Are We ALL ANTI-VAXXERS NOW?

The air sizzles with the tension...how long will the seizure last, will he breathe soon, 

will his joints be in place? How many times can the human body endure so much abuse...life hangs suspended and we forget to breathe...today it's the seizures, tomorrow it may be a meltdown that would rival an entanglement with an angry grizzly. This is Britton's life...and the life of many a desperate young man (or woman) who is in so much pain they just want someone, anyone to make it stop...they know that all the promises of how hard you have tried to help are empty...because nothing has ever helped enough... 

In so many homes...homes that throb with the pain of vaccine injury...homes bulging with grief while clinging to hope as the years of futility slide through their fingers. Your next-door neighbor, your dear friend, your family. This is the world they don't share with you. This is the world they refuse to open to others...because looking at this life, is a world where outsiders have many opinions, and often place judgments on families already bearing burdens too heavy to lift. 

I struggled writing this...I don't know how it will be received, I don't know if you will think I've finally snapped, or be willing to consider...those of you that live this life are far more likely to think of the big picture...we've had years to weigh the "why's" of what has happened to our child.

There are thousands of us now...and those of us that have pushed from the frontlines for 25+ years are still pushing. We have fought and struggled and researched late into countless nights...believing that an answer would/could/MUST be found. We have overburdened ourselves our spouses, our other children...We have fought THIS INVISIBLE ENEMY so long with almost zero assistance from the very government who caused it...and ended up being labeled ignorant, and unlearned when we can talk circles around most...when it comes to immune compromise. 

Watching the world come together...to fight ONE VIRUS is a mix of a Hollywood Horror film and the moment we had all hoped for. That somehow the government would stand up for us...for those who lost everything when the promises of "safe and effective" broke us. The truth...of "unavoidably UNSAFE" is how all vaccines are labeled, but no one wants to talk about that. Those outside our tribe don't even KNOW that the vaccine they are submitting to is UNAVOIDABLY UNSAFE! Watching the world crying desperately to be saved from the possibility of a virus, that MIGHT make them sick is unsettling..unfair...and HARD on all of us emotionally. Listening to people pray for a vaccine...that may be the hardest prayer I've ever struggled to hear. I know it's safe to ask God for anything...but I suppose it comes down to whether you believe that SAFE and VACCINE can be used together? 

The seizures this week have been brutal and unrelenting...while others cower in their homes, worrying about the UNSEEN that could be lurking out in their streets...the same government that is making those promises... made those same promises to thousands of families like mine. The vaccine that stole my son's life...that still ravages his body... I was told the science was settled. The lie still burns. 

It's April...Autism Awareness Month. Every year I struggle with the impossibility of what AUTISM AWARENESS would really look like. Maybe I become cynical, tainted, angry. I try hard not to...but this year is quite the challenge. When news reporters whine about the horrors...(and I'm sure it is terrible!) But I also know there are thousands of us living a life that most Americans would recoil from.

Somehow the powers that be are making SURE that you are scared enough, desperate enough... that when they roll out that vaccine that hasn't been through the long years it supposedly takes to be sure it might really help...you'll rush to get in line thinking anything is better than the virus. I'd like to ask you to pause... to think it through. Please pray first! I HAVE TO REMIND YOU that those creating the FEAR and the terror are also those, offering you a "cure." Interesting how that works. 

I might be a tad more cynical about this subject than I ought to be. I admit it. But before you judge too harshly remember that I live with a handsome, 29-year-old young man who would give ANYTHING, and I mean ANYTHING to live free. His future was changed...forever. His body damaged... His hopes are so small and yet, they have always been unreachable.

He was so upset he actually held my purse and yelled, "GO!" HE IS NONVERBAL!! He's so desperate for life to return back to HIS NORMAL. It's not like it's a great life. Movies once a week...on good weeks. Grocery shopping, when he feels well enough to eat. An occasional visit to one of his sister's houses. On fantastic weeks a bike ride, and maybe even a visit to The Woodlands for time with dad in a kayak. (they closed that lake this week...how do you close a lake?) I did explain it to him. I did show him that it wasn't only him, that it was everyone locked in their homes. We went to the movie theater and I let him try to open the door. There were tears...his and mine. But when he picked up his IPAD and typed...His words broke me, tore me inside out. "I am smart, I can go momma!" I cried it wasn't a choice. His life is hard enough, how cruel that he would think that it has to do with his brokenness. Sighhhhh Praying the lockdown ends...SOON for everyone. 

But those things...cannot bee till the infamous virus is corned somewhere and a weapon found to neutralize it. I know it will happen eventually because the world cares about it, is hunting it, tracking it's every move, reporting its every victim. The world cares about those victims. They haven't been accused of bringing it on themselves...not yet. It's hard for me not to add..."BUT WAIT....hold the government's beer." 

