An Invitation to the World of Special Needs by Ruth L. Snyder

My twin sons invited me into the world of special needs in a heart-to-heart way. Before they became my sons at eighteen months of age, the words "global delay" and "developmental disability" had little meaning.

The first pediatrician who saw my boys said they would never walk, talk, or feed themselves. (Thankfully, Luke and Levi proved this prognosis was wrong by the time they were five years old.) I naively thought if I poured all my love and energy into them, they would catch up to their peers. From first thing in the morning until they went to bed at night I cared for their extensive needs. Along with hugs and kisses, I taught them many things, including how to feed themselves. (It took Luke six months of hand-over-hand feeding before he learned how to scoop his food and put it into his mouth.) I also gave them massage therapy, took them to speech therapy, learned and taught them Sign Language (they didn't talk until they were four years old), and drove them to countless medical appointments. These boys turned me into an advocate—Momma Bear! When they needed something, I researched available services and figured out how the boys could access them.

As they grew older, their differences became more noticeable. The invitations to birthday parties stopped. Their peers often spoke to the adult support workers instead of directly to the boys. In school, they were often pulled out of class and taught by educational assistants instead of their teachers. Luke and Levi did not complain. They laughed and learned and loved. 

Luke is passionate about wild animals, especially wolves. He wants to be a wolf biologist. Luke can tell you almost any story from the Bible and wants everyone to follow God. Luke loves being with people. He wants to go to college, get married, and have a family. 

Levi can tell you more about almost any vehicle than most guys. One time he was listening in to a conversation with a Ford salesman. When the salesman mentioned a particular vehicle, Levi said, "They don't make that vehicle anymore. They stopped producing them in 1999." The salesman argued, but when he went back to his shop he discovered Levi was correct. Levi wants to live in his own home with his cat.

Many people look at my boys and see how they are different. They are shorter than guys their age. Their voices are soft and they don't enunciate their words clearly. They struggle to express their needs and wants and get frustrated when people don't understand them. Levi doesn't talk much and people assume he doesn't understand what's going on around him...until they say something he disagrees with. Luke talks to and sometimes yells at invisible friends (perhaps making up for the lack of real friends).

According to Statistics Canada, there are over 160, 000 people across Canada who have developmental disabilities. These people struggle to access education, which results in low employment rates and a low standard of living. (The employment rate was only 27% in 2017.) For many years, people with developmental disabilities were forced to live in institutions. (Check out the historical timeline for people with disabilities.) Although the institutions have been closed and most people with developmental disabilities live in their local community, a majority spend their lives in group homes. Sometimes this is their choice, but often individuals and their families are not presented with other options. 

I dream of a world where all people are valued and loved. If we all do our part, we can change our world. I invite you to get to know individuals with developmental disabilities. Find out what they are passionate about. Ask them about their dreams. Take time to listen. Celebrate their victories. If you want more information, go to https://inclusioncanada.ca/. 

Is there a change you would like to see in our world? Tell me about it in the comments below!

Speak Up for the Voiceless by Wendy L Macdonald

     

      I’ve tried to avoid dying on the hill of any hot button issue—except for one. This issue was fairly easy for me to write about since I did it from a safe distance. I donated to the cause and posted about it on my blog. Then one day everything changed: I needed to put feet to what I believed. 

A poignant text arrived while I was sitting cozy in my antique rocking chair that's covered by the same lambskin I used to line the stroller and snow sled for each of my beloved babies. The message included an ultrasound image of an unplanned baby whose dad happened to be my then nineteen-year-old son. 

Without going into the details of how and why, my life took a big turn in a direction I had secretly hoped wouldn’t ever happen to me; I ended up helping raise my grandchild for his first many months of life. A. Lot. I helped deeper and wider than I anticipated. I put feet to my prolife belief.

I still help out regularly. But now it’s at a normal pace that doesn’t wear me out and doesn’t leave me with barely any time for my creative life. I don’t regret those early months of putting little guy ahead of everything else. I learned a lot. I was blessed a lot. And the bond between my grandson and I is rock solid. I adore him. (I even used the lambskin I mentioned to line his stroller.)

