider their value.

 I have a great many "friends" on social media. Autism parents like me who have adult children with severe autism. I read their comments and watch their family members make disparaging comments and suggestions. I do understand that the difficulty of the nonstop caregiving gets old to those watching you live it. But I wonder if they ever really stop to consider how tired that parent is almost thirty years later. How much strength is required to keep going? 

The few folks I've ever allowed in my home are a little overwhelmed when they see the difficulties. We have done a great many things to make all our lives easier. Cabinets that hold only his food that is easy access for him. (We pray he eats, ANYTHING his gut hurts so bad.) His closet contains four shirts, if there are more he can't choose one, and he will become so distraught trying to choose there will be a meltdown. The pair of shorts, and one pair of jeans that he has worn almost every single day for four years. (I found a pair of his identical shorts on Poshmark and even though they were the wrong size, I bought them and took them up.)

At my house, I bathe my twenty-nine-year-old son every morning. Brush his teeth, comb his hair, put on deodorant. He tries to help with most of those things, and on the good days, he can.

I have a truckload of syringes and tablets and capsules all lined up and we take them as scheduled, changing on whether he can eat that day. He does not eat anything until around 2pm. His stomach just can't manage food well. We've been in the "I can't eat" phase for far too long. I don't know how long it will last. We do what we can, he eats what he can.

The complication of the autism life causes those outside this world to say things like, "why do you do all those things? You should just make him deal." LOL, That does make me laugh. I remember when I thought those same things. 

When Britton was born I thought I'd learned how to raise a child. I had two beautiful daughters and they were turning out pretty well. Autism broke every paradigm I ever had. You can trust me when I tell you, one day with an autism family would be an enlightening lesson, in love. Not only our love for our son but our son's love for us. Above all - God's provision, and His amazing grace that helps us keep going each and every day. 

But unless I told you, you wouldn’t know most of these things. I attempt to make things look “normal.” I strive to help people outside the autism world to be more comfortable with autism. AND...to be honest? I’m not really doing it for you. I’m doing it for him. If I can convince you that he is worthy of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, then it is an investment in my son’s future. 

I won't always be here to create this mirage. I do all I can to help my son live up to the expectations of others. (Truly an impossible task.) But I pray, I pray hard that when I'm gone that others will see him through the mirage of possibilities that I have shown them. AND...maybe, just maybe they will be willing to help create a world that will tolerate his differences. 

I really do realize it’s a big gamble. To gamble on the kindness of strangers, and the moral compass of a broken world. Some would say it is a foolish gamble. I'd have to agree, but there is God and all His promises. 

So rather than believe I am gambling, I believe I am trusting in the goodness of a merciful God who loves my son more than I do. If I am gambling, it is you I'm gambling on. That you will step over the judgments, dodge the difficulties, and let love be the deciding factor. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son..." What a "gamble" He took on mankind. I'd like to believe I'm not so much gambling, as following His lead. 

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If you're still reading, BOOK II will release OCTOBER 31, BRACE YOURSELF, it's gonna be a wild RIDE. 

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"Anxiety - a meteor shower of what-ifs!" Max Lucado

In the last month, I've read a plethora of books on anxiety. I suppose that's understandable...with what's happening in the world, even the "Tina and Louise" personalities are struggling with all the newsworthy "what ifs." 

COVID has added a level of anxiety none of us could've imagined...even for all the "normal" families out there. Will I have a job? What will I do when the unemployment runs out? Will I be able to keep my home, my car... it's a pretty serious list.

When you have a disabled child who depends on you, day in and day out... you get to add the impossible to your list of fears. This whole "stay home,""wear a mask," is draining the life out of each of us. Whether you are pro-mask, or anti-mask, either way, the stress it creates is causing hives, and heart palpitations in the folks I consider to be the anchors of calm. 

One day, I realized that I don't laugh like I used to. One of the side effects of COVID is apparently less laughter. I stopped watching the news BEFORE COVID. I was done with the negative influence it had on my life. I realized there was never ever any good news and it caused me anxiety. After all my eyelashes fell out...TWICE, I started cutting out all the outside angst. I mean, I have a choice, so I chose to be "less informed" and happier. Ya know what...I was completely fine not being "informed," and I slept better. (Now I wonder if "informed" really means indoctrinated?) 