I'm always amazed when I get labeled an "anti-vaxxer" that the name-caller has forgotten than I am in this situation BECAUSE I vaccinated. Because I am a rule keeper, because I believed what I was told. True, I no longer vaccinate, and yet...I'm not sure that's a fair label when the experience that has driven me to become what so many in the world deem as radical. This past week, a woman crossed the street when I was walking my dog...she placed a hand over her masked face and turned her head. Well now there is a symbol of the divide that has occurred-- "every other human might carry the virus...! It is the very opposite of loving your neighbor as yourself. 

"Anti-vaxxers have felt this many times over the years when the propaganda that people who aren't vaccinated could SOMEHOW spread a virus they do not have to those who are vaccinated. (Makes zero sense, but when has that ever stopped the propaganda?) 

I BEGAN TO WONDER...IS THE WHOLE WORLD BEING TREATED LIKE AN ANTI-VAXXER? 

Because "anti-vaxxers" have been shunned, refused into many schools, shut out of most daycares...If we refuse the vaccine that is to come...will we be allowed to go into movies, grocery stores...schools? We've been taught in Sunday School that days like this would come. Bill Gates is demanding we all "show our papers" or better yet, we all get chipped with PROOF we've been vaccinated. (Wouldn't it be convenient if we could put the chip in the vaccine?" Call me crazy?

We've all heard the scripture..." and that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name." Rev: 13:17

Interesting...I'm not making any prophecies here, I'm just praying our eyes are open, WE ARE PAYING ATTENTION. 

 The world is hiding in terror...and yet the real enemy is waiting to change life on our planet forever. It's important that we SEE with more than just our physical eyes. That we SEE the words of the bible unfolding before us.

I want to leave you with these scriptures. I write them on index cards...I read them daily because they encourage me. 

Matthew 6:34 Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

Isaiah 35:4 Say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution, he will come to save you.”

Matthew 10:28 Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.

Psalm 9:9-10 The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.

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

The paperback is on sale for $14.95 and the ebook is available free on kindle unlimited!

             ACCEPTING THE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE

Who would’ve believed that our entire nation could be sent on a rollercoaster ride of uncertainty…all of us, all at once? 

A rude, global awakening...and a slap in the face of our capitalistic security.

Most of us are still sitting in our homes, with a drop of PTSD, emotions of “shock and awe.” Wondering when the next shoe will drop or when someone will shake us and we will learn this was only a cruel joke?

I’ve managed my stress by eating foods I have avoided most of my life and then lying awake for hours thinking of every worst-case scenario. 

Which is not a good combination when you’ve spent 29 years struggling with all the worse case scenarios that severe autism might bring into your life. 

The best news is…living the autism life has also taught me how to set those things down and reach for the hands of the one who never fails me. 

Britton and I were working. Reading and he was answering questions, he cracks me up with his answers. “Has the US ever had a woman president?” He was totally stumped by the question. (These are yes and no questions, and he just types N, or Y for answers. Sometimes he types the whole word, but it’s independent typing that we are working on.)He put his hand over the questions and picked up my hand which tells me he wants to say something. So he typed…

“Give it up momma. This is God’s to do. Trying to do his stuff won’t save me. you. You are afraid not brave. You . we are easy brave. . yes. Like birds free, like flowers. Jesus he is the bravest. He won’t leave. Don’t eat the fear, the fear tastes bad. Fear is easy, brave is us.”

Sometimes in these moments…it feels almost as if we’ve stepped out of time. Like only he and I exist. The rest of the world falls away and I am amazed that I sit with someone who hears God on a level that I only dream of. 

He, felt my emotions, I wasn’t fooling him at all. My mind was far away, worrying about what will come and how we will manage it, I wasn’t present. One thing, that severe autism has gifted my son…he seems to discern with uncanny accuracy how others feel. A master at reading body language, and feelings. I wonder if it may be a gift most of those with autism have?

Earlier we were reading the sermon on the mount. Now if it’s been a while since you’ve read through the book of Matthew let me remind you that Jesus has a lot to say about all we worry about

“Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more than birds. Matt 6:26

“Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it?” Matt 6:29 The Message

Jesus teaching on worry was nothing short of sheer genius. He spoke of birds and flowers--

so if we look up we are reminded by the freedom, and joy a flock of sparrows as they dance on the wind currents. If we look down, we are reminded again by a field of wildflowers in living color, taking our breath...flowers that only God himself waters. A living illustration of the uselessness of worry.

