Why Did God Give Me a Child with a Special Need?

April 23, 2013 18 Comments

Butterfly-Boy-Special-NeedYesterday I was stumped when a reader asked me this question … causing me to pray for a response to one of the most difficult, baffling questions a parent of a special needs kid can ever face.

Have you ever asked God this question?:

Why, God, did you give me a child with a special need?

First let me say that I wouldn’t begin to tell you that I know the mystery of God’s limitless wisdom. But I will tell you this: I know that God’s promise that “all things will work together for our good.”  (Romans 8:28) … is very true.

Please don’t shut me out just yet!

I’m not tossing you another platitude, one of those tiring, meaningless statements that you’ve no doubt heard before. I understand that when we are in the muck of life with our child, we want more than a quick response to a difficult problem. We want help and answers right now, so it is hard to care about the bigger picture, to somehow make sense of today’s sorrow for a greater purpose in your life.

And yet, I am not kidding you. Being the mother of a child with autism … has blessed our family.

I want to be real with you, though: Was it hard? OH YES. Were there days I wanted to give up? YOU KNOW IT! MANY TIMES! (and somedays I still do). Did I get angry at God on hard days? YES, I DID! (but He can take my frustrations and love me still.) In the early years, Alec was very difficult to parent. But with the passing years, winter to spring and summer to fall, he gets better while I get stronger, and all thanks to God’s faithful help.

And that’s the key.

I have learned to lean on God—hard—to get us through the difficult days. I have learned to LOOK UP to God instead of looking at my circumstances. And I find that after all of the trials, year after year and minute by minute, we have survived. God has proven that He is faithful. That we can still laugh. We can still smile. With dirt on our faces, standing in the muck of life, we can see with our own eyes that life is precious and holy… when God is in control.

Living with a child with special needs is a great journey. Yes, there are impossibly hard days, but also some amazing victories.

The truth? If you can believe me…I wouldn’t trade my rock-filled path with anyone. Looking back on it all, I would never ask for another mom’s road.

So we come full circle, back to the original question: Do you know why I personally, truly, and honestly think God gave me an autistic son?  Are you ready for this? If so, here is my answer:

I think He gave me an autistic son because He really, really loves me. He wanted me to discover just how faithful He really is. He wanted to give me a gift that no man could take away: A special knowledge of the power, strength, holiness, faithfulness, might and wisdom of God that only comes from NEEDING HIM DESPERATELY.

I believe that it is the answer. I also believe that is why He gave you a child like my Alec. Because He really loves you, and He wants to show you just how much.

There’s so much more that I’d like to share with you, especially if you are a loved one of a special needs child.

Most importantly, God is very able to help you and your sweet child.  Not only is He able, but He desires to surround you with His strength, patience and love.  He’s proven that love by giving us an inheritance of promises that we can count on to make it through the hard days.

Better still, God sent the very best Advocate (John 14:16 and 1 John 2:1) we could ever want for our child! This Advocate is one that we don’t have to seek out. We won’t need to place a second (or third) mortgage on our house to afford His services. He knows everything about our child: their innermost thoughts, the words they say (or cannot say), and the structure of every cell in their body.

This Advocate hears our children when they cry and whispers comforts to them on long, restless nights. He is the voice that they do not have. The Peace that they seek. The arms that never tire, even when our own arms, as parents, do. He sits at the right hand of Almighty God and has His Father’s ear. He knows that we will encounter trials and hardships, but He has already overcome them, promising rest, guidance and wisdom when we need it.

Our Advocate—Jesus—longs to help you! I know, because He helped me, and He helped my son.

He was there when I’d had enough. He listened when I felt lost and alone in a crazy, messed up world with a child I didn’t know how to communicate with. When I would have given up, He promised a better day for my son … and for me.

I am convinced that God’s ears quicken to the sound of a troubled child’s cry. I know that He listens to every prayer that rises from the lips of a mother.  I know that He is for us.

Our Advocate is standing by. 

Know that God will honor every promise, and I mean every promise, that Scripture gives to His children. I want you to know that you can have joy again, overflowing, spilling out, and never running dry… if you will surrender your cares to Him.  It won’t happen in a day, but trust me, it will happen.

The truth is that we are blessed to love a special needs child. Blessed to experience the beauty of that love.

Yes, that’s what I wanted to tell you.