The sacrifice of love God asked of me has given me a greater boldness in writing about the hot button issue of abortion. I can write regarding prolife because God made sure I walked the talk. When I was told I was going to be a grandmother sooner than any of us expected, I didn’t flinch—I supported my son in his decision to say yes to life. I spoke affirming words that backed up what I believed. I knew God would help all of us. And trust me, we needed His help because some aspects of the situation were so challenging that even a professional who became involved commented we’d have to go pretty far to come across a situation as strange as ours was.

Yes, I know how complicated unplanned journeys can be. I got a closeup glimpse of why some grandparents and parents possibly-to-be might say no to life. I saw the dark side of saying yes. I saw some things that went horribly wrong.

But we didn’t walk alone. God, in His mercy, brought people in the know alongside so we knew we weren’t alone—so our hurting hearts were cushioned by the lambskin of His love.

No matter what hot button issue God calls us to write about and get involved in, we’re going to face fire at some point. The hotter the issue, the more likely we’ll get burnt. But I’d rather be one of the ones who suffers a little bit here than one of those who causes a little one to suffer. God’s got this. Each life. Each loss.       

  Our job as Christ’s followers, and as His inspirational writers, is to trust, obey, and write God’s way: truthfully in love. There’s no fear of regret when we walk and write in love.

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Proverbs 31:8 NIV

Right to life blessings ~ Wendy Mac 

P.S. I'm nosy-to-know if you've ever put feet to your prolife belief and helped an unwed parent in your church family? It's rarer than you think. But the parent and his/her family will remember you forever as a person of true faith because you loved and didn't judge.    

I 'm Only One by Carol Harrison

 

 

I’m Only One

  I watch the news and hear of pain, see the protests, and escalating conflicts. My heart hurts. I turn off the news and long to bury my head under the covers and pretend or hope it will go away, be resolved, or at least not touch any closer to home. But I know this brokenness exists. I realize people are hurting and need others to stand with them and for them. What can I do? I am only one.

I hear about social issues close to home, people in my community who need so much. Poverty, hungry children, those with mental illness, addictions, or disabilities live here. Their needs are often ignored. They are forgotten for no one wants to understand, offer a helping hand, a listening ear. The marginalized don't seem to have a voice. This breaks my heart. What can I do? I am only one.

Abuse happens even in homes we least likely expect it to. Pornography permeates places we never think it might. Women disappear. Human trafficking doesn’t just happen somewhere else. Fear and shame hover near. Anger and outrage erupts as abuse, disappearances, or extreme anguish and pain surface for others to see. Then my heart aches. What can I do? I am only one.

Racism rears its ugly head over and over; not just in other places but close to home. People need to be seen for who they are – wonderfully made by God, even though many don’t acknowledge that. The need for equality, fairness, and acceptance surround me. My heart cries. What can I do? I am only one.

Countless numbers need to hear the good news of the gospel; the news that God loves them and Jesus took their place on the cross. Some are waiting to hear for the first time. Some are waiting to see this good news shared through actions and attitudes, not words only. They’ve been hurt by too many in the name of Christianity, by those who do not live with the attitudes and actions God desires. Do I share my faith in tangible ways? Do I share it through my words, my actions, my attitudes? My heart sorrows for when I don’t. What can I do?

Too often I allow defeat to render me ineffective for I am only one against so many problems, trials, and injustices. Sometimes I still long to hide away and hope someone else sounds the alarm, walks alongside to help, or rallies others to make a difference. But that is not what God commands in Scripture. I am not only one. I am part of the body of Christ. I am part of humanity.

What can I do? There are many things for each one of us, including me, to do. First I must remain faithful to God's Word. Then I must allow God to help me live His truth everyday even when I don’t understand how to help others in this broken world around me.

Matthew 6: 14-16 says, “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to every one in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

What can I do? I am only one. One little light in a dark and hurting world. Matthew 10: 42 says “And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.” A cup of water is one little thing. Actively listening to someone’s story and accepting them for who they are and where they are is one little thing. Giving funds or provisions to someone who desperately needs them is one little thing. I can do one small thing at a time, which will touch the life of one person, who in turn can touch someone else. A chain of small things can change the world.

My heart hurts for all the pain and suffering. It breaks for all those misunderstood, unloved, or abused. But what has God placed in my heart to write about, talk about, and take action on when opportunity knocks? Several things pull harder on my heart strings or at least more often. One is inclusion for those with disabilities. What does it really mean to include those who move and learn differently? I am only one but I can speak to this and write about it for I have lived it for years as an advocate for my daughter. What I write about is born from my desire to educate others and encourage them to know the person, see the ability within the disability, and how we all are created by God to be our unique selves.

There are times my heart is heavy, my emotions tear-filled, and darkness threatens to overtake me. Depression has been an issue in my life. As God brought people to walk alongside, counsel, and encourage me, so now my heart pulls me to help and encourage others.

Maybe I hang back because I don’t like conflict. Most hot button issues fan conflict, increase the pain, and make me want to hide instead of being God's light and help to others. My heart still hurts and my conscience pricks when I abdicate doing and not just reading God's commands in the Bible. What can I do? I am only one.

I can live life, with God’s help, as described in Colossians 3: 12–15. It also reminds me I am not alone but part of a group, the body of believers.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you many have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.  

What can I do? I am only one, but I serve the God for whom nothing is impossible. I will be faithful to what he asks me to speak or write. I will walk with someone who is hurting instead of hiding under the covers. I am only one but God can use me in ways I can’t imagine, to make a difference for someone else.  Yes, I am only one but Jesus is THE ONLY ONE.

 

 

 Carol Harrison shares her stories of hope and God's faithfulness from her home in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Her desire is to walk humbly through whatever doors God opens to encourage others in their own journey's and tell them the stories of Jesus.

Lord, Bless the Children--Part 1 by Sharon Espeseth

Jesus with young children
Adobe Stock Free image

Jesus Loves the Little Children

"The people brought children to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus was irate and let them know it: 'Don't push these children away. Don't ever get between them and me. These children are at the very centre of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in. Then gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them. (Mark 10:13-16 The Message).” 

 

Teaching 

For my first year of teaching, I was assigned to teach 24 grade three students in a small three-room school in a small town. I “adopted” these kids and vowed to do the best I could for each of them. Each year, I “adopted” a new batch of kids and committed myself to teaching them to the best of my ability. Knowing I needed more education to meet the varied needs of my students, I continued taking evening and summer classes at the U of A. 

Being single, I had the opportunity to live and teach in different communities in Alberta where I gained experience. My niche became the primary classroom, and maybe reading recovery programs. 

In 1974, I moved from Fort McMurray back to Edmonton, where I could take more courses at U of A. I also taught Resource Room students half-time in Alex Taylor. Teaching in this inner city school with Steve Ramsankar, a nationally recognized educator, as my principal was an amazing adventure. I loved teaching kids to read and to unlock the treasures in written material.

Sharon in the Classroom

Changes in the Status Quo

My return to Edmonton was for only one year, because 1974 was also the year I met Hank. We were married the next summer and Barrhead became my more permanent home. Hank knew I enjoyed teaching and working or spending time with kids. He listened when I told him I longed to have  children of my own. “If for any reason we don’t have children," I added, “I’d like to adopt.” He didn’t walk away.

After 18 months of marriage, we still didn’t have children. Married at 31 years, I may have been impatient. I reminded my  husband about our "pre-nuptial discussion.” When I came home from school the next day, adoption papers were on the table. We filed our application with Social Services in mid-January, 1977.

Adoption

In May of that year, I got a letter from the Department of Social Services saying I'd need to resign from teaching, effective June 30, in order to qualify for adopting an infant. We were surprised. Somebody, and we believe it was God, knew something we didn’t know. 

Realizing I’d be leaving the classroom indefinitely, I got to work with report cards, packing my own teacher files and material, and getting everything in order. On the morning of June 29th, a teacher work day without students, Hank came to school to help me take my “teaching stuff" home. 

When Hank arrived, he told me he had news to tell me, but first he asked for a private place where we coul sit down. I couldn’t read his facial expression. Was he excited? Worried? Sick? We stopped in a small workroom off the hallway. That’s where he told me we were going to be receiving a baby. Not soon, but tomorrow. 

We needed to travel several hours to pick up our first baby, almost newborn, the following morning. Our social worker had previously advised us not to buy baby things ahead of time as we wouldn’t know the size or the gender of the baby until we got the call. After a quick shopping scramble and a friend’s promise of a shower within a few days, we were on the road travelling south.

Arrival after Arrival after Arrival

Next day, we were bringing our first child, Michael, home less than six months after submitting our adoption application  His arrival caused quite a stir for us and among our family and friends. In fact, when we got home to Barrhead, the Espeseth’s had started arriving for a July 1 family reunion. Guess who was the star of that show? 

One year later, Christie, also just weeks old, joined our family without the family reunion, but with equal fanfare. She was introduced to the Augustson family at a picnic in Red Deer. Jennifer was almost six months when we were called away to receive her--our third child--into the family. The enthusiasm of Jenny’s older siblings only increased the hubbub of her arrival at Betty and Leon’s, where they waited for their new sister.

Within two years and two months from our first application, Hank and I had become the parents of three young children. God had listened to my longtime prayer, which was now our prayer, to have children of our own. 

Backyard picnic with 3 muskateers

Hank and I were ecstatic. Then came the first day Hank went back to work and I realized exactly how busy I would be. Within a week, we were moving to our new house, which would be more suitable for all of us. 

As imperfect and ordinary as we were, we had been chosen to be the parents of Michael, Christie and Jennifer. They kept us busy, but they were so much fun. Adding our three children to the family, my dad had a constant supply of new stories about his grandchildren.

Grandpa lots of stories about the grandkids

Just as God had knit each of these babies together in their respective mothers’ wombs, we believed He would give us the wisdom and grace to parent our three children. He knit the five of us together into a family.

Knit together as a family
Children are Christie, Jenny and Michael

Our Gratitude Together with Our Concerns for the Birth Mothers

Decades later, we are still grateful to these three young women, really teen at that time. Each of them had tough decisions to make when facing an unplanned and, what must have seemed an untimely, pregnancy. Each mother in her own words wrote that she wasn’t ready for the responsibility of parenting then, due to school and other concerns. For her child, each birth mother wanted a loving family with two parents who were more ready for parenting.

Hank and I and the extended family are especially thankful these three birth mothers didn’t choose abortion as a solution to an “inconvenient” pregnancy. Yes, for our sakes, we are grateful that we have the three children who were entrusted to our care. But we also realize that, but for the grace of God and the three women, our children might not have been given the gift of life. Hank and I are also thankful for the mothers themselves that they didn’t suffer the aftermath of abortion.

One of My Passions Is the Life and Well-being of Children

As Christian, most of us agree that every stage of life--from the womb to the tomb--is important. Pro-life is a personal and spiritual view for me, rather than a political one. Many times I’ve asked myself the Micah question. “. . . What does the Lord require of me? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with (my) God (Micah 6:8 NIV). 

I believe pro-life means all of the above. Saving unborn children is important, but acting justly in all our endeavours, being loving and merciful, and walking humbly with God also counts. 

Whose Children Are They?

“The children we have are never really ours. They are given to us, in trust, for a time, a short time really, and we are asked to be mothers and fathers, mentors guardians, teachers, priests, ministers and friends to them, but they are never really our children. They belong to somebody else, God, and to themselves more than they ever belong to us.”

                            Quote from Fr. Ron Rolheiser’s column “In Exile” in The Catholic Register, 2006

To be continued. . .