He finishes with…

“If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things…

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”Matt 6:32-34

He knows us, better than we know ourselves. It encouraged me so very much. I wanted to share it with you, encourage you. “You are worth far more than these…” He does have the whole world in His hands. He is going to use this hard situation for good. I don’t know when, and I don’t know-how…but if I begin to “eat fear” again, I’ll remember to look up, and then look down. I’ll remember that worry can fracture my heart, my mind. That it distracts me from trusting and believing. 

You may find this all a little religious for your liking…I hope not. I am not a religious person at all. I find that by surrendering my need to control…the illusion that I even can control, I find myself happier, and freer.

Jesus was not a religious man. He came to make us more alive, the religious found him a rebel.

We get to choose…to focus to stare at the hard things, the scary things that life always brings our way…or we can choose to look up… 

to marvel at the birds, soaring and diving, the wind rippling their feathers, their tummies full of bugs and worms. 

We can gaze across a field of lavender flowers. Immerse ourselves in the fragrance God added, just because he knew we would love it. 

We can stare amazed at the bluebonnets that show up each spring, coloring an entire field blue. Imitating the ocean waves, like God’s breath when the wind blows them in motion. 

Yes, it is our choice…so it is my goal to look up…and watch the birds soar and dip…and then to look down…at the intricacy of the flowers drawn by the greatest artist. Amazed at God’s attention to detail. Knowing that humans are the culmination of God’s creation. He made us, only us in his image. We are his workmanship…WE are his favorites. 

Maybe we should pause…and lookup. 

The Choosing...AVAILABLE ON KINDLE OR PAPERBACK 

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

How Small Is your Circle?

One thing I can assure you, after reading comments from the survey…All of us live in a very tight-knit world? Not because we want to, not because it’s where we want to be…but because it’s safe here. Safe for our child, safe for us…safer from the rest of the world.

All of us, WISH with all our hearts that “others” (I call them “the normals”) were willing to attempt an understanding of what our life is really like. Most of us keep to ourselves, shielding the unknowing “normals” from the reality of how difficult autism life can be. We shield our churches, our friends; we even shield our family members. We shield the world from what it’s like to live with “a real boy.”

We remember when we had LIVES, with jobs and date nights, and vacations…we remember it.

But that was when we were allowed the luxury of those things. The more challenges autism presents us with, the tighter the protection, and the more secluded our circle becomes.

Who can you trust inside your circle? Who can you allow to SEE, I mean really see what happens in the darkest moments? Who can you trust to see all of what one autistic child can bring into a family?

Who can be trusted to know your 25 years old still wets the bed? Who can be trusted to know that Your son has smeared fecal matter down your wall for the last 15 years? Who will be able to remain calm when your son breaks the sheetrock with his head in a fit of frustration? Even the small things, who can you trust not judge you when they see that your child STILL won’t use his fork to eat even pasta? WHO, can be allowed inside the tight circle of autism’s realities?

When I started thinking about the tight circles we all live in, I thought of Jesus and his small inner circle. He had 12 disciples. He had thousands of followers who swore their undying love…but he had three. Three he allowed to experience it all. Then I wondered if even He had to limit who was capable of managing His reality? Jesus life taught everyone that saying you love someone, and demonstrating that love are two very different things. Somehow our world has equated loving with approving. This is the tight rope of autism families. If you say it, but you do nothing, we KNOW we cannot invite you in.

I once asked Britton, “what was the hardest part of being autistic?” I expected the pain, the frustration.

He typed, “I am utterly alone, a broken body.”

The priorities of my life cracked into a million pieces…they slid apart, and though broken they created a new picture. I’m only his mother, how can I promise he will never be left alone? The day will come when I will leave this world, and I do not know if my will is strong enough to force my old body to keep trying, but if a mother’s love is as powerful as some say…I just might live till he takes his last breath.

His dad and I are what he has. He has sisters, but they moved out a very long time ago. Neither of them has seen him have a seizure, (and he’s had hundreds) they have not lived in the house with him since he developed Crohn’s disease, or spiraled into the nightmare OCD’s of pandas. The number of times he washed his hands for endless hours, watching the skin peel away, leaving raw flesh…all while he cries because he can’t stop. They love him, but they do not truly understand what his life is like now. They say we “pamper” him when the truth is…we pamper others…not, allowing them in.

Parents aren’t the first choice of any 28 years old. He’d rather friends, siblings, aunts, uncles. Every adult wants free of their parents, including him. We were on vacation once; it was back before seizures, Crohn's disease and pandas…all the additional surprises that now make “only autism” feel like a cakewalk in comparison. We took a walk on a relatively deserted beach in front of our room. Britton kept walking ahead of us…way ahead. Like 30 feet ahead. Strolling and pretending he didn’t know us, walking like any young man, free and on vacation. I was going to run and catch up, and my husband grabbed my arm. “Let’s let him walk alone; he wants to be free of us, of autism. Let this be his vacation too.”