If you would like to know more about Biblical promises to face a special need—and there are many—that’s what my book Autism’s Hidden Blessings: Discovering God’s Promises for Children with Special Needs is about. It’s about a God who cares VERY MUCH about children with special needs—a message to parents who need to know just how much they are loved. You can preview it by clicking here.

Also, watch two personal stories about the process of finding strength for the special needs journey by checking out the recording from last Sunday’s Spreecast, “Finding Strength for the Autism” (or any special need!) with fellow author Patty Myers, author of the encouraging book, “Autism is a Blessing.”

I want to leave with you with this truth: You and your child are vastly, profoundly, and deeply loved. God is for you!

So walk in the victorious onfidence of Christ today!

Kelly Langston

Filed Under: ADHD, Asperger, Autism, Joy, Kelly Langston, Living Life Daily, Love, Scripture Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

The Power of Laughter: A Story about Holiday Worship Services, an Autistic Son… and Angry Birds

March 26, 2013 31 Comments

This Sunday, Christian families will take their children to an Easter worship service. Many families will be traveling with plans to visit a church home that is not their own. Other families struggle to find a place where their special needs children are welcomed.

Visiting an unfamiliar church, particularly on a holiday, can put a family dealing with autism over the edge.

That’s why I’m sharing a true story with you. If you are stressed out about attending a holiday service, I hope this story makes you realize you are Not Alone. Pull up a chair and let me take you there:

The setting:

A holiday service at my mother’s church in her coastal town. A packed house with many travelers visiting that day.

Rolling into the sanctuary doors — and just in the nick of time (as usual) — are Elise, my eleven-year-old daughter, followed by my husband Matt. I trail behind them with a firm grasp on my then nine-year-old autistic son Alec. We begin the long walk down the center aisle in search of a group of empty seats.

We walk. And walk. And walk. You get the picture.

Elise spots them first: a cluster of seats located three rows from the front. (That’s right! WAY UP in the front. Directly in front of the pastor.)

Now, you might think that a responsible parent would check Alec into a Sunday school class. But we autism parents have superhero-like powers to detect potential problems, and my internal sensors were reading “MELTDOWN PROBABILITY: 99.985%” as I passed the sign-in station for the Sunday school area.

If I checked Alec into this unfamiliar Sunday School class, I knew my pager number would flash on the Time Square-like monitors just minutes into the sermon. Big, bold numbers, shouting a secret language:

“Hey, come and get your son! NOW!”

Not today, I  think. I need church today. Our family was going through a challenging trial, and I was desperate for Biblical encouragement that could nourish my weary soul.

So … Alec comes with us into the sanctuary. We sit down as the lights dim. My husband, seated next to me, asks me to pass Alec his smartphone.

I whisper to Matt, “Is the sound switched to “OFF?“

“I double-checked it.” He leans over me and instructs Alec to play only the Angry Birds game.

The service was wonderful. I was refreshed as I stood proudly with my family, belting out worship songs as loudly as I could. I dutifully jotted down the pastor’s meticulously-planned sermon points.

Point One. Point Two. Point Three.

Eventually the pastor began his summary statement, wrapping up his holiday message into one powerful point that we could take home to ponder at our leisure.

“And finally, what we can learn from today’s Bible story is …” the pastor began, hovering a few feet from my sweet little family.

I couldn’t help but smile. Here I was, a typical, proud mama with her well-behaved family on this beautiful holiday weekend.

Until …

And that’s when it happened.

Somehow, in some way, Alec managed to restore the sound on Matt’s smartphone. And it wasn’t quiet. It was loud. Very loud.

There is really no way for you to get the full effect of this story other than to let you hear the actual sound yourself.

Click on this video, and you, too, can experience the beautiful backdrop that my son generously provided for the pastor’s closing sermon point: (Go ahead. Be brave and click the link:)


What happened next was something I will always refer to as “The Miracle on Mother’s Day.” Because to this day, I know that it was a miracle that my son made it out of that sermon alive.

You might think that either I or my husband would have quickly turned off the sound. That did not occur. Believe me, Matt tried. As the entire row in front of us turned to stare, my husband, with the speed of a cheetah, leaned over me and yanked the phone from my surprised son’s hands.

He jabbed at the screen. He punched buttons. He slapped the phone against his palm … but the soundtrack continued.

Quickly, I positioned myself strategically in between my frantic husband and my son, aware that Matt might send my young son on an impromptu trip meet Jesus.  I glanced at my socially-aware middle schooler, Elise.  She was melting into her seat, her face in her hands.

