Category Archives: Parenting Life

The Top Ten Emotions of Parents Raising Children with Disabilities

I’ve joined a Facebook page called PROWD (Parents Raising Offspring with Disabilities), that defines itself as being “birthed out of the needs of those involved in caring for children with special needs and disabilities. It is intended to be a “family” who support, network, and assist one another on their journey.”

It gives parents of children with disabilities a place to receive support and encouragement from each other, a place to share victories big and small, to unload and get real about the challenges caring for a disabled child brings without fear of judgment or criticism, a place to not be alone in our struggles, to swap treatments, coping skills, helpful ideas and to find other parents locally for forming personal relationships if desired.

Parents from all over, dealing with all types of disabilities and kids of all ages frequent this page. It is an online support group for people who expend so much time, energy and emotion on never-ending care, attending a literal support group would be impossible.

Recently someone on the page posed this question to parents: What is the primary emotion that outweighs all others in your household?

The following are the top ten out of one hundred and twenty eight responses:

Frustration 35

Love  20

Loneliness/Isolation17

Anger  16Woman-with-Out-of-Order-Sign-on-Head

Anxiety  16

Worry  14

Stress/Tension  13

Tired/Exhaustion  12

Fear  10

Overwhelmed  8

The majority of fear responses were related to the child’s future and what will happen when the parent is no longer able to care for him/her.

Some of the lesser rated responses were inadequacy, guilt, sadness, uncertainty, restricted and even depression. There were some positives as well: laughter, hopeful, thankful, proud, happy, peaceful and it was good to see love at the top of the list.

We love our kids no matter what other emotions raising them may evoke, but no one denies parenting is some of the hardest work we do in life. All parents feel all these emotions at various stages of the child rearing years. The commitment and dedication required is both relentless and rewarding.

For the parent of a disabled child, these emotions can be constant and life long. Some research studies have shown parents of kids with special needs are under the same stress as a combat soldier, especially in cases of severe autism or multiple diagnoses both medical and cognitive. These parents are often in a state of high alert, short on sleep and unable to take time off to relax and unwind.

The stress load is a recipe for disaster for caregivers who worry about everything except themselves.

If you’re out somewhere and see a child exhibiting poor behavior, don’t assume the child is just a “brat” and the parent isn’t doing their job. Give the benefit of a doubt and remember there may be more to the story than what you’re observing.

If you are blessed to know someone who parents a child with disabilities take a minute to encourage them. You needn’t tell them they’re special (usually not feeling that) or angels (usually not being that) or any of the other “cliche” statements often made, just give them a hug and tell them what a great job they’re doing.

And don’t forget to pray. Ask God to fill them with strength and endurance far beyond their own.

Your acknowledgement, encouragement and prayer could be the reinforcement that carries a struggling parent through another day.

Recycled Dreams

green-recycle-symbol-8590573Have you heard about the fifteen year old with autism who has already completed his masters in quantum physics at Purdue University and is now working on a PHD at some exclusive program in Canada, or the thirteen year old with Down syndrome who speaks four languages, plays the violin and is an international spokesperson for the Down Syndrome Congress?

I read about these two impressive young men last week and admit to having a momentary lapse of longing for my son, Jonathan, to be one of them.

Many of our special needs kids accomplish more than ever thought possible in previous generations. With this awareness comes hope that our child will do incredible things, rise above the bar and achieve a higher level that no one with their particular ‘label’ has ever reached before.

Though we may wish it, our disabled child may never become the prodigy we dream of, anymore than our typical kids might grow up to become President. It doesn’t mean they can’t but often they don’t, because they are each unique individuals.

Once we go through the initial stages of accepting our surprise assignment, parents do everything possible to help a special needs child reach their full potential. We explore treatments, therapy, classes, lessons, schools, programs, funding, activities, medications, supplements, nutrition, diets, surgeries, support groups.

We read, study, educate ourselves, become our child’s fiercest advocate and mainstream them into society as much as possible, taking them with us everywhere – to restaurants, stores, church and on vacations in an attempt to teach them what life looks like from our point of reference.

