I Hurt For Him

        There are moments when David's eyes find mine. Filled with earnest intention and pleading they hold onto my gaze. His hands move about as he babbles, "Aa, da, da, da." 
        He's trying to tell me something. 
        But like a bud, unopened, his thoughts remain tightly wrapped within. I long to get inside his head. To know what he's thinking. How much he understands. 
        I want to see the world through his eyes. Know of his pain and fears, his hopes and joy.
        If only I could break through that wall of silence and frustration. 
        Then, maybe, I could really help him.
        I provided him with physical, speech, occupational and feeding therapy--sometimes all in the same week. I consulted with the best and most acclaimed therapists in the valley. We even attended a five week behavioral feeding program in New Jersey. 
        One of the many doctors I saw said, "I admire a mother who is prepared to go to the ends of the earth for her child." 
        "We recognize you're a force to be reckoned with," another doctor said.
        Maybe so.
        But I didn't cure David of autism.              
        I can't fix him. I can't make it better. I can't give him a normal life. 

        I get to stand by, knowing of all he'll never do and all he'll never become. 

        Maybe he's unaware of his many losses, but I'm not. 

        So I hurt for him.

        He'll always depend on others, never knowing the satisfaction of caring for himself, or the freedom of independent living. Confined to his own lonely world he'll never know the joy of marriage or the tenderness of holding his own child. 

        As he struggles to reach out and connect with others, I wonder if he'll ever have a friend.      

        I asked a 70-year-old friend of mine who has a disabled child if the pain ever goes away. She smiled wisely and shook her head, recounting how she now feels sad her 40-year-old son will never get married and have a family of his own. 

        "Each life phase brings a new reason for mourning," she explained.

A Mother's Arms

"Many a mother's arms and heart have ached years on end, giving comfort and relieving the suffering of her special child."

 

(James E. Faust, in "The Works of God," Ensign, Nov 1984)

Christmas and the Temple

                 It didn’t seem like there was time for Christmas that year. I was in the middle of moving, with one house to organize and unpack and another to clean and fix up. Weighed down by many responsibilities I felt a little resentful of the holiday season. I wasn’t ready to feel any Christmas cheer.

            A week earlier I’d tried to keep my monthly commitment to attend the temple. After getting up at 5 a.m. on a frozen Saturday morning, I made my way to the Jordan River Temple, only to discover it was closed! I turned my car around and headed for the Salt Lake Temple. But icy roads and a freeway detour brought me home again. 
            Weighed down with frustration and a sense of failure, I promised myself, “Next week.”

            But as Saturday approached, the last one before Christmas, I wondered if I’d make it. There was still so much to do—clean, decorate, bake and wrap. Maybe the temple would just have to wait.

            Fortunately commitment triumphed as I took my seat in the chapel of the Salt Lake Temple. Quietly I waited for an endowment session to begin. In the background I heard the tune of a familiar Christmas carol. 

            Christmas carols in the temple?

            At first this music seemed a little out of place. But as I allowed the words to fill my mind, the Spirit spoke to my heart and opened my mind.

            Sitting in a room filled with waiting people, I imagined what it must have been like to wait for the Savior’s birth. A thrill of joy surged through me. How exciting it must have been for the shepherds in the fields and the choirs of angels to know of His birth. 

            I felt a little of the joy they undoubtedly felt. Then I realized how exciting it is for me today, right now, to know of His birth—a cause for celebration! And that’s what Christmas really is—the excitement, the joy and the thrill of having Christ come to earth.

            At the end of the endowment session I headed out of the celestial room, and then halted. Towering above me in the air on the right was a magnificent painting of the Risen Lord. 

           As I stood there in awe of this beautiful artwork, it felt as if I’d been greeted by my Savior. The Spirit reached down into the depths of my soul and filled me with peace and joy—this was His house and He was there. 

           I thought back on the joy I’d felt earlier while sitting in the chapel, the excited anticipation of those who waited for Christ’s birth. Then I realized the anticipation of waiting for Christ to come had been fulfilled for me that day. Through temple worship, He had come into my heart. 

            As I headed home into the congested traffic, I felt untouched by the frenzy of last-minute shoppers around me. Overcome with love for the Savior, I’d been filled with the true spirit of Christmas. Not to be found in the busy shopping malls or under a perfectly decorated tree, but within the quiet walls of the temple. 

            There I discovered: we celebrate the joy of Christ coming to earth by allowing Him to come into our hearts. 

Book Review and Giveaway: Carol of the Tales and Other Nightly Noels

Carol of the Tales and 

Other Nightly Noels: 

An Advent Anthology, 

Volume 2

Christmas carols capture the spirit of Christmas, and Carol of the Tales and Other Nightly Noels brings beloved carols to life like never before. Throw your cares away with the tales from sweet silver bells. Find out how Santa Claus dabbles in time travel, and feel the redemption of a dying wife's parting Christmas gift. Experience all this and more in these heartfelt, entertaining tales donated by a team of authors from across the country, working together for a good cause. The proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated toward Autism research and advocacy.

Anthology authors include: Shirley Bahlmann, C. David Belt, Rebecca Carlson, Loretta Carter, Madonna D. Christensen, Danyelle Ferguson, C. Michelle Jefferies, Theric Jepson, Ryan Larsen, Angie Lofthouse, Betsy Love, J. Lloyd Morgan, Janet Olsen, Teresa G. Osgood, Brian Ricks, Jennifer Ricks, Peg Russell, and Michael Young.

Carol of the Tales is the 2nd book in the Advent Anthology series. Both anthologies are available in paperback and Amazon Kindle formats from Amazon.com. 

Purchase “Sing We Now of Christmas”: http://amzn.com/1479266248

Purchase: “Carol of the Tales”:  http://amzn.com/1484145526

To kick off the release of the second anthology, a Christmas concert will be held at American Fork Junior High on December 7^th, 2013. The concert will feature the Saltaires Barbershop Chorus. All proceeds from this concert will be donated to charity as well. Purchase: Tickets for the Concert: https://tickettool.net/en/index/eventpopup/b54dab4bd0a13fa6975068f4784dfaa5

Blog Tour Giveaway!

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Living in Hope

"I bear witness of that day when loved ones whom we knew to have disabilities in mortality will stand before us glorified and grand, breathtakingly perfect in body and mind. What a thrilling moment that will be! I do not know whether we will be happier for ourselves that we have witnessed such a miracle or happier for them that they are fully perfect and finally 'free at last.' Until that hour when Christ's consummate gift is evident to us all, may we live by faith, hold fast to hope, and show 'compassion one of another.'"

Holland. Jeffrey, R. "Like a Broken Vessel," Ensign, Nov. 2013)

The Kindness of Others

    It was Sunday afternoon. We were in our usual spot. While the rest of the congregation enjoyed sacrament service from the chapel, we occupied the foyer. Emma ran around gleefully, enjoying the independence that comes with being two. David was strapped into his blue Graco stroller. The one we used for him when he was a toddler, now a few sizes too small. His lanky five-year-old legs sprawled past the foot rest and touched the floor. Although a tight fit, he was contained. Our only assurance he wouldn’t make a mad dash from the building.

            He was chewing a small, white towel. The one we used to manage his chewing compulsion and keep his Sunday shirt from developing holes.

            Jeff, an especially kind man in our ward, passed by. After greeting Rob and I, he hunched down in front of the stroller and attempted to connect with David. Immune to his attempts, David stared away.

    Jeff then picked up the dry end of the towel hanging from David’s mouth, and put it in his own mouth. David’s eyes widened with delight. Jeff now had his full attention.

    Together they played a game of tug-of-war, each clenching a corner of the towel between their teeth.

            Rob and I smiled at each other and then we laughed as the game ended. David took the well-soaked, soggy corner from his own mouth and held it up to Jeff’s—rewarding him with his favorite oral companion.

    Not only had Jeff taken the time to connect with David, but he’d won his heart. 
    I loved Jeff for loving David.

    When people are kind to David I feel Heavenly Father’s love for me. It’s easy for others to look away and pretend they don’t notice him. Some refrain from interacting with him out of feeling awkward or uncomfortable. They politely keep their distance out of not wanting to interfere or give offense.

    Then there are those who amaze me. They go out of their way to interact with my son, even when he doesn’t respond or tries to avoid them.

    I feel God’s love through their kind actions.

Stellar Spirits

"Stellar spirits are often housed in imperfect bodies. The gift of such a body can actually strengthen a family as parents and siblings willingly build their lives around the child born with special needs."

(Nelson, Russell, M. "Decisions for Eternity,"  Ensign, Nov. 2013)

The First Time I Held You

           David was two weeks old when I held him for the first time. For two long weeks I anxiously waited for that sacred moment. To wrap my arms around his tiny body and claim him. Mine.
          Still connected to multiple wires and IV's, he was placed in my arms and we shared our first embrace. 
          At first it felt awkward as the nurse re-positioned him multiple times. His neck needed to be properly supported so his airway would remain open and the web of wires connected to him needed to remain intact. Nervously I watched the monitors to ensure there weren't any drastic changes in his heart rate or oxygen level.
          All around me, from different angles, Rob furiously clicked the camera.
          Caressing my precious bundle confirmed I was a mother. With his heart beating close to mine, I held him for as long as I was allowed. He belonged to me and I wanted him to feel this bond. For a few, short moments he opened his eyes and I was there to look back at him.
          His little person warmed the left side of my chest. My body held onto this sensation even after I set him down. When I arrived home I continued to feel a warm spot in my chest from where his head had been resting--a physical reminder of that precious time we spent together.
           David means beloved. That was the right name for my baby. I couldn't imagine loving him more than I did at that moment.

A Child Shall Lead Them

"One of the great discoveries of parenthood is that we learn far more about what really matters from our children than we ever did from our parents."

 

(Packer, Boyd, K. "And A Little Child Shall Lead Them," Ensign, May 2012, 8.)