When it Seems Like You'll Forever Be Holding the Hand of Your Struggling Learner

Mustering up all the excitement I could, I tapped my little guy on the shoulder. "Ready for swim lessons?" 

As he lounged on my bed, he crossed his arms over his legs and scowled. "I don't wanna go." No surprise here. It was his typical response for trying something new.

"Well, I already paid for it, so you're going." And that was my typical response.

He's smart enough to know there was no point arguing. Mama's got her plans, so he better go along with it or he might pay the price in loss of video game time. 

Thankfully, his swim instructor was super patient and he eventually had a blast and became a stronger swimmer.

Soccer was harder. Even though all the other kids had gathered around the coach, he refused to go out on the field. I hadn't planned on this.

Holding his hand, I padded out on the field and as soon as he was distracted, I backed away and hurried to the bleachers. He was fine after that and ended up loving it.

Then it was time for the club meeting. I was prepared for a similar scenario. But, the dynamics of the room proved to cause sensory overload for him. 

He clung to me like a bear cub on a pine tree. This mama bear wanted him to participate, but I had to let it go. Our kids' hearts are more important than how well they perform. 

All oaks from acorns grow, right? This little acorn, he has autism. Will he still grow up into an oak, able to stand on his own? Cause I know he can't hold my hand forever. 

How do us parents with struggling learners move from frustration and disappointment to hope?

We need to keep the bigger picture in mind.

Success in the Kingdom of the Son doesn't lie in college diplomas, a six figure job and grand accolades. It's being like Jesus.

Not only did Jesus level with us all by becoming a man, He lowered himself even further, by becoming a servant and washing his disciples' mud-encrusted feet.

If we want our kids to be like Jesus, we need to be like Him first and let go of our plans and our pride.

We must be willing to stoop down low and hold our children's hands until they can stand on their own. But also taking a step further and showing them the nail-scarred hand of the one who will never let them go.

It's making disciples of the least of these.

So they can bring His light into a dark world.

My boy loves John Bunyan's allegory The Pilgrim's Progress. 

Christian, the main character in the story embarks on a journey to somehow remove the heavy burden on his back (his sin). 

Along the way, he comes face-to-face with Jesus on the cross and the burden comes rolling off never to be seen again. 

But, that's not the end of the story. 

He is given a new coat of armor to protect himself (the armor of God) and a little scroll to help him along the way (the Bible). 

The journey takes many twists and turns and Christian has to fight, endure and press on. Until he reaches that Celestial City where his earthly journey ends and his heavenly one begins.

Our kids need Jesus. For salvation, protection and life instructions.

Let's not just focus on self-sufficiency, but God-sufficiency. May our children not only walk the stage to get a diploma, but walk the path to the cross, where every self-centered dream must die in order for dreams eternal to live.

In whatever weaknesses our children have, God is strong. And, He is more glorified in those who need Him most.

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:1-4

True Calling

When I turned thirty, I remember thinking, this is the age of Christ, when he began His ministry. But, I didn't feel like I was doing anything special for the Kingdom of God.
Only cooking, cleaning, changing stinky diapers, wiping runny noses, getting little sleep, barely getting out of the house. You know, nothing special.

Life went on. Birthdays 31, 32, and 33. I was the age of Christ when He gave His life as a payment for our sins, was resurrected and left this earth. Still, I was nothing special. Still...me. Still, a nobody.

Time to throw a pity party, right? Unless...

Maybe I got it all wrong.

Nothing special. Useless. A nobody. Doesn't sound like my Father's voice.

The flesh, the world, the devil himself, all send messages about who we are, why we're here, and what makes us valued. 

The flesh, that old sinful selfish part of me says in order to be something special, I need to do something great and have lots and lots of friends to be loved or valued.

The world chimes in that I need to achieve a certain status, to attain a certain unattainable lifestyle, to be known on a broad range to be loved or valued.

The devil will do anything to keep me from knowing my true identity. He will try to get me down by convincing me that I'm a useless nobody or puff me up with vanity that I might be consumed with my own perceived greatness. Whatever works.

Whatever keeps me from realizing my true identity and true calling.

Because if I knew, if all of us knew and woke up from our complacency, like Christ, we would flip over the tables of those who profit by our drowsy coasting through life. Our world would be turned upside down.

We must wake up from our slumber. From the false lullaby of the flesh, the world, and the devil, lulling us to sleep, making us miss opportunities to love a broken world.

Cause that's why we're here. To love. Christ commands it. Love God first and our neighbor next. In small ways, ways that nobody else will even notice. But, that doesn't make us nobodies.

The truth is,

We are loved and valued by God because through Christ, our whole life, has been, is being, and will be redeemed.

Apart from the truth, it doesn't matter what we have come to believe about ourselves, or what others have told us is important.

Nothing else matters but what Christ did on the cross and what that means for us and the world.

Christ is the center, the core, the missing page that has been torn out of our history books.

Everything hinges on Him, whether we acknowledge Him or not.

But, when we do, we change.

Our world changes. Turns upside down.

Or, maybe it was upside down to begin with.

In Christ, we are made right. Turned upright. Back to God. Back to the place and the Person where we are most valued and loved.

In light of His love and grace, we can reach out to our significant other, our children, our friends, acquaintances, even enemies. With love. Agape' love. The giving kind of love that pours itself out to the utmost. Because that is what Jesus did for us.

And that is what will change our world.

Becoming a Woman of Excellence

Nonna Cina. She was my gentle grandmother from Italy. A lady of simple elegance with a wealth of wisdom and heart-felt compassion. I could only hope to one day be as loving, as gracious as Nonna.

It is assumed that some women are just born with an innate goodness. I thought Nonna was like that. But, Scripture teaches all people are born sinners (Romans 3:23). Nonna wasn't born good. Nobody is. And, I didn't know this at the time, but Nonna became a woman of excellence through trusting the Lord in her struggles and hardships.

Nonna didn't waste words. She said those things that stick with you through the years. And, her gifts were the same. Knowing I liked to draw, she once gave me some old pictures from a dated calendar. Each had a picture of a child and a little saying to go along with it. I was a teenager at the time, but I held onto them through the years. 

It's amazing, but I believe each child from those pictures is a beautiful reflection of my own children's personalities and the things I hope for them. Nonna never got to meet any of my children, but in a way, the pictures were a blessing for them from her. I have the four of them framed in my children's room. To remind them of the truth. To remind myself.

The year 1998 was one of those pivotal times in my life. It was the year my Nonna died.

I was twenty. Billy and I loved going over to Grandpa and Nonna’s house for dinner on Sundays. 

Nonna served us spaghetti smothered in authentic Italian marinara sauce, followed by steaming hot cups of espresso. Grandpa Ernie, a baker, served us cake topped with whipped cream frosting for dessert. Billy liked to put some of his frosting in the espresso to cool it, making it bittersweet. 

Not only did Grandpa and Nonna feed our stomachs, they also fed our souls. They encouraged us to follow Jesus and to love others the way that He loved us.

Then Nonna developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. After some tests were done, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. The diagnosis didn’t seem to make any sense. She never smoked, ate home-grown vegetables, and had an overall healthy lifestyle. 

She went to the hospital for more tests and a prognosis.  It turned out that the lung cancer was terminal, and she only had a few weeks to live.

As I was visiting her at the hospital, I noticed a book lying next to her bed. The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom.

“You can have it,” she said, handing it to me. 

Another gift. "Thank you." 

Soft grey curls framed the eyes of someone who was filled with peace. She had no fear of death. She was fully confident that her Savior would take care of her.

It was hard seeing Nonna fade away. Nothing medically could be done for her. Each Sunday, she went to church and wheeled her oxygen tank down the aisle to her pew, until she no longer had the strength. 

While confined to her bed, my dad came to visit her and played his guitar while singing her favorite hymns.  

Six weeks after her diagnosis, she was gone.

As I read through The Hiding Place, I felt comforted.  How could a story about suffering in a concentration camp help me?  

It was because God was there. 

He showed up and took care of Corrie and her sister Betsy in miraculous ways. And He has done the same for me.

Years later, after having a child born with a condition incompatible with life, I picked it up and read it again. I sensed once again how God is faithful amidst great suffering. 

When it seems all hope is lost, God is there to lift us up.  

He empowers us to forgive those who have hurt us and helps us to reach out to them with His love.

***

After Nonna died, Grandpa Ernie went through all of her things and came across her journal.

“I thought you might like to read this,” he said and handed it to me.  It was small and had a rainbow printed on the front. 

Nonna gave gifts even after she went to be with the Lord. What a legacy.

Reading the journal from cover to cover, I got to know my Nonna’s great love for Jesus.  On one page, she wrote the old adage, 

“The heart would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears.” 

I now know what she meant.  Though I have shed many tears in my grief, the light of God’s love has been pouring into my broken heart. Like a prism, the love of Christ transformed my tears, filling me with a rainbow of hope.

If I ever hope to become a woman of excellence like Nonna, then there is one place that I need to be. 

At the feet of Jesus.

I know that's where she is right now.   

Lord God, is it possible that Your Word will enter all of my heart, all of my soul, and all of my mind?  You are my Great Comforter.  You give to me rest and peace.  I love you Lord, O Jesus, my Savior.  To You, I pray for holiness, and humility, to fill me with Your innocence and goodness.  To those who are obedient, Your grace is sufficient. –Nonna Cina

Proof of Pi

π

Proof of Pi.

Never changing.

Crucial for circumference,

Or the area of a circle.

Formulated by the Greeks.

Or rather, discovered.

Always existing.

As long as we have round.

Do we really need proof 

For something that just is? 

That's what geometry

 Theorems are for. 

Proofs, proofs, and more proofs. 

It's all logical.

The Logos.

The Word made flesh that dwelt among us. 

But, still we want to touch the nail-marked hands 

And put our fingers in the pierced side. 

We need to see. 

Or do we?

Touched by grace, 

Through the eyes of love, 

We've been given 

These very great 

And precious promises 

From above. 

Look upon the cross. 

Do we still need proof?

It is finished. 

The Pearl of Suffering

Stress.

Just saying the word conjures up pictures in my mind. Things I'd rather forget. People who have been hurtful to me or let me down. Unresolved conflicts with those I was close to. Messy relationships. Dark times. Grief.

These things have taken a toll on my health.

Years ago, during a time of great stress, a cyst formed at the base of my skull. The size of a pearl. It no longer hurts, but it's still there.

I sigh.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)"

"All things." The ancient, holy, living Word, says "all things."

Even the things that are not good. The broken pieces in our lives that don't seem to fit into the picture of a holy and loving God who is Sovereign over all.

"The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.(1 Thessalonians 5:23)"

Faithful. He is faithful. It takes faith in His faithfulness to see what we cannot see:

The impossible coming true. Miracles happening. The bad turned into something good. The sad things coming untrue.

A friend once counseled me on how the Lord can turn our suffering into something beautiful, like the way a clam turns an irritant in its body over and over again until it forms into an iridescent pearl.

All the stressors, the irritants in our life that keep happiness at bay, if we focus on Christ and hope in His unfailing love, turning the hurts over and over again in prayer and softening them with our salty tears (1 Peter 5:6,7), something amazing will happen.

Jesus, the Son of God, the Suffering Servant who bought our redemption, He knows our pain. And, He knows how to make it 

Something beautiful. 

In Christ, there can be beauty in the pain. In the suffering. However long.

And, when the hurt is gone, with only a scar that remains. A pearl. A reminder of where you've been. There is something you can do with it.

In the light, a single pearl found.

We can clutch our pearls, keeping them close to our heart.

Or we can open our hand and share them with others. With others who will treat them with delicacy and honor. 

We can bring our hurts to light in community. A community that has let the love of Jesus shine in their hearts.

"The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)

For it is in the Light of the love of Christ that we are able to see the beauty that our hurts have become.


The broken pieces of our lives can be strung together as a necklace, a story, to adorn the beloved bride of Christ. His church. The one His heart desires and longs to be near. Now and forevermore.

"Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good,
For His lovingkindness is everlasting.
Let the redeemed of the Lord say so,
Whom He has redeemed from the hand of the adversary..." (Psalm 107: 1-3)

Thanksgiving Grace: How I Discovered My Writer's Voice

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Secret_Garden_book_cover_-_Project_Gutenberg_eText_17396.jpg

Dear Reader,

Now that NaNoWriMo is over, or at least my own version of it, did I write that great American novel?

Not yet.

But, I did write. And, I've learned a valuable lesson from the experience that will impact the quality of my writing from here on out.

For starters, it was bothering me that my writing was missing something. Something that would make it, well, readable.

It's kind of like when I learned to play violin. For the longest time, I couldn't read music and play at the same time. I just couldn't do it. I found a way around my problem by writing out the letter of each note on the sheet music. It worked, but it slowed me down and interrupted the flow of my music.

I remember clearly now, the first day that I could to play a piece before writing out the notes. I was in seventh grade, and thought I would give it one more try.

I opened my violin case, took out my rosin, and rubbed it all over the hair of my bow. The sweet smell of amber tickled my nose. Standing up straight, I held my violin under my chin and focused on the sheet music. No letters this time. Only notes.

Page de Camara on violin playing Canon in D

To my delight, as the bow slid across the bridge, I could decipher the notes on the sheet. I could play and read music simultaneously. It's as if something inside of me finally clicked.

It was the same way with writing. I kept reading others' works, good books, hoping that some of that awesome talent would rub off on me. When I went to write, the story made sense, but it didn't flow. It's like I couldn't tell a story and make it come alive for the reader at the same time.

But, despite my sense of failure, I didn't give up. I kept writing hoping that one day I'd get it.

Well, toward the end of NaNoWriMo, something clicked. It wasn't when I was writing. It was while reading a children's book (sometimes they're the best). The book was called, Stay!, Keeper's Story, a novel about a dog, from the dog's point of view.

Leave it to Lois Lowry to teach me the art of voice. I love her books, especially The Giver series. Yes, more of the dystopian, post-apocalyptic genre, but the authenticity of the characters in these books is what makes them so readable.

In a good book, with strong voice and a steady, rhythmic flow, you can immerse yourself in the writer's world, even a world where a dog thinks like a human.

It's true. I was inside Keeper's mind. I needed to learn how to do that. How to play with words in such a way that I can create a whole new world.

Since that moment, I've been writing in a way that enables the reader to get lost in the words, in the world of my story. It was truly a turning point for me.

Now, I just have to go back over all that I've written with fresh eyes and a new perspective.

In the song Amazing Grace, written by John Newton, the words

"I once was blind, but now I see"

have taken on a new meaning for me.

There is the grace of knowing that in my sinfulness, frailty, and flaws, God has written a new story for me, a story of redemption. His death for my life. My life for His glory.

Every grace is a gift from the good heart of my Father in heaven,
from the grace of understanding muscial notation to the grace of discovering my writer's voice and the little graces in between.

Thanksgiving can become not just a once-a-year event, but an everyday occasion, from sunrise to sunset in this crazy short time we have to experience God's grace and give back the gift of praise.

This truth gives me hope to think about the next grace and the next...

His By Grace,

Chanda