Have you planned something that didn’t live up to your expectations? Part of surrender for me has been a sloooooow, sometimes painful, opening of my hands to let my expectations be less important than God’s outcomes. Case in point: Thomas our son on the autism spectrum’s birthday. I try to make birthdays special for my family. It might be as simple as their favorite meal prepared for dinner or as major as covering the bathroom mirror with post it notes that say, “Happy Birthd

Imagine 60 high school students. Now add sleeping in tents in a campground by the beach for a week. The sight? The sound? The smell? It sounds like the start of a horror movie. But it was quite the opposite. Our church puts on a fantastic Beach Camp experience for the high school students.Three meals a day. Snacks. Worship time. Snacks. Friendship development. Snacks. A variety of organized and free time activities. Snacks. Adults who feed into and lead the students. Snacks.

It’s easier to hide. Honestly. It would be so much easier to hide at home, easier to let Thomas play on his device all day, easier to not try to preplan for every possible bit of extra simulation that could send him into an awkward and embarrassing (for me) melt down. Do you have situations in your life where it just feels easier to hide? But is easier better? No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stan

July 26 The Light of Autism I’ve often said that Thomas is a light for the love of Jesus. But that light, the light of Jesus that shines thru the lamp of autism has revealed things in my heart. Things that were hidden in secret corners. Honestly, things that may have stayed hidden without that bright, focused, disinfecting light that autism brought into my life. Things that led to a disconnect between what I SAID I believed about GOD and what my behavior DISPLAYED I believed

Cousins and risk-taking are a few of my kids’ favorite things.  At our last cousin-date, the gas powered go cart was dragged out. The cul-de-sac where the cousins live became a race track with cones to mark the boundary from the busy street. My son Thomas was jumping and flapping his hands with excitement while watching my eleven year-old nephew rip around the neighborhood race track like it was the Daytona 500. After a few turns around the track, my nephew asked Thomas if he