In the first few months of COVID Crazy Town...Britton regressed into his own new level of despair. THEY PROMISED we would...flatten the curve and be done with this thing. But I had no idea there was an agenda. That after we did all the things and flattened the curve into nonexistence... they would create a whole new graph of things to worry about.

Each graph is a graph of the latest anxieties. This is the graph of how many are dying, and this is the graph of how many are sick, and this is the graph of how many we think might get sick and die. Yep, there's some anxiety for you. If you watch the news they will happily serve it up at dinner each night. You can eat that anxiety for supper and no amount of antacid is gonna ease your heartburn.

Now I'm not one for sticking my head in the sand...but since getting my son out of bed each day is a monumental chore because there is nowhere to go and nothing to do. He no longer cares to come downstairs, he really doesn't even care if he eats. Today my momma heart was up in my throat when he typed..."I am so heavy heavy. I worry about real boys, momma. I worry that real boys may never be happy again. I live in a prison of nowhere. "

What do I say to that? "A prison of nowhere?" Well, that just about sums up this whole Corona Circus. It is a prison of nowhere. The news...a prison of nowhere. The projections...a prison of nowhere. I looked through about 20 different news feeds and I could not find HOPE in any of them. 

We are lead by our masks...(some of us by our noses)...in a circle of futility. Every promise is broken, every statistic a mistake, everything we are being told is corrected, refigured, restructured...there does not appear to be a crumb of truth in any graph. 

The news is a whirlwind that will scoop your hopes and dash them against the latest graph of despair. BUT THEN this past week I stumbled upon Philippians 4:6-8. I'm going to write it here...only it's not going to be the King James or the Amplified or any of those. This is going to be the Teresa translation. It's what it means to me...at this moment. You feel free to look it up and translate it inside your own heart.

There is no need for you to worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Take all that you're worrying about and turn it into powerful prayers. God will listen to every concern you have. Before you can say, Covid19, He will give you peace, and you will know that everything is under His control. He's not surprised by anything that is happening in the world, and that in itself should bring you peace. Don't you feel better already? You can sleep at night, knowing He's got the whole world, (which includes YOU,) in His hands. It's so much better talking to God about it...than holding on to every worry till it's too heavy to even lift. You can build it into a mountain so big you can't even climb it. 

Fill up your mind with who God is. Why not think about what is genuine, instead of all that the media tries to fill your head with? Let's think of the good things, the best things that are part of our world. There is enough ugly to go around, it's exhausting There are beautiful, amazing, gracious, people in the world. Let's just focus on those and talk about those. The rest of it... let it go. You are safe in His hands, you always have been." 

In one of my Anxiety books, I read, "It's not God's will that you lead a life of perpetual anxiety." Well, AMEN to that. I'm so glad to hear it. I read it and then I understood that it means I have a choice. So, I am no longer reading books about Anxiety. I've switched to reading books about hope, and happiness. WHY NOT? 

I've been baking things, eating things that I love more than I ever have. (Yes my pants are tight.) But I just believe it's important that we choose happiness. We can't face every day with dread, and fear. What kind of people will we become if we do? I made my husband's favorite pie...just because he loves it. He eats it late at night. The house finally quiet, his work done for the day. He relaxes, and relishes each bite. I love watching him eat it. It probably takes him 30 minutes to enjoy that one piece. He cuts a piece with his fork and puts that one bite in his mouth and savors it. I want to live my life the way he eats that pie. This moment in time is all we have. Virus or no virus, this is our pie. 

I have gotten creative. I bought a tv tray and moved it into Britton's room. If he won't get up he can just DO THINGS in his bed. We read and find youtube videos to reinforce what we're studying. We listen to praise and worship from all over the world. (Jesus is the same everywhere...how cool is that?) 

He's begun laughing again. He no longer refuses to bathe or get dressed. It's a step in the right direction. We will come out on the other side of this thing, with our hopes and our hearts intact. We will eat this pie, and relish each day that is given to us. Looking for the good, no matter how many scary graphs are on the news. 

I just might make a graph...of how much hope we've found...it might even taste better than pie. 

