I LOOOOOOOVE CAMP!!!!

A couple weeks ago, I shared the story of how Pierce was involved in the theme and artwork for Otter Creek Christian Camp this year. I said in that post that I had another aspect about camp that I wanted to write, and that deals with Pierce's journey at OCCC.

In 2010, we had been a part of Otter Creek for little more than a year. That summer, Reagan would be a rising 4th grader and Pierce a rising 6th grader. We expected for Reagan to go to camp, and wondered if Pierce would be able to handle it. We were encouraged to sign Pierce up. Camp director Jamon Martin met with us a couple of months beforehand. If you know Jamon, then you'll recognize the title of this blog post as his "catchphrase". He told us that Pierce would be their first autistic camper, and he was EXCITED about the challenge. He wanted camp to be a place for ALL children. He didn't sugarcoat anything; he was scared, but not so scared that he wasn't willing to give this a shot. He knew we were nervous about sending our child, who was prone to wander, out to a large wooded camp in the middle of nowhere, but Jamon assured us that someone would be with Pierce 24/7. We told him that we felt relieved that his little sister (who very much acts like his big sister) would be there with Pierce, but we didn't want her to miss out on any fun because she was constantly looking out for him. He said he'd try to make sure this wasn't an issue. 

The day came to drop our kids off at camp. I was a nervous wreck. This wouldn't be Pierce's first sleep away camp, but his other experience was Camp Discovery, a camp specifically for special needs kids. Most of my fears subsided, though, when we pulled up to Pierce's cabin. One of the 6th grade boys, coincidentally Jamon's son Gunner, yelled out, "Pierce is here!!". He and a couple other boys came running over to greet him. I can't explain the peace I felt, but I just knew that Pierce was in a place where he would be loved on and watched over. I heard nothing but great things at the end of the week. Reagan was able to enjoy herself, although she did admit that there were times she worried a bit about how her brother was doing. At Camp Night a few weeks later, I saw a slide show filled with happy pictures of Pierce. To my knowledge, there weren't any meltdowns or incidents of him trying to run from upsetting situations. It seemed to be a place where he was happy and carefree, and the campers loved having him there. He loved it! Every year, anticipation for camp was almost greater than that of Christmas. 

Pierce and Reagan OCCC 2010

Pierce and Jamon

He LOVED the giant slip 'n slide

Pierce's cabin mates (a few 6th grade boys)

This year, I was blessed to experience camp first-hand. Pierce was totally in his element, as comfortable as being at home. This was his last year at camp. The rising seniors dress up in a different theme before dinner every night. After a mix-up the first night where Pierce didn't make it out in the clothes I'd labeled for him, those senior guys made sure that Pierce was ready for all the theme nights to follow. They watched out for him, almost more than the counsellors and staff, and made every effort to include him in all the senior rituals. One night, they dressed in 50s attire, which I thought was an odd choice. Then during dinner, We Go Together from Grease came blaring over the speakers. The seniors jumped up and did a choreographed dance number...and Pierce was right up there with them! The seniors had met a few times before camp, but didn't know how to get Pierce there without tipping us off. They met and rehearsed the first night of camp, and Pierce learned the whole dance with them that night. Turns out Pierce likes to dance. On Monday night, we had a dance party. He was right in the middle of it, jumping all around. At one point, he grabbed an inflatable flamingo that was on the stage as part of an earlier skit. He had it by the neck, shaking it and dancing. I got coaxed out onto the dance floor when the Spice Girls came on, and he came wandering over. I took his hand, and, floppy deflating flamingo in his other hand, we danced together for a minute or two. Then he and his flamingo danced away. Such a sweet moment that I'll never forget. Years ago, the loud music would've sent him over the edge. But in recent years, he's learned to appreciate the loud youth group environment. Game nights were always some version of "capture the flag". Pierce mostly wandered the field during these games, but occasionally his teammates would remind him whose flags he was supposed to pull. He'd target someone and chase them relentlessly, until the kid being chased finally gave up and let him pull their flag. EVERY. TIME. Trust me, these kids wanted to win, but they had a soft spot in their heart for Pierce and didn't mind losing their flag to him. Some of them even cheered with him when he managed to "catch" one of them! He loved all of the silly camp songs, but also loved the worship music and would sing along just as loudly as the other kids. It was such a joy to watch him praise God with all of his friends.

Seniors with Jamon Martin

Pierce pulled a flag!