Some things work, others do not. There is no way to look into a crystal ball and see our child’s future. From the moment we own the diagnosis we begin to learn the art of balancing recycled dreams. Life with our child becomes a one day at a time journey of hope.

The reality is, while we think we’re preparing and teaching them to be part of the real world, our challenged child is pulling us deeper into his. We become the student, learning qualities such as endurance, patience, acceptance, compassion and unconditional love.

These unprecedented challenges, gradually recreate us into someone fierce yet loving, wise but teachable, accepting yet undefeated, slow to judge but quick to notice injustice.

By the time our child is an adult, this special education has changed us so drastically, we don’t even recognize the person we’ve become. We have revamped and recycled our hopes and dreams for them and ourselves so many times the old us no longer exists.

As a minister’s wife I’ve been asked the hard questions many times. Why does God send people with disabilities into the world? Why would a loving God make a child and family live through the lifelong challenge that creates?

After thirty plus years of being my son’s mom, I don’t pretend to have a lot of answers.

And I don’t need to, not anymore. I’m learning to place my trust in a Heavenly Father who knows all things and informs me on a need to know basis.

One thing I DO know, life with Jon has changed me. I’m not anywhere close to being the person I was the day he came along.

Throughout the years, of a difficult but most wonderful metamorphosis, I have to admit…

I like this me so much better. 

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” ~Viktor E. Frankl

2 Corinthians 3:18 “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.”

Romans 5:2-5 “Through him [Jesus] we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,  and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

Turn It Off – Should Down Syndrome’s 21st Chromosome Be Deleted?

light switchScientists have been messing with stem cells in a laboratory and have figured out how to ‘turn off’ the extra chromosome in Down syndrome, a recent finding revealed.

http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2013/07/18/in-chromosome-turned-off/18342/

It could be years before a treatment of this type is people ready, but the possibility sent a wave of blog posts and commentary through the many online disability communities and families that care about someone with Down syndrome.

In the various discussions and commentary I surfed through, the difference in opinion on the topic between those who have young children and those who have older teen and adult children, is very interesting.

Most parents of toddler and elementary age children were certain they wouldn’t want the treatment if it was available. Parents of older children weren’t so sure. They’ve dealt with their child’s limitations long enough to see the overreaching effects into adult life.

The best way to illustrate my viewpoint is to tell you a story that took place about fifteen years ago.

Around the age of ten, Jon started telling us when he was old enough to drive, he wanted a red Jeep. Anytime he saw a red Jeep he would smile really big, point to it and say, “I’m having that!”

We were hesitant to suppress his dream. Maybe he would be one of the few people with Down syndrome who could someday handle the responsibility of driving. After all, Jon’s generation was the first to prove people with disabilities could do more than anyone expected. So we let him keep the hope of driving a red Jeep, alive.

When Jon was about eighteen, friends of ours needed a second vehicle and decided to purchase a Jeep. Our families had been close knit since Jon and their oldest son, Nathan, who was a few years younger than Jon, were preschoolers.

The Jeep, which just happened to be red, was claimed by Nathan, as awesome transportation to ‘be totally cool’ in while learning to drive.

We lived in an HOA with a community pool and one hot summer day, Nathan called and asked if he and his younger brother, Matt, could come over and go to the pool with Jon and our youngest son, David.

My boys put on their swim gear, grabbed towels and the three of us went to sit on the front step and wait for Nathan and Matt to be dropped off at our house so we could walk to the pool together.

A few minutes later a red Jeep came around the corner and down the street. Jon stared in awe as the vehicle went by and pulled into the driveway on the far side of the house.

I watched as he noticed who was in the driver’s seat and what I saw in his face made my heart sink.

Nathan was driving. As he turned off the engine and climbed down from his perch with a smile as bright as the hot sun, Jon turned to me and said so quietly I barely heard, “Nathan gets to drive a red Jeep?”

D-Day had arrived.

I didn’t know what to say. Mike and I had realized a few years back that Jon didn’t and probably wouldn’t ever have the quick thinking, instant decision making, comprehension and coordination skills needed to be a responsible driver.

While he was still talking about the day he would drive his red Jeep, we were trying to figure out how to tell him that he never would.

We went to the pool for the rest of the afternoon and the boys had a good time together. It seemed that Jon had forgotten about the red Jeep and Nathan’s driving, so I put it out of my mind too.

The next morning, just as I stepped out of the shower, David banged frantically on the bathroom door and started yelling that I needed to come. “Right now!”

I threw on my robe and ran downstairs just in time to see Jon trying to back my car out of the garage.

He had helped himself to the keys and was behind the wheel, stomping on the gas, then the brake, gas, brake, gas, brake. With tires squealing and the car lurching, he had managed to back into the middle of our dead end street and run into the garage while doing so.

We sat Jon down, had the heart breaking talk with him in simple terms he could understand. It is one of the few times I’ve ever seen my son cry.

We cried with him.

A few days later he tried out his driving skills again. This time backing my car into the street, and hitting Mike’s company supplied car parked in front of the house, as he pulled forward.

We never hung our car keys on the hook by the garage door again and something changed in Jon after that.

A piece of that innocent and carefree Jon disappeared because he knew.

He finally understood that other people got to do things he couldn’t and he knew why.

And knowing that he knew was almost more than this mother’s heart could bear. My eyes cried and my heart ached for my boy again, as it has many times through all the years of loving him.

Jon has not been a little boy for a long time. I don’t know if he ever thinks about the red Jeep anymore.

He’s a man now but he stopped talking about it years ago.

And though I love him just as he is, I would do anything to remove the limits he lives with.

If there was a treatment that would guarantee my son’s ability to drive his red Jeep, would I consider it?

Absolutely!

If there was a way to open all of life’s possibilities to him, would I consider it?

Definitely! I’d do it in a heartbeat and be there for him if he needed me, just as I am now.

I’d do it because I’m his mom.

I’d do it for love.

Lifetime Love Affair

I grew up in a home with no TV. 

And yes, there were cars back then, for those of you who are now wondering how old I am. 

There were even TVs back then, we just didn’t have one. 

Every Friday my dad would grocery shop after work and take me to the library on his way to the store. I’d search row after row of shelves for books that I hadn’t read yet, check out the maximum amount allowed (ten, I think) and read them before the following Friday. 

This scenario would repeat weekly.

While my friends were rushing home from school to watch cartoons; Popeye, Looney Tunes, The Three Stooges and the Little Rascals, I went home to read. 

And I couldn’t wait.                                  

Words threaded together, creating pictures, people and stories have intrigued me as far back as I can remember. As I read descriptions of places and personalities, I would imagine them in my mind. I could see it all, the backdrops, settings and what each person looked like.

I’ve been disappointed more than once by a movie based on a book because what was on the screen looked like nothing I had created inside my head.

Many a night, when I should have been asleep, I was under the blankets with a flashlight and a book I couldn’t put down. 

There was nothing worse than leaving a good story right in the middle, to go to school, take out the trash, help Dad in the yard or Mom in the kitchen and be left wondering the entire time, what was going to happen next. 

By the time I was in middle school I had a fondness for horse stories; Misty, Black Beauty and My Friend Flicka, to name just a few. 

In high school I was reading classics; Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, Moby Dick, Call of the Wild, Pilgrims Progress, Gone With the Wind, The Chronicles of Narnia and the works of Charles Dickens and Mark Twain.

I’ve had a lifetime love affair with books and reading was and still is one of my favorite getaways, a form of relaxation and fun. 

It’s hard to be a decent writer without reading. Because I enjoyed reading so much, I also developed a fondness for writing. 

Putting my thoughts into words forces my mind to be deliberate about my own opinions, viewpoints and desires. Seeing my heart written out in black and white give me reason to be both intentional and reasonable in how I think about life and the myriad of emotion and events swirling around me. 

Writing keeps me centered and is my therapy. 

I’m currently taking a writer’s course and am being told that reading has changed in America.

Technology and finger tip access to information, texting, social web pages and constant entertainment has moved our attention span meter next to zero. The latest generation now reads and writes in small bites (or should it be bytes), if at all. 

“LOL!” (laughing out loud, for the few who may not know)

“OMW “ (on my way)

“Where R U?”

I’ve been informed that people don’t read anymore, they scan, scrolling thru web pages on mobile devices faster than film frames roll in an animated movie. 

Writers are being told to create shorter sentences that are “tight” and have punch, be more attentive to white space in relation to words on a page and hook people with interest and excitement in the first paragraph to instantly catch and keep their attention.

While these are good writing techniques to follow, I admit to being disappointed for the reason they are being suggested.

Maybe I’m old-school; after all I grew up without a TV… 

But…instead of dumbing down our writing, how about we teach kids to read again. Really read. 

Gather our children around us on the sofa. Turn off the TV, smart phone and tablet and read a book out loud. Together. 

Find time during the day; at breakfast before school, after dinner or at bedtime, whatever works for the family schedule, to read.

Start when the kids are little. Let them fall in love with books.

Statistics show that children who are read to and who read do better in school and become lifelong learners. 

And if that isn’t enough motivation, some of those readers could become famous authors, publishing book after made-for-movie book, creating sufficient wealth to take care of you into your old age.

So read, read, read!

P.S. I hope you didn’t just scan this post but actually read it.

 

 

 

No Comparison (please!)


A passion of mine is to help people become better educated about adults with developmental disabilities and occasionally, conversations with people evolve into the topic of our developmentally delayed son and some of his behaviors.

 

Some folks, with a little chuckle and smile, say, “O yeah, I know, all kids act that way sometimes. Mine sure does. It can really be frustrating.” 

Or something similar.

 

I know they mean well and I appreciate their desire to empathize, but telling me their three year old child, five year old grandson or ten year old nephew, does the exact same thing doesn’t make me feel better.

Because it’s really not the same – at all!

It hardly seems like a fair comparison when your “child” is thirty plus and you’re still dealing with these behaviors every day.

Their struggle with a childish behavior problem occurs because their kid is still a child.  Jon is not.

Their struggle with these behaviors will end as their child grows and matures. Mine has not.

Any individual who asks about and takes interest in our son, so they can understand him better is greatly appreciated. He’s a remarkable person and we love him very much but comparing him or any other disabled adult to a toddler, elementary age or pre-teen child troubles me.

I don’t begrudge those whose children develop normally and I’m not angry because Jon didn’t. I’m simply in a constant state of living inside this reality.

Families and caregivers, who have put in years of loving and living with an adult with developmental delays are the ones who know…

It’s not the same at all!

All In Dads

According to statistics the average divorce rate in America hovers around fifty percent and forty-three percent of children growing up in America today are being raised without fathers. 

One sure thing statistics and common sense do show is children need their dads. I understand there are often circumstances beyond control so my goal is not to heap guilt on anyone. Most parents can create plenty of that on their own.

But since today is Father’s Day I want to salute all the dads who make the mammoth effort to be in their kids lives, love them, raise them, teach them, and support them (divorced or not). You are more significant than you will ever know.

The ones who stay for the long haul are those who make the difference.  Those who are a constant in the life of a child forge that life into something deeper, stronger, without major gaps and holes.

Some statistics point to higher divorce rates in marriages where a child with a disability exists, although there are conflicting reports over the actual numbers, the added stress it brings to the family can be challenging. But my kid’s dad stayed, through it all.

Our youngest son is grown and out of our home now, but my husband is still here, helping me find Jonathan when he wanders, staying home with him so I can go and do, and dealing with the craziness and blessing that having a forever child responsibility in life brings.

Mike has been an anchor the boys and I have counted on over the years to pray, work hard, provide, instruct and love. He dragged kids around in the family van, took them on business trips when it would have been easier to leave them home. He’s endured are-we-there-yet car trips and paid for diapers, doctor bills, hamster and guinea pig food, bicycles, broken windows, braces and college when he probably would have preferred a newer car.

He’s stuck around for the sleepovers, home schooling, speech therapy, school IEP meetings,  Special Olympics, Legos, music lessons, guitars, drum sets, skateboards, paintball, the learners permit and mom’s melt down days.

My Kid’s Dad has taught us much about the value of plodding, loyalty, hard work, spending money wisely, being fair, keeping your word, treating people right and living life with integrity, honor and faith in a loving God who created us.

It’s has been and still is a wild ride, but he hangs on tight and keeps us moving forward.

So today I want to publicly honor you, Michael Connis. You are my kid’s dad and you are amazing.

Thanks for staying.

Thanks for never giving up on our nutty, wonderful family!.

We love you. Happy Father’s Day!

Proverbs 20:6 (NIV)Many claim to have unfailing love, but a faithful person who can find?

Special Forces Moms

Mother’s Day is set aside to honor the women in our lives who birth us, adopt us, nurture, protect and empower us, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health. They do it because they love us. They do it because it’s what moms do.

This Mother’s Day, I want to give a shout out to a specific category of moms; the Navy Seals and Green Berets of mother troops, those who were most likely drafted into a line of duty they didn’t sign up for or expect, those who are in continuous boot camp and on the job training, secretly wondering if they’re qualified to carry out their mission.  Mothers of children born with disabilities and/or critical medical conditions – the “Special Moms”.

No question that a mom loves her special kid, like a mama bear loves her cub, and once that child is permanently entangled in her heart she wouldn’t trade him/her for anything. She may have moments when she wishes her child wasn’t so ill or limited or challenging. She might have days when she prays for less stress, worry and exhaustion. She could have fleeting dreams of packing a bag and running far away, farther than Calgon could ever take her, but she doesn’t, because she knows she has been given a job to do, a unique assignment that could possibly end sooner than her broken heart can imagine or last a lifetime, with no leave of absence in sight.

Once she comprehends the blessing hidden in the uniquely wrapped treasure that is her child, the special mom gains wisdom beyond measure and learns the importance of letting go and clinging to Jesus. She matures with understanding of mysteries others are not privileged to recognize or appreciate.  In this brief pilgrimage through life with her child, she begins to shine like the jewel God created her to be: cut, polished and beautiful.

So here’s some well deserved kudos to all the overtime moms, those who ever have or are dispensing endless care and love for a very unique kid; some, long past the point of when full time mothering should end. You know who are.  You know what you do and so does God. He has sufficient wisdom, grace and endurance when the task is more than you can bear, when you feel overwhelmed and obscure. He promises His strength and grace willbe perfected in both your own and your child’s weakness and frailty. Throughout a lifetime bursting with significant things to be done, every small detail you attend to, every sacrifice and sleepless night matters.

Special Forces Moms everywhere – thanks for the remarkable job you do. I pray you are infused with extra peace, joy, strength and blessed with a few quiet moments to relax, catch your breath and contemplate how important and amazing you really are, to your special needs child of course (whether he discerns it or not), to your family, but most of all to God.

Look up and be aware of God’s delight as you persevere in the unusual assignment you’ve been given. Allow the warmth of His smile to shine into the depths of your weary soul. Soak in His unending love and be revived as the power of Christ rests upon you.

HOOAH! and Happy Mother’s Day! 🙂

1 Corinthians 15:58 Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.

2 Corinthians 12:9 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 of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Potter’s Assistant

I wrote this in the Fall of 2007 after our son, David, packed up and left for college. For all parents soon facing graduation and a child leaving home, this one’s for you. Six years later, I guess I can say, you sort of get used to them being gone, but you never stop missing them if they don’t return close to home.

There is an empty place in our home today and also in my heart.  David packed up his belongings and we took him six hundred and forty miles away from us to begin a new life at college.  

After years of loving, holding, comforting, teaching, playing, training, giving, worrying and caring we took our child, who is one no longer, to a strange place full of strange people then drove away and left him there, watching him wave good-bye in the rear view mirror as we pointed our car towards home.   

It is a very hard thing to do, this letting go, so bitter-sweet.  But the bird has left the nest and the butterfly has emerged from the chrysalis.  Time can not be reversed but can only go forward from here.

How am I supposed to feel?  I’m really not sure. I am so conflicted with happiness for David and this new opportunity for growth and adventure, then sadness for how much I already miss him.  

We drive home immersed in empty silence in a car that just a few hours ago was packed full of our son.  I walk into my house and his bedroom door is closed, the room dark and quiet.  No clothes piled on the floor, no rumpled blankets on the bed, no email and cell phone competing for attention, no music blaring from the stereo speakers or from one of the several guitars that once lined the walls, no crazy auburn curls emerging from all that chaos with a random joke, smile or hug.  

It is eerily silent here and I feel immensely sad and lonely for this one who has brought so much joy to my days.  There are others here in my home that I love just as much but they can not take his place.  Not the easy, happy place that he always resides in.  They can not fill the vacant space that his leaving has made inside of me because they each have a different spot in my heart. 

If I truly believe that everything I have comes from God then I understand that this son was only loaned to us for a time.  God entrusts us with a child and we are allowed to call him or her our own.  We are expected to be good stewards of this life and assist God in making something useful of it. 

So the formation begins with a parent’s persistent love and training, shaping and influencing through the years, spinning by as swiftly as the potter’s wheel. We give our imperfect best to mold goodness, character, and purpose until the time when we finally take our hands off, when we must let go and see what becomes of this life we were once immersed in.

The clay is formed now and our child is responsible to make wise choices and become all that God has purposed for him.   My job is finished.  My eyes are no longer close by to see, nor my words instantly available to warn him of the trouble one poor decision can produce.  My ears are no longer attentively tuned to the lure of the world that surrounds him.  My hands are no longer the main influence shaping him. Now, in his own heart and mind, he must see, hear and understand the decisions that create an ongoing success of a life fit for The Potter’s use. 

I pray we did something right in teaching him what he needs to know.  I think we did, but only time will tell the end of the story.  I can only hope that all of the treasure tucked away in this wonderful earthen vessel of our son will display the excellency of the power of God, and not so much of us and our human limitations and frailty.  

As time marches forward and the story continues to be written, I trust that the wonder of seeing David’s life and purpose unfold will fill my very being with a greater joy, replacing all the emptiness my heart feels today. And even in this conflicting sadness, I thank God for the privilege of being His willing and humble assistant through these fleeting years.  

 I wouldn’t trade one moment of it for anything at all.

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you our potter; and we all are the work of your hand.”  Isaiah 64:8
“But we have this treasure in earthen vessels that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.” 2Corinthians 4:7

Making It Personal, Keeping It Real


A parent of a young child asked us, “What is the secret to raising kids who don’t stray from God and doing right, even through the teen years and into adulthood?” 

The answer wasn’t one we had completely formulated in our minds, because it was a question we had ever been asked. I had to ponder on it. Though we had successfully raised two boys, we certainly knew it wasn’t because we were flawless, perfect parents!

I discovered a large part of the answer in a very sad statement buried in a context that describes the end of Joshua’s life, one of Israel’s great leaders, from Judges 2:10. When all the elderly men that out lived Joshua, those who had witnessed the things God had done for Israel, died “a new generation grew up that had not personally experienced the Lord’s presence or seen what he had done for Israel.”
 

This new generation was enjoying the good life in the Promise Land that their predecessors had fought, struggled and died to obtain, but they had no personal experience with God to understand the promise or value of it. Consequently they turned from Him and began to worship the false gods of the nations around them.

We can believe what we believe, tell our kids what they should believe and try to make them believe it, but until  they have a personal experience with God, unless they experience His presence in a way that is life changing, God will be our thing, not theirs. One of the most important things we can do, from the time our children arrive, is to pray they will experience God for themselves in a very tangible way, then create an atmosphere in our family life that equips them with an awareness of who He is and how unconditionally He loves them.

When a child reaches an age where he begins to question everything he has been taught, parents tend to panic and label it as rebellion, but often, the child is only becoming aware of himself and testing his place in the world. In this formative stage of developing his own identity, a child may have doubts about the reality of God. He may need to further examine the teachings he has heard growing up in a home and church where God’s word is believed and (hopefully) lived. 

I remember telling our son, David, when he was around twelve years old, he shouldn’t believe anything just because we, the pastor or youth leader said it. He needed to pray, read and search it out for himself so that it would become real to him. I showed him where God said, “If you seek me you will find me” (Jeremiah 29:13). Our kids need to know that God will reveal Himself to anyone who sincerely asks. They also need to understand that they are personally accountable for what they do with Jesus and the truth He gives. Living off mom and dad’s faith just doesn’t cut it and won’t keep them for the long haul.

It’s risky and uncomfortable business giving a child the freedom, within the boundaries of your watchful eye of course, to discover God for himself. We can’t take it as an affront when they question the things that have been drilled into them since their first breath. Children grow into adults with free will and choice. They don’t always choose well or right, there’s no guarantee in that, but if they have mighty encounters with the God who created and loves them, they are less likely to go astray, less apt to be pulled away by the enticements of the world and if they do stray, are more likely to return.

David, wrote this song about the exodus of his generation from following Christ:

Perfect Ghosts

Which came first, empty hearts or empty pews
Which is worse when a thousand options mean a thousand truths
A tepid verse, your parents god with weekly dues
It don’t work, soap box faith with shadowed shoes

I’ve seen the ghosts of our fathers in the walls
It grows, it grows our fear of these dark halls
We groan, we groan for something to feel like home
Because in the end perfect ghosts can’t love at all

I’d rather shake the hand of a joker then hand of a king
Most royalty are wolves feeding on sheep’s mistakes
It don’t relate, wide smiles with rules to break
When everything’s fake why wouldn’t we walk away
I’ve seen the ghosts of our fathers in the walls
It grows, it grows our fear of these dark halls
We groan, we groan for something to feel like home
Because in the end perfect ghosts can’t love at all

Its about to change, I’ll kiss my demons on the open floor
When it comes to faith your either in or a prisoner of war 
 
No one can experience Jesus for us, so in our own lives, make it personal, keep it real and pray, pray, pray that our kids encounter God so genuinely, they do the same. A child who loves and serves the Lord with all his heart, for all of his life is the greatest blessing a parent could hope for.

John 4:41-42 And many more believed because of his [Jesus’] word. They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Savior of the world.”

Judges 2: 7 The people worshiped the Lordthroughout Joshua’s lifetime and as long as the elderly men who outlived him remained alive. These men had witnessed all the great things the Lord had done for Israel. 8 Joshua son of Nun, the Lord’s servant, died at the age of one hundred ten. 9 The people buried him in his allotted land in Timnath Heres in the hill country of Ephraim, north of Mount Gaash. 10 That entire generation passed away; a new generation grew up that had not personally experienced the Lord’s presence or seen what he had done for Israel

11 The Israelites did evil before the Lord by worshiping the Baals. 12 They abandoned the Lord God of their ancestors who brought them out of the land of Egypt. They followed other gods—the gods of the nations who lived around them. They worshiped them and made the Lord angry. 13 They abandoned the Lord and worshiped Baal and the Ashtoreths.
https://soundcloud.com/daveconnis/perfect-ghosts

True Face

We need to leave the house by 10:20 am to arrive at Jonathan’s day program by 11 am.  On this particular day, two and a half hours prior to our departure time,  I gave him the shaver I keep in my bathroom (it’s never charged if he’s responsible for it) and asked him to please remove several days of stubble from his face,  change his clothes and put shoes on. At 10:40 am he was standing in the garage with his clean shirt in hand instead of on his person and shoes and socks on the floor instead of on his feet, writing on an empty cardboard box. Despite frequent reminders from me, he was still moving at his usual snail pace.
I rushed through the garage on the way to the car. “We need to leave-now! We’re already very late, Jon.  You can finish getting dressed in the car on the way.”
He frowned then plodded to the car in his bare feet, tossed the shirt, shoes and socks on the floor. We were going to be late and once again I was flustered and frustrated.
During the first few miles, I attempted to calm myself by repeatedly mumbling, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength,” mingled with random directives to Jon to change his shirt and put on his shoes. When we stopped for a traffic light, I glanced at him and realized he had shaved. Awesomeness! He got one out of three right and in the craziness that usually surrounds getting him out the door that was a small victory, one that was important to acknowledge.
“Good job shaving dude, now you need to finish getting dressed, pl-l-l-e-e-e-ase” I emphasized the word ‘please’ attempting to pressure him with a bit of urgency. The effects of reciting Philippians 4: 13 and the worship music coming from the radio station, was calming. I felt peace returning to my mind and emotions. We finally arrived at our destination with Jon fully dressed and decent for public viewing, at least I thought so.
I parked the car and Jon began to gather his things. Since I needed to walk him around the side of the building to the front door, I got out and waited in a patch of shade at the corner. He finally removed himself from the car, shut the door and ambled toward me. As he came closer, I realized his face looked odd, as if one side was dirty. Not until he was directly in front of me, did I see that he had shaved only the left side of his face, the side visible to me while driving.
The program director came around the corner of the building just as I exclaimed, “Oh my gosh Jon, you only shaved half your face?!  Now you’re going to look like that all day!”  
The director looked from me to Jon and chuckled, unfazed. It’s certain that nothing surprises him after years of working with the developmentally disabled population. “Come on Jon,” he said, “You made it in time for lunch today, we’re having tacos. You like tacos?’’
He directed Jon toward the door and waved me away, a gesture that meant, ‘It’s fine Mom, you can leave now’.
”He’s all yours, “I waved back at him, “half hairy face and all.”
As I left the parking lot, I thought about my partially shaved son, so random and such a mystery to me at times. But most of the people he was spending the afternoon with probably wouldn’t notice his partially shaved face and it obviously didn’t matter to him. He puts little importance on other people’s acceptance or expectations of him. There is no ability for pretense or façade in him. With Jon, what you see is exactly what you get.  
By the time I was a few miles down the road I realized that some of Jon’s behaviors that are most annoying at their occurrence,  often become teachable moments for my heart. This was another of those. During our drive I only saw the smooth side of Jon’s face and assumed he had completely shaved. Even though he wasn’t trying to hide that from me, my perception was still wrong. So I began to wonder–what perceptions do I have of others and portray to others?  Which side of my face do I allow to be seen? Am I true faced or fake, hiding behind a mask of insincerity?  Do I immediately construct critical judgments of others based on appearance and behavior that is outwardly visible without having all the facts or an understanding of their experiences and history?
We are experts at showing the side of ourselves we want others to see. Jesus zeroed in on this flaw of human nature and addressed it at length in Matthew 23. He was especially bothered by those who were skilled at going through the outward motions of religious regulation and tradition, putting on superficial displays that did not match the content of the heart. In verse 27 and 28, he tells the religious leaders, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness.  Even so you also outwardly appear righteous to men, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.’’
We might be able to fool people but we can’t hide anything from God. Man has tried since that day in the garden when God asked Adam the question, “Where are you?” It was Adam who needed to know who he had become, not God. God is not looking for perfect people but those who come to Him in humility and truth. Truth includes the ability to be honest before Him, not because He needs to know what is in us, but because we do. Being honest and open with Him about our condition sets us free to be real with others and accepting of them as well.
I picked Jon up a few hours later. We went to the library and stopped at Wendy’s for dinner. Everywhere we went people stared at his face. When it was time to leave the restaurant Jon packed up his leftover food and headed for the door but as soon as he reached it, quickly turned left and made a detour down the hallway to the men’s room. It had been a long day and I was more than ready to go home. I sighed and flopped down in the booth closest to the restrooms and opened the book I had brought along to read while I waited for him to return.
Ten minutes later Jon came up from behind and stood completely still beside me. He slowly reached into his pocket, pulled out the shaver and handed it to me. Puzzled, I looked up at him and saw that his face was completely shaven!  
“Lord have mercy, Jon.” I took the shaver from him, “You went through this entire day with half a hairy face and you had this in your pocket the whole time? ”
He smiled at me and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.
I shoved the shaver in my book bag and smiled back. “Come on True Face, let’s go home”
He gave me a perplexed look, turned to the door and headed out to the car. I followed behind, shaking my head in amazement at the puzzle that is my son, and how often he and God gang up on me to teach my heart the important stuff of life I need to know.