God bless you all and always remember HE IS FOR YOU!

The Choosing is Book ONE of The Chronicles of The Shadowlands

If you have held off getting your copy... here's the link 

https://www.amazon.com/Choosing-Finding-Truth-Chronicles-Shadowlands-ebook/dp/B0833JQ2PZ/

FLYING BLIND

Ever played Blindman's bluff? As a kid, mom would tie the hand towel around our eyes, and off we would go. Hands stretched out, feeling our way around treacherous end tables and deadly sofas. All in search of the unseen. (By unseen I mean the stinker sisters that would sneak up and give a pinch and then run away...giggling.)Those are some good memories, I laughed hard thinking on them. 

 What prompted those memories was reading the story of a man who suddenly went blind. That's a scary story, but this man was in a small airplane, flying solo. He was feeling fine for the first 30 minutes, and then BAM, a stroke took his vision...What could you do, what would you do? The man was flying blind, how did he not panic? Just reading about it tied me in knots. He was able to feel for the radio, and call out "MAYDAY! MAYDAY!" That's the perfect thing to do when flying blind...MAYDAY! 

 I know that feeling! How many times have I been awakened to the nerve-shattering scream of yet another seizure? I've lost count. I empathize with the blind pilot. Most of us can...Stuck inside for months, wondering how we will make a living. Will we be able to pay our mortgage? What if we lose our car? Do we have enough food, and toilet paper. (comic relief?) 

 Lots of us are "flying blind" in this country. The months and months of increased seizures, intense quarantines, and Britton's almost total refusal to leave his bedroom has been enough to make us wish someone would pull off our blindfold so we could see our way clear to a different life. Blindfold or not, my hands are always stretched out reaching for answers... but there has been very little light for me to see by. Do I increase his CBD, do I change it? Do I change anti-seizure meds? What will help him eat? Does anyone have the answers? Can anyone else see...because I sure can't? I've been asking these same questions for most of 29 years. The blind following the blind. Sometimes as luck would have it, I figure something out. (blind luck?) The panic eases and we see a tiny thread of light. But for us...and lots of families like us, the light is short-lived. All I know to do is keep calling out "MAYDAY" and praying the right ears to hear me. 

 The Pharisees taught that only the true Messiah could heal the blind. Jesus healed several blind men...He was their only hope...I can genuinely relate to that. There is so much we don't know in this life. We sure don't know what the future holds...2020 has sucker-punched more families than the majority of years before it. We feel stumped, almost paralyzed by all that we see happening around us. Our children feel that same stress, and today Britton typed his frustrations, throwing a sucker punch of his own. (Based off the fact that I no longer take him to the places, he likes to go to.) He accused me of giving up," being done trying." But after he told me how he really feels, he had a very valid point. 

He said, "The world is blind to my heart, the world has lost its heart, lost its soul." 

 His words made me wonder...What would it be like if you turned on the news and the announcer said, "It's been discovered that the biggest side effect of Covid 19 is that all those affected have lost their heart, lost their soul towards their fellow man." That might be one time they actually told the truth.  Britton asked, "What does the world see when it sees me?" It's not the first time Britton has asked me this question. My answer is always the same. No matter how the world SEES US, GOD SEES US FOR WHO WE WERE CREATED TO BE. His promises do not change based on whether we feel like we've got life by the tail, or whether it's got us by the throat. 

 So often in these blind moments, we forget that God is who HE says HE is. We think He's taken a vacation, or has finally decided to give us what we really deserve. In my blind moments, when my son is seizing and I find myself in the dark, clinging to the cliff of despair by my slippering fingertips... I whisper "even when I don't see it you're working!" It helps me cling to that edge, eyes squeezed tight, (yes I might be trembling.) I don't need to see as long as He's working. God is ever watchful...able to see forward and backward. He can see the "deadly sofas" and the "treacherous end tables" that I have no way of seeing...because I am blind to the future. 

 We may find ourselves flying blind, BUT, Jesus has BETTER THAN 2020 VISION! (pun intended.) Oh... and that pilot. There was a Flight Commander who just completed his training nearby. He flew his plane up next to the blind man's aircraft and patiently talked him into a position to land. Seven times he tried to land, and seven times he bounced up and had to try again. All of that, while trusting the voice of someone he couldn't see. On his eighth try, he made a near-perfect landing. Flying Blind. 