He's proud of himself

Senior guys on 50s night

Staff that had been going to camp since Pierce's first year told us how much they loved having him there. Some even said that they felt it was just as beneficial to the other campers as it was for Pierce. One day, I was sitting with Jamon as we waited out a giant storm. He echoed the sentiment that having Pierce there was great for the entire camp. I told him how grateful I was for Pierce to be there. He admitted to me then that he'd been terrified that first year, but so glad he took the challenge. He said that these kids will carry their experiences with Pierce into other aspects of their lives. It will forever change the way they interact with people who are different than they are. He thanked ME for trusting HIM and for sharing Pierce with camp. On the last morning of small group time (a mixture of campers and staff), we decided to go around the circle and tell our camp highlights. When it got to me, I couldn't hold back the tears. I told this group of kids that the whole week had been a highlight. That they couldn't possibly know how much it meant to me to watch how loving and accepting they were of Pierce. That I was so grateful for all of them. When I finished, one of the senior boys in our group quietly said, "Pierce is special to us, too". 

I was teary all week long. My heart was about to burst witnessing the joy Pierce was experiencing, watching my children together in a place that's so dear to both of them. And along with that emotion, I felt profound emptiness that his camp journey was over. Every "last" of camp was bittersweet. Sure, he'll still be able to go to Camp Discovery (they take campers from 8-years-old to 80), but it won't be the same when he's surrounded by kids like him, most of whom can barely communicate with him. Being with his "normal" peers stretches him in ways I'd never imagine. And knowing that he won't have this kind of camp experience again makes me ache. It has been suggested that maybe there's a staff position he could fill so that he could be at camp another year or two, but there would be lots of logistics to work out before that could be a possibility. Reagan has 2 more years of camp left, and I'd love for all of us to be at camp together again before she graduates. So, I'm not ruling anything out.

OCCC has been a gift to our family, one I wouldn't trade for all the money in the world. Oh that every church had a Jamon Martin, a man so passionate about camp being a place for EVERY kid. He never once suggested that either Tim or I would need to accompany Pierce for him to be able to attend camp. And we had faith in Jamon and other OCCC staff that they would not simple "babysit" Pierce for a week, but that they'd include him in camp activities and make him feel like any other camper there. Thank you, God, for people that dedicate their lives to being the hands and feet of Jesus to "the least of these". Thank you for Otter Creek Christian Camp. Thank you for these campers that gave Pierce the same respect they'd give any "normal" camper. Thank you for the opportunity to watch Pierce be a part of a church family. In the words of every OCCC camper every morning, I LOOOOOOOVE CAMP!!!

The Story

This past week, my husband and I were blessed to join our kids at church camp as staff members. Those of you that REALLY know me may have been surprised to hear that I VOLUNTEERED to do this. With the exception of my love of gardening, I am an indoor girl. I don't "rough it". I love my roomy shower and a big hot water tank. I adore my pillow-top mattress and sheets with the ridiculously high thread count. Air conditioning; sweet, glorious AC. Oh, and have I mentioned that I am a ginormous introvert? Being hot and sweaty all week, constantly surrounded by people, sleeping on a rock-hard bunk bed, and getting 3-4 minute-long lukewarm (but mostly cold) showers has NEVER appealed to me. Our kids, on the other hand, LOVE camp. People involved with camp over the years have told us how wonderful it is to have Pierce there, to watch him get so much out of it, and how sweet the other campers are with him. Last year, Reagan told us how she wished we could experience camp. She felt she just couldn't do it justice by simply telling us all of the things she loved about it, and how cool it was to see Pierce in a place he loved so much. This summer, Pierce would be a rising senior, and it would be his last year at camp. Tim and I made the decision that we would all attend camp as a family.

Our camp theme for the week was "The Story". We studied Jonah, Saul's conversion, and Peter and Cornelius. We focused on how we write our stories; how we have choices for our path; that no matter what choices we make or what happens in our story, God is working through it all. All week, some amazing people shared their stories. Well, I have an incredible story to share, but there are 2 different facets to it. The first is Pierce's involvement in this year's camp theme, and the second is how Pierce was welcomed into this camp experience years ago and watching him as a senior this year. Here's part one of my story.

This past school year, Pierce took an art class. This is a kid that HATED to draw or color when he was little. But in recent years, he's tried drawing some of his favorite VeggieTales characters. So I knew he had at least some artistic talent. Debbie Bagley was assigned as his Ed. Assistant for that class. It just so happens that Debbie attends Otter Creek Church of Christ with us. She emailed a few of his pictures to me, and I was pleasantly surprised at what I saw. Unbeknownst to us, in February, she told David Rubio, one of our ministers that works with our youth group, about Pierce's artistic talent and suggested that maybe one of his drawings could be used on an OCYG (Otter Creek Youth Group) tshirt. David thought that was a great idea and tried to figure out the best opportunity to use it. With about a month of school left, David came to watch Pierce compete in the Special Olympics. That day, he told Tim and I that he was planning to use Pierce's artwork for the camp tshirt this year, but told us this was top secret information. Honestly, I envisioned some simple little design that would look cute on a tshirt. Though Pierce had had a few art pieces displayed in the school art show and gotten the award for Most Improved Artist in his life skills program, I still couldn't imