On being forged into a warrior mom

If I could summarize our journey from Hell to HOPEISM, it would be in my faith, which I call HOPEISM. It has been my weapon of choice to get me through each battle I have had to fight in my mission to win our war called life with autism and seizures. Vaccine injury to be more specific. It would also be in committing to heart, soul, & mind the words and motto's from Forged, NDCQ, the Lone Survivor, and Levi Lusko in his book, "Through the Eyes of a Lion." I will be forever grateful to the inspiration, encouragement, and mental fortitude found through all of them collectively. Because of that, I am not allowing this tragedy of vaccine injury that has come into our lives to be an obstacle to being used by God. I am instead turning it into an opportunity to be used like never before!


This blog is dedicated to Brandon. His life has been forged by difficulty, obstacles, & all too often because of seizures - pain, blood, broken teeth, & broken bones. Yet through all that he has shown such fortitude. The bravery, strength, & resilience of a true warrior. He taught me that having strength through adversity means that even if you lose every battle, like the Lone Survivor, you never quit fighting until you win the war. That in the words of "NDCQ," you keep "dreaming," keep "daring," & keep "doing." As Team Guppy has yet to be able to escape vaccine injury, we have no choice but to as Levi Lusko writes, "Run toward the Roar." God has indeed given us such incredible power in enduring such impossible pain.

Some days the HOPEISM in that simply takes my breath away.

October 28, 2010

Holding on.....


I took the above picture from my Uncle's boat in Georgia this summer.  We were out fishing and a summer sea-storm came in about as fast as it went out.  The picture was taken after the "went" part, when the storm passed and the clouds were moving on and the sun was breaking through.

That description also depicts the song  "Hold On" by Toby Mac ---and the lyrics of that song describe our Life with Autism.

... so hold on, just another day or two, I can see the clouds are moving faster now and the sun is breaking through...  If you can hold on, to the one that's holding you, there is nothing that can stop this crazy love from breaking through....

We've certainly had our share of "Holding On" and "Crazy" experiences during the storms of autism and seizures, waiting for the clouds to move away so the sun could break through.

Ever since my husband came home from prayer meeting last night and shared his heart with me about that experience, the 'who' of who we've been holding on to throughout everything has consumed my thoughts.

He wanted us to pray together that night, after he spent such time in prayer already.  For us to "hold on" to the One who was holding us. 

And holding our son. 

That's what our ministry is about.  Two seemingly separate ministries in that he does his at church.  Mine is done more in my writing and ministering to parents by e-mail that I can help no other way, except in prayer.

But together, we so do not want 'the world' to see the fear of autism, seizures,  or anything, as something we've held on to, or are holding on to. 

Though make no mistake, there have been many things that we've been fearful of.

I remember as if it happened just a moment ago, the sound of my son's permanent teeth shattering on the tile floor when he fell from a seizure.  Before I ever saw what happened, I knew what happened.  I remember sitting on the couch later after the chaos in absolute shock that the thing we prayed hardest for to not happen, happened.  
(For his permanent teeth to not be hurt during a seizure - his smile was the only part of his body not affected by autism, and we wanted that smile, those pearly white teeth, to remain untouched)
Our worse fear had literally come true.  That rarely happens for anyone, yet it did for us.  It was hard to accept that.

My husband and I both remember our son having a seizure and falling from the top of the deck to the cement patio below during another one.  It was like watching a nightmare from slow motion.  A nightmare we hadn't even considered fearing.  But we didn't have to.  He survived without a scratch.

We remember the absolute horror in finding our son in the backyard, blue and not breathing after yet another one.  THAT, should have been our worse fear all along, but it wasn't.  It didn't need to be.  God said, "Not his time...".  And after CPR he came back to life.


There is nothing lighthearted or funny I can share about in those situations we've had to go through.

They were fearful times emotion-wise, as people no doubt saw on the outside.

But what we so want to share about our faith and ministry with others, is that during those times we were not holding on to the fear. 

We were holding on to our father.

The One who was, is, and who always will be, ~ holding on to us.

Because my husband leads a prayer ministry at church and has for months at times been the only one at the church on a Saturday night, one of few on Sunday morning, and part of many lately on Wednesday evenings,  some see him as "The Prayer Guy".  The one to go to for prayer needs or to lead prayer times.  As if he has some special 'prayer power' that sets him apart.

Something that qualifies him above others.

I suppose he does.

It's called dependence.

He knows he can't be the Christian God wants him to be without prayer.
He knows he can't provide for our family without prayer for his continued employment and to find favor with his boss.
He knows he can't be a father to his children without being in constant prayer to his Father.
He knows without a doubt he can't be a husband to his wife without hours upon hours of prayer....(smile)

And he knows in his heart that it is God's desire for His people to come together in God's house to do that.

So he does.

And it's also called fear.

The fear that without those situations in our life to draw us closer to our father, holding on for dear life, we wouldn't have the sense of peace from our Father. 

Or the sanity to cope.

We fear our prayers becoming complacent.

We fear taking the calmness for granted.

We fear taking God for granted.

We fear forgetting what the security of entering the Father's fortress of prayer during our deepest darkest, most desperate moments feels like.

I think that's what's scariest of all, and I can't help but be overwhelmed by how if those fearful situations had not ever happened in our lives, we wouldn't know that security.

We wouldn't have that dependence on God.

We wouldn't be gripped by the power and purpose in prayer as much.

Even in unanswered prayer.

Our son is still having seizures.

Todd came home last night after a particularly moving prayer time with his heart being burdened by so many of Brandon's seizures of late.

He cried there at church, in the prayer meeting, in front of many, many people he doesn't even really know.  He shared with me how he didn't want people seeing tears of fear, in him not being able to handle the seizures or being hopeless because of them.  He didn't want others to see the tears and have pity on our situation.  Or to feel sorry for us.

But to rather see those tears as total submission and reverence to the amazing sovereignty of a powerful Savior who can stop those seizures with a split-second sigh.

When I'm home and the one who must hold my son during a seizure, it's not tears of helplessness I cry, even though helpless is how I feel in terms of the power I have within me alone to stop them.

Rather it's simply the tears I cry when I need the One holding him during the seizure, to hold me too.......

When we share those things on Facebook, e-mail, in person during prayer, it is not the attention or 'woe-to-us' that we seek.

It is the call for companionship of our 'crazy friends' as in the song, to march with us in our crusade.  As we march with those we know who are in crisis or whose lives are in chaos.
For both of us it is scary, yes. We do pray they stop.  But more than that, we are surrendered to our Savior and willing to go through anything that gives Him the Glory. 

It's so hard to convey that to a watching world.

To a world that wants convenience and ease.

Autism is neither.

Autism & seizures, are even more neither.

But yet that's where we find our prayers to be the most meaningful. 
It's where we find ourselves holding on to God our tightest, and that's where we want to be.

Stripped bare of pride, Todd at prayer meeting, me through my writing, allowing our tears to quench our faith's thirst.

When we hold on to God that tight in prayer, only then will we ever understand just how much tighter He is holding on to us.
If anything qualifies anyone to be a leader in prayer ministry, it is just that.

Holding on....

In prayer............

Until over autism, over seizures, over anything, -- there is victory.


...and the stars are up there shining for you, oh, the Father does adore you, His love will never change, And you and I we were born to follow, the hope that will lead us to tomorrow, and no one can take it away...


~~~
Michelle M. Guppy

1 comment:

mama4x said...

Wow, I am amazed (sort of, not really when I think about it) that our situations can be so vastly different but so similar. I was separated from my husband with 3 small kids in tow for 18 months, and in your post I hear my own words... the words that are so inadequate to express to others. My parents aren't believers and I know what you mean when you hope that they get the right message- the one of clinging to His strength, not crying in hopelessness. You know. Thanks for your ministry to others. I'm just recently a follower but already touched by your writing.