 I cried hard when I read that. It gave me confidence that even when I can't see in the despair of all that life can bury us under...the eyes of my creator can see in the dark. So I reach through the veil and hold onto the hand that gives sight to the blind. 

 Isaiah 42:16 I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them. 

 

PS: Last week I sent you a free link to my novel THE CHOOSING. 399 of you downloaded the free ebook. WOW, that meant the world to me. THANK YOU for making that Promotion so successful. I am humbled by your confidence. The book went up to #20 in Christian Fiction (out of thousands and thousands.) 

The Reviews are coming in already and I wanted to share two of them with you. 

 5.0 out of 5 stars Deep, Moving, Eye-opening, and Relevant for our culture Reviewed in the United States on June 25, 2020 I am changed by reading this. My perspective of the other side of eternity has been enriched, and my understanding deepened toward those suffering from any number of conditions which render them mute, wordless, or trapped in a body that just won't bloody obey them. 

5.0 out of 5 stars How words can flow into a picture. Reviewed in the United States on June 25, 2020 Loved this book! The author takes you on a journey with her words. Paints pictures in your mind. Great Read! So here's a link for when you're ready to get your copy.

 https://www.amazon.com/Choosing-Finding-Truth-Chronicles-Shadowlands-ebook/dp/B0833JQ2PZ/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8

 I write this newsletter/blog two times a month. If you found hope in these words...maybe you want to receive the newsletter twice a month. If you do, just click here. https://scavengers-of-hope.ck.page/0ba506d8e0. You can unsubscribe at any time. 

I SEE YOU

 

A forgotten population? Invisible to the world. Hidden away in day habilitation programs, and their parent's homes. 

I wondered one more time about the vast population of thousands upon thousands that so few SEE. 

Does the world pretend that our children don't even exist?

Today I was reading the story of Jesus walking by the pool of Bethesda. My heart lept when I read that Jesus made a beeline for the man who had been disabled for 38 years.... I wonder what it felt like for that man to be seen? Really SEEN! A man who had always been invisible...38 years he sat beside that pool, but then he had a miracle...he voiced his hopelessness to the savior of the world.

"I have no one to put me in the pool..."

Jesus saw him when no one else cared that he existed. When no one was willing to help. 

Maybe he was born that way, or maybe he was injured? Maybe he was angry overall he had endured?

We don't know the answers to any of those questions, and yet...what we can all agree on...is that the vast majority of the population looked the other way. 

^"Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. ⁶ When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?”⁷ The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.”⁸ Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.” ⁹ And immediately the man was made well, took up his bed, and walked.

Those of us sitting by the pool, rarely glance up at the rest of the world. I wish I could say our families always see us, that all churches see us, but... in general, we are the heavy baggage, the difficult population that needs so much. 

Sometimes in my prayers, I agonize..."Is this just the way it is...or should I refuse to accept it? Demand equality? Scream to be seen?"

I remember doing that, back when Britton was entering into the Early Childhood program. I wanted him to be just as important as every other student. I was that naive young momma who loved my boy and couldn't imagine the school system, not caring properly for him. If I could go back in time I would give my younger self a giant hug, and ask if I could pray for me.

I'd pray that God would give me much thicker skin, faster. That I'd open my eyes sooner, and not constantly refuse to accept what my eyes clearly told me was true. The years did bring thicker skin and I did accept the things I couldn't change. (Though I still believe most of it can be changed. Yes I'm stubborn.)

The things I cannot change are hard to swallow...sanding away year after year at my hope.

I wonder when I stopped screaming that my son deserved to be seen? I don't remember honestly, but I do know that somewhere along the way my voice became an echo that only those by the pool could hear. 

I'm glad I didn't know any of those things back then. I just loved my son, and I thought the rest of the world would love him too. I often fall in love when I meet a new autism momma who has not yielded. The vibrancy and commitment to making the world better for her child infuses me again...and we lock arms and we keep on pushing. 

Recently a young momma came to me describing her son's classroom. How it was not set up with the proper equipment. How her son needed more space, and the stress of it had caused him to be covered in eczema. I understood I understood it well. More than 18 years ago, it was the inadequacy of the classrooms for those with special needs that were one of my first big shocks. (One year they made a classroom for him out of a storage closet. You can't make this stuff up.) I will never forget the principal looking at me in shock. She then explained in small words she hoped I could grasp, "your son is not "entitled" to a great many things that you want for him. You cannot expect him to be given the same education as a "normal child. That is very unrealistic." Lucky for her I was in shock, and my heart had not grown the callouses, nor the armor that would come over the years. Ten more years of rejection under my belt and that conversation would've gone very differently. 

I became my son's voice.

I watched the news and the country lose its mind over the brutal, ugly, pointless murder of a black man, George Floyd.

It sickened the nation and we all grieved over the injustice, and a lot of folks couldn't believe their eyes. The truth was difficult to swallow. It was murder and horror and so we all ugly cried, as a nation...grieving we wished to do something!

But I remembered barely a week before --when another unthinkable situation appeared on the news.
A woman by the name of Patricia Ripley...a momma who had a son with autism. Her fifteen seconds of fame...she murdered her autistic son.

He was only 9 years old. I'd like to say that someone else saw the story. That the world was outraged and people rioted, and held signs and screamed that "Vaccine Injured Lives Matter," or "Autistic Lives Matter!"

But none of that happened. Even those of us who are living the same life in the shadows knew that nothing would be done. We would lay by the pool, and no one would see us.

As a momma who has wrestled the world of indifference towards autism for more than 29 years, 

I might have some idea of why she did what she did...

I may raise more than a few eyebrows when I suggest that perhaps...if someone SAW HER, she would've made a different choice? If someone offered a respite day or even a sympathetic ear? If someone acknowledged

the intense burden that she struggled to live every moment of every day. (Lots of long nights too.) If the government that is totally complicit accepted any responsibility...if friends and family didn't run? 

I guess we all manage our lives with autism aka vaccine injury as best we can. I have friends that stay angry a lot. Most of them become warriors on the front lines, demanding that people SEE the ugly truth!

Some of us fight...by speaking out when we are asked... I write as much truth as I think I can get away with. Pulling back the blinders on what it is like to live with autism. Trying my darnedest to give a real-life glimpse into my son's brutally difficult life.

The truth that there is an entire population laying by the pool, with no hope of being helped.

I do realize that that outside of this tribe will struggle to digest most of this.

The world has told them that those laying beside the pool deserve to be there. It's best to look

the other way. But maybe, just maybe...some of them will open their eyes and see what they were

once blind to?

Those of us who call ourselves Christians are supposed to be Jesus to the world.

We are supposed to SEE, and we are supposed to ask the question. "Do you want to be made well?" 

As the world continues to pretend to be blind to the plight of a great many things...

the numbers of those diagnosed with autism grow and grow. It will be hard to look the other way when

there are more of us than there are of them.

When there are no longer more normal children than vaccine-injured ones.

When the vast majority's voice gets louder and louder...

the roar of the pain of dismissal will reach a crescendo and it will shake the earth! 

Vaccine Injured Lives Matter, especially when it's someone you love.

*If you would like to be part of this newsletter/blog *two a month and an occasional surprise...

click this link https://scavengers-of-hope.ck.page/0ba506d8e0 you can unsubscribe at any time, 
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If you have procrastinated until now to get your copy of The Choosing....

HERE is the most recent FIVE STAR REVIEW 

"Reading this book, while reminding me all too well of what little regard others have for our "Britton's"

and "Brandon's" - has also rekindled the absolute truth and justice we must continue to believe in.

That while evil runs rampant, it is not in control.

That the worst thing our enemy can do to us, is make us be like them."

Buy the book. Read it. Share it with someone who isn't affected by autism so they can be enlightened.

Thank you, Britton Holman - your story has raised me from my own ashes of late.

https://www.amazon.com/Choosing-Finding-Truth-Dark-ebook/dp/B0833JQ2PZ/

PSSSTTTT - (I'm whispering) The sequel NO CHOICE will be out in November... I promise you guys the first four chapters BEFORE