Born Again Again

It has been 14 years since I have become a born-again Christian. I attended a conference where Adolph Coors III, the owner of Coors Brewing Company was a key note speaker. Mr. Coors shared his Christian testimony with the crowd of college students and I found myself in a pool of my tears. I was ready to submit my life to Christ. I was ready to give up my own will, my own life and all it's loneliness and frustrations over to God. I wasn't sure how to do that. But, I was ready. All I wanted to do was cry; ball my eyes out, call out to God in prayer.

Prior to that evening, I was the party girl in a party sorority. I was carefree and a daily risk taker, binge drinker, pill popper and pot smoker. The only reason I agreed to attend the Christian conference was because I thought there would be nice boys there and a friend of mine was having a keg party following the first night of the conference. I attended the key note presentation because, after all, he was the owner of a beer company, maybe he might have some tasting samples to share! Little did I know that God was wooing me all along.

The morning after I cried out to God to take me and my brokenness, I was changed. I spoke with my mother who became a born again Christian several years prior to this time and she claimed that my voice sounded different over the phone. Returning to the sorority house, I was no longer the one planning the ladies party night on a Monday evening, I was busy searching God, studying the Bible. I had a hunger for the Lord that I was filling with boys, toys, booze and drugs. Now, without the distractions of those empty fillings, I was able to concentrate and fill my empty heart with God's word.

About a month or so passed from that evening of submitting my soul to my creator and although I had no desire to hold on to the crutches of my past lifestyle, I still was struggling with accepting the truth of the tangible man of Jesus Christ. I was not able to accept the historical account of this person, or the story of the cross and how the resurrection impacted me personally.

Finding myself at a Christian camp in upper peninsula Michigan, I was asking another new Christian if she actually believed in Jesus and the story of the cross. She responded with a curt "Why of course, don't you?"

When I replied with a quivering struggle from my heart through my voice spoken with full throttle honesty, "No, I want to believe in Jesus, but I just don't understand it."

She was quick to tell me that I was not a Christian.

Devastated, I ran away, through the woods on this cool morning in this Christian camp grounds. I was running away from the confusion, the pain. I was suicidal on this day. I felt a sense of rejection that was so deep that I thought I couldn't go on. All I could see was me as a big fat failure, both in my own life and then as being a new Christian. I felt hopeless. I found a large stone along the shoreline of a lake, away from the 'good Christian believers.' While sitting on that stone, I cried my broken heart out to God. I asked for guidance.

As I searched His voice, I was distracted by baby birds tweeting nearby in a tree. The chirps of these birds were musical and then, I heard the splish splashing near my feet. As I looked around, I was enamored by the truth God was speaking to me as these baby birds tried to fly and kept dipping in the lake shore. They were so happy and excited and yet they must have been frustrated as they were learning to fly.

With every attempt to fly, they would fail and fall into the water. As they would skip, flap and flutter around, I felt like a Disney princess in their midst as they were encircling me. Entranced in that moment, a large wing-spanned bird, royally flew in from the north. With a sense of prestige, as if I needed to salute as the Air Force One was soaring in for a landing right in my own back yard, this large slender bird arrived, poised on top of a large stone in the center of the lake.

God spoke to me that moment at Cedar Campus. He was telling me that I was just a baby bird, learning to fly, learning to live as a new lil birdie. And someday, I would be a graceful bird gliding in from the north able to perch proudly in the center of the waters. Someday, but not today. Today, it was ok that I didn't understand the eternal truth of God and His rescue plan for me. God had taken my desires of alcohol and drugs and given me a desire to know Him more. If He was able to do that, He was able to raise a man from the dead.

This moment of truth flashed within my soul and has taken root for the past 14 years. However, I have admittedly been so distracted in my journey ever since then. I am thankful that God is faithful and patient with me even when I though I have been greatly distracted with the day to day details that stem from my parenthood, marriage, career path, friendships, church and the health of my family members and me.

This past month, I got involved in a Bible study at my church. It is a Beth Moore study called, Stepping Up: The Psalms of Ascent. These past couple of weeks I have been experiencing a renewal within my soul. I am excited to report and write about some new ways that God has been speaking with me through this study. More to come on this!

What Does Your Permission Slip Say?

After a long weekend of birthday celebrations that induced multiple visits and short road trips to visit extended family here and there I am thankful that it is Monday morning.

Our lives are back to normal, daughter's at school, husband's at work, my toddler - who will be three this Wednesday - is sitting here, nestled up to me, watching cartoons. We are both still in PJs lounging on the fluffy down comforter in my master bed room.

It has been a year and a half since I have left corporate America. I left a high six figure salary, my dream job. I said good-bye to my own company and brand that I built from scratch, along with the excitement and exhilaration of new business growth, client lunches and travel reward points. I still thumb through my stack of business cards as a high school quarter back peruses by the school trophy case.

I have taken on the role of being a stay at home mom as if it is a job. A job that I approached with personal goals on a weekly basis. A job, however, on a number of days I am very unqualified and lost without proper training, gifts or talents. At times I feel overwhelmed and begin to question my role as a stay at home mom. My time seems devalued by everyone; my opinion, worthless. No longer am I an expert and consultant to business owners, chief executives and managing partners in law firms, in these times, my own children don't even listen to me.

Once I was the breadwinner in the family and we focused on investing in my career vision. Now, my husband is the one whose career is thriving as he makes plans for enhancing his education, we plan on his career growth. He is the one who comes home late and attends conferences in the big cities.

Although there have been adjustments and many days that have filled my thoughts with regret and grief, today, I give myself permission to enjoy this new position in my life. God is the author of our lives, and He has already written our roles and service in His book. The entire life of my career, I relied on God's provision and timing and He blessed me and my family with success. There were times that I cried out to God to help me through the rough times. Today is no different.

He also blessed us with misfortune that changed our journey significantly. Within three months, my mother fell ill and passed away unexpectedly while my oldest daughter at age five was being diagnosed on the autism spectrum and ADHD. During this personal time of bereavement, there was no time for me to cry. Steeped deeply in deadlines and meetings with busy people, little empathy was stretched to me as a woman trying so hard to be strong and professional. My husband and I realized that we needed to adapt and change our lifestyle so that I could spend time on self care and health for both myself and my children. My five year old had many doctor and therapy appointments and my youngest who had just turned one wasn't getting the best of her mommy, only left overs from a busy, harried lifestyle.

We moved and changed our lives within a crisis moment in time. At times, I feel like our lives would have been better had we worked it all out and stayed put. It's the whole "grass is greener on the other side" motto. And in these times, I isolate myself in my own pity party. But lately, I have been feeling renewed again.

I feel the freedom of God's plan that He designed just for me and just for our family. I relax in His hands. And, I smile. I smile that I get to spend quality time with my little girls. Surely there are power struggles that beat me down stemming from the dysfunctions of autism and ADHD, but there are also cuddles and giggles that sustain me. I smile that I get to see my husband grow and develop into the man God wants him to be. I smile and breathe a deep breath of clean air from a Midwestern small town. I smile realizing that I don't have to wear uncomfortable shoes in a rushed and stalled commute to the rat race in the big city. I smile that I am who I am and I don't have to pretend to be someone I am not. I don't have to prove myself anymore. I can just be me, in the moment.

Today, I give myself permission to relish being a stay at home mom who watches Dora and enjoys yelling at Swiper with my just two days away from being a three year old little girl. I give myself permission to enjoy folding a queen size over flowing mound of clean laundry today. And, I thank God for giving me this lot of my life today.

"God Made Dat"

Snuggling with my toddler Sarah, I try to close my eyes but keep peeking so I can catch glimpses of her bundled up in her cozy bed, chubby little hand set on my shoulder. We lay, face to face and keep peaking at one another. A motherhood love story to be relished in my heart forever! I try to keep a straight face so that this quiet moment will soon turn to slumber for her.

