[some how this didn't get posted when I meant to, so you get a two-fer today]
Last weekend at church, the lovely and talented Rev. Erin said something that has really stuck with me (yes, Erin, some of us do listen. :)) She was talking about the urgency of sharing the Good News. We all know the kind of people who are sure that you are going to hell if you don't accept Jesus into your heart and be born again. Like literal actual factual burning in hell. Like my friend Erin, I don't much believe in an afterlife hell. Hell is here on earth. And the Good News is that it doesn't have to be that way if we just love one another unconditionally.
How's that for hope? Starving? Don't worry about it, someone will feed you. Sick? No worries, someone will heal you. Too sick to watch your kids? No problem, someone else will. We're not there yet, but we can be. How awesome is that?!
What I'm learning, the hard way, is that those people are out there, willing to help, but most of them aren't actively seeking out people to help. So I'm advertising for them. Not kidding. I have been advertising for people to volunteer in Crackle's playroom, doing Son-Rise therapy with him. And they're coming. Really good quality people made from chocolate covered awesome. They're responding to my ad asking them to come and learn how to play with him in a way that helps him learn. I've got 2 fabulous volunteers right now, I interviewed a new one today [addendum: she's amazing! I love her], and am meeting someone else tomorrow [also freakin' amazing!]. I've had several people come and try and it didn't work out for various reasons. But they tried. and that's truly wonderful.
I have people who are willing to commit to a minimum of 4 hours per week for 6 months. I have one who spends countless hours with them because it's fun, and she loves the amazing little gains. She was screaming with glee yesterday because he said "poop". And because of my amazing volunteers (and one paid worker), my kids are making huge strides. Pop wouldn't even get a diagnosis today, I'm willing to bet. Crackle? Crackle spoke. He. Spoke. I cannot tell you what a miracle that is. That's the kind of miracle Jesus spoke of. The good news that it doesn't have to be that way. He spoke. Oh sure, he just said, "poop" and "Dad" and "hey baby" and "up room". But he's 7. And they told me if he didn't talk by five, he never would.
So those are my miracles. That my kids are recovering (miracle 1) because strangers are volunteering their time to help (miracle 2). And that I found out about it in the first place!
Friday, February 22, 2013
It's okay to grieve
It's Lent, and I've been meaning to write a little about it, but my inlaws are in town and I'm tired (of them). KIDDING! I'm tired of my schedule disruption, and of dealing with lots of new people, especially knowing that most of them don't like me. But I've decided I don't care. That is, I will do what I want, say what I want, and live how I want, all while being loving toward them. And it's working. I'm much less stressed than last time. It's nice. Both my sisters-in-law have commented on how good I look, and how much weight I've lost (ha. not an ounce), and I credit it all to feeling better. I just look better because I don't look sick and stressed. YAY for side effects.
As I've mentioned, my church is closing, and I'm not taking it well. We're talking about the stages of grief, and the lovely Rev. Erin keeps asking me how I"m doing with it, and my answer is the same every time, "I'm rapid cycling through the stages". I'm accepting it, then mad, then sad, then trying to figure out a way to make it not happen, then just totally believing in it not happening, then mad again, etc. And then kind of all of them at the same time: I just can't believe it! What a bunch of quitters! I could make this work, if only...! This is so sad, but it'll be okay.
And speaking of grief, there was an ugly house fire that killed three people the other night. One of them was my SEA's best friend's sister. No connection to me, but the SEA knew her well enough. She's going to the funeral this morning. We were talking today about how our society really sucks at helping other people through grief. We offer platitudes and then forget about it, while our friend grieves alone. The platitudes are easy to understand; people want to offer comfort and hope. We say stupid shit like, "He's happy now" (he was happy before!) "She's with God now" (She was with God before! And what if the grieving survivor isn't religious? SHUT UP with the God stuff unless you know it'll be welcome.) "There's a reason for everything!" (Who cares?! It's grief.). We have these weird traditions of bringing food to the house of the person grieving (usually gross crap they'd never eat) until the funeral, and then we, by and large, ignore them and go back to living our lives without any sort of thought about them other than a passing, "Gee, I wonder how X is". I saw it when Dad died. People called and came over and brought food. Until the funeral. After the service, everyone came back to Mom's house, ate most of the food, and then never called again. Hardly anyone ever even mentioned my Dad that day. And one person even had the nerve to talk to me about my birth family.
Not a single person called me to check on me. A few called me to see how Mom was.
We are failing. We are failing miserably at comforting the grieving. We're failing miserably at being allowed to grieve. When I was thanking all the people at church who sent me cards (and seriously, greeting cards are an acceptable way to say I recognise you're going through something, but I don't want to have to talk to you), I started to cry. Afterward, someone told me that by now, I shouldn't be crying so much, and maybe I should go get therapy. It was 4 weeks.
I'm not as bitter as I sound. This is just an honest recounting of what happened, and how I feel it wasn't enough. And how I feel that as a society, we can do better for people in mourning. I cannot imagine the pain the family of the people who died in the fire. Cannot begin to fathom. I hope so much that they have someone with them who stays, long after today. Who calls, checks, who takes them out, helps them feel somewhat normal again. And most importantly reminds them that they've not forgotten their loved one, and not forgotten their pain. And that it is okay to grieve.
As I've mentioned, my church is closing, and I'm not taking it well. We're talking about the stages of grief, and the lovely Rev. Erin keeps asking me how I"m doing with it, and my answer is the same every time, "I'm rapid cycling through the stages". I'm accepting it, then mad, then sad, then trying to figure out a way to make it not happen, then just totally believing in it not happening, then mad again, etc. And then kind of all of them at the same time: I just can't believe it! What a bunch of quitters! I could make this work, if only...! This is so sad, but it'll be okay.
And speaking of grief, there was an ugly house fire that killed three people the other night. One of them was my SEA's best friend's sister. No connection to me, but the SEA knew her well enough. She's going to the funeral this morning. We were talking today about how our society really sucks at helping other people through grief. We offer platitudes and then forget about it, while our friend grieves alone. The platitudes are easy to understand; people want to offer comfort and hope. We say stupid shit like, "He's happy now" (he was happy before!) "She's with God now" (She was with God before! And what if the grieving survivor isn't religious? SHUT UP with the God stuff unless you know it'll be welcome.) "There's a reason for everything!" (Who cares?! It's grief.). We have these weird traditions of bringing food to the house of the person grieving (usually gross crap they'd never eat) until the funeral, and then we, by and large, ignore them and go back to living our lives without any sort of thought about them other than a passing, "Gee, I wonder how X is". I saw it when Dad died. People called and came over and brought food. Until the funeral. After the service, everyone came back to Mom's house, ate most of the food, and then never called again. Hardly anyone ever even mentioned my Dad that day. And one person even had the nerve to talk to me about my birth family.
Not a single person called me to check on me. A few called me to see how Mom was.
We are failing. We are failing miserably at comforting the grieving. We're failing miserably at being allowed to grieve. When I was thanking all the people at church who sent me cards (and seriously, greeting cards are an acceptable way to say I recognise you're going through something, but I don't want to have to talk to you), I started to cry. Afterward, someone told me that by now, I shouldn't be crying so much, and maybe I should go get therapy. It was 4 weeks.
I'm not as bitter as I sound. This is just an honest recounting of what happened, and how I feel it wasn't enough. And how I feel that as a society, we can do better for people in mourning. I cannot imagine the pain the family of the people who died in the fire. Cannot begin to fathom. I hope so much that they have someone with them who stays, long after today. Who calls, checks, who takes them out, helps them feel somewhat normal again. And most importantly reminds them that they've not forgotten their loved one, and not forgotten their pain. And that it is okay to grieve.
Monday, January 28, 2013
New hope for an old church
I've been having a hard time finding hope lately. Never mind all that sunshiny goodness that I came home with after Son-Rise New Frontiers. It's a lot of things, and I know I could find it again, but I think the misery is serving me somehow right now, because I'm reluctant to even try to let go. Part of it is definitely chemical though. I keep getting glutened, and that has some serious psychological symptoms. I'll admit my part, but I think I get a pass on part of it. :)
My church is very likely closing. I'd say it's a near certainty that it will close June 30 this year. I am grieving. I know that I could smile that I had it, not cry that it's gone, but it's been a big part of my life and I'm going to miss it terribly. It's not like the Catholic Church where I could just drive down the street to the next one and have the exact same experience. My church is small, upbeat, casual, welcoming to all. We have amazing music and wonderful people. When I broke my foot a few years ago, hundreds of dollars arrived at my door, anonymously. I know it was from church, but not from whom in particular. No one let on. When my 3rd kid was diagnosed with Autism, people cried with me and held me, and told me how awesome I was. One woman has spent countless hours doing energy healing (Healing Pathway) with people, 10s of hours with me alone! It was someone from church that convinced me to try Son-Rise! (Thanks Arnold! You'll never know what a blessing you are.) When I look around and see gay couples snuggled up listening to the sermon, right next to a breastfeeding Mom, next to an octogenarian who is smiling at both of them, I wonder where I ever could find this love again. When I hear the pianist playing Old Grey Mare as a way of teasing the minister during the prelude, and kids in costumes, or adults in their running clothes, I wonder if I'll ever find a place so casually comfortable. And I doubt it.
But we're too small to keep going the way we're going. And the way we're going isn't really healthy anyway. We're pretty insular. We do some fundraising for good causes and provide cheap rent to AA groups, but I don't see us doing a lot of mission* work. At least not as a church. I think there are a lot of people who do mission work on their own. I know there are, actually. But together as a church, we're not doing much. We have a problem finding volunteers. And there's a good reason for that. We know it's not working. We know it's dying. And we're tired of doing the same old thing and nothing working.
The Church (this time uppercase C, meaning the whole United Church of Canada and really, all of Christendom has been saying that the Church will have to undergo radical change in order to thrive. But churches are more conservative that your Aunt Clara, and slower to move than her bowel after a steak dinner. Most individual churches' idea of "radical change" involves changing the service time to 11am on Sunday rather than 10:30.
So we're dying.
I'm sure hoping for another resurrection! No false hope, as I recall, is the name of this blog. Hope means "I'll try", I think I said. So I will try. I will bug people to do things differently. Our church voted on "doing church differently" and most voted in favour of it, but there was no common vision of what that would be. Council decided that we couldn't afford it anyway, in money and time, and recommended a proposal to close. Now, I think that's remarkably short-sighted and self-defeating. How on earth or heaven can anyone determine that they don't have enough time or money to do something when they haven't defined what that something is?
Here's my vision, as clear as I can make it: Sell the albatross that is the building and land. Bank the money, and rent a small commercial space in a strip mall or under condos. Make it on a bus route. Downtown Colwood would be perfect. Maybe near the casino on the View Royal side. Use that commercial site to run some sort of mission. I don't care what. Ideas include: cheap daycare, youth drop-in centre, soup kitchen, tech exchange/tutoring (poor people need tech help too!). Pick one. It could open even once a week to start with. Grants, donations, fundraising in the community (not just in our congregation) can make this happen. And there can be worship services for those who wish to attend, just like they are now. We don't lose the spirit of our church, and we start doing, as a church, what Jesus told us to do.
We don't have the money? Sell the building. We don't have the volunteers? If we tell them what we're planning, and advertise for more volunteer help, it will happen. It can happen. But there needs to be clarity of vision. Not "we'll be different. Can you help?" No. No, I can't. "We need volunteers for church school. Can you help?" No. No, I can't. That's the same old thing, and I'm bloody sick and tired of it. This is not 1962. It will never be 1962 again. So please, let's look to the future, to completely new ways of doing things, not rearranging the chairs.
Here's hoping!
My church is very likely closing. I'd say it's a near certainty that it will close June 30 this year. I am grieving. I know that I could smile that I had it, not cry that it's gone, but it's been a big part of my life and I'm going to miss it terribly. It's not like the Catholic Church where I could just drive down the street to the next one and have the exact same experience. My church is small, upbeat, casual, welcoming to all. We have amazing music and wonderful people. When I broke my foot a few years ago, hundreds of dollars arrived at my door, anonymously. I know it was from church, but not from whom in particular. No one let on. When my 3rd kid was diagnosed with Autism, people cried with me and held me, and told me how awesome I was. One woman has spent countless hours doing energy healing (Healing Pathway) with people, 10s of hours with me alone! It was someone from church that convinced me to try Son-Rise! (Thanks Arnold! You'll never know what a blessing you are.) When I look around and see gay couples snuggled up listening to the sermon, right next to a breastfeeding Mom, next to an octogenarian who is smiling at both of them, I wonder where I ever could find this love again. When I hear the pianist playing Old Grey Mare as a way of teasing the minister during the prelude, and kids in costumes, or adults in their running clothes, I wonder if I'll ever find a place so casually comfortable. And I doubt it.
But we're too small to keep going the way we're going. And the way we're going isn't really healthy anyway. We're pretty insular. We do some fundraising for good causes and provide cheap rent to AA groups, but I don't see us doing a lot of mission* work. At least not as a church. I think there are a lot of people who do mission work on their own. I know there are, actually. But together as a church, we're not doing much. We have a problem finding volunteers. And there's a good reason for that. We know it's not working. We know it's dying. And we're tired of doing the same old thing and nothing working.
The Church (this time uppercase C, meaning the whole United Church of Canada and really, all of Christendom has been saying that the Church will have to undergo radical change in order to thrive. But churches are more conservative that your Aunt Clara, and slower to move than her bowel after a steak dinner. Most individual churches' idea of "radical change" involves changing the service time to 11am on Sunday rather than 10:30.
So we're dying.
I'm sure hoping for another resurrection! No false hope, as I recall, is the name of this blog. Hope means "I'll try", I think I said. So I will try. I will bug people to do things differently. Our church voted on "doing church differently" and most voted in favour of it, but there was no common vision of what that would be. Council decided that we couldn't afford it anyway, in money and time, and recommended a proposal to close. Now, I think that's remarkably short-sighted and self-defeating. How on earth or heaven can anyone determine that they don't have enough time or money to do something when they haven't defined what that something is?
Here's my vision, as clear as I can make it: Sell the albatross that is the building and land. Bank the money, and rent a small commercial space in a strip mall or under condos. Make it on a bus route. Downtown Colwood would be perfect. Maybe near the casino on the View Royal side. Use that commercial site to run some sort of mission. I don't care what. Ideas include: cheap daycare, youth drop-in centre, soup kitchen, tech exchange/tutoring (poor people need tech help too!). Pick one. It could open even once a week to start with. Grants, donations, fundraising in the community (not just in our congregation) can make this happen. And there can be worship services for those who wish to attend, just like they are now. We don't lose the spirit of our church, and we start doing, as a church, what Jesus told us to do.
We don't have the money? Sell the building. We don't have the volunteers? If we tell them what we're planning, and advertise for more volunteer help, it will happen. It can happen. But there needs to be clarity of vision. Not "we'll be different. Can you help?" No. No, I can't. "We need volunteers for church school. Can you help?" No. No, I can't. That's the same old thing, and I'm bloody sick and tired of it. This is not 1962. It will never be 1962 again. So please, let's look to the future, to completely new ways of doing things, not rearranging the chairs.
Here's hoping!
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Little Miracles
Today, I did something I've done once before. I climbed a hill. A big
hill. 200m of path to the summit. Did you think it was a metaphor? Nope. I really climbed a hill. Mill Hill, it's called. Pop likes to hike, so I took him there this morning, and he more or less ran up the hill while I hiked and panted my way up. Down was harder still. Doesn't seem like it should be hard to walk down the mountain, but it sure was. My shins hurt. Okay, my everything hurts, but my shins are really barking at me.
There's something about doing something that is difficult, accomplishing a challenge that is truly awesome. I mean, sure, this is not news, right? But whatever, my blog, my story. Less than 10 years ago, I was disabled. I was in chronic, intractable pain. I crawled up the stairs in my own home. I had canes. I took Percocet. I smoked pot to keep the percocet down. I was a mess. I had no hope. Or very little, I guess, because I still tried things to get better. Never dreamed I'd be truly well again though.
God flicked my ears. Some people call it the universe giving them signs, I call it ear flicks. Some weirdo stopped me in a health food store to tell me I was going to die if I didn't stop eating gluten. I hadn't heard of gluten except in passing. And then over the course of the next few weeks, a zillion people mentioned gluten to me. I said, "Okay GOD! I get it! No more gluten!" and once I finally got it right (and it wasn't quite that simple), I got better. Healthy. Strong. And now I'm climbing mountains. Okay, hills. With footpaths. But to me, it's a mountain. Because 10 years ago, I couldn't walk across campus at UVic. I had a disability parking permit, and drove from family housing to the my building. Literally a 5 minute walk. And now I climb for an hour. It's a miracle.
It is. It is my miracle. One of them anyway. I've been blessed with a few of them. And so, today, when I got to the summit and the sun came out and shone on us, and through the clouds with amazing rays that lit up the water just like I like it, I saw God in it.
I told Pop that I saw God. He said, "Uh huh" in his well duh voice, that only a 3 year old can do without being obnoxious. It's pretty cool how what was amazing and thrilling to me was old hat to him. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
There's something about doing something that is difficult, accomplishing a challenge that is truly awesome. I mean, sure, this is not news, right? But whatever, my blog, my story. Less than 10 years ago, I was disabled. I was in chronic, intractable pain. I crawled up the stairs in my own home. I had canes. I took Percocet. I smoked pot to keep the percocet down. I was a mess. I had no hope. Or very little, I guess, because I still tried things to get better. Never dreamed I'd be truly well again though.
God flicked my ears. Some people call it the universe giving them signs, I call it ear flicks. Some weirdo stopped me in a health food store to tell me I was going to die if I didn't stop eating gluten. I hadn't heard of gluten except in passing. And then over the course of the next few weeks, a zillion people mentioned gluten to me. I said, "Okay GOD! I get it! No more gluten!" and once I finally got it right (and it wasn't quite that simple), I got better. Healthy. Strong. And now I'm climbing mountains. Okay, hills. With footpaths. But to me, it's a mountain. Because 10 years ago, I couldn't walk across campus at UVic. I had a disability parking permit, and drove from family housing to the my building. Literally a 5 minute walk. And now I climb for an hour. It's a miracle.
It is. It is my miracle. One of them anyway. I've been blessed with a few of them. And so, today, when I got to the summit and the sun came out and shone on us, and through the clouds with amazing rays that lit up the water just like I like it, I saw God in it.
I told Pop that I saw God. He said, "Uh huh" in his well duh voice, that only a 3 year old can do without being obnoxious. It's pretty cool how what was amazing and thrilling to me was old hat to him. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
Monday, December 17, 2012
The Joy of Change
Yesterday, there was a meeting at church. Our church needs to change. Or die. Those are the choices. So there are people who want big change, some who want a little change, some who think it's time to let it go. I'm in the first category. Surprised? :)
The Christian church was born out of death and resurrection. If the apostles had said, "Oh well, that was fun while it lasted" where would we be now? But they took Jesus's message to go forth and heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the poor and visit the imprisoned, and they went with it. I'm rather sure they changed things up as they went along. We've been doing church one way for too many years, and it's not working any more. So instead of clinging to it, I want let go and rebuild. Not in the same way. Not in the same buildings. Not in the same anything, really.
My vision of the church in the coming years is a church of service to the community. Social justice in God's name. No one who joins has to believe. There can be so old fashioned worship services for those who need them, but no one need feel compelled to attend. Bible study for those who love the scripture. And all are welcome, to come serve the community or just be part of it. Soup kitchens, community centers, coffee shops that offer coffee by donation and a place to sit and chat with people, laundromats that let homeless people do their laundry for free. I picture storefront churches where people can come in, buy a book, chat with the minister about life, the universe and everything (42), where there's a cup of tea and a quiet room to get away from it all. Warm beds at night. Non-profit daycares and medical clinics.
And the name Jesus or God never needs to be uttered once, by anyone working at any of them. Because God will be there. They will know we are Christians by our love. Not our cramming of our theology down their throats. Because that's what's happened too much. We've misused God so badly that the mere mention of Jesus or God or even "holy" sends people running. And it doesn't have to be that way. The mere act of service can be our worship.
God's message to Christians to go and spread the Good News has been so badly perverted. We must stop with the message of intolerance for people who don't believe. We must stop talking about sin and Satan and Hell. We must stop doing our good works in order to try to convert anyone. In fact, we must stop trying to convert people. Because we're doing it wrong. If we want people to hear God's word through us, we have to stop being such assholes all the fucking time. We have to start being awesome, wonderful, beautiful, tolerant, accepting, generous, kind and compassionate people just for the sake of being all those things. Not because we're afraid of God. Not because we're afraid of hell. But because we love God and we love our fellow humans. Remember, that is exactly what Jesus said were the commandments in a nutshell. Love God. Love each other.
It's advent and yesterday was the day we lit the joy candle. Let this be the advent where a new Christianity is born. Let's rejoice in it. Let's have joy in our days, so that we're happy, joyous people. And when people see that and want that, we can teach them to love and be loved too. If they don't see it or don't want it, that's okay too. Because we'll still be happy.
The Christian church was born out of death and resurrection. If the apostles had said, "Oh well, that was fun while it lasted" where would we be now? But they took Jesus's message to go forth and heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the poor and visit the imprisoned, and they went with it. I'm rather sure they changed things up as they went along. We've been doing church one way for too many years, and it's not working any more. So instead of clinging to it, I want let go and rebuild. Not in the same way. Not in the same buildings. Not in the same anything, really.
My vision of the church in the coming years is a church of service to the community. Social justice in God's name. No one who joins has to believe. There can be so old fashioned worship services for those who need them, but no one need feel compelled to attend. Bible study for those who love the scripture. And all are welcome, to come serve the community or just be part of it. Soup kitchens, community centers, coffee shops that offer coffee by donation and a place to sit and chat with people, laundromats that let homeless people do their laundry for free. I picture storefront churches where people can come in, buy a book, chat with the minister about life, the universe and everything (42), where there's a cup of tea and a quiet room to get away from it all. Warm beds at night. Non-profit daycares and medical clinics.
And the name Jesus or God never needs to be uttered once, by anyone working at any of them. Because God will be there. They will know we are Christians by our love. Not our cramming of our theology down their throats. Because that's what's happened too much. We've misused God so badly that the mere mention of Jesus or God or even "holy" sends people running. And it doesn't have to be that way. The mere act of service can be our worship.
God's message to Christians to go and spread the Good News has been so badly perverted. We must stop with the message of intolerance for people who don't believe. We must stop talking about sin and Satan and Hell. We must stop doing our good works in order to try to convert anyone. In fact, we must stop trying to convert people. Because we're doing it wrong. If we want people to hear God's word through us, we have to stop being such assholes all the fucking time. We have to start being awesome, wonderful, beautiful, tolerant, accepting, generous, kind and compassionate people just for the sake of being all those things. Not because we're afraid of God. Not because we're afraid of hell. But because we love God and we love our fellow humans. Remember, that is exactly what Jesus said were the commandments in a nutshell. Love God. Love each other.
It's advent and yesterday was the day we lit the joy candle. Let this be the advent where a new Christianity is born. Let's rejoice in it. Let's have joy in our days, so that we're happy, joyous people. And when people see that and want that, we can teach them to love and be loved too. If they don't see it or don't want it, that's okay too. Because we'll still be happy.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Prayers for healing
I was going to post something about the school shooting in my other blog, because I was having a hard time being remotely positive about it, and I want to fill this blog with love, not hatred. But I couldn't.
A deeply disturbed young man killed his parents, and about 26 other people, in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been (I was through there a few weeks ago). That's horrible. The survivors face so much grief.
I have a lot of hope for them. I am praying that they take this tragedy, and make it a defining event in their lives. Something that reminds them how precious life is, and how important every moment is. I am praying that they create peace for themselves again, and regain a sense of security that helps them through.
I'm praying for the shooter, the man so miserable that he could do such a horrible thing. May God have mercy on his soul.
I'm praying for the counselors, the police, the support people who will help all the people there. That they find inner strength, and create peace in themselves.
I'm praying for any remaining family members of the killer. His friends. The people who knew him when he was growing up. That they don't take on any guilt or regrets. Just learn from anything they might have missed or wish they'd done differently. Just learn. No judgments.
I'm praying for the American people. That they somehow come to understand that guns DO kill people. An unhinged man with a machete would have done a lot less damage. I hear so often, "This is not the time to make a political statement". But you know what, this is exactly the time. Because I'm not exploiting their deaths to get my political opinion across. Not at all. I care deeply about people, and very much want to prevent this kind of massacre from ever happening again. And that can't be done without restricting access to guns. It just can't. I know, I know, people love to say that criminals don't follow the rules anyway. But the people who do this kind of crime, they're not usually criminals until they do this kind of crime. They're not in gangs or part of mafias. They're ordinary people who snap. And if most ordinary people don't have easy access to guns if they snap, they won't have the weapons they need to pull off such a massacre. So my prayer is, "God, show people that in your dream for the world, there are no weapons. And show them how wonderful your dream is."
My final prayer is for healing. It encompasses everyone. I'm praying for healing for the hearts and souls of every single person affected by this. From the injured survivors right down to the person reading about it on the internet. Help us, God, to heal ourselves.
A deeply disturbed young man killed his parents, and about 26 other people, in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been (I was through there a few weeks ago). That's horrible. The survivors face so much grief.
I have a lot of hope for them. I am praying that they take this tragedy, and make it a defining event in their lives. Something that reminds them how precious life is, and how important every moment is. I am praying that they create peace for themselves again, and regain a sense of security that helps them through.
I'm praying for the shooter, the man so miserable that he could do such a horrible thing. May God have mercy on his soul.
I'm praying for the counselors, the police, the support people who will help all the people there. That they find inner strength, and create peace in themselves.
I'm praying for any remaining family members of the killer. His friends. The people who knew him when he was growing up. That they don't take on any guilt or regrets. Just learn from anything they might have missed or wish they'd done differently. Just learn. No judgments.
I'm praying for the American people. That they somehow come to understand that guns DO kill people. An unhinged man with a machete would have done a lot less damage. I hear so often, "This is not the time to make a political statement". But you know what, this is exactly the time. Because I'm not exploiting their deaths to get my political opinion across. Not at all. I care deeply about people, and very much want to prevent this kind of massacre from ever happening again. And that can't be done without restricting access to guns. It just can't. I know, I know, people love to say that criminals don't follow the rules anyway. But the people who do this kind of crime, they're not usually criminals until they do this kind of crime. They're not in gangs or part of mafias. They're ordinary people who snap. And if most ordinary people don't have easy access to guns if they snap, they won't have the weapons they need to pull off such a massacre. So my prayer is, "God, show people that in your dream for the world, there are no weapons. And show them how wonderful your dream is."
My final prayer is for healing. It encompasses everyone. I'm praying for healing for the hearts and souls of every single person affected by this. From the injured survivors right down to the person reading about it on the internet. Help us, God, to heal ourselves.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
New information
I've had a bit of a hard week. I got some new information on Snap, my beautiful 17 year old daughter. She's got autism, which I knew, but what I didn't know is she also has non-verbal learning disability. I'm massively proud of her, now that I know what she's been facing, and how she's managed to do as well as she has. What's hard is that the gist of everything I've read is, "Parenting: Luna is doing it wrong". I know I can't really get too mad at myself. I've been doing the best I can with the information I had. But I'm also having a lot of moments of what if. What if I'd pushed harder with the pediatrician who told me I was spoiling her, and that her problems were entirely my fault? What if I'd insisted that my doctor refer us to someone else? What if I'd pushed the school harder to get her tested earlier? What if?! She's 17. She's got some of the issues the articles say will happen if she's not handled properly. And of course, she wasn't, because we didn't know. And there seems to be no information about what to do next. The expert advice is seriously lacking. And the information for adults with it is almost non-existent.