Matt punched. Matt jabbed.  Nothing. The Angry Birds continued to chirp. The pigs squealed. The lady in front of me turned to give us THE STINK EYE. I looked to the left and to the right, and all eyes were on us.

Then my desperate husband, fresh out of alternatives, jumped up and sat down HARD! on his phone, quieting — but not completely blocking  — the sounds. We waited for the video to finish, thirty more seconds of chirps and oinks. It was the longest 1.5 minutes of my life.

Then I heard it, over the muffled sounds of the Angry Birds theme song trumpeting, er, emanating from my husband’s behind. The lady in front of me, the one who gave us THE STINK EYE, started to giggle.  Then I started to giggle with her. Elise lowered her hands from her face, tentatively. And Matt exhaled, a deep breath of surrender.

In that moment, my family, Matt, Elise, Alec and I, surrendered, understanding that:

Living with a special needs child is living a life
that is sometimes out of our control.
And that’s perfectly okay.

We left the service that day with tears of laughter streaming down our faces. We were victors, a family of desperados who survived the Out of Town Holiday Worship Service.

God’s Great Gift of Laughter

Ecclesiastes 3:4  tells us that there is

“a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance.”

I am filled with gratitude for God’s gift of laughter, because there are times when laughter is the only thing that has gotten me through our journey with autism. I remind myself, especially on the hardest of days, to laugh a little each and every day.

In fact, the Bible teaches that strength can be found in the joy of the Lord. (Nehemiah 8:10) Don’t we all need dose of strength for the hard days?

Now It’s Your Turn: Do you have a story to share?

Do you have a funny story to share? If so, please post it in the comments. It’s always a good day to laugh!  And never forget this free tip from my husband, Matt:

Triple-check your smartphone sound settings
before passing it off to your child during Easter service!

Have a Blessed Easter! He is Risen!!!

 - Kelly Langston

Filed Under: ADHD, Asperger, Autism, Behaviors, Joy, Kelly Langston, Living In The Moment, Living Life Daily, Patience, Scripture, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Power of Encouragement

February 26, 2013 16 Comments

The Power of Encouragement

“I bought more candy-grams, Mom,” Alec says with a big smile as we drive home from school just two days before Valentine’s Day.

“Alec, you already bought twelve candy-grams,” I frown. “Do you really need more?”

Alec’s school was selling the candy-grams as a fundraiser for the holiday. For twenty-five cents you could send a single hard candy with a note of friendship.

This particular morning I had asked my sixth-grader to pick a few names of special classmates to send a candy token of friendship.

“So, Alec, how many friends would you like to send a candy-gram?” I asked, leaning against the door frame supervising the early morning routine.

“Oh, lots, Mom,” Alec pulls his sweatshirt over his head. He has forgotten to take off his pajama top first again.

“Yes … but … can you narrow it down a bit, Buddy?” I ask, pulling the sweatshirt back over his head to remove the pajama top. ”Are there any friends who help you every day, Alec? Who are your closest friends?”

“All of them, Mom,” he answers. Uh oh. I realize that we might be heading into trouble.

“Okay, Alec, but let’s keep it to twelve candy-grams, all right?” I run my hands through some serious bedhead. We are going to be late … again.

Driving home that afternoon, Alec tells me that he has surpassed the limit. He has sent sixteen candy-grams.

“Well, that’s okay, Alec. Sixteen it is, then.” We drive the rest of the way home in silence. I glance at my son. He smiles the rest of the way home while I pray:

Lord, please let him get one candy-gram … Just one, Lord. Please.

On the afternoon of Valentine’s Day, I drive though the car line at Alec’s school and I see my son. He is standing by a tree with a look on my face that makes my stomach sink. His expression is like a storm cloud.

The candy-grams.

“What’s wrong, Buddy?” I pretend not to know.

“I didn’t get any candy-grams from my friends, Mom.” Alec gets into the car and stares at his lap. I fumble for words to cheer him up while the familiar feeling of being out of control—of not knowing how to help him—rises within me. It is hard and cold and empty.

“I’m so sorry, Alec,” I put my hand on his head. One of us is about to cry, but I’m not sure who it is. “But…” I search for words, “Did you make anyone else happy today? Were your friends happy when they got your candy-grams?”

Suddenly, Alec looks up. “Oh, yeah, Mom,”  as the clouds dissipate from his face. “They were so happy to get my candy-grams!”