We listen to her nighty night CD player where we have an instrumental Winterlude from a Starbucks CD that a colleague gave me many Christmas moons ago. The song we are listening to at this particular time is from Johann Sebastian Bach. I know that from the liberal arts education I received from a Big Ten university watching Little Einsteins with Sarah every morning!

She whispers in a sing songy voice, "God made dat."

Responding in a mommy whisper, "God made what, honey?"

And, like a straight A student, eager, as if she'd been waiting forever to tell me this, she promptly held her head up got about one inch from my nose and says, "God made dat song. And God will wake up da sun and we can have cereal." Then, head turned away and lay lie lied layed set I never quite understood this verb darnit! lie down, eyes closed, slumber instigated.

And sure enough, several hours later, God certainly woke up the sun, Sarah ate three bowls of Wheaties, and, I would agree with her that God also made the classic glorious music that enchants our souls, delights our senses and transports our imaginations to a place more pleasant than the present moment each time we listen. Although, in that precious moment on that December evening, I wished it would have lingered eternally!

The Songwriter in Me

Lately I have been moved to write in a style of poetry form on my blogs. Not sure why. Today, I was reminded of a song that made up several years ago. The melody and the words to this song came to me instantly. This happened while I was driving, about six months before I became a born again Christian.



So, here ya go... This is how I picture it: I imagine me, sitting on a bar stool, looking hot in a cow girl hat, long golden hair, tight, skinny Levis - kindof like Sheryl Crow, but only more blonde. Skin vibrant, sun kissed. Playing the guitar and singing to a large bar crowd. (Note: I do not play the guitar or perform or wear skinny jeans or have sun kissed skin - just a vision, my vision - of me - sort of humorous actually! No, very humorous!!!)

I say to the crowd in the mic as I clear my throat, "Here's a little song that came to me when I was driving one day..." And then, I start to sing, in a raspy Janis Joplin voice:

I'm on a lonely road
Ain't got no one to hold me.
No one to share this beautiful scenery with.
I ain't complainin'. I'm just hoping, even prayin', contemplatin'.

I've been through busy cities
Drove by empty fields
Over hills and a-round the bends and
I ain't complainin' I ain't complainin Lord but when will this road
Lonely lonely road, when will this road ever end?

I've seen the truckers truckin,
And the hitchhikers hitchin'
Road workers workin
I'm so tired of flirtin'
Oh won't you tell me, Lord won't you tell me-
When will this road, lonely lonely road,
When will this road ever end?

(Tee hee hee. Husband reading this post as I type. He's totally laughing at me. And, he's heard me sing this song so many times, he has it memorized! I think he might be turned on a little... "No, honey? You're not?")
DO NOT COPY THIS. YOU CAN CALL ME AND WE CAN TALK RECORD DEAL, OK?! SERIOUSLY. I KNOW A LOT OF IP ATTORNEYS. HANDS OFF.

Sadness in Shoulders

I feel the sadness in shoulders.
Weighted and worn from the burdens,
Stretched and sore from the history of rejection and sadness.

Woefully I wonder. Desperately I hope to find a refuge
Free from folly, foes and pranks.
A day when the sun rises from the east and speaks
Clearly. Directly. Encouraging me.

"Mind no matter what they say, what they do and what the leave you.
Keep the best, in you and by you.
Breathe in the breath from your creator. Renew your weakened soul.
Lift your gaze to the northern hills, outrageously alive and creatively refreshed.
Blessed and rebirthed, the gift has been given, sealed and forever yours.
His Will is for you to know you are loved by Him, His Son and Spirit.
This world is passing, sadness fleeting, burdens will no longer be shared."

Relax Mom, Let Your Kid Be a Kid!

While driving home from a counseling session and lunch with some girl friends, I was enjoying the fall scenery and listening to the radio all alone, at the volume I wanted! When you have two daughters with sensory disorders, especially auditory processing, most of the time, the van needs to be a quiet place, free from audio stimulation, much to my own chagrin.

Feeling free and alive, my thoughts took me back to a scene from Finding Nemo.

Remember Marlin, the scared yet determined Daddy to Nemo when he is talking to the Daddy Sea Turtle, Crush? In a panic, wide-eyed and frazzled, as he is in almost every scene, he is worried for Crush's son, Squirt who just fell out of the current into an ocean abyss. Here is how the conversation goes:

MARLIN: [gasps] Oh my goodness!

CRUSH: Whoa. Kill the motor, dude. Let us see what Squirt does flying solo.

SQUIRT: Whoa! Whoa! That was so cool! Hey dad, did you see that? Did you see me? Did you see what I did?

CRUSH: You so totally rock, Squirt! So give me some fin..noggin..

CRUSH/SQUIRT: ..dude!

This picture paints the perfect model of my current parenting world. I am Marlin, neurotic, not able to fit in and meeting only friends that aren't quite my type like Dory or the sharks. My daughter, is little Nemo, cute and spunky, with a "Lucky Fin," (a/k/a Autism and ADHD and Mood Disorders) who despite her circumstances is making friends and growing up.

It was like God was speaking to me today on my drive home. He was saying, "Kill the motor."

Remember Nemo's first day of school for Marlin? I still want my little Nemo to go and play in the toddler bouncy area - not travel with the sting ray teacher to the drop off!!! What if she can't swim like the other kids? What if she needs a sensory break?

God is telling me, "Let's see what she does on her own..."

And, so, I will. At least I will try. Good idea God. Thanks for meeting me today and speaking in my language! You rock!

October Tree

October tree you bring a sense of comfort to my soul. Comfort from your stability, robust and bursting with beauty. There you stand, waving in the fall breeze to me, golden and stoic, friendly and true.

How many years have you grown in that spot? How many seasons have passed you by? How many leaves cover you up then drop when the breezes blow by?

One year to the next, I move at a blazing pace wondering and waiting to change all while needing to stand, tall in one place as you do, stand fearless and still not bending to wind, the moon or a mood on somebody's face.

October tree you let me be me. You remain yet change, you give yet take both beauty and awe you are and will forever be.

Creative Writing by Andrea Cook, Crazy Jugs
Photography by Tammy Warren, A Day to Share with Tammy

Heart of Gold

I AM NOT THE PERSON I WANT TO BE!

I have always believed that when life is at your toughest, that is when your true self is revealed. Your true character is manifested in your responses to your trials and tribulations. Not only do trials and tribulations serve as the touchstone of your character, they also help create and stabilize your character. Just as a smelting heat is used to separate gold from rock and refine that gold into a precious metal, God allows us to endure trials not only to test our character but to refine it. And through these trying circumstances, He redefines us, purifies us.

So, after all of the tests, the trials and the tribulations, I should be more refined right?

Nope. Not yet. Must still be getting burned. I swear more. I withdraw more. I drink more. I remember that I used to go to church every Sunday. Look forward to it. We don't go to church anymore. I used to smile all the time. I don't smile any more. I don't even make eye contact. I used to initiate play dates and girls night outs. I used to reach out and welcome people. I don't play. I don't reach out any more.

Where did that woman go? Who is this in my skin today?

Just call me the female form of Job, you can call me "Joba."

I might just change my Twitter profile to Joba. Seems fitting.

Lord, why have you forsaken me? I used to love you and adore you with all of my heart but lately, you have given me too much to bear. There isn't enough love in my tank to care the way I want for my husband, my children, myself. The baggage of burdens are mine alone to carry. It makes my journey so lonely. I don't want to drag down others with my heavy load. I beg you to take over. Take this heart of mine. Take the grief and sadness I bear for my daughter as she struggles through her own life. The grief I have for my family as we shift our dreams to fit into our current circumstances. Take the disappointment I am faced with longing for laughter and friendships. Reduce my vision to accept this lot you have put at my feet. Help me to sort out my thoughts, to check off my to do lists, to sit long enough to write my to do list. My thoughts are scattered. My mind dizzy. My heart heavy, saddened. Awaken my heart to love you like I once did. Lift my eyes to see you and meet you again.