I'm getting much better at not worrying about what if. I used to really get hung up on that. But it doesn't help. Doesn't help me. Doesn't help her. And who knows what if, anyway? Maybe not a damn thing would be different. Maybe it'd be different, but not better. Maybe it would be worse. I don't bloody know. So I'm not doing that. As much.
And you know, I'm not giving up on her. Snap is awesome. Clearly. The fact that she's going to graduate from high school with her full diploma, with just the little support that she's gotten (tests in quiet rooms, extended deadlines, extra resource blocks, etc.) shows that she is amazing. And she's planning to go to college. Current plan is Camosun's university transfer course, with a transfer over to UVic's Women's Studies program in a couple of years. SO PROUD. I'm bursting with pride for her.
Doesn't mean she doesn't drive me crazy. She's 17. But I'm understanding her a bit better now, and that is really helping my happiness levels. It's much easier to be happy when I'm not holding on to judgements like "my parenting sucks" or "she's a lazy teenager" or "if she just cared more about X, she'd do Y". Um, nope. Turns out her brain is wired differently. And suddenly, it's easier for me to be happy with her. Isn't that interesting? Nothing about her has changed. And suddenly, I'm happier with her. Because I have new information? Sort of. The new information gave me what I needed to change my beliefs about her. But I could have done that without it. I could have just decided that she was doing her best with what she had, and been a happy camper. And I didn't see that until now. It's really kind of an awesome power to have. I can simply change what I believe about people, and be happy. What would it matter if I were wrong? What if my kid was just lazy and I decided she was doing her best? Would that mean I wouldn't still try to help her best be even better? No. It wouldn't really affect how I'd try to help her. It would only change my attitude toward it.
I'm going to try doing that with some other people in my life. Let's see how that works out!
I'm getting much better at not worrying about what if. I used to really get hung up on that. But it doesn't help. Doesn't help me. Doesn't help her. And who knows what if, anyway? Maybe not a damn thing would be different. Maybe it'd be different, but not better. Maybe it would be worse. I don't bloody know. So I'm not doing that. As much.
And you know, I'm not giving up on her. Snap is awesome. Clearly. The fact that she's going to graduate from high school with her full diploma, with just the little support that she's gotten (tests in quiet rooms, extended deadlines, extra resource blocks, etc.) shows that she is amazing. And she's planning to go to college. Current plan is Camosun's university transfer course, with a transfer over to UVic's Women's Studies program in a couple of years. SO PROUD. I'm bursting with pride for her.
Doesn't mean she doesn't drive me crazy. She's 17. But I'm understanding her a bit better now, and that is really helping my happiness levels. It's much easier to be happy when I'm not holding on to judgements like "my parenting sucks" or "she's a lazy teenager" or "if she just cared more about X, she'd do Y". Um, nope. Turns out her brain is wired differently. And suddenly, it's easier for me to be happy with her. Isn't that interesting? Nothing about her has changed. And suddenly, I'm happier with her. Because I have new information? Sort of. The new information gave me what I needed to change my beliefs about her. But I could have done that without it. I could have just decided that she was doing her best with what she had, and been a happy camper. And I didn't see that until now. It's really kind of an awesome power to have. I can simply change what I believe about people, and be happy. What would it matter if I were wrong? What if my kid was just lazy and I decided she was doing her best? Would that mean I wouldn't still try to help her best be even better? No. It wouldn't really affect how I'd try to help her. It would only change my attitude toward it.
I'm going to try doing that with some other people in my life. Let's see how that works out!
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