The Power of Prayer

When Lucy was 2 years old, she was diagnosed with Juvenile Dermatomyositis. What, you say? It's certainly a mouthful.  It's also a particularly nasty auto immune disease loosely associated with arthritis, generally treated with years of heavy duty steroids, IVIG (administered much like chemotherapy), and is potentially fatal.  Needless to say, there were some pretty low times in my house when this occurred.  Fear, especially fear of losing a child, is pretty terrible stuff.  I shared Lucy's situation with others so they would pray for her.  I shared just enough to get the prayers started, but not the whole story.  I just couldn't bear talking about it over and over again.  Every time I talked about it, every time I had to explain what this crazy, rare disease was all about, my fear grew.  It grew so much I thought it would consume me.  In many ways it did.  All I could think about was Lucy, and losing her.  I cried more than I have ever cried before, or since.  Uncontrollable, gut wrenching, laid out on the bathroom floor, sobbing.  On a side note, isn't it interesting that most mothers pick the bathroom floor to fall apart?  Maybe it's the only place we get any privacy!  Anyway, I prayed, a lot. And so did hundreds of other people.  Lucy was on every prayer list from here to Georgia to North Carolina and back.  Now, children don't just "recover" from JDM.  There is a regiment of very harsh, very expensive treatment that eventually could, maybe, lessen the symptoms and provide comfort.  Thankfully, we were in the right place for treatment. Moving to Nashville just a year earlier (hmmm, did God place us here on purpose?) we were right down the street from one of the finest pediatric rheumatology  departments in the country.  And, we were seeing the head honcho, the doctor who started the department many years before.  Lucy was poked, prodded, tested, you name it.  It was awful for everyone. Six years later, she still gets nervous when we drive by the children's hospital.  The prognosis was that she would be treated for the rest of her life, and we'd "see what happened."  The reality is that she was treated minimally (IVIG, but no steroids! ) for 6 months when we went back for a check-up and lo and behold, the dermatomyositis was gone!  Our doctor said "I don't like to use this word with my patients, but this was nothing short of a miracle." He had never, in all his years of treating this disease, ever seen a child not only go into remission so quickly, but it was if the disease never existed in her little body.  How could this happen?  Other doctors wanted to know.  What did we do?  Prayer.  I truly believe that the power of prayer is the answer.  There's just no other explanation.  Lucy had an army of people praying for her, every day, without fail.  Our prayers were answered.  Well, sort of.  God didn't give me a perfectly healthy child.  He didn't make it all go away. He didn't give me the perfectly normal family I prayed for.  He gave me something even better.  Something I never would have thought to pray for. When the JDM was in remission, now it was time to address why Lucy wasn't walking, and why she had not uttered a word at 2 years old.  Things that had been moved to the back burner when her sheer existence was in question. The culprit, autism. Which has actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
 A songwriter once wrote "One of God's greatest gifts, is unanswered prayers." I'm glad I didn't get exactly what I prayed for.  God knew better than I what my life needed.  One of those nights, on the bathroom floor, I was called to ministry. I didn't know it at the time, but looking back, I can pinpoint the moment it happened.  I remember the feeling of such peace, knowing God was with me, and that everything would be okay.  An unshakable certainty that Lucy would be okay, that our family would be okay.  Years later, that feeling led me to a call to want to help others know the same.  One of God's coincidences after another and here I am, a Children's Minister, able to do just that.  My family is not the "perfectly normal" family I prayed for.  It's a fabulously flawed, single parent, special needs child, raucous preschooler, fly by the seat of our pants, kind of family.  The perfect "un"answer to my prayers.

Humble Pie

One of my favorite stories to tell in the last few weeks is one of a big ol' piece of humble pie being served up by my daughter, Lucy.
We were in the kitchen; Lucy, her brother Spencer (3), and I.  Spencer had just gotten a foam dart gun as a gift.  I told him that it was fine for him to play with it inside, just don't shoot at people, which totally planted that seed by the way. Anyway, he pretty much immediately shot Lucy and as I was reprimanding him, he spit at me.  Let me just say, I don't lose it for many reasons, but spitting is an offense that will send me off my rocker.  Now picture me, the mother, yelling (really yelling) at Spencer, the 3 year old, about how disrespectful it is to spit, and on and on and on.  Enter Lucy, 8, "Um, Mommy" Me: "One moment please", Lucy: "Mommy" Me: "For heaven's sake, what is it Lucy?"
Lucy:  "Mommy, self-control is not letting anger take over your soul."  Silence.
 At that moment I felt like a complete jerk.  Yes, I was mad.  Yes, he was wrong. But I lost self-control and that's no good.  It's a fruit of the spirit for goodness sake.  I'm a children's minister.  If anyone should have self-control it's me, right?
As I thought about this for the next few days, I looked at all the ways I needed to check myself in the self-control department. Boy, there were a lot. But honestly, I think with parenting, you're not normal if you don't lose it every now and again.  All parents do, and it's okay. It happens. It gives us opportunities to talk with our kids about losing control, and what to do about it.  Apologizing has never been an easy thing for me.  Unless its to my children.  What Spencer did was pretty bad, but screaming at him wasn't the answer.  So, I apologized to him and we had a much more effective conversation about behavior, spitting included.
 I believe that one of the most important lessons we can teach children is that we were created with flaws.  We all mess up, we all lose control sometimes.  It's what we do about it that matters. How do we embody the "fruits of the spirit?" John Wesley says that "the fruits of the spirit are best demonstrated in the quality of our relationships, not how often we are consciously aware of feeling them."  Trying to live with love, joy, peace, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and last but not least - self-control, the best we can, that's all we can do.  And that's okay.

Here we go!

Most days I find myself sharing stories on Facebook or with co-workers (um, yes, they are probably tired of it, but they’re a good crew, they indulge me!) about something my daughter Lucy has done or said that just really struck me. Sometimes she’s funny, sometimes very profound. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, and realized what an ENORMOUS impact she has had on my life, and the lives of many others. Yes, I know all children do that, but this is different. Lucy is like some kind of angel on Earth. She is so tuned in to people’s needs and emotions that it’s actually kind of scary sometimes. She teaches me so much about life, I can’t imagine the person I would be without her. So, I decided to blog about it. Those who know me are probably laid out in the floor laughing right about now because I can barely check my email, but this is important. I needed to do this. So without further ado, here we go – Lessons from Lucy – a place to read about things that I think are relevant to being a Children’s Minister, and a single parent of a preschooler and special needs child. Oh, plus I used to be a restauranteur, so there will be food talk as well! I’ll post stories of inspirations and challenges, ideas to deal with said issues, and the outcome of it all. Please read along, steal ideas, add some of your own, and learn and laugh with me on this crazy journey called life. Cheers!