Crazy Jugs of Broken Childhoods, Broken Motherhoods

I can't organize my thoughts to get a post prepared. I have attempted a few times and just come up with scattered, random sentences that end up in the draft file.

It seems like I have not gotten my life back together since my mother passed away over 18 months ago. I wonder if I will ever be happy again. Will I ever be able to manage my life the way I want? It isn't like my life was easy or happy when my mother was alive. My mother and I didn't even have a good relationship.

Sometimes when I get flustered and frustrated at Sienna, I am reminded of my own mother and how similar their behaviors are. And no matter how I want to ignore this truth, I am just like Sienna and my own mother too. When I feel so disconnected towards Sienna, I can also understand how my own mother felt. She used to try to hug me and I would cringe. I despised her kisses too. She used to say that loving me was like loving a porcupine with needles. Now, when I try to cuddle Sienna, she pulls away. When I try to kiss her on the cheek, she wipes it off harshly as if she's angry with me. There is a significant difference between my mother and me though. I seek to understand my daughter's troubles. I keep trying to be knowledgeable, strong seeking support when needed. At least, that is where I am now. Who knows how much longer I can keep my character strong.

I confess that I am saddened by my daughter's inequities to love me, just as I am saddened by my own mother's inability to love me the way a child needed loved years ago. We all go through our own lives just to cope and survive and both my mother was and my daughter is just trying to get through it as best possible. I somehow feel like I am above the standard of just reacting innately to my circumstances. I strive for more than just survival. I strive for strength. Sometimes however, I fail. I weep. I wail. I am as sad as a small child.

I also forgive. I can understand how Sienna is troubled with her sensory disorder and moods just as I was as a young little girl. How I still am. And, as a mother, I can see how empty my love tank is and I am tempted to walk away, withdraw, regress just as my own mother did throughout her prime years of her own motherhood.

My husband interrupts my daze towards the long empty hall way where my daughter just walked through, down troddened and angered, disappointed once again. He asks me. "What are you thinking about?"

I respond, "I am wondering if I was unlovable. Was I so difficult that my mom and dad just couldn't love me when I was a child? Did they divorce when I was two because the stress I put on both of them? Am I still unlovable?"

Weeping on, striving for survival. Trying to stay above the standard of failure. Taking life one day at a time, one tantrum at a time. God, please help me to keep the standard high and love me just where I am.

And the Crazy Jugs reflect the disappointment. They want to be more than they are. They want to be treasures, yet, there they stand, dusty and yellowed with plastic beads broken. How did they survive through all the years of turmoil? How did they not get lost, broken fully? They survived. They continue to reflect the memories and tell the story.

God Put a Song in My Heart for My Children

When I was pregnant with Sienna, I can remember a song would come up in my head all the time. "Trust in the Lord," or "Proverbs 3" was a song that Six Pence None the Richer released around the time I had first started to call myself a Christian. Several years later, it was a song that started to play in my heart and mind whenever I was nervous or anxious about my pregnancy. That was an important song to me at the time because I was eight months pregnant, working from my office on the 73rd floor of the Sears Tower during 9/11.

"Trust in the Lord, with all of your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all of your ways, acknowledge Him and He will carry you through. Lord, sometimes it gets so tough to keep my eyes on you when things are going rough. But then I lift my eyes up to the skies and I hear your voice. It says to me: Trust in the Lord, with all of your heart..."

This was the same melody my soul clanged onto during the 28 hours of labor and it was the truth I was reminded of when Sienna was taken into NICU right after delivery when the cord was wrapped around her neck and she turned blue. We didn't get to see her for several hours following delivery and we had no idea what was going on.

This is also the song that keeps ringing in my soul throughout the past six years raising a daughter on the autism spectrum with all of her unpredictable mood swings and other special needs. There are many moments that I have no idea how to parent her correctly. I don't know how to soothe her like she needs because she won't allow me to touch her, hold her, hug her or rock her to sleep. "He will carry you through..."

Since school has started earlier this fall, I have seen her stress levels sky rocket and today was one of her most stressful home-from-school-tantrums I have seen! From 3:00 until bed time, her moods were more unpredictable than the DOW Jones. She growled at me throughout the evening, scratched her sister in the bath tub and cried caustically as she banged her head on the wall or slapped herself in the face.

Miraculously, I was able to get the both girls down to bed. As I was tucking Sarah in, I sang to her the love song that God put in my heart for her ever since she was in the womb. That song is from Psalm 51 and it is a hymnal called, "Create in Me a Clean Heart." She is only two years old so I am not really sure why that song was selected for Sarah but I do know that God has branded that one on my heart just for her.

I then ventured to Sienna's bedroom. I knelt at her bed side. I softly touched her forehead and caressed her bangs ever so gently. I whispered, "Have I ever told you about the song God put in my heart when he created you?" She looked so sad but at this very moment, sighed a breath of redemption and held her tears back. I explained how much the song had helped me when I was scared or anxious or stressed when I was pregnant, "Whenever things get rough or tough, I pray this song in my heart and soul." I sang it to her and she smiled at me, softly and peacefully. We connected, both with one another and together with God.

Chicken Soup for a Mom's Soul (Autism Spectrum Style!)

Today was a Chicken Soup for a Mother's Soul moment that I must share!

You may recall from earlier posts that my daughter is somewhat klutzy. She is so aware with every bug crawling on every leaf around her that she doesn't look right in front of her as she walks, or in the case from this morning rides her bike. She had just snapped on her helmet and wrapped a scarf around the bike seat since it was cold to the touch to her and started on her way to school. As lil sis, Sarah and I stood at the door way, we blew kisses and said our bye byes. During one of my blinks, the bike went horizontal and Sienna let our her whale cry. I ran towards her, barefoot and bra-less for all the parents dropping their kids off at school across the street to see. From the panic of Sienna's cry, I was looking for a head that might have been decapitated. At the very least, I expected some bone to be poking out or blood guzzling into the lawn. Luckily, the cry had just been totally exaggerated a little "over the top."

Sienna sat there on the driveway, tears gushing. I helped her stand then she gimped towards our front door. I could hear a little girl's voice shout from across the street, "Sienna, are you ok?" as I closed the door and helped her sit on the chair right inside our foyer. Grabbing three Band-aids, I hoped I could "fix" the situation and get her to school without another tardy this year.

She insisted on putting all three of the Band-aids on herself. There were no scrapes or scratches or dents. She placed them carefully one on each knee and one on her shin. I told her that she still had plenty of time to walk to school. She told me that she was seriously injured and couldn't even walk. GEEZ MOM, DUH!

I responded, well, you have plenty of time to hobble and limp down the street to the cross guard. "Take your time sweetheart," I replied, ushering her to the door. I gently helped her down the porch. reminded her how brave I thought she was and said my second farewell. As she grabbed every thing she could hold onto, she slowly made it down the drive way, then, on the sidewalk, then, hop hop down the sidewalk very very slowly. As I chuckled inside at her thespian performance, I noticed two young girls across the street shouting at Sienna. They started walking away from the school, parallel with Sienna, cheering her on. I then watched Sienna cross the street and meet up with the girls. They both helped her carry her back pack and hold her hands as she waddled along.

Little tears blurred the heavenly vision for just a moment. This was something I had never seen with my own eyes before. Sienna had friends!!! Real, breathing, walking, talking and supportive friends - not just "nap buddies" (stuffed animals) or our pug, Clio to keep her company and hunt for bugs.

How sweet this morning was to me! Any of you other moms out there with children on the spectrum know how special this moment is I am sure! Thank you God for putting friends like that to help Sienna carry her load today.

Letting Go of the IEP

The case conference for Sienna is in five days.

I keep going back and forth on what my position will be during this conference. It was a year ago when we had our first case conference at Laketown Elementary. It was then that they had told me that the school's psychologist did not see anything in my daughter that would support our independent diagnoses and the previous school's IEP that we had brought along from Chicago. The IEP process in Chicago was so different than Laketown. In Chicago, the school system held my hand and partnered with our family. I safely trusted their opinions. Now, I am in a rural town. They are clueless about autism spectrum disorders. After digesting book after book and Googling the hell out of Autism, Asperger's, PDD-NOS, ADHD, Mood Disorders, Sensory Integration, Sensory Overload, Hyperlexia, Co-Morbidity, and the like, I am still a clueless parent when it comes to my own kids. I try to understand my rights as a parent, I try to remember conflict resolution, I try to realize my daughter's needs in the classroom. I am flying by the seat of my pants trying to parent my own children in the home, failing most of the time. It is impossible for me to educate and lead the school to help my daughter in the classroom, especially when they claim they don't see anything out of the ordinary.

The school's diagnosis stated that they didn't see anything that resembled autism. The psychologist suggested that I find counseling and parenting classes to help our conflict in the home. Sienna's Kindergarten teacher mentioned to me by email that she was so sad for Sienna. She suggested that Sienna was typical and the only thing wrong with her was that I had taken her to too many doctors for too many tests and that would result in a couple of sad days for her. She was referring the the week we had last spring when I couldn't get my five year old out of bed. She had no fever and no other illness that I could detect other than, dare I say it, depression. That saddens my heart to see my own daughter so limp that she isn't able to sit up to eat.

At our first case conference last fall, when they told me that nothing was wrong with my daughter, I was excited and more than ready to sign on the dotted line! "What? Nothing is wrong with Sienna?! Great!!! Coom-by-ya!" With pen in hand, I recalled a tip that I read on line about never agreeing or signing anything during an IEP meeting. Always take it home and sleep on it. That I did. And, but that night I had trouble sleeping. My youngest daughter was having a difficult night sleeping and whenever I would try to console her, I remembered what that counselor said about my parenting. I felt broken and nothing I did or didn't do could console my youngest. In fact, nothing I did or didn't do seemed right when I was trying to comfort Sienna all those sleepless nights during her infancy and toddler-hood.

The school seems to handle Sienna well. Sienna has been thriving since we have moved here. She gets in a high abilities program because she tested at the 99th percentile in reading and math. She has gotten 100s on her spelling tests. And, when asked, none of the recess aides or special ed or classroom teachers see anything out of the ordinary. They see a spunky, creative quirky styled little girl. And, isn't that what I want them to see?

Last year I spent so much energy fighting the case conference team. I turned my wheels in trying to convince them that something was wrong with her. I have decided that I don't want to do that any more. And, my therapist agrees so does my husband. On Monday, when we go in for our next case conference, they will most likely tell me again that Sienna doesn't need any services. That she is 'not eligible' for services. I think I will smile and simply say, "Her professional medical diagnoses, both privately submitted and the assessment acquired through the independent evaluation state that she has diagnoses that would allow services based on the IDEA. However, I agree that with all the intervention that we have been working on in the home in the past four years, Sienna is now thriving. We do have some goals for her that we would like your help with in the social arena for her and if I may consult with the teacher and counselor from time to time, I would appreciate that." And let it go. Let the school do what they need to.

Afterall, I have a two year old who stays home with me who is on the autism spectrum. I need to reserve my energy for her. I can't lead the school in helping them recognize the early signs of Asperger's. I used to tell myself that God called me to this town to help the other parents who couldn't help themselves win the fight with the school system in helping their children on the spectrum. But I can now hardly manage my own family let alone advocate for the entire town. In God I trust.

Why Does God Allow Boo-Boos?

Some of you may recall a post I wrote earlier about Sienna falling off of her bike and what a typical boo-boo drama brings to our family. Sienna has been having a difficult time dealing with her new boo-boo. We can distract her from it most of the time but there are those moments when she obsesses about it. I think for a child on the spectrum, boo-boos can send a blip through the nervous system.

Sienna asked me this morning, "Momma, why does God give us boo-boos?"

I replied, "God doesn't give us boo-boos, but he allows us to have them so that we become stronger."

Anyone else have another answer? Please comment!