I sense another lesson in life that my son is about to teach me.

“And look!” Alec reaches into his green bookbag and pulls out a small, red heart-shaped box, one of those Russell Stover hearts filled with 5 or 6 chocolates. “Look what Ms. Dill gave me!”

I look and see some writing on the side of the box. The handwriting reads:

“To Ms. Dill” in bold, black Sharpie.
It’s the penmanship of a child writing a sweet note to a teacher.

“When did you get this, Alec?”

“Oh, Ms. Dill gave it to me when I was out on the steps, right after they handed out the candy-grams.” Alec smiles and rips away the clear wrapping of the chocolates.

“Were you upset, Alec?” I ask. “When Ms. Dill found you on the steps, were you upset?”

“Well, yeah,” Alec looks down, embarrassed, as the storm clouds momentarily appear, but he shrugs them away. “But Ms. Dill, she found me and said she had something very special for me. Then she went inside and came back with this!” He holds up the shiny red heart and smiles his big, bright, beautiful smile.

It is one of the best Valentine’s Day gifts that I have ever received.

And so Ms. Dill saves the day, I think. She gave my boy one precious Valentine gift, a gift given to her and passed on to my son. Thank you, Ms. Dill. Thank you.

Do you know a “Ms. Dill” in your life?

It’s hard raising a child with special needs. We so want the world to see our kids as we do, but sometimes that doesn’t happen. But every so often, we come across one special person, an angel on earth, who reaches out in a simple way and makes our journey a little easier.

People who “get it.”

They may never realize how much they bless us, but their encouragement strengthens us so we can keep walking and be the parents that our kids need us to be.

Someone probably came to mind as your read this post, a person who in some way has made your journey brighter… someone like Ms. Dill. Do you have the name of that someone?

If so, would you do something for me? Toss a pebble and see where the ripples go.

When we toss a pebble of encouragement into the world, it sends a ripple wide and far, one that reaches other lives, multiplies, and bounces back to us. That’s what is so amazing about love: when we give it, it returns to us.

Would you take a moment and forward this post to that person with a simple note that says that they, too, encouraged you in a special way? Just a simple note thanking them for making a difference on a hard day?

It’s a fantastic way to spread awareness about special needs, and it’s so easy to do! Write one small note that lets them know that they shared a burden in a way that said, “Hey, I understand.”

And me? I know who will receive my note:

Ms. Dill … thank you. You blessed us, and, yes, it made a difference.

“Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm,
for God can be trusted to keep his promise. Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works.”

- Hebrews 10:23-24
New Living Translation (NLT)

–Kelly Langston

Don’t forget to vote for Not Alone in the About.com Readers Choice Awards. You can vote every day until the contest ends March 19th. Finalist

Filed Under: Asperger, Autism, Grief, Hidden Disabilities, Kelly Langston, Living In The Moment, Living Life Daily, Love, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Extraordinary Living Right Here, Right Now

January 22, 2013 9 Comments

Helping hands

Most of us dream of making a difference in this world. We want to leave our mark, maybe run a company, hold a political office or have a recognizable name.

Then reality hits and life gets hard. 

When you are the parent or caregiver of someone with a special need, days are filled with responsibilities: visits to therapists, educational meetings and attending to our loved one.

It’s overwhelming to say the least.

Comparing Our Lives to Others

As a parent of a child with autism, there were times when my world seemed very small. Every day was a replay of the same monotonous tasks—of laundry and chores, making dinners and tying shoes. My world existed of trips to and from school, the grocery store and doctor’s offices. In the midst of my ordinary life, my own dreams of making a difference, of living a life of significance, faded away.

It didn’t help that my friends’ Facebook pages were filled with exciting trips, promotions and a steady supply of accomplishments. How could I, with so much on my plate, ever achieve what they have achieved?

I often found myself gazing out of the window, palm to glass,
wishing for more of the extraordinary in my very ordinary world.

That is, until God leaned down to show me a new way to look at living life. To God, the greatest kind of living comes from serving, and often in very simple ways.

Extraordinary Living Is Right Before Our Eyes

God has been teaching me these last few months about living an extraordinary life, and it’s not what I thought it was. It’s not about making a name for myself. It’s about connecting with another person that God has placed on my path. It’s about opening my eyes to the extraordinary in the ordinary, and guess what? It’s all around me.

And it’s all around you, too.

In one chance encounter, you could have an opportunity to forever change a life for the better. Let me share an example:

The most extraordinary act of love I know came from a woman who often feels invisible. Her name is Amanda.

Amanda’s father left her mother and her home when she was three years of age. Growing up was hard, with her mother working long hours to keep food on the table and shoes on her feet.

In the years since, Amanda’s life has been one struggle after another. She has battled with depression and feelings of abandonment. Now in her 30s, she’s dropped out of several colleges and gotten lost more than a few times along the way.

When her beloved grandmother had a stroke and was sent to a nursing home, Amanda would visit after work each night and sit by her bedside. From the hallway she could hear the cries of residents and one particular cry caused her to investigate.

It came from the room of an elderly lady who was calling for someone to attend to her. She was lying in her bed alone and unkempt, her hair dirty and disheveled. Amanda’s eyes fell to the woman’s feet. They were black with dirt. Amanda took out a comb and lovingly combed the woman’s hair. Then she went to retrieve a pan of warm water and a towel. She dipped the towel into the water and washed the dirt from the woman’s feet.

Did you catch that? She literally washed a stranger’s feet.

In that moment, Amanda was no longer the abandoned child who had lost her way. She was no longer invisible. In that moment, she became the very Light of Christ, the holy hands of the Father, and the grace of His Son.

In that moment, Amanda was living an extraordinary life in the midst of ordinary circumstances.

Why does this matter?

Raising a child with a special need is often a thankless job. We often feel invisible, our hands tied to the never ending tasks of caring for our child. It’s hard not to compare our life with the lives of others … but we must not! Because even in the midst of so much responsibility, we can make a significant difference in the world right where we are, even today. This happens when we ask God to open our eyes to see what He sees … and then respond as He leads.

Like Amanda did.

God provides opportunities for extraordinary living each day and I promise, we won’t have to go far to find them. More often than not, we will make the greatest impact on the world in very simple ways. We can dramatically change a life (our child, a caregiver, a teacher, therapist or another parent) by:

  • Daring to offer a kind word to a stranger;
  • Encouraging another parent by sharing your story;
  • Offering a moment of grace to a teacher or caregiver who is stressed out;
  • Offering a smile to your child when you are too tired to think straight.

My challenge to you is to keep your eyes open for opportunities to live an extraordinary life in the world around you, right here, right now.

Ask God to show you one person who needs a dose of encouragement. Take a risk, speak a word of kindness and see what God will do. You may not get to see the ripples return from that one tossed stone of kindness, but rest assured, words of love will have a profound impact.

Extraordinary Living Exemplified in Scripture

Christ left His heavenly home to walk our dusty roads alongside the poor. Led by His Father, He reached out to those who were ostracized by society. In each day He touched the suffering and took time to sit with children. In simple encounters He spoke words of love and truth that even now, 2000 years later, still hang in the air.

His was an extraordinary life lived in the midst of ordinary days. And because of Him, I will never be the same.

An argument started among the disciples as to which of them would be the greatest. Jesus, knowing their thoughts, took a little child and had him stand beside him. Then he said to them, “Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For he who is least among you all—he is the greatest.” 

- Luke 9:46-48

–Kelly Langston

Photo credit: By theleticiabertin  cc by 2.0

Filed Under: ADHD, Asperger, Autism, Kelly Langston, Living Life Daily, Love, Posts By Writers

Finding Contentment in 2013: A Lesson on Living Life

January 4, 2013 4 Comments

“I’m happy.”

That’s what Alec says to me as we run errands today. Two little words.

Finding Contentment

There are many things wrong in our family life right now. The pressures of life that are not worthy of mentioning here. You may know what I mean.

My inner thought life is like a storm these days, one that refuses to move on. The waiting … the wondering …. the struggle to persevere.

My focus has long been on the “wrong” of my days: Middle school. School supplies. Braces. House repairs. Too many things to do in too little time.

The truth is that I am called to be content, but content I am not. Too many desires. Too many wants. Too many dreams yet unmet.

And then my son says to me, skipping as he typically does, “I’m happy.” He is happy to breathe. Happy to move. Happy to simply be.

He looks up at me and smiles.

And I smile, too.

Lord, once again, you speak to me through the simple joy I see in my son. Father, let me be content today, too. Content to breathe, content to move and content to simply be.

Amen.

Kelly Langston

Filed Under: Asperger, Autism, Joy, Kelly Langston, Living Life Daily, Posts By Writers, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , , , , ,
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 10,251 other followers

%d bloggers like this: