Author Archives: diane.connis@gmail.com

Saying Goodbye

We said goodbye to our dear friend, Harold, recently. He left this earth to take up residence in his eternal home.

It’s hard to say goodbye.

In my saddened state, I’ve been thinking about death, as we are prone to do when someone we love passes from this earth.

Why is it so hard for us? Why does it rattle us to our very core? We all know death comes. Not one of us escape it.

Yes, I understand the separation and loss, the vast empty place the removal of someone who was so much a part of us creates. But it seems our struggle with death is even deeper than those things.

And it is. Because death was never in God’s original plan for us. He originally created man to live forever in a perfect body on a perfect earth. In the deep places of our being, we know we were never meant to taste death or experience it.

God told the first man and woman, “Don’t eat of that tree, if you do you will die.” He offered choice. And they chose to listen to the lie. They ate and the journey of life to death on this earth began (Read Genesis 2:15-3:24).

I used to wonder why I should suffer for what the first man and woman did. That was their choice not mine. It’s like the school teacher punishing the entire class for the behavior of one child.

“Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned.” Romans 5:12

God hardly seemed fair in dolling out sin curses for generations to come when I never had a chance to decide whether I would take a bite from that fruit or not. If I was in The Garden I would have chosen to do the right thing.

But would I? Would any of us? Do we now?

How many times have I chosen my will over God’s, exalting my selfish desires over His, justifying what looks good to me over His perfect best? I wish I could say never, but the truthful answer is, I’ve lost count.

So God knew man would choose death. He knew it when he created us but did it anyway just as we take the risk of having a child with no guarantee of the outcome. It’s done from of a heart of love. We sacrifice for that child to have every advantage, every good choice and our heart breaks if they choose a path leading to their downfall, hurt or destruction.

But thank God, we are not left stranded, without hope, “For as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous. so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 5:19 & 21).

God came to our planet, took on a flesh suit and became like us to provide a way back to immortality and perfection. He became one of us to rescue us from eternal death. He made a way of escape from the ravages of sin and death through the sacrifice of His son, Jesus, who was nailed to a tree. For you. For me.

Death started and ended with a tree.

The choice returns, but the subtle injection of doubt continues through time. “Did God really say?” (Genesis 3:1). Do we believe in Jesus or do we continue to believe the lie, the illusion, the trick that we can be our own god, that we can still eat the fruit of a life apart from Him and suffer no consequences?

We all die physically and leave this planet, but believing the truth of who Christ is and what He did for us, assures us that is not the end, only a transition to a new life; the beautiful and glorious life we were always meant to have.

We’ve had to say goodbye to our friend for now, but hope comes in knowing I will see him again when it’s my turn to leave here. Maybe instead of goodbye, I should just say,

“See ya’ later, Harold. Save me a seat on that bench. Underneath The Tree of Life.”

1 Corinthians 15:26 ” The last enemy to be abolished is death.’

John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that He gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have everlasting life.”

photos courtesy of picjumbo.com

Get the Whole Story First

Proverbs 18:17 (NIV) “The first to present his case seems right, until another comes forward and questions him,” is a reminder to know all the facts before making a judgment.

It’s easy in our high tech, sound bite, information age to see or hear a sixty second clip of something or someone and form an instant opinion.

A statement a well known pastor’s wife recently made has gone viral on social media and I admit to having heard it and immediately believing she’s fallen off the doctrinal correctness wagon.

Maybe she has. I don’t really know. And that I don’t know is exactly my point.

As I’ve pondered on it the past few days, my heart has been convicted for making an uninformed conclusion. It’s possible that something she said before or after her statement better qualifies what she meant. A few seconds of video pulled out of the context of what she’s saying doesn’t give the whole picture.

Without having all the facts, I want to give her the benefit of a doubt, because it’s the right thing to do and because I want others to do that for me.

As a writer, I know the importance of using words wisely. As a pastor’s wife, I also know how quickly words can be scrutinized, misinterpreted and criticized, especially when taken out of context.