We walked along behind him tears poured, and we decided we would walk till he was ready to turn around. The longer he walked alone, the happier he became. People walked by him and nodded; he nodded back. He scared one young woman to death by squealing like a dolphin and skipping away. He pretended he was “normal” and for a brief moment, he was. We wiped our faces, and after about an hour we yelled at him to turn around.

He wasn’t ready, but it was getting too dark. He refused to come and sat down on the shore and began writing in the sand. We caught up with him, and his dad sat down beside him. A sudden rainstorm came, we pulled out a plastic sheet we had in our backpack. I stayed back, letting it be just the boys, only two guys sitting on the beach.

The joy of that moment was just us…his inner circle. I know that Jesus was there too, watching, relishing Britton’s

delight in such a simple act for most young men; but it was an extravagant luxury for our son. Sure it was pretending, sure he only wished…but

The sun set, and it was time for the fantasy to end, but ohhhh the joy of those moments.

He skipped all the way back to the room and fell asleep in his clothes so tired from the exhilaration.

It's true, our circle is indeed small…but our joy is big, oh so big. If I invite you into our circle, it is a sacred invitation. One thing I can promise you, It looks very different from the inside out.

Dear Younger Me

I heard a song on the radio...entitled "Dear Younger Me." I did listen to the song, but the whole time my mind was spinning. What do I wish I had known...when autism came for my son, for my family, for our future?

The memories paraded through my mind but the words tasted bitter. I wanted to assure myself, hug that young mom who stared in terror as her child, her baby seized. I wish to hold her as she trembled, and help her believe that she AND her family will get through this. But...I can't do that. I can't lie to that untried, untouched, terrified young momma.

The monsters that keep her awake night after night are indeed the terror that hold her child captive.
I would tell myself I better be prepared to fight. That research, parents who are fighting this battle and more than anything... prayer. Prayer is the weapon that will help you survive.

There will be battles you can win. Pause, celebrate those victories. Those outside your tribe will rarely ever comprehend...you will stand broken and bruised infront of a brutalized child that you have dug up answers for with your bear hands.

It WILL NEVER feel like you have pushed enough, read enough, researched enough. 

This war has not been won by many...but you must not let that slow you down.

There are a few moments of celebration. Most celebrations will be for your other children. Your beautiful daughters will bear much of the burden that autism placed on all of you. But try, you must TRY with all that's in you to celebrate his every victory...every step forward for your family. A smile you haven't seen in months, less stimming after a new supplement, extra days between seizures...even if you have no idea how.

You must continue to push for the child trapped, the child that is alone, the child that the world has chosen to forget.

Even if those steps take your other children out of your life....make them seem too far to reach...survival may move them out of the path that autism rolls over.

The day will come...when truth will be heard around the world!  You must hold on to this with both hands. It will come because there are countless families just like your own. Praying, pleading, searching for answers for a way.

Autism has now rattled the bones of the earth and you must refuse to be silenced.

CLIMBING THE AUTISM MOUNTAIN

As Autism Awareness month trudges its heavy burdens back into what is mostly obscurity, I wonder are you more aware?

I wonder, what does awareness mean to those who are afflicted by it, and those of us that live with it every day? Not only during awareness month but every single minute of every single day.

Does it mean understanding that It is a MEDICAL condition? Wouldn’t that be a good start? 

Does it Mean being able to list the symptoms: 

“performs repetitive movements, e.g.rocking, spinning or hand flapping. Delayed speech, difficulty with eye contact.

Some of the unexpected things, like inappropriate social 

Interaction, sensory sensitivities, tics, epilepsy, gut dysbiosis. 

The infamous, pans/pandas or more specifically autoimmune encephalitis.  

What do all those “conditions” mean? Where does a family go from there?

Not one of us has a PROGNOSIS for our child’s future…because like it or not, admit it or not, autism is relatively new. 

Somewhere in the 1980s the numbers began to rise, but before that, it’s very difficult to find anyone presenting with these same symptoms.  

When Britton was almost two, I sat in a medical library searching book after book trying to find anything that matched. It was 1992…I found ONE child who had regressed…from his childhood immunizations. Yes it actually says that. It’s dated 1956.

There was no internet for me, no support groups, no one to say this is 

What happened, and this is how you help him. There was only confusion, fear and loss. Mostly there was a terror as I watched my son sink into the depths of a condition no one had seen before. My son’s pediatrician asked me, “How does it feel to have the entire medical center scratching their heads?” I said I feel a panic I can hardly contain. I had one question, WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE?

