Don't Worry Choose Happy

The above is a picture of a bush at the end of the sidewalk leading up to my front door.  Brandon and I pass this bush each morning as we head into the tan minivan to be off to school.

It was odd how I came to focus on that bird yesterday morning.  When I opened the front door I heard it fly off quickly, as if it had been sitting on the chair by the front door waiting for us to come out.  When we stepped on the porch I saw it head down the sidewalk, stop briefly on my tan minivan, then continue on to that bush.  That bush that it seemed to know we would pass by.

Never before had a bird seemed to be calling me towards it, to follow it.  Typically, it's the mockingbirds who have a nest in our Oak Tree who dive bomb me thinking that I'm going to climb the tree and attack their baby birdies.  (Keep using my front porch as your port-o-potty and I might just do that.)

What a crazy week it was already -- three doctor's appointments for Brandon regarding two upcoming procedures he'll have to have in two different hospitals under general anesthesia.  (Far be it for anyone to get a clue about autism and actually work together, coordinate, to do everything all at once!) One at Memorial Herman for Dental Surgery under sedation to fix a broken tooth from a fall from a seizure, the other at Texas Children's Hospital for an Endoscopy and Colonoscopy with Biopsies to rule out any new issues other than the ones we already know of, that would be causing weight loss and increased bowel issues.

Ahhhh -- the life of "Life with Autism....."

Constant worry.

Constant threat of sadness.

So needless to say, as we were off for our first pre-op visit of that day, I didn't have the time nor desire to be bird watching.

Yet that bird's presence drew me in.  Even with Brandon and his humming and running around close to it in his typical "evade and escape" pattern of avoiding getting in the van, the bird remained still in that bush.

I allowed myself a moment to stop and look at it.  It was a beautiful scene with it being almost camouflaged by the bush. And I do love anything camouflage. I wondered if it would allow me to get close enough to take a picture. I took out my phone and dared to step closer and closer and much to my surprise the bird dared to let me.  One more step closer and I could have touched it.

Only God would send me a bird to wait outside my door to remind me, in all my worry with all I had to do this week and the coming weeks and with all that could go wrong in all of that --- to not worry.

Matthew 6:25
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" 

Luke 12:6-7
Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.  Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Right before I snapped the picture of the bird, I noticed that where his eye should have been was a scab.

Only God could put an exclamation point on the end of that message by not only sending me a bird, but one who has a disability.

A bird much like my Brandon.

Good one God --

Good one.

(smile)

I won't worry.

I'll Choose Happy.

Autism Appreciation Day

I guess my whole issue with the Chic-Fil-A-pocalypse of yesterday is because I read so many posts about it being about "Freedom of Speech" and not any other issue. What makes it hard for me to believe that, is that I never saw one post on Facebook listing our Bill of Rights.  But I did see hundreds of posts listing scriptures against a certain lifestyle.

To me all yesterday did, was make a well off man even more well off.  He is a strong Christian who has strong morals.  The strongest kind - the kind that puts his Christianity before money.  No one does that these days.  The owner of Chic-Fil-A gives up millions more in profit just to abide by the Bible's principle of honoring the Sabbath and not being open for business on Sunday's.  All through my son Matthew's NWAL and USA competitive swimming swim meets when we as non-Sabbath-honoring sinners would be driving to a swim meet on a Sunday morning and would go through Chic-Fil-A drive thru forgetting it was Sunday and they were closed, -- we were starkly reminded of his beliefs.  We would have to turn around and go to Whataburger - a sinful business that is open on Sunday mornings.  Chick-Fil-A would have continued to thrive with or without yesterday.  The owner would have continued to expand his businesses without yesterday's showing because denying him a permit based on what those mayor's were basing their threatened denials on, would have been overturned in any court.

To me yesterday was about the already full feeding themselves more, while at the same time so many in America were hungry or starving.  It made a wealthy business, wealthier, - the hungry, hungrier, - and all people who sin remained all people who sin. 

But there are two mayors who have been shamed.

I don't know --- seems we could have fed the hungry and sent those mayor's some e-mails instead.

Was yesterday about freedom of speech per-say, or was it about freedom of speech as a Christian to even more emphatically say that a certain lifestyle is wrong?  Which did Christians put the exclamation point on yesterday?  I see it as the latter.  And all that came from that is a further divide and a bigger hypocrisy.  Seeing is how no Christian who ate at Chic-Fil-A yesterday was without sin in their own lives.
 
I'm writing this from the side of someone knowing how it feels to be pointed at.  Society has put their exclamation point of what they view as "normal" and "not-normal" on me and my son hundreds upon hundreds of times.  It was put on him at school in the form of being banquished to "Special Education."  It's put on me when I try to get insurance to cover treatments for his socially unacceptable "autism" rather than his socially acceptable "asthma".  It's put on us each time we go to a store and we're stared at, whispered about, or silently scorned because he drools, has an accident or meltdown, or hums too loudly.  It's already bad enough that the church in many cases is the worse about discrimination when they are to be the best at breaking down the barriers that divide us.  The church was not created to showcase the perfect.  It was created to house the homeless, heal the hurting, help those who need to be helped.  Welcome the unwelcomed, accept the unaccepted, and to do it in love as the hands and feet of Jesus in drawing the unbelieving world in and not as the voice of condemnation that drives them further away.

I guess I must not be a real Christian. 

While I do believe in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and I do believe what the Bible says about any and all sin - I do not believe that believing that means that I hate all who do or believe other than what I do or believe.  I'm not sure when as a society that thinking happened, but it has definitely happened.  Where if you are a man who happens to own a Christian business and you publicly profess your views -- that it's turned into a hate-war.  Where if you don't believe that man's views, you must boycott and ban that man's business from your city just because of his beliefs.

We are to love people.

We are to have our own beliefs and moral code of conduct and uphold those beliefs by voting at the polls and by raising our families and running our non-profits, our clubs, or our corporations by those beliefs and moral codes. We are to live those beliefs and values, but not by condemning those who God told us to love. And certainly not in a way that pits "us" against "them" - when God loves both "us" and "them". And I don't think God meant that we have to boycott anyone who doesn't believe as we do. Otherwise, what would the point of  Jesus' birth and life on earth as a common (though perfect) man walking among common (imperfect) sinners have been?  All were sinners compared to him.  Yet he walked among them.  Was friends with them.  Broke bread with them.  Served them.  Slept in their homes.  Touched them.  Healed them.  Did he become influenced by them?  No.  Did he try to influence them by his example of love?  Yes.  He even washed the feet of the very person who would betray him - that betrayal that was the beginning of his journey to death on the cross. 

Even when all who he came to save rejected him, he still loved them and died for them.

He commanded us to disciple.

We have instead distanced.

As for me, I'm thankful for autism at times like this.

In fact, I'm claiming today as "Autism Appreciation Day."

My son cannot read, write, or even talk.  He doesn't understand religion.  He doesn't know about hate, intolerance, homosexuality, heterosexuality.  Thanks to autism he will most likely never, ever have the opportunity to even be married.  To anyone.  He doesn't understand about Freedoms or even who the heroes are who fought for and died to protect those rights he has no knowledge of.  He doesn't understand why you should eat somewhere for some reason, or why you shouldn't because of another reason.  He just knows that if they don't serve GFCFSF food, he can't eat there regardless.

He doesn't care what color the hand is that holds his. What language they speak or what gender they are.  He doesn't care what the religion is of someone who chases and tickles him.  He doesn't care if the person who helps him learn how to communicate has had premarital sex or extramarital sex.  He doesn't care if the person who wants to go for a walk with him has blue hair, piercings, and tattoo's - or not.  He doesn't care if they're smarter, faster, thinner, fatter, or prettier than him.  He just cares if they would be a real friend to him.

He doesn't care about Republicans, Democrats, Liberals, or Conservatives.  He just cares if the people attached to those labels are nice to him. If they respect him. If they protect him from harm. If they will serve him as their constituent too.

He doesn't distinguish between Baptists, Buddhist's, Muslim's, Methodist's, Christians, or Catholics.  He just cares whichever one will welcome and make a place for him at their church.

That's what keeps me sane in the insanity called "Life with Autism". Being constantly challenged to see the world and God through my son's eyes, not mine.

~~~~~~~

Today is the day after the Chic-Fil-A appreciation day.  Children are still hungry.  Every other basic human right in America is still being threatened without outrage. We are being genetically modified by vaccinations and food.  We are being doped and drugged by the Pharmaceutical industry.  Politicians and policies are being bought by their profits. We have skyrocketing debt, no money to give to organizations who help those who no one else will help, yet we collectively spent a small fortune supporting a business that was never, ever in danger of losing not one expansion possibility or ounce of profit.

And there are still 1 in 88 children, youth, and adults with autism. 

And as far as Christians and the church?

I know that I will remember yesterday as the day satan collected winnings on a bet made with someone about how on a Wednesday he can get more Christians standing room only at a fast-food restaurant than at a revival or prayer meeting at church.

Blown Away

 I'm strangely drawn to listening to the Carrie Underwood song, "Blown Away."

I guess because this has been a season where there have been many things I've wanted blown away.  Autism, seizures, gastrointestinal disorders, unexplained health regression.... 

On top of that, when the dry lightening of disappointment cracked across our sky not once, but twice in a row (lightening isn't supposed to strike the same place twice) it was enough to send storm clouds gathering in my eyes for sure.  I found my staunch faith slowing simmering into snarky fuming at the God who would allow such unfairness.  Life with Autism was enough to deal with in causing my Angel-of-a-son's health to be buried in the ground so to speak. I didn't need the added burden of life itself  being a mean old mister. 

Seemed a twister of unanswered prayer had come for a season and was attempting to blow my faith away. 

I think we're dishonest when as Christians we portray that those things don't happen to us.  That we don't have those un-Christian-like conversations with God.  Yes, we remain as positive as we can, but sometimes we can't hide the disappointment we feel inside.  It does my witness no good to portray that through this season I've had no doubts about God's ability to answer prayer.  His willingness to answer prayer I guess I should say.  Ok fine, his ability and willingness to answer prayer in the way I wanted it answered.  It does my witness no good to hide that I haven't at one time or another called God a "mean old mister".  I guess my only redemption is that I knew while saying it, that I really didn't mean it. And I've told God as much. We are to revere God as the Holiness he is, and not joke or take that lightly.  I have, and do, ask him for forgiveness when my flesh gets the best of my faith in doing that.

Which is why I'm thankful for songs that come out at just the right time to get me back on track.  Children with autism aren't the only ones drawn to music as an escape!  Some of my most heartfelt prayers and God-moments have come from listening to Christian music, and even non-Christian music that has touched me in a moving way, such as the country song Blown Away has.  It's caused me to put back into perspective things that I've allowed to be blown way out of perspective.

To put back into perspective who blows them way out of perspective.

It is satan who would cause those storm clouds in my eyes.  Who took all those little things in my  life that happened lately and twisted them into a very powerful tornado that blew away all rational reasoning.  Reminding me of each prayer that wasn't answered in the way I wanted it to be. Causing not one disappointing blow, but two.  Persuading me to see all those things through my eyes, not His.  In what I wanted, not what He had planned.  In what would best serve us, not Him.

The problem with allowing satan to permeate your thinking is that not only is he a powerful tornado who only gets more powerful with each bad thing you attribute to him, but he becomes even more powerful than that when you allow him to blow away all the good things you know to be true.  So much so that all you can then see is the bad, thinking there was never any good!

It is satan who would want me to shatter every window of hope until it's all blown away.
Every brick of love, every board of purpose, every slamming door of prayer blown away until there's not a shred of my faith left standing.  Until there's nothing left of yesterday's blessings.  Until all that I know of Christ (or life) that is pure and good and holy, is blown away.

I'm glad twisters come with a warning siren. 

This song was certainly that for me.

There are going to be many disappointments in life, many things we cannot fix or figure out. Life is at times a mean old mister that often doesn't make sense.

But here's the thing.....

While there may not be enough rain in Oklahoma to wash the hardships out of our house, there is enough compassion through God's mercy to.

While there may not be enough wind in Oklahoma to rip the nails out of the disappointments or sins of the past, there is enough power in God's grace and forgiveness to.

No matter how many tear-soaked whiskey memories or hardships are passed out on the proverbial couch of your house, running away and locking yourself in a shelter praying for a twister to blow it down may do just that, but it will never blow the bad of life completely away.

There's only one twister big and powerful enough to do that.

God.

It is satan who calls us to run to him for sweet revenge.

It is God who pursues us to take shelter in his sweet redemption.

The crucifixion of Christ on the cross reminds me of that.  That "twister" that caused darkness to come over the land that day where at the moment Christ was crucified on that cross, the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom causing the earth to shake and the rocks to split. That twister that wasn't a people's revenge against the carpenter who claimed to be Christ as they had hoped it would be; but rather the Master's sweet redemption of a people through the man who was, is, and always will be, -- the Messiah. 

That twister was not only to blow away the sins of our yesterday, but to give us hope for the future.

Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," says the LORD. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

I'm blown away by that.


I'm thankful for those sirens that go off in my life at just the right time to cause me to seek shelter in God's word.  And I hope that next time a Texas-sized twister of life's unfairness crosses my path for a season, I don't run and lock myself away from God, but rather stand even firmer, embracing whatever comes my way with the promises of God and not the lies of satan -- knowing that when I stand firm with God, satan's twisters (or life's) can never blow me away.

I guess the reason I'm so drawn to that song is because in my mind I sing it for what I've shared here and not for what the lyrics are actually about...

Only God can shatter every sin until they're all blown away.
Every doubt, every disappointment, every disillusionment blown away.
'Til only light's left standing
Not the darkness of yesterday
Every tear-soaked temporary defeat blown away...



 Click here to watch video "Blown Away" by Carrie Underwood.

To Healing!
To Hopeism!
To being "Blown Away" by God's Grace, Mercy, & Love!

HOOYAH!

The "Dang-it" of Disappointment.

I'm doing "The Bible in 90 Days" -- it actually started as my Lent season undertaking that obviously is taking a bit longer than 90 days.  I share a brief blog post about each day's reading on my blog, God's Word Day by Day. When it's all said and done, I'll have "90 Days" of reflection about that journey.  Albeit 90 non-consecutive days....

Anyway, in that journey, I've just finished the book of Job.  Seems lately I haven't just read about his trials, I've lived them.  "Team Guppy" as I call our family -- has lived them.  If you read this blog's posts - you know that over the last 18-20 months we have not only lived with autism, but horrendously uncontrolled seizures in our son who has autism.  There should be a limit on the amount of trials a person must go through, but as we see through Job's life, that isn't always the case. 

For us it certainly hasn't been.

Dang it!

Which brings me to these musings about disappointment.  More specifically, how the heck you handle them.  I'd like to sit here and think that with all my experience in having faced so many of them, I would have a 30-minute power-point all ready to insert here for you to watch and be duly enlightened and amazed by.  But I don't. And I don't want anyone to think for a split-second that I have the arrogance of thinking my disappointments are the worse ever. They aren't.  I guess I could have one slide in that power-point presentation after all.... I do know this about disappointments:  There are others whose disappointments are greater than yours.  And that's something that always balances the scale for me.  It doesn't take away the pain of my disappointments, but it certainly helps to keep them in perspective.

While I can't answer why disappointments happen or how to best handle them, I can share what I've learned about them.  Mainly, that it seems like people today have the attitude that they don't deserve disappointments.  That they somehow take for granted having so many blessings, that how dare the universe send the plaque of a disappointment or bad-day upon them.  The slightest hiccup in a day ruins the entire day for them.  I guess that comes from raising kids by giving them a reward for every good thing they do.  No, not every good thing you do earns a reward, but you do good anyway.  When we grow up expecting good for doing good -- we can't handle bad when it blind-sides us. I credit my childhood for preparing me for my "Life with Autism."  It wasn't perfect.  We didn't win the lottery and have a life of ease because we were good.  Bad things happened despite us being good.  And I was made stronger for it.  When a bad thing happened, it didn't mean we were exempt from more bad things happening.  

Others think that if you just ignore disappointments they'll go away.  They won't.  Pretending satan isn't lurking doesn't mean he isn't.  Pretending you weren't just sucker-punched and had your breath taken away by a disappointment isn't going to take that pain away or make the next breath any easier.  I prefer to see my enemy face-to-face. I prefer to go ahead and face my disappointments, not duck from them. Actually, I'd prefer to blow them up with a canon, but since there isn't a concealed hand-gun license for that -- I have no other choice.

I guess my saving grace in disappointments is humor, albeit sarcastic at times.  Not by choice, but by necessity.  I've heard many times by many people when going through a disappointment:  "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."  While I know they have the best intentions with that statement,  I wonder if they would have wanted someone to say to them if their spouse/relative/best friend died prematurely, "Well, they dropped dead suddenly, but you know, you just have to be thankful and make lemonade!"  That topped only by, "Here, would you like some ice cubes to go in that glass of lemonade you're presently choking on?"

It is true that after life throws you lemons you have lemonade.  I could use a wine cellar in my house to store the barrels of lemonade I have!  But not because I purposefully made it.  It's merely what has oozed out of the lemons that have been pulverized as life threw them at me and they were somehow caught between my head and the wall I was banging against in hurt, confusion, disbelief, or anger.  Sometimes the lemons were thrown so hard at me they were instantly liquefied into lemonade.

Lame cliches' no matter how well-meaning, have no place in helping someone through disappointments.  That's why I love our dearest long-time friends.  The husband is the most laid back person I know, and upon sharing our most recent disappointment with them, his wife texted me his reply of  simply "Dang-it".  I can't tell you how hard I laughed at that.  I could picture his calm self sitting on the couch and upon hearing our news, say simply, "Dang-it!"  And I know that when I get a moment to share with my BFF, she'll have an equally humorous to me "buck-up buttercup" response.  Or she'll come over with a bat and burlap bag and ask me for the address of the person who dared cause our disappointment.

You can't avoid or change disappointments, and there are many times you can't even make the best of them.

Sometimes disappointments are just that --- a "Dang-it!" bleep in an otherwise blessed life.

They are as unfair as life itself.  But I suppose the most merciful thing I have learned about them is that God is still God even though he allows them.

That was the hardest thing to learn about disappointments as a Christian.

Twice in my life I have prayed with everything in me, for something to not happen.  I mean deep-down-to-my-soul praying.  Laying-on-the-floor-with-arms-and-legs-outstretched-crying praying.  All-night-and-all-day praying.  God-will-answer-my-prayer-miracle-believing praying.

And twice those things happened anyway.

Like I said, I have no advice on how to handle that depth of disappointment.  My first reaction was, "Really, God?"   From there my whining only got more pathetic.  Then I got angry.  Then hurt.  I'm still a bit bewildered and in shock.

But even in all that -- I do know that no matter how deep the depth of your disappointment, God is deeper.  Though God may allow disappointments to happen, God is not disappointment. They don't happen because you are bad.  You're not exempt from them because you're good. They just happen.  God is still God.  Life is still good.  I think to further illustrate that to my fractured-faith on that particular day -- at the very moment that second thing in my life I prayed for the most to not happen,  happened - God sent in the middle of a perfectly hot, humid, Houston day -- a hail storm.  Those who know me, know that my most perfect of days, is a dark, stormy, thunderous day.  Hail would just be icing on that type of day for me. And it hailed on top of that dark, stormy, thunderous, 104 degree moment that day.  Big chunks of icy hail in the middle of a hot, humid, Houston day.  It was God reassuring me that he was still God, and that if he could send quarter-sized chunks of hail in a 104 degree day, then he could surely be in control of what we were going through.

God is there in our disappointments whether he shows himself or not. Just because the thing we prayed for most to not happen, happened, doesn't mean prayer doesn't work.  Although admittedly I asked our friends to pray for my husband through a difficult time at work because I was afraid that if I prayed for him I would jinx him!  I didn't want to go three-for-three just quite yet!

(smile)

Like I said, I should be a pro at handling disappointment.  But I'm not.  I sometimes kick, scream, cry, and curse.  I get angry, I get sad.  At times I even laugh.  What I don't do, is run from disappointment. I stand firm and embrace it in all its suckiness.  I don't not dream because of a dream that was shattered.  I don't not pray because a prayer wasn't answered how I wanted.

I've dreamed many wildest dreams for both of my boys, and especially as they pertain to Brandon's healing those dreams have been disappointingly crushed more often than not.  For Matt, disappointingly delayed.   But I still dream them. And I still believe in prayer and in the miracle that dreams can and do come true.

I guess that's the thing I do know about disappointment...

That it's not so much in how you handle it, it's whether you will choose to defeat it or allow it to defeat you.

And I choose to defeat it.

Each and every ding-danged, blasted, gosh-darned time I must.

That's what I appreciate most about "Team Guppy" --- no matter how many times life trips us, kicks us, or knocks us down, -- as long as we have air flowing through our gills, we will rise to the surface and swim on.

Against the tide no less.

There are too many people in this world so defeated by disappointment that they quit daring to dream or do.

Not us.

Not ever.

HOOYAH!

Experiencing God through "Desperate for Respite" ---

I guess what brings me to sharing these thoughts today, is an "Experiencing God" Discipleship Class I attended years ago.  The most significant words to me, came back to me today as I read an e-mail I received about an event cancellation.

The e-mail was from the non-profit organization Desperate for Respite.  Each month that organization has been meeting the needs of parents who are DESPERATE for Respite.  But due to a scheduling conflict that should not have ever been one in the first place, they had to cancel the event.

The parents receiving that notice will be crushed. 

I am crushed because I know that if my son were not attending camp that weekend, I would very much have been counting down the SECONDS until I could take my son there for him to have a fun evening with fellow friends while my husband and I had some much needed "us" time.

I just can't help but remember these words from that "Experiencing God" class:
“Watch to see where God is working and join Him.” 

God is working through Desperate for Respite.  That is an undeniable fact.  The people who run that organization have seen a need, felt a calling, and answered it.  Though at times it has been nothing but struggle.

As Christians sometimes the hardest thing to figure out in serving, is how, when, where.  How do I know I'm doing what I am to be doing?  How do I know where to serve?

"Watching to see where God is working" is the answer to those questions.

"and Joining Him!" is the exclamation point at the end of the sentence.

God is working mightily through Desperate for Respite -- and our community as well as the churches within that community would do very well to join in that.  Not cancel that, not ignore that, not work against that and not try to recreate that on their own.  But to simply partner with that and join in that.

God is using that organization to increase his Kingdom!  Families who perhaps never stepped foot in a church are stepping foot in a church.  They are "Experiencing God" through the hands and feet of the faithful volunteers.

In a day and age that could use all the light it can get, why on earth anyone would work against those who are shining a light or just turn the switch off completely - for any reason -- is beyond me.


Please join me in sharing this June Newsletter for Desperate for Respite -- if you would like to join in where God has been doing a mighty work, please contact them!

~ ~ ~

The opinions and views expressed here are those of Michelle M. Guppy and Michelle M. Guppy only!
MichelleMGuppy@yahoo.com

The Joy Box...

I have a "Joy Box" in my office. 

Got the concept from one of my favorite Christian authors of all time -- Barbara Johnson.  I suppose my motto is from her life --- Choosing Happy, Living Joyfully, Following Christ, and for me, -- Wearing Camo.

She's been through some STUFF in life, but like one of my new motto's -- she "Made her Mess her Ministry".  As part of that ministry, she kept a "Joy box" of things that when life got her down, she would go to that and look through each sentimental picture, thing, or saying, to cheer her up.  I have a "Joy file" as well as a "Joy box" -- I've saved e-mails of thanks from folks about my writings, quotes from people, etc.  Things to encourage me or make me laugh when I need to.

I guess this evening I found myself dreading taking Brandon to the doctor tomorrow because of his shoulder.  It just keeps popping and crackling and my stomach churns each time I hear it.  I hate being a "the glass is half empty" person in situations like that, but I've got a good record going, in how the glass is indeed half empty when it comes to our track record in such doctor visit matters.

And of course, misery loves company, so I thought about how I was missing my son Matt as well.  How we are back to "Boot Camp" days of little to no communication.  (Anything less than a Skype a day, a call a day, and a dozen texts a day, in this mamma's book translates to "little to no communication.)

So I found myself digging through my "Joy box" and I came across Brandon's t-shirt I had put in there long ago...

 
Not only has he grown since that toddler-sized t-shirt -- but he's changed.  I've changed. Our family has changed.  And yes, because of all those changes in us, the world of autism we live in has not only been unlocked, but changed.  We may always have some difficulties, but in just looking back at that t-shirt and how autism affected the newly diagnosed boy who wore it at that time, compared to the young man of now, -- oh my ---  how.he.has.changed.

Some things however, ahem Matthew, - don't change!  Ha ha ha....

I actually had to resort to my "Joy file" of humorous quotes to get me over missing my Matt.  I came across this one:

“Cheer Up the worst is yet to come!”
― Barbara Johnson

I think I put that in there during a particularly "high volume call period" from the AP at his High School to me at home.  I think that might have been the time the track coach asked if he could have free reign to discipline Matt for driving to Sonic during practice, and when Matt felt he could just leave school to drive to Wal-Mart to get a poster board for his next class and have no one notice.  (Which, the way he drives, I'm sure he indeed felt he could get there and back between classes!)

But much like that t-shirt of Brandon's -- that quote I put in there for Matt has proven true too! The worst kind of worrying for a parent is yet to come for us!  Matt is now in a training program that will test him, and us, in every way possible.  Oh, for those AP phone calls instead of dreading a phone call that he's injured or something! 

Which is why a parent shouldn't worry in the first place.  There's always going to be something worse to worry about, than the trivial thing you're worrying about right now!  Ha ha ha....

I even have a quote in there for that situation:

“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out. ”
― Barbara Johnson

That puts a lot of my worrying into perspective. 

Assures me that there is purpose in all things.

My Joy box reminds me that sometimes when I think I'm not getting anywhere, I need to go back and be reminded of where I've been. But most of all, my Joy box reminds me to laugh, and to laugh deeply.  Something Barbara Johnson's writings were all about.  Using humor to cope.

She laughed deeply, as do I each time I read this very last note my beloved Grandpa ever left under my pillow.  It was a tradition of his to when they left from a visit, leave a note to me under my pillow that I would find that night.

Ha ha ha, - sorry Grandpop, but as many things in my life that have changed for the better ---- "cutting down on my sassing" hasn't been one of them!

But then again that's probably what has allowed me to bring about the most change in the autism world we live in..........

To each of us having a Joy box full of joy, love, and laughter!
To changing the world we live in!
To HOPEISM!

To all the Warrior Moms of Autism on Mother's Day.

It's no secret that I have a high regard and respect for the U.S. Navy SEALs.  My son's hero is a Navy SEAL, and because of that I have read all there was to read about them.

As a Warrior Mom of Autism, those books have inspired me.  Those books share about the mental strength one has to have to be a SEAL.  The same mental strength a Warrior Mom of Autism must have as well! 

SEALs for the most part fight enemies they can see using a battle-tested strategy they have studied and prepared for.  Warrior Mom's have no such intel and must fight an enemy we can't even see --- autism.  Oh, we know it's there and has captured our child - what we can't see is exactly where it is.  What we don't know most of the time is what to do.  Mainly for me because my son can't tell me where it hurts.  What is bothering him.  How I can help him.  SEALs must fight the enemy using rules of engagement that aren't fair.  Mom's like me are engaged by an enemy whose rules constantly change and whose tactics aren't ever fair.  

SEALs become SEALs because that is what they want to be. They fight because they chose a path that would necessitate they do that.  Warrior Mom's are not Warrior Mom's because that's what they wanted to be.  They were made to be.  They fight not because they wanted to, but simply because they have to. 

Navy SEALs enlisted.

Warrior Mom's didn't.

SEALS are the best of the best, that one percent of the nation whose character, willpower, strength and stamina cannot be beat. 

The Warrior Mom's I know are the same. 

To become a Navy SEAL, that BUD/S Candidate must go through a grueling testing.  One of the "highlights" in that hell, is Hell Week.  Those candidates must endure every form of physical training and "surf torture" a person could endure, all while not sleeping for more than four hours that entire week.  Some Warrior Mom's I know have gone weeks on four hours of sleep. That Hell Week pushes those candidates to the ultimate extreme of what a person can handle both physically and mentally.  As does Autism. They must be able to endure and survive Hell Week if they ever hope to survive a deployment to a war zone once a Navy SEAL.  We must survive a diagnosis of autism if we ever hope to rescue our child from it.  It's an unforgiving training, and one that is necessary if they are to become what they want to become and are -- the Nation's best of the best.

As much as "Hell Week" is the highlight of a Navy SEALs training, "The Bell" is the highlight of Hell Week. The bell as pictured above, is located at the "Drop Area" on the base in Coronado where they train.  When a candidate can endure no more, for reasons only they know, they take that solemn walk to where the bell is and they ring it.  They place their helmet under that bell on the concrete in a row where others before them have done the same. To the candidates who see that bell each and every day, it is either a friend or a foe.  It is a motivator encouraging and challenging candidates to Never Quit as much as it is a tease that begs them, taunts them, and assures them they will give up and quit.

The test for a SEAL wanna-be -- is which voice will win.

I guess for me on this Mother's Day, as a Warrior Mom of Autism, -- I find that bell and all it represents more inspiring than any gift or Hallmark Card.  I know that as a mom whose son is severely affected by autism and in all the ways that diagnosis has affected our lives - that bell represents all the extremes I have endured.  All that all Warrior Mom's of Autism endure.  In what we have to go through each and every day from the moment our child is taken by autism.  In trying to reclaim them from that autism we sometimes daily go through our own Hell Week.  For the SEALs, "The Only Easy Day was Yesterday".  For us, "There Ain't No Easy Day."

Heck, there ain't even no bell for us to ring even if we wanted to!

Let that sink in...

In their training, the elite of the elite have a bell to ring for their pain to stop when they've had enough.  They can choose to ring it and be free of the pain, or go on enduring the pain for the triumph over it that their earned Trident pin, the symbol of a Navy SEAL, will bring.

I know no Warrior Mom of Autism who has given up.

What I do know, is that there is a row of helmets of those who have tried to defeat us or our child, but failed.

The reward for those of us who never give up isn't a trident to wear, but our child that we've healed.

Or died trying to...

And that's what I want to share with my autism-mom friends on this day.  Especially for those like me whose child cannot even make them a card for Mother's Day or tell them that they love them.

That you are the top one percent of Mother's in this Nation, in this World. 

You have endured what no typical Mother could ever endure.

You have made it through each Hell Week autism has thrown at you.

You were not given a bell to ring when you've had enough and wanted to quit - and even if there were one for you to ring ---


You wouldn't.


From reading about Navy SEALs to keep my own mental strength where it needs to be to survive autism, I came across Richard "Mack" Machowicz and his "NDCQ" (Not Dead Can't Quit) philosophy.

I'll leave you with his encouraging words on this Mother's Day---

Dream! Dare! Do!  N D C Q!!

Keep DREAMING the wildest dreams for your child...
Keep DARING to defy those who say those dreams can't come true...
Keep DOING all that is in your power to change attitudes, policies, discrimination....

To HOPEISM!

HOOYAH!