I’m not saying my fellow pastor’s wife is right or wrong in what she said, I just need to repent for my rapid judgment of her, based on a few seconds of YouTube video.

As Christ followers, I pray we (me included) will be wise enough to know the whole story before criticizing, passing verdicts and writing each other off.

It’s part of the thing Jesus said about the world knowing we are His, because of our love for one another.

John 13:35 “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Jon’s First Kiss

I took Jonathan and his younger brother, David, to the mall one day to buy them some needed new clothes. As boys are prone to do, they had either worn out or outgrown everything they owned.

We cruised endless clothing racks, the boys tagging along behind me.

“What about these?” I kept asking them as I pushed hangers aside.

They were obviously bored. Most males are not big fans of shopping unless they’re looking at toys (adult males included), but to make sure items fit properly I wanted them to try things on.

While I was focused on David and what he needed, Jon wandered off. I turned my back for a few minutes and he was gone. Again.

“Where’s your brother?”

How often has David heard that question through the years? He was only seven or eight years old at the time but had already figured out he was his older brother’s keeper.

“I don’t know.” He sighed.

I frantically turned in a complete circle hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon’s head moving between displays and quickly shoved the pants draped over my arm back on a rack.

“Let’s go find him, I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Hurry!”

I immediately had visions of Jon wandering outdoors or out into the mall and some creep abducting him.

We rushed through the boy’s and men’s department, calling his name. We checked fitting rooms and bathrooms and I was just beginning to panic when I noticed a crowd gathering over in the women’s department.

I grabbed David and steered him toward a pointing and laughing group of people.

As we came closer I saw him. Jon was standing on a slightly raised circular platform with three female mannequins arrayed in short, tight dresses, the kind I couldn’t wear anymore after giving birth to this child who was in a full lip lock with the center plastic lady.

My son was kissing a mannequin in the middle of Sears Department Store.

There are moments in parenting you’d prefer no one associate you with your child. This was one of those.

I pushed my way through the crowd and turned to all the folks watching my kid make out with a mannequin.

“Whose child is this?” I asked.

They all looked at each other and shrugged. A woman over to my left sheepishly replied, “I don’t know.”

I glared at them in disgust. “Well don’t you think the responsible thing to do would be to find his parents. They’re probably worried sick about him.”

Their fun interrupted, the crowd stared at me like they’d all just been sent to time out.

“If no one else is willing to find this kid’s mom then I will.”

I turned and marched up on the platform unwrapped Jon’s arms from the mannequin, pulled his face off her fake, botoxy lips and yanked him out of that store so fast, no one had time to wonder if I might be abducting him.

We sped through the parking lot to the car.

“What about my new pants?” David shouted as he ran beside me. So now the pants were important all of a sudden?

“Not today.” I answered.

“But you promised us a pretzel and an Orange Julius,” he whined.

“Not today.” I growled.

Years later, when David had been away at college a while, he called one day. We talked about his classes, what he was learning, his dorm adventures and his friends.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m just not into the drama that goes on around here sometimes. My friends all think it’s amazing that I hardly ever get mad or embarrassed about anything.”

“So why is that?” I asked him, interested to know myself.

“I just tell them, I grew up with Jon.”

My Hands His Hands

We celebrated another wedding anniversary recently and as I dusted off our wedding album to reminisce, I smiled, flipping through the photos.

Until I came to this one on the last page, this close up of our hands showing off our new wedding rings.

‘Oh My Gosh!’ I thought, ‘My hands were so pretty and so straight once.’

Six years after that photo was taken I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. A crippling auto immune disease triggered at the birth of our first son and ten years later, ravaging through me like an eighteen wheeler squashing a bug, following the birth of our second.

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t have time to stay in bed and it really didn’t matter, staying in bed hurt just as much as being up. Painful nights without sleep and miserable exhausting days were measured on a pain scale of bad and horrible, making the bad days seem good.

My family needed me and with two active growing boys to care for, prayer and pills became my constant companion. Pain pills, steroids, low dose cancer drugs and weekly injections all kept me in function mode. My continuous prayers went from begging God for healing to demanding my body stop its destructive storm, and everything in between.

As the disease progressed the cartilage and fluid cushion between joints eroded. Fingers and toes began to drift, tendons shifted and bones fused. Slowly I was forced to give up activities I enjoyed; skating, tennis, playing guitar, clarinet and keyboards, hiking, wearing sexy shoes, doing my nails and many more.

The day I went to have my wedding ring cut in half to remove it from my swollen, misshapen finger was the culmination of how much rheumatoid arthritis had stolen. I cried tears of bitter resignation.

Since then, I have made drastic changes which positively affected my health: our family moved to a warm climate, I renovated my eating habits, began light daily exercise and the practice of stress release through prayer, meditative scripture reading and writing, laughing often, letting go of offense, forgiving, listening to my body, pacing myself instead of pushing, saying ‘No’ when necessary, asking for help when needed and giving myself permission to have fun.

Over the span of several years, I gradually reduced the amount of medications and have been off all drugs for a decade. But until God heals me completely, the joint damage remains.

As I looked at that picture of my normal hands, a stark reminder of what once was, I realized I rarely think of it now. I’ve adjusted, adapted and moved on.

My hands aren’t pretty. I know that. They are crooked and disfigured. But they still function, awkwardly managing to do what needs to be done.

They can still plant a seed or cut a flower in the garden, sew a stray button back on, slice an onion in the kitchen, butter toast, throw a load of laundry in the machine, reach for another person needing prayer, comfort or hugs, type this blog (two fingers at a time) and perform so many necessary tasks.

I’m far from the young girl in that picture now. I can’t go back there nor do I want to. Those days are gone and as the years roll by I am learning to be thankful for what is. Today. Right now.

I am learning to trust God in all things – understood or not, healed or not – big or small.

I’m grateful I still have hands. Crooked as they are, they belong to God. I will use them to bring help, blessing and hope to others as long as I can. And I will raise them in worship and surrender to Him as long as He gives me breath.

Whether I’m healed on this side of eternity and in spite of the affliction and problems of this life, I choose to proclaim with Job of old:

“As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and that as the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God, whom I will see for myself, and whom my own eyes will behold, and not another.” Job 19:25-27

Still Doing The “I Do”

We were just a couple of crazy kids when we said “I Do”. We thought we knew the meaning but we didn’t have a clue.And here we are, thirty nine years later, still figuring out what all those promises mean.

There’s been plenty of star spangled love and plenty of days when we don’t do the first-Corinthians-chapter-thirteen thing quite so well. But we never quit and are learning the art of forgiving, letting go and how love isn’t always a feeling but a choice.

Showing honor and respect is about putting aside our own selfish desires, shutting our mouth when we want to speak, speaking when we’d rather shut it and allowing for our differences. It’s been tough sometimes, but we’re getting better at it everyday.

Not had much of the richer, at least in great wealth, but precious unseen riches we’ve held; wonderful sons, a roof over head, food in our bellies, so many people in our lives to bless us and to bless. Some things can’t be measured in dollars.

Poorer, yes, we’ve gone without many times through the years. Cut coupons, shopped sales, bought used instead of new (still do:), shared a hot chocolate and a bag of McD’s fries for date night and learned to live on what we have and watch our faithful God provide everything we need.

In sickness, it seems there’s been way more than our fair share, dealing so long with chronic illness and a child with disabilities. But hard times are a teacher and forge us into something better than before. In the midst of all the things we don’t understand we trust in God, our strength.

We’ve seen health in many other ways, in laughter and in joy and how God heals the broken hearted and helps us endure. Patience and compassion, contentment and peace have been our reward.

God has been faithful to us even when we are not. He’s been our anchor in every celebration, joy, failure and heartache, the North Star to which we always turn when we loose our way.

So, Michael Connis, on this thirty ninth anniversary of our happy wedding day, I want to say, if given the choice, I’d do the “I DO” all over again. Thanks for hanging in there on this great adventure of ours.

It isn’t over yet. We’ve come far but there’s still more to see, do and conquer and we’re just getting started!

I did, I Do, and I will…for always.

Jon and the Cutting Dilemma

Jon is into cutting. But not in the same way or for the same reasons as other people.

He cuts sleeves off shirts, toes off socks, slits in the center of our bath and dish towels, legs off his father’s pants and hem strips off sheets and bed skirts.

Yesterday I took him to Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins. He dressed in his finest: a sawed off sleeves, blue T-shirt with two belts tied around his waist, one made from a strip of a nice, fluffy over sized beach towel he repurposed and the other, a bright orange and white flowered cloth tie belt he took from my closet.

When I’m tempted to be annoyed about this mysterious (and money wasting) behavior, I stop and remind myself to be thankful Jon’s not harming himself. He has his own brand of creative fun going on in his very unusual and imaginative brain.

And it’s just stuff. I can always go to Walmart and buy more cheap, made-in-China towels and T-shirts for him to cut up. It’s all replaceable. He isn’t.

Hanging out with Jon gives me an entirely different way to look at life and teaches me how to relax about little things that don’t really matter. While Jon is cutting up stuff in our house, God is cutting away the Me that wants to rise up and demand life always go My way.

God uses the people in our lives, yes; even those with annoying habits, to instruct us, change us and expose areas where we need to improve. There is nothing more liberating than letting go of the unrealistic expectations we have for others.

Ask God to help you look at those frustrating, annoying folks around you through His eyes, with His heart. Then look inside yourself and let Him transform you so you can love freely, unconditionally and without barriers.

The same way Jesus loves me and you.

Philippians 2:3(ERV) “In whatever you do, don’t let selfishness or pride be your guide. Be humble, and honor others more than yourselves”

Proverbs 27:17(NIV) “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

Lessons From A Hurricane Summer

The year 2004 was what I call Florida’s Hurricane Summer. Four hurricanes plagued us in a span of about six weeks.

Exactly ten years ago today, Hurricane Charley, the storm that initiated the chaos, ripped through Central Florida. We were living in Kissimmee at the time in an older neighborhood with large lot lines. Our unique property, tucked away in a corner, consisted of two acres, a ranch style three bedroom, two bath main house with a pool and a detached, cozy one bedroom, one bath guest/in-law house out back, several sheds and a separate screen room where our hot tub lived.

The property backed up to a conservation area and was surrounded by lush jungle on all sides; thick Florida flora of wild palm trees, palmetto, gigantic oaks and hanging moss. Some people thought it scary and worried about what lived in those woods. Not me. I thought it was beautiful, until Charley. We moved to Florida in 2001 and had never been through a hurricane before, but as I looked out at all those trees, I began to wonder what they could crush if they started falling.

The weather predictors vacillated for days over the path Charley might take, but when we finally knew the storm was coming for us, our family gathered in a tight circle and prayed for protection. Jon disappeared into his room and taped a paint stick perpendicular onto a yard stick forming a cross. He came back out and leaned it against the patio doors, his way of demonstrating God’s watchful eye over us. He then went back in his room and refused to come out. I found him lying stiff as a board on his bed wearing a bicycle helmet, a jacket, and a pair of boots, clutching a flashlight.

We’d had a new roof put on the main house a few months prior and fortunately never lost one shingle, unlike many of our neighbors, but the contractor forgot to nail down the three brand new skylights he installed and they blew off as Charley came barreling through. Rain was pouring into both bathrooms and the breakfast nook and it seemed as if the wind would lift the roof right off the walls.

I ran to the storage closet and found some old plastic shower curtains and a large piece of clear vinyl, while Mike went out in the garage to retrieve his staple gun and an eight foot ladder. Wind was battering the garage door so hard he thought it would blow in. He quickly climbed over potted plants and outdoor furniture we had brought in from outside, to get to his tool chest. As hurricane rookies, we never thought about keeping the tool chest where it could easily be reached.

Our son David, who was fourteen at the time, climbed up into those wide open ceiling holes in the middle of the storm to staple the plastic down. The pool solar panels had come loose and were flopping back and forth on the roof above his head. I held the ladder and prayed like a crazy woman for the panels to not slam through the roof opening and hit my son in the head, while the wind and rain roared around us.

By the time the storm passed it was dark outside and the power was down. We decided to wait until morning to go outside and access the damage. Neighbors went door to door with flashlights making sure everyone was alright. We didn’t sleep much that night or the nights that followed

It was a crazy, difficult time for many here in Central Florida. Our electricity was out for two weeks in the middle of Florida’s hottest summer month.

But I learned to be grateful for things we Americans take for granted everyday:

Water that comes from our faucets for bathing, cooking, cleaning, drinking. Without electric, our well pump was off and we had no running water in either house. I discovered how basic water is to human existence and realized I could live without many of the things we consider essential. I never want to be without water again. Every morning when I get in the shower and warm water runs over my sleepy body, I thank God for running water.

Air conditioning in a summer climate that reaches into the mid to high nineties with humidity levels to match. The sheets felt wet when we lay down on them at night. The spices in the cupboard clumped into one large blob in their containers. We never sweat so much in all our born days. We all smelled bad, looked bad and were hot and miserable. I thank God every summer for AC.

Garbage collectors became the most important people in the world. When all the food in the fridge spoils and there’s no trash collector to come haul it away, it’s not pleasant or pretty. Every week when I hear the trash truck stop at the end of our driveway I am grateful for those who do this vital work.

Uninterrupted family time. Without TV, computers, phones or modern distractions we spent time playing table games by candle light, reading, talking and working together. David found Mike’s old guitar in a closet and a hurricane catapulted our son’s love affair with music into overdrive. He now plays, writes and arranges his own songs (listen at daveconnis.com).

Safety of family and friends. Trees went down all around us, but the only structure crushed under a falling tree was one shed. It took months of cutting and clearing to rid our property of broken and fallen trees but my family, friends and neighbors were safe. No one was hurt. I am thankful everyday for the health and safety of those I love.

Looking back on it ten years later, Hurricane Charley is like the opening line in Charles Dickens’ famous novel, A Tale of Two Cities.

“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”

I hope to never go through a storm like that again but here’s what I know, storms of all kind come and go. No one likes them, but we learn our greatest lessons in the middle of them. If we hang on through the blustering wind and pelting rain, pray and trust God we come out on the other side..

Humbler

Wiser

More thankful

And a little more storm proof than we were before.

Nahum 1:7 (ESV) The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him.

Matthew 8:23-27 (ESV) And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.

2 Corinthians 4:17 (ESV) For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison

Shopping With Jon

It had been over a month since Jon left the house. He goes through stretches where he just doesn’t want to go anywhere even though I offer to take him out three to four days each week.

Sunday I came home from church to find him dressed in clean clothes with shoes on. That’s the signal for “I want outa’ here,” so I dropped my plans for a relaxing afternoon and off we went.

Jon needed a haircut and since the barbershop where I usually take him is closed Sundays we headed to the salon I frequent in a nearby plaza, which also houses our neighborhood grocery store, a nail salon, a dollar store, a Chinese takeout and a Subway. After his haircut, Jon decided to walk over to the grocery.

My son doesn’t ask for much. He doesn’t care about the latest tech gadget, smart phone, brand name clothes, gas money or car payments. He doesn’t pay rent or a mortgage or need expensive guy toys – boats, jet skis, motorcycles or classic cars – so when he occasionally decides to wander in a store for some shopping I really don’t mind dropping a few bucks on him.

We slowly wandered the aisles for almost two hours making four passes from front to back and end to end until my feet and ankles started screaming, “Enough already!” He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Several times, I had to resist the urge to take things out of the cart and put them back when he wasn’t looking.

His impromptu grocery list looked something like this:

Package of cheese hot dogs

Hoagie rolls

Bag of York peppermint patties

Large Hersey bar

An individual piece of white cake from the bakery

Jar of Tostitos white cheese dip

Bag of cheese and sour cream potato chips

Bag of Frito’s

Package of AAA batteries

Package of turkey pepperoni

Package of beef jerky

Container of shaved Parmesan cheese

Large bottle of yellow Gatorade

And four peaches

Other than the peaches and the Parmesan, I cringed as I paid for his pile of junk food and the batteries we didn’t need because we had a drawer full of them at home already.

After his groceries were loaded in the car, he headed for the Chinese takeout. And we took it out, right next door to Subway where I ordered a salad. Jon took my drink and chips to accompany his fried rice and chicken chow mien. We stayed there until they kicked us out when the place closed at ten.

I’ve come to the conclusion in matters of food choices Jon is no different than most Americans, so God’s gotta’ keep me upright and breathing for a very long time. My son needs me to make him a salad now and then and healthy meals that actually provide him with some much needed nutrients.

Just hoping no one lets him do his own grocery shopping all the time, after I leave this planet. If they do he’ll be joining me much sooner than expected!

Twenty-one Things I Would Tell A Younger Me

My upcoming birthday has caused me to think about what I would tell a younger me if I could go back and sit down for a meaningful chat with her. The fifty-nine year old me has learned some important stuff I didn’t know then.

So here it is, twenty-one things I would tell a twenty-one year old me, if I could:

1. Get over yourself. Everything isn’t always about you.

2. You don’t know everything and never will. So stop thinking you do.

3. Life can get messy. Clean up the mess and move on.

4. Practice good attitudes and choices. What you choose today becomes tomorrow’s reality.

5. Always needing to be right usually isn’t. Don’t be too proud to admit you’re wrong.

6. Lower the drama meter. Laugh more. Save serious for when it’s really needed.

7. Changing/fixing others is not your life calling. Offering grace and love is.

8. You can still be nice to people who don’t agree with you. Just remember they might not return the courtesy.

9. It’s not the end of the world if everyone doesn’t like you. Enjoy the people who do.

10. Learn to balance work and fun. Too much of either is…too much.

11. Simplify. Busy is not always a sign of productivity. If it won’t matter twenty years from now it’s probably not worth your time.

12. Take care of yourself. You won’t be young forever. De-stress. Exercise. Rest. Eat Right. Smile.

13. Don’t worry. Worry is borrowing fear for tomorrow from delusional scenarios created inside your own head (it also gives you permanent creases between your eyebrows).

14. Comparing creates misery. Stop measuring your imperfect life against everyone else’s imperfect life. Enjoy the life you’ve been given.

15. Let go of regret, guilt and shame. It does no good to live there. God forgives the broken. So forgive yourself. It’s never too late to start over.

16. Don’t expect any person to satisfy your every want /need when the rest of humanity is just as flawed as you. The only one who loves you perfectly is your Father God.

17. It’s not God’s fault when others are stupid, mean, rude, disloyal, unkind…Forgive them so you can be forgiven and free of their hold over you.

18. Pain, suffering, loss, delay, irritation, frustration and the mundane is where you can learn and grow the most. Not what you want to hear I know. Sorry.

19. Life isn’t always fair and sometimes doesn’t turn out the way you hoped or planned, but remember God is with you in it all. He promised.

20. Pray more. Well actually, pray all the time. Your Creator holds the owner’s manual to your heart and He loves having conversations with you (don’t forget to listen).

21. The years fly swiftly. Relish each day. Each moment of your journey is the best part of now.

I’d love to hear what you would tell a younger version of yourself if you could?

I Am Enough – Secret Prayers of an Overtime Mom

It was pastor appreciation Sunday. I sat in church next to my husband with the rest of the pastor staff scattered across three sections of front row seats. A large basket was in the foyer, a place for people to drop cards and notes for the staff and someone was in the pulpit speaking words of blessing and thanks over our lead pastor and his family.

But my mind was elsewhere, still home with Jon. Lost in the rough week we’d had together. There’d been extra struggles and a few wandering episodes. I felt wearily overwhelmed and as I fought back tears, sent up a silent prayer to my Heavenly Father.

“God, I’m so thankful for this church family where we’re blessed to serve. This appreciation thing is great but what I really need to know is You’re pleased with what I do everyday with Jon. I know taking care of him is my top priority but some days are such a struggle and I need to know I’m doing OK. When I meet you in Heaven, the only thing I want to hear You say is, “Well done daughter. You were faithful to carry out the task I assigned you. Good job!” That is all I really want, Lord. I desperately need to know I’m doing enough.”

According to national statistics about 29% of the adult population cares for an ill or disabled family member. Full time care-giving is a solitary mission field, with few furloughs. Some people choose it as a career, work eight hours, collect a paycheck and go home. But for family caregivers it is literally about laying aside their own life, putting personal hopes, dreams and ambitions on hold, often indefinitely, for another. This act of love requires daily unselfish sacrifice performed by flawed and innately selfish people…like me.

There’s a constant challenge of balancing my son’s needs against what I want and need and dealing with the tension and guilt this can bring, and it often feels like I’m never enough. So I prayed this prayer, gave it all over to God’s capable hands again and went on with my day.

Later, after arriving home, I changed clothes and left for the restaurant where Jon had gone with his caregiver, to relieve her of her duty. Once there, she informed me the manager of this buffet style restaurant was not happy about my son’s presence in his establishment. He kept sending the waitress over to tell her she wasn’t watching Jon properly and Jon was taking too much food.

Neither was true, never mind the fact it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. I spent the next few hours dealing with the customer-service-inept manager and his sidekick waitress, until Jon finally finished and was ready to leave.

On the way out, Jon stopped in the entrance area to check out the arcade machines. As I waited for him, a man standing near the front door approached me.

“Is that your son?” he asked, pointing toward Jon

I replied by a yes-nodding of my head.

“Well, I don’t know what this manager’s problem is but I’m so sorry for the way your son was treated here. What’s his name?”

“His name is Jon, and thank you. I don’t think we’ll ever come back here again.”

The man looked at Jon then back at me. “Me either,” he said with disgust. “The manager was even going around to some of the customers complaining about Jon, telling them he shouldn’t be here. I finally told him to leave your son alone. I didn’t see him doing anything wrong, other than being slow and that’s no big deal.”

I smiled and thanked him again as his wife came out of the restroom and joined us by the door.

“Look,” he said, “the real reason I wanted to talk to you is because I felt I should tell you something. I don’t know you or anything about you and your son other than what I’ve observed here today, but I felt strongly I should tell you…that God wants you to know…you are an amazing mom, you’re doing a good job with that young man and God is pleased with your faithfulness.”

By then I’d forgotten all about my morning prayer but this man’s words mirrored my own so exactly that I immediately started to cry. Then these two strangers put their arms around me and prayed for me right there, outside that horrible restaurant, prayed for me to have the strength and wisdom I needed to continue to care for my son and for Jon to fit perfectly into God’s plan for our life.

God, in his mercy and kindness, didn’t make me wait for Heaven to let me know He has everything I need to accomplish my task. He heard my prayer and cared enough to whisper His reassurance into the heart of a willing messenger.

On the hard days, I remember this and think of how much God loves me, enough to tell me…

In Him, I am enough.

And that is all the appreciation this overtime mom will ever need!

Isaiah 49:28-29 “Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth does not become weary or tired. His understanding is inscrutable. He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power.”

Matthew 25:23 “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a few things; I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your Lord.”

A Place Called Special

a look inside a special life