                                                                          

No matter the debates about the cause, one thing for sure, this is the first generation to deal with AUTISM no matter what you call it. (Some are lucky enough to call it a gift, others barely have the strength to see over the tragedy it has brought to their lives.) That being said, where does autism fit in the current society?

We have no idea how it’s all going to pan out. There really aren’t many who have gone this way before. So far, autism continues to rise. If we don’t ADMIT or at least truly open our eyes to the cause that every parent SCREAMS is the truth, then soon the 1 in 36 numbers will be 1 out of every 2 that have autism…there will be no one left to care for anyone.

When Britton was small I had every belief that he would improve...that if we could try every possible intervention we could dig up…spend every penny we had…THEN HE WOULD GET BETTER.  No, the doctors told me he wouldn’t, but they diagnosed him with many things before at the age of four, a strange physician at the Mental Health Institute, called it autism. I didn't really grasp the extent, nor the meaning of the word.

The first kids seem to have received the worst of it. Maybe it was the pharmaceutical industries "first try" at just how much their bodies could endure? Yep merely parental speculation, but their flood of recent propaganda has certainly not gained them any trust in this tribe.

The thing I am most grateful for now is that when a momma calls me for help, I can say, go to this website, read this book! Recovery happens, it’s possible…HURRY! 

When my husband and I use to talk about recovery we did so in whispers. We got big-eyed stares and even laughs behind our backs. I remember the first doctor who ever gave me hope…He said, “Remember if one child has recovered, that means RECOVERY IS POSSIBLE!” I spontaneously hugged him.

It was a breath of fresh air…maybe it was the first time I breathed. All the doctors who sat bug-eyed, wrote in his chart, “prognosis guarded.” Yep being one of the first was not something I would’ve chosen.

                                                                                

Without one ounce of recovery no matter the efforts and the thousands of dollars we spent, by the age of 25 we had seen zero progress. Suddenly in 2015, he began to recover. Oh, how I wish I knew what “magic treatment” granted that reprieve! It lasted almost a year. All aggression was gone, my clear-eyed son even repeated a few sentences. He laughed a lot, he typed his thoughts constantly, he hummed to music. I’ve never EVER been so happy.

Then seizures came in the wee hours of a Sunday night and began sucking the life out of him. Like a bully that taunts you with the thing, you have spent your whole life begging for…Britton began to slip farther and farther from us. Each day, each month, each year passed…and I reached and I prayed and I begged…He hung from a cliff with no bottom and we held him by the fingertips. 

His medical condition began deteriorating so rapidly we got whiplash watching it. 

But the lessons I learned during that year…oh, the valuable, valuable lessons. He taught me a lifetime of truth in mini-mester. He taught me to never ONCE believe that a person with autism is not “IN THERE!” That I had always treated him like he didn’t know how to do things, or understand things. Did I mention he took a college class on Quantum Physics that summer? Did I mention he helped me begin to write a book that he is the main character in? Did I mention he told me he loved me many many times? 

Losing him, again is the hardest thing I’ve ever ever done. But he didn’t leave me empty-handed. He left me with knowing, and understanding that I could’ve never had any other way.

                                                                         

He is 100% totally intelligent, and so painfully aware of his condition. 

Always hyper and high energy his entire life, he now sits, with just enough strength for reading books and watching movies. Ever since the seizures increased, and the subsequent shoulder dislocations from the powerful muscle contractions. Like cruel abusers, they beat him into submission. At the very least, the pain, the fear, and the unknown changed him. He sits, he lays, he seems so tired of living. It's hard to separate fatigue from despair, or both. 

There are so many young men and women in their 20's on the spectrum. Because we are the front of this population, most haven’t really dealt with where they could work, where will they could live…where they can find purpose…or as Britton typed, “where can I fit?” 

I stare at young mommas and tremble, shivering for all the years I know are ahead. The pain, the hopes, the possibilities. It rumbles through my mind, and I swallow down so many wishes and a thousand prayers for each of them. 

But we are learning, parents are pushing, begging and finding the healing their children need. Like climbing a ladder up the tallest mountain while dangling off that cliff, parents climb. The government takes away the ladder, we climb, the doctors tell us there’s no way up, we climb. The world watches and judges how we climb…but we climb anyway. 

Sure we are frightened, it’s scary as Hell. We can’t use both hands on this climb, because we hold our children on our backs. 

But God strengthens us with a power that is not of this world. That power is love. God encourages us to climb. God shields us from the judgment of others, and cuts steps up the side of the mountain and then nudges us to climb. We get knocked back, we slide down, we are often so battle-scarred only other climbers recognize us. They, the other climbers, throw a rope and pull us up when our arms fail us. They shine a light when it’s gotten too dark to see, all while climbing with their own child on their backs. 

