Hello, I’m January
Inspiration and thoughts on God and faith, written by a simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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Sometimes There Is Nothing Left To Do But Laugh
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy. Psalm 126:2
“Whose idea was this?” This is what I ask my husband as our son sits and screams on the bathroom floor.
“Whose idea was what?”
“Parenthood. Which one of us thought that was a great idea?”
We know, we know. We did. God did. God thought we were equipped for this journey, and he blessed us with these headstrong and challenging kids.
But, honestly…we were not standing in line screaming, “Pick me! Pick me!” for one of these battles. Truthfully, I always thought God knew I was not strong or patient enough to handle some of these things parenthood brings, let alone what autism brings with it.
And, finally…I’m not always strong or patient. There are times I really don’t know how to handle it at all.
Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. Proverbs 31:25
I have found the dignity and strength many times to conquer the tantrums, take on the flailing arms, flying Legos, and ear-piercing screams of one little boy, but as he kicked and screamed in the tub. As he slapped me with his rag. Dumped water in my lap, and screamed louder, I lost all dignity. I had no strength left. I had no clue what else to do.
So, I just looked at the little monster in the tub, and laughed. Loud. Uncontrollably. Yes, that’s right. While, I should have had the situation under control, I decided instead to laugh at it.
To laugh at it, because I know there is more of this in my future.
Even in laughter, the heart may ache; and the end of joy may be grief. Proverbs 14:13
Oh, the grief. The pain. The heartache. Most definitely returns.
See, that question-“Whose idea was this?” Although maybe a bit twisted, a tad inappropriate, the question is actually an important one. What we are really asking is this-Are we in this together? Are you with me on this one? We agree on this, right?
Because, we know all too well that while we play a tug of war with our boy, we also do the same with each other. The doting and cuddling momma, and the disciplinarian dad don’t always agree.
We are also well aware of the grim statistics of those who parent children with special needs. The statistics that say we will not make it. That we will remain broken. At war with each other. In a constant tug between pain and heartache.
So, with God’s help we choose instead to look at each other, joke about what we can’t change, and laugh. Together.
We choose to laugh despite the heartache, struggle, and challenges we know we will face again. Laugh at the future we also know is uncertain.
To laugh at this crazy thing called parenthood, just to keep our strength and dignity. Just to stay sane.
Because, although we didn’t pick this one, and we actually didn’t plan on parenthood a third time so soon, we can rejoice in the fact that we are the parents God intended us to be.
Up for a challenge definitely not chosen. With no fancy parenting formula but simple laughter.
Laughing at the times we have now, and those to come…because, really? Sometimes, there just isn’t much else left to do!
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Rejoicing for Unanswered Prayers
“Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7
A few weeks ago we took a family trip to the National Aquarium-one of the trips we had promised our shark lover for some time. As all museums, aquariums, and tourists attractions often do, a strategically placed gift shop waited for us as we began to exit. A strategically placed shop we had used to bribe our shark lover with just to get him to navigate the crowds without melting into the floor. Ten bucks and ten minutes later, emerges a happy little boy with a new toy frog. A frog he then left in the restaurant on the ride home.
A toy frog I prayed would still be in that restaurant as we turned to make our way back, and as I watched my little guy pout in the seat behind me.
“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Mark 11:24
Some prayers are answered. Just like that. Prayers for toy frogs to magically appear in restaurants. The prayers of a faithful boy as he wishes for no more monsters. Prayers for a successful school year. Prayers for that dinner out to be one of joy.
Some, however, go unanswered.
It’s those that often haunt me. It’s those that allow the devil to creep in and test my faith in Him. It’s those that make me wonder if God really hears me at all.
See, for a while now, I have prayed consistently about one particular area of my life. One situation that has plagued this heart of mine.
And, for a while now, I have not gotten an answer. I have doubted Him. Questioned my worth to Him. Even had a scream at Him in the bathroom, crying, “Are you even there,” and cursing out loud moment with Him. Yet, I can’t help but think that just as every other test and struggle has been a part of His plan and purpose, maybe the unanswered prayers have a purpose as well.
This is the confidence we have in approaching God, that if we ask anything according to His will, he will hear us. 1 John 5:14
He hears us. He hears all our prayers. Even the crying, screaming, and cursing ones.
And, He answers them…according to HIS will.
Which means…maybe He doesn’t answer them because that’s exactly part of the plan.
Maybe we are meant to go through these moments. Endure pain. Experience heartache. Have screaming matches with God so we can grow. Embrace life. Become more dependent on Him, and less on our own agenda and will.
Or, maybe it’s not about us at all. What if those unanswered prayers are really meant to help someone else endure pain. Embrace heartache.
All so someone else can go through those times when they are screaming and cursing at God. Through the times it seems He isn’t listening. To teach about the strength promised in Philippians 4:13-the strength that only comes from Him.
The strength to endure pain. Embrace heartache. To pick ourselves up off that bathroom floor, wipe our tears, and thank Him for unanswered prayers.
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For He Has Taught Me More
Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. James 1:17
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” I hear the screams in the wee hours of the morning. The screams that have woken me from a state of sleep I seemed to have just fallen into. As I fumble around in the dark, I hear the screams again: “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
As I open the door, I hear the small faint whisper of what has distressed this little child so-an earache. Not exactly what I wanted to hear after having just battled three straight cases of strep in 2 months. Really? Was the poor little guy sick again? So, I did the usual-Motrin, back rubs, hushed whispers, but still only howls of pain.
Then I did the only thing that used to calm this same child 6 years ago when he was a floppy, cuddly baby. Picked him up (now about 28 pounds heavier, and much, much longer), made a bed on the couch, and laid his sweet little head on my chest.
While he slept, and I watched the clock tick-1:22, 1:23, 1:24…I started to reminisce about those many months when this was the only way this little boy would sleep, as well as the many things this little one has taught me in the last 6 years.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. Romans 5:3-4
Our children often teach us more than we could ever learn on our own. In my 36 years I have learned more about myself, others, love, and life in the last 6 years than any book or other experience has or could have ever taught me.
With our “monster” it has been one thing after another. “He isn’t growing enough. Let’s test for cystic fibrosis.” “He isn’t walking yet. Let’s make sure he doesn’t have any neurological reason for this.” “He’s a little floppy, let’s try physical therapy.” “He’s not talking, banging his head, rigid, not social…we think he has autism.”
In the last 6 years I have learned I have more peace and strength than I ever thought I would have. Through the strength only given by Him, I endured each one of these painful visits with one little head laying firmly against my beating heart.
It is also in the last 6 years I have learned not to judge a “book” by its cover. What we see on the outside is often not a true reflection of what is really going on at home, beyond the surface of a child’s tantrum in a store, beyond the harsh words or attitude of a stranger.
In these last 6 years I have endured brutal tantrums, been slapped, kicked, confused, broken, and worn down by a 36 pound bundle of fury. Some days I have wanted to run away. Some days I have wished just “once” Hunter would be “normal.” And, I am more patient, strong, and resilient than I ever thought I would be. All because Christ decided to give this little boy to me.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. 1 Corinthians 13:7
Most importantly, I learned how to love. Unconditionally. To look beyond the faults, the inadequacies, the sins, and the disabilities of others. To realize love goes far beyond being able to say the words.
Because this was the greatest gift God gave me.
And, the greatest lesson Hunter has taught me.
No matter how many fights I endure, outbursts I have to get through, or the sleepless nights I lay on the couch with a little boy listening to the sound of my beating heart, the only thing that will ever truly matter, whether he can get the words out or not, is love.
To love.
At all times. In all conditions. Despite the circumstances. Even when the words aren’t said. Unconditionally.
To love. As He sent my sweet little “monster” to teach me.
To love. As He first loved me.
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The One Thing I Can Guarantee Won’t Scare Her
Stop being angry! Turn from your rage! Do not lose your temper! It only leads to harm. Psalm 37:8
Many mornings and many afternoons I spend my time wresting “monsters.” On those mornings when our routine is blown, the “monster” is a frazzled and oversensitive 5 year old boy. But, on most mornings, the “monster” I wrestle is the tangled mess of hair that adorns my 7 year old’s head.
The wrestling begins with a reluctant stroll to the bathroom, endures through many a product to reduce said tangles, emits many a harsh word back and forth, and sometimes ends in tears.
On this particular morning, the tears were different. Hayley, my beautiful daughter, as I picked up the brush with more force than I should have…my daughter flinched.
You know…like the someone is going to hit me type of flinch. Why? Where would this come from?
What had all my screams, my pulls on her tender head done to her? My daughter was afraid. And she was afraid of me!
“Fathers (or mothers), do not aggravate your children, or they will become discouraged.” Colossians 3:21
I have become the yelling mother. The stressed, overextended, overly exhausted mom who yells and screams over the slightest nuisances.
I am the mother I was afraid of becoming.
I am the mother my daughter is afraid of.
It is no secret that many mother-daughter relationships are confusing and full of conflict. There have been many a book and article written on the subject. My relationship with my own mother left a lot to be desired until I became a mom myself. Until I actually needed her as a mom. As a friend.
In fact, my relationship with my own daughter didn’t begin on the best terms. See, she was a difficult baby. Due to acid reflux she cried through the day. She cried through the night. She cried in the hours between feedings. She cried in her swing. She cried in my arms. She felt every tense and weary emotion I felt, and she screamed while I lay on the bathroom floor having a few cries of my own. For 6 to 9 months, she completely broke me.
Now at 7, she is stubborn as a mule, as strong-willed as an ox, and as angry at times as a bull. And, sometimes she still has the power to completely break me.
A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1
And, now…in this bathroom, I have completely broken her. Because she is scared, and she is scared of me.
Here I am. A mom who can wrestle this girl’s 5 year old brother. Restrain him in the middle of the bedroom floor. Listen to his ear piercing screams. Try with all my strength to keep him from harming himself. I do this with all the calm I can muster.
But, I can’t wrestle a few tangles without getting angry. Without yelling at the child who inherited my attitude and sass. Without igniting fear in my daughter.
My daughter. Who is scared. Who is scared of me.
And realizing this has completely broken me.
For the Scriptures say, “If you want to enjoy life and see many happy days, keep your tongue from speaking evil and your lips from telling lies. Turn away from evil and do good. Search for peace, and work to maintain it. The eyes of the Lord watch over those who do right. 1 Peter 3:10-12
I don’t know that there will not come another day when my daughter will not completely break me, but I can guarantee my words will never break her again. I can promise she and God that instead of provoking tears while wrestling my morning “monster,” I will wrestle her tangles gently, use my words to soothe her tender head, and use this with all the calm I know I have mustered before. Through His strength and His guidance.
I can’t guarantee she will never be scared, but I can guarantee she will never again be scared of me.
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Let’s Be Honest…I Walk Through the Desert, Too
Let us tell our neighbors the truth, for we are all parts of the same body. Ephesians 4:25
Transparency. It is something I have come to appreciate. The art of showing emotion, letting others in on what is going on in life. Not hiding behind a smile. Not painting on a happy face. Not denying struggles. Being completely, and totally honest with another.
It’s something I have grown to appreciate. but not something that was ever accepted as practice growing up.
I lived in a home full of “stuffers.” We grew up believing that old saying…you know, about not airing dirty laundry, or what not. You had a problem, you stuffed it. You were having a bad day, you stuffed your emotions and put on a smile. Look like you have it all together at all costs. Don’t let anyone know the real you. The real issues you face.
Well, let’s be honest. I am over that.
And, let’s be even more honest…I admit it. I walk through the desert, too. Just.like.you.
I’m a mess and so are you. We’ve built walls nobody can get through.
Yes, I’m a mess. Just.like.you.
I have bad days, too. “I don’t want to get out of this bed and do a thing” days. “I spilled coffee on my white shirt, was late for work, and left my gas card at home” days. My bad days are probably just like yours, and my responses to them are, too. I vent, I rant, I yell, and (gasp) sometimes I let a curse word fly. But, I also pray. I get up and move on. I rejoice in the hope that tomorrow will be better.
Let’s be honest. I walk through the desert, too. Just.like.you.
I hurt, too. I have pain. I have struggles. There are days I wonder if anyone cares. There are days I feel alone. Broken. Confused. Useless. Just.like.you.
I am a parent. And, my kids…oh, my kids. On any given Sunday morning one may be laying, kicking, and screaming on the sanctuary floor, while the other stands sassing at the door. I struggle as a parent. I wonder if I even get any of it right. Just.like.you.
And, since I have my own kids…well, sometimes I can get easily frustrated with other kids. But, let’s be honest. Anyone who stands in the front of a classroom of 20 kids who have spent 15 minutes punching, yelling, running, and back-talking, and not one ounce of completing the tasks given to them would be a tad bit frustrated, too. And, yes…on those days I want to desperately run to the nearest exit and run away to the closest desert island. Because, on those days, I need a break. Just.like.you.
Let’s be honest. I walk through the desert, too.
I am human. I am a woman. An insecure woman. Sometimes a stubborn woman. I am a parent. I am a wife, and sometimes not a very good one. I get angry, sad, and scared. And, I am just.like.you.
So bring your brokenness, and I’ll bring mine. ‘Cause love can heal what hurt divides. And mercy’s waiting on the other side. If we’re honest.
So, let’s be honest with each other. Let’s throw away the masks and be a little transparent. Let’s walk through the desert together.
When I want to come unraveled because autism came out to play on the way to church (and in the middle of the foyer), hug me and tell me I am doing a good job. When your kid is having struggles and acting out, know that I will do the same for you.
When your lonely, insecure, scared, and don’t know what to pray. Be honest. Someone else has been there, too.
When your day has been bad, and it keeps getting worse, paint on a smile if you wish, laugh about it a little, but be honest. Because there is someone else out there having a bad day, too.
We are in this thing called life together. We all have bad days. Bad months. Bad years. And, we all need a little encouragement along the way.
So, let’s just be honest. We all walk through the desert, too.
About Me
I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God; and I am also on some days a hot mess. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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