Believe

A few days ago, Jonathan and I visited a group home in the area and talked for some time with the remarkable woman who started it for her own son who is developmentally disabled.  Jon was ready to move in. He had brought a bagful of personal items from home and found the only empty bedroom in the house, immediately claiming it by putting his things on the bed and shutting himself inside. 

These homes are costly to operate, about the price of private college tuition per person, per year. Florida, like most of our United States, is broke and budgets are frozen for the Agency for Persons with Disabilities. Jon has had eight cuts to his funding in the last two years and we've heard another big one is on the way next year. Presently, not one extra dollar of funding is available unless families are in crisis, which is defined by the state as parents or caregivers who are too sick or too dead to care for their loved one anymore.

The question that haunts every parent of a disabled child-what will happen to Jon when we are no longer here? The state will step in and place him, but we of course, won't be here to have a say in where he is put.  Not all residential facilities are created equal and some are places you wouldn’t put your dog in, never mind your child. Some families have the means to private pay for long term care but for those of us who don’t; this is a problem that doesn’t go away and one that isn't discussed at presidential debates or anyplace else. This dilemma sticks to the back of our mind like old gum underneath a table, especially as we and our child age.

So what to do?  We pray and trust that our God who created and gave us this person to love and care for will see to Jon’s every need, while we actively turn over each rock and knock on every hopeful door. It seems that we have hit one dead end after another and these situations severely test our faith. If we truly believe that as God's people, our provision ultimately comes from Him, then we know He is able to fulfill the purpose and plan He has for Jonathan. God loves him far more than we do and has not forgotten about him or us, though at times my feelings and what I see with my earthly eyes try to convince me otherwise.

 Christ’s disciples once asked Him, “What are the works God requires of us?” Jesus told them that the work God requires is simply this - to believe (John 6:28-29). The practice of walking by faith rather than by what is seen (2 Corinthians 5:7) in front of us at the moment isn't easy but it ultimately brings us to a place of peace and rest that nothing in this world can offer.

In the Gospel of Mark, chapter nine, a desperate Dad came to Jesus pleading,”Teacher…if You can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”  

Jesus replied, “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.”

Then the father of the child cried out and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”

I identify with this guy. I am him. He is me. He is all of us. But the good news is this; Jesus is greater than my unbelief and He is greater than my problem!  As I wait for the impossible, my faith continues to grow in this difficult place. I'm learning how to wait, trust and believe.

I know from past experience that my faithful God will come through for Jon, for us. It may not happen exactly like I imagine or at the time I think is right but it will happen in His time, in  His way and you will hear me shouting from here when it finally does :)

Psalm 37:7 Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him…

Lessons from My Garden-Embracing Change

When we moved from New England to Florida, I was astounded at the difficulties I encountered  gardening. I assumed the Sunshine State, the place where it doesn’t snow and temperatures rarely fall below freezing would be a gardener’s paradise, but when I tried to follow my northern habit of a summer vegetable garden, I was discouraged to the point of giving up.  

Because gardening was so different here, from the other places we have lived, I began consulting knowledgeable sources to enlighten me. I was determined to learn. My first surprise was the realization that it is pointless to plant in the summer months. Tropical plants thrive then, but typical vegetable plants that go into a northern garden can’t survive the harsh conditions of this sub-tropical season; it is too hot, humid and buggy.

I quickly learned that sand is the soil of Florida and nothing but native plants grow well in it, all soil has to be amended for planting flowers or vegetables. For that reason, the easiest way to grow a veggie garden is in raised beds or containers. I also discovered that pests and plant disease are multiplied by the year-round mild climate. Without a long season of winter freeze to kill off major populations of pests, they survive and replenish to destroy a vegetable garden in short order.  

Once I figured out what works, gardening became easy and fun. To my delight, there are two growing seasons, fall and early spring. Fall vegetable gardens are planted September through early October and can be replanted in mid-February through mid-March after the danger of January’s few frost and freezing nights are past. Having two crops a year doubles the joy. 

There are times and seasons when it is necessary to let go of the old way of doing a thing and try something new. We often balk at change, but someone has defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Wisdom to know when to hang on to something or let it go is a struggle we all face. If my relationships, my mind, health, spirit or any area of life seems withered and wilted or non-productive it is worthwhile to consider that my attitude, behavior, approach or strategy needs to be altered. 

Is it time to let go and try something new? Go to Jesus, the source of life, and become a student of the One who created you. Spend time with Him and learn of Him (Matthew 11:29). The Master Gardener of the human heart knows exactly what is needed to cause the garden of your life to bloom; all you need to do is ask.

James 1:5 (NLV) If you do not have wisdom, ask God for it. He is always ready to give it to you and will never say you are wrong for asking. 

Patience

People tell me I’m a very patient person. They think I was born that way because they don’t know what I’ve been through to get here.

I woke Jon up today at 8:30 am with a hope of making it to his program by Noon-ish. At 2 pm he moseyed out of his room and got in the car. So much for that! Since he was already in the car, I decided we were hungry so I brought him to a local sports grill/deli we like, got out of the car and took a seat at a patio table outside the establishment to wait for him to join me. This is what Jon did after I left the car (I actually timed all of this, for something to do):

12 minutes -  Sat inside the car. 

3 minutes –  Stayed in the car after he finally opened the door. 

8 minutes -  Stood next to the car looking around, staring at the ground, doing ?????, just standing there! He finally closed the door. I locked the door with my remote.

4 minutes – Fooled with door handle. Punched numbers into an “imaginary” keypad on the door, used some gadget from his pocket as a “remote” to pretend he was locking or unlocking the door.

2 minutes – Stood by the car some more.

2 minutes – Stood on the grass median that divides the parking lot from the driving lane.

1 minute – Walked across driving lane to restaurant. Thank goodness no one ran over him!

2 minutes – Stood outside the restaurant door.

I stood up, opened the door and waited for him to go through. He stopped in the doorway so I booted him inside. That was at 3:15 pm and we’re still here. It is now 7:00 pm and all he has eaten is French fries and half a slider.

So here are my options: go stark raving crazy or learn patience? Most of the time I opt for the latter! 

Anybody need more patience? Will let you borrow Jon for as long as needed….Anyone? Please??

Philippians 4:11 I have learned [am learning-help me Jesus!] how to be content in any circumstance

When Friends Become Family

In 1985, while living in New Hampshire, we heard of a small church in a small town, south and slightly west of Portland, Maine, that needed a pastor. Mike was asked to fill the pulpit on rotating Sundays until this congregation could find someone permanent. The first Sunday we were there, a couple who attended the church invited us over for lunch. From that day until this, some twenty eight years later, Earl and Pat have impacted our lives in ways I would never imagine.

Like all of us, I’ve had innumerable acquaintances and friends over the years, but I’ve discovered that there are only a handful of folks in life that spark a connection that is both immediate and deep. From the moment you say, “Hello, my name is….” they are destined to be indelibly inscribed on your heart. This was the instantaneous bond that took place between Pat and I that Sunday, with no regard for the twenty years in age difference between us.

As circumstances would have it, we became pastor of that small church for a time and moved to Maine. Our friendship with Earl and Pat deepened and evolved past the norm. We became family, though we don’t share a drop of natural blood. Being part of God’s family, with the precious spirit of Christ coursing through our veins, while sharing life together made us family in every way possible.

By the time Earl retired from his trade and took up another occupation on Catalina Island, off the coast of California, we were moving back to New Hampshire. The miles between didn’t discourage us though.  There were many trips, criss-crossing to wherever we each happen to live at the moment; California, New Hampshire, back to Maine when they finally returned to New England and then to Florida following our move here.  After months or even a few years of separation, it was as if we had never been apart. We just picked up where we left off and expanded the bond of love even further.

Earl and Pat accepted and loved our oldest son, born with special needs and all the challenges that presented, without hesitation. Pat was with me when our second son was born and watched him come into the world. They gladly became substitute grandparents to our boys. Pat helped and encouraged me through years of struggling with severe rheumatoid arthritis, even while she was dealing with chronic illness herself. She was there for me when my mother passed away. We have carried each other through many sorrows, cried together, prayed together, laughed hysterically as often as possible and rejoiced together in times of joy and celebration.  

I write this on a plane, flying back home to Florida after visiting my beloved “family” in Maine. I am now the age Pat was when we first met and Earl and Pat are getting along in years. Pat has health issues that make it difficult for them to travel like they once did, but as the years pass, our love for one another remains immovable, solid, strong.

We are not given the option to select the family we are born into and even though we choose our friends, I believe God directs our steps and the details of our days. He ordains certain people to come along side and walk with us and they decide whether to remain in our lives or not. The few that stick it out through all our stuff are true jewels. Those who see and know us as we truly are, in our strengths, weaknesses, faults, failures, through the better and worse, and keep coming back, are the genuine treasures in life we all hope to find.  These rare gems outshine all others, just like the beautiful sea glass that my children used to uncover, hidden in billions of stones on our favorite Maine beach.

Pat has filled many roles in my life - as needed: friend, sister, mother, grandmother, counselor, comforter, caregiver; but most of all she is the true definition of family and because of her and Earl, I and my family have been blessed beyond measure.  At this moment, while I contemplate the mystery and delight of our long lasting friendship, I am aware that I am inept to adequately express my gratitude…..

So I just say, to my beloved friends, from the very depths of my heart……I love you and thank you for being my family.

 Proverbs 17:17 (The Message Bible) Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together in all kinds of trouble.

Special Gathering

Mike and I attended a leadership conference at a large church in central Florida recently, a district event that happens yearly. It was state of the art- first rate. 

There’s nothing wrong with that. I love elegance as much as anyone and observed a stunning and modern campus with sleek grounds, perfectly edged grass and lush Florida landscape; a separate school building that rivaled anything the public system has to offer; a coffee shop that many of the ‘relevant’ churches are now sporting, a variety of workshop help sessions throughout the day and Christian vendors lining the hallways promoting books and curriculum for various types of church ministry programs; a contemporary sanctuary with layers of balcony graduating in a graceful flow up the side walls; up-to–date media, technology, sound equipment and lighting; a hip looking worship team spread out across the platform, beautiful voices and amazing harmonies lifted up to God along with a full worship band consisting of keyboards, guitars and drums; and of course, the awesome big name speaker with a soul searching, heart stirring message, that any pastor hopes to have as a guest in their pulpit. 

I marveled at the excellence of a people doing God’s work in a Florida community, giving their very best to the Lord. It radiated out of every pore of the facility and this event.

As I took all this in, snapshots of another service I attended earlier in the week were darting through my mind.  

 Joyful Noise* is a gathering for adults who are mentally challenged and other than the format of a service there isn’t much typical about it.  I take Jon there on Tuesday afternoons. It meets at a small church that is neat and clean but certainly not fancy, just like the special people who show up for this gathering.  Most of them, fifteen to twenty, come with caregivers or parents. They attend adult day programs and live in group homes or with parents or a family member.  A few have part time jobs and their own assisted living apartment. They are an eclectic mix of personalities, abilities and behaviors trying to survive in a world that isn’t always sure where they belong, but here, during this time set aside for them and Jesus, they understand that He accepts them just as they are.

Snacks and ‘fellowship’ start the service.  After everyone settles into a seat, prayer requests are taken, some like those we all have and some more unique:   

“Pray for my friend at the group home, he is sick.” “My grandmother is having an operation.” “Pray for Junior to be forgiven.” What?! Who’s Junior? 

Caregivers and parents give each other puzzled glances. We smile, shrug our shoulders, write it down and move on only to find out later that Junior is our last president, George Bush, and the one requesting this is an avid Democrat who thinks Obama is great and Bush needs to repent. 

I guess that’s not so unusual after all. Just watch CNN or MSNBC for five minutes.

After prayer it’s time to worship and small instruments are handed out- tambourines, maracas, mini drums with one short drum stick. 

Peter can’t or doesn’t talk, but faithfully carries in his karaoke system, in its original box, each week and has carefully set it up on the top step of the platform, plugging in two microphones. He is in charge of playing the selection of songs on CDs for the singing part of the gathering- worship songs and choruses from a few decades ago.

Jon, who keeps to himself, beelines for the real drum set up on stage. He took lessons for a few years (until his brain reached a place of no more comprendo :) when he was a teenager. He keeps a rather proficient rhythm going while everyone else banging a mini percussion instrument attempts to keep up. 

Once the music starts anyone can come up and ‘’lead’’ the song that is playing. The social ones in the group- Jerry, Neil, Debbie and Hazel are happy to comply, more than once if possible. One or two of them run to the front and grab a microphone. 

Peter sits on the step next to his sound system making the sign of the cross with his index fingers. Kyle smiles, looks up at the ceiling and rocks back and forth in his chair. Lisa shouts, pumps her arms in the air and laughs.  Leslie lies with his twisted limbs restricted to his stroller like wheel chair, grinning and moaning with the music. Jimmy sits cross legged in the front row, watching and hoping someone will let him play his CD he brought from home. The new guy feels a seizure coming on, stands up and bolts out the door, his caregiver running after him.  

The music and singing flow on. We barely sing on key or in unison and no one notices, especially God. We all feel Him in the room, walking and smiling among these people who believe in Him with all their hearts and adore Him with the simplicity of childlike faith. 

Church services are part and parcel of my life. Being raised in the church from a young age and involved in church work and ministry most of my adult life, there is little about the church and its people that surprise me. I love God’s people and all that comes with being a part of them. I love worshipping my Lord in the midst of His saints. 

But this world of the disabled, where I am surrounded by an often forgotten segment of humanity, feels like another planet compared to the “normal” church services I find myself in. It is a place few experience, a place of total acceptance, openness, and love. There are no professional voices, worship bands, state-of-the-art sound or video and no façade or pretense; just simple people with nothing to hide, who meet to praise a Jesus who loves and accepts them for who they are. His presence is the one place where they are completely loved.

As I stood with a thousand or so people during the evening service of the conference, a video of our Tuesday special gathering replayed again and again in my heart. God was reminding me that the external mechanics of our modern, western Christianity are just side benefits to the real purpose. What He desires are a people who will worship Him in spirit and truth regardless of the bells and whistles. 

On Tuesdays with Jon and his unique peers, Sundays with a full congregation and all the trimmings or any day all by myself, God is great and worthy to be praised.  As long as my heart always makes Him priority, the externals, while nice, really don’t matter. 

Any time He dwells among a people whose most fervent desire is to give back to Him all the worship He deserves, that is the most special gathering of all.

*Joyful Noise meets at My Refuge Church on Firehouse Road, Deland, FL from 3:30pm to 5pm every Tuesday. Adults with disabilities, their families and caregivers are invited to attend.