This journey has created an army, made up of ragamuffin parents, who may well be the toughest climbers this world has ever seen. I expect it is the image of God in us that so enrages Hell. It is why the demons hurl their mightiest weapons at us. 

These parents won’t quit, they won’t give in, and it’s a rare occurrence to see one of these climbers give up. It’s a superpower of strength that is definitely not from this world

Autism is not our superpower, love is. 

                                                                               

The Rumble of Encouragement

Do you hear it?  I'm pretty sure that is the rumble of my life falling apart and landing in heaps all around me.  Yep the last few weeks I've been juggling with the pieces of my world, trying to see how many I can throw up in the air and still catch.  I thought the rumble was the result of not enough hands.

When my mother began telling me how weak she felt, I hadn't paid more attention than normal.  My mother has had kidney disease all my adult life.  But when the weeks passed and she couldn't eat and she couldn't stay awake...alarms were going off inside my heart.

By the following week, I got a text from my sister.  "I just called 911!"  Mom has struggled with only part of one kidney for... EVER.  If only insurance didn't control medical care, she would've had dialysis about once a month for the last 10 years.  But insurance won't let you have dialysis unless you need it three times per week.  Who cares if there are special cases.  Coverage is based off of statistics, they do not care about actual human beings.  I'm sure most of us wonder when doctors no longer got to diagnose patients and decide on their treatment.  Now, nurses who work for the insurance companies decide the patients fate over the phone.  Based of course, off statistical probabilities of best outcomes.  It might sound good to your pocket book, but I promise you when it's a loved one, all the sudden you aren't as concerned about those statistics.  As Charles Dickens wrote,

“If they would rather die,” said Scrooge, “they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”

As the days wore on, I struggled with the truth that I should be with her.  I want so much to be with her.  But there is no one to care for my son, my 27 year old son with autism.  My oldest daughter graciously stepped in and kept him for most the morning, and my sister in law kept him all the afternoon.  My husband closed our business so I could go.  It really takes a village.

Only two very long years ago, Britton was doing so well he could've gone with me...someone would've helped me because he was easy to have around.  But now, now he struggles just to get out of bed every single day.  The contrast is definitely like night and day.  Like good and bad... like faith and hopelessness.

It appears to be a combination of physical pain he suffers from his failed shoulder surgery, his fear of seizures, his nonstop OCD issues, and now there's the debilitating depression from all the above.  But I know he is a brilliant young man, knowing that is a gift and a very sad curse.

With autism, most families assume their children have a 2 year old mentality, and treat them accordingly.  I did too, for years.  But in 2015 when Britton began typing on his ipad, there was no mistaking the fact that he was highly intelligent.

It's so awesome, and yet the dilema it creates tilts your world sideways.  The behaviors now, are viewed so differently.  Add his depression, and despair, along with the pain it's all about buried him, buried all of us.  He seems to have decided that "being autistic" is far easier than the responsibilities that the truth of his intellect now require.  Being more "normal" is hard work.  He just can't do it when his mind clouds from autoimmune encephalitis, his gut swells from crohns disease, and his shoulder aches constantly from the damage of 30+ dislocations.  The treatments for each condition has problems of their own, and none of the treatments cure, they just help.... maybe.

When he grabs my arm, growls in fury and pinches the daylights out of me, cause that's what you do when you have no way to communicate.  I know it's because it's so much easier, and faster to relieve your frustrations than picking up your ipad and talking about it.  But now, mom expects far more and then she has the nerve to tell you to act your age, and she means it.

But autism is one of those crushing, soul draining conditions.  It claimed my son when he was 18months old.  The monster came in the darkest part of the night in the fall of 1991.  It clamped down on his tiny body and drained him of his vital essence and left a black venom in it's place.  It ate holes in his brain and then made him swallow the venom so it could chew on his intestines and leave them bleeding and porous.  The end results were devastating, life altering, and smothering.  His precious baby spirit began fighting to survive.  It changed who he would become, what his choices would be, and how the world would see him.  It changed everything.

The last year it's like watching him sink in thick, strangling quick sand.  I've got a death grip on both of his hands, but our fingers are slipping.  It's so much harder to fight when he just releases my fingers and looks at me with tired eyes pleading.  "Just give up, let me go."  I really don't know how to do that.  He's my son, there is no quit in me.  There's frustration, and crying til I puke.  There's nights of terror, as I prop him up from too many seizures making sure he's getting enough air through all the gurgling sounds.  Those are the moments I wonder if by refusing to let go, we may both will go down  together.  Outsiders will judge my situation and wonder why I keep trying.  Others will point fingers to tell me how I've failed.  Worst of all I myself believe I've failed and condemn myself for not doing more, trying harder, thinking I need any kind of life at all.  I begin to feel guilty for being human.

As the pressures have mounted and mom has walked back and forth from this world to the next.  I've never felt so much like giving up.  My poor dad is suffering with vascular dementia and he makes the situation about a million times worse than it already is.  He can only walk at a snails pace, can't hear, he can't see.  He misunderstands everything said to him.  He will argue with a stick over the most basic of mom's care.  He accuses male nurses of oogling my 80 year momma.  He himself basically asked a nurse to "give him a sugar."  I'm sure you want to laugh, I would too, EXCEPT it's my daddy.  Oh the fun of growing older.

I prayed the entire 500 mile drive home after getting to see my mom.  I cried til I couldn't drive, so I had to pull over and empty my despair onto the side of the highway.  My mom, my dad, my son, Jesus help us!  If ever I thought I had control of anything, the truth of how powerless I am is in my face.

Then I heard that rumble again, and I waited for the pieces of my life to crash all around me.  When I could still hear it,  I finally asked God, "what do I hear?"  I could feel His presence and I knew He heard my question.  I believe he replied first with this scripture,

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us." Heb. 12:1

I saw in my minds eye... a stadium.  A packed stadium full of people.  I saw two brother-in- laws, a friend's daughter, a dear friend from my teenage years.  I saw a lot of people who have gone on before me.  They were cheering, calling out my name. "Teresa!  Teresa!  Teresa!"  I opened my eyes, looking around expecting to SEE them right beside me.  Calling out, "You can do this!"  "You've got this!"  "Let go, you can trust God!"  

Then, this scripture of encouragement came rolling through my mind.  

"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." IICorin. 12:9  

So this blog, this is me boasting about my weaknesses.  I am weak, but HE is strong.  How grateful I am that I'm not an only child.  My siblings have shown up one after the next to help my parents, to be there, to support, to show their love and concern.  My oldest sister Brinda, lives close by so she has borne the heaviest part of being there.  Being with mom is the easy part, managing my Dad's unpredictable behaviors is a much harder condition to cope with.  On the elevator Dad talked to me about "his daughter Teresa, and what she had shared with him."  It was a true story, I remembered it.  But the daggers of his memory slipping so far out of reach stuck in my gut and I really haven't been able to remove them.     

My brother showed up and we all hoped my dad would calm down, but he seemed to rile up and feel almost threatened like two rams butting heads; sadly there was more conflict.  He went so far as to tell my brother, "I'm not afraid of you."  Eventually when Dad lost it completely and my brother did the most amazing thing.  My Dad is a small man, and so my brother engulfed him in a giant bear hug and refused to let him go til he understood how much he was loved.  It ended in sobbing, and it seemed to clear Dad's mind.  Love  is indeed all powerful.  

•  "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no account of wrongs.…" ICorin. 13:3-5
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There is much good that comes from so much suffering.  I admit that have complained to God countless times that I wish suffering wasn't such an effective tool.  He listens and I'm certain he pats me on the head and nods as He says, I felt the same way, all the way to the cross.  

Whatever I'm going through,  whatever you are going through... no matter how much, no matter how hard...no matter how long it lasts.  There is the huge crowd of witnesses, cheering us on from the celestials.  Watching, encouraging, and knowing exactly how we feel.  They are in the stands, waving banners, yelling scripture, pointing the way home, yelling our name!  

But Jesus, our Jesus is on the field, because after all, when we are in battle, He is right beside us. Helping us to lift our sword, reminding us that we are never alone. Assuring us that it doesn't matter what we are capable of enduring, He is more than enough. The God of Angel Armies, the King of the World!  This battle that I feel has buried me, is nothing more than a small skirmish to Him.  He's got this, I can rest in my faith.  He is the commander of Angels that can take down hordes of the dark ones with a nod of His head.

Even going so far as to send someone to embrace me in a giant bear hug til I know, I am  loved.  

WEEDS!

"Gratitude is Happiness doubled by wonder.  

Dandelions, Chickweed, Broadleaf dock... all weeds common to Texas.  Not to mention all kinds of grass that will grow everywhere but your lawn.  Today I was pulling weeds and the truth is... I had walked out the backdoor in order to get control.   I needed to breathe, and just cry away from all human contact.  I leaned down and as I yanked and pulled on invader grasses, I watered them with a thousand tears.  My emotions finally poured out and I inhaled the calm of my garden, I knew that God absolutely sent weeds for a very good reason.

WHEN WE LOSE ONE BLESSING, ANOTHER IS OFTEN MOST UNEXPECTEDLY GIVEN IN ITS PLACE.  

C.S. LEWIS

Weeds come in so many forms in our lives.  What would you pull up by the roots if you were able?  A really bad attitude about someone or something?  Maybe a relative that makes the entire familie's life miserable?  For me it's not just autism, I apparently have an entire "Honey Acre woods" of weeds that need pulling!  What if like a weed you could take them by the nap of the neck and escort them into the big green plastic yard bag?  Would you do it?  Is the situation you're battling bad enough to seriously pull it by it's roots and smother it in a trash bag?

There's always round up?  Right?  I mean you COULD take that hideous chemical, that poison that kills brain cells, causes cancer, and laces our water supply... and spray away the "weeds" in your life!
Would it be worth it?   Sometimes it's best to just let those weeds grow with the zucchini?  If you pull them out, you might just pull out the one thing that's keeping the squash vine borer moths from eating the plant from the inside out?  I grow dandelions on purpose.  Yep, on purpose.  Cause the bees just love them, and when they'e done blooming I can seriously just push them down in the soil.  Then I plant smelly marigolds to keep lots of bugs and mosquitoes away.  Yep, those ugly (might as well be weeds) marigolds are well... GOLD when it comes to keeping bugs off!

"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant."

I'm sure you get my point.  Weeds are not all bad?  So as I watch all the various "weeds" that come on top of autism, I wonder?  Pandas is of course the weed that I'd like to poison and watch wither into a brown stem that would die before my very eyes.  THEN, I'd pull it out... pour some type of flameable liquid all over it and light it up to watch it burn.  Cheering and doing a happy me dance!  Some "weeds" just gotta go!

Crohns disease is a giant stinky weed that flowers about every quarter.  Taking my finally normal weight son, back down to skeleton size.  That "weed" planted in his gut and then began to rear it's ugly head about ohhhhh 6 years ago?  We didn't know what it was and we had a GI doctor refuse to do a lower GI on him because of his autism.  Seriously?  As horrific as crohns disease is, often I've wondered what's the worse "weed," the crohns disease or, the lack of understanding by main stream medicine?

"No one is as capable of gratitude as one who has emerged from the kingdom of night."

I've started a new journal, that I am calling my "Grateful for" journal.  Today I wrote... I am grateful for weeds.  The reason is... pulling weeds, or just the attempt to pull weeds has made me a much stronger woman.  There are weeds I pull and pull, but my back into it and my entire weight.  Land on my backside in the dirt, having only pulled off all it's leaves.  But the weed looks at least as bad as I do.  Basically it's nothing more than a stick... I tell it so.  I think of that "weed" as we battle Pandas.  We treat, we try new things, we beat it down only to watch it spring back to life days after it was just a stem.  The hand flapping and the anxiety rise to a monstrous level and we grab the weed whacker and go to work.  All kinds of drugs, in huge cocktails trying to balance that and not cause his gut to flare in rebellion!  Sweaty, stinking, and exhausted we at least beat it down to an ugly stick... at least for today.

It's been a wicked summer and honestly it's technically still spring.  I was thinking as the Summer Solstice is only days away... "weeds love Spring, but they dry up and shrivel a lot in the Summer heat!"  I live in Houston, when it comes to Summer heat we don't play around!  When I think about those awful 100+ heat indexes on the horizon... all I see is shriveled weeds.  Perhaps Summer will shrivel away Pandas, at least for a season?

During that time I will sleep more. (Please Jesus!). I will recover my "weed pulling" muscles.  I will be ready.  Cause Fall will bring an entire new breed of weeds to contend with.   I googled which weeds are most beneficial to my garden, and was surprised by the answers.  Most weeds will enhance the nutrient content of your soil?   They also attract beneficial insects, not the rotten kind.  (Mealy bugs beware, I'm ready for you this year!).   So many of them have medicinal properties.
I read that, and then I cried at how amazing God really is.

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.  It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift."  

I bowed my head and as the tears covered the paper of my "grateful for" journal, I told God that He was just showing off!  Medicinal properties in all the weeds in our lives?  The heartache of suffering, to grow strength of character.  The pain of betrayal to create a clean heart of faithfulness.  The sadness of loss that builds compassion.  All these weeds, these rotten, smothering weeds I want so desperately pulled out of my life... out of my heart.  Just might be the reason that some awful borer hasn't found it's way into my soul and eaten away the good stuff?

So, I am grateful for weeds.  Today, I am grateful and I tremble with the truth of God's "gifts."  Before I finished my "grateful for" entry for today, I stopped to pray that I never let go of God's hand to reach for the Round Up!

Matthew 13:24-43 New International Version (NIV)

The Parable of the Weeds

24 Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. 25 But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. 26 When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

27 “The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

28 “‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.

“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

29 “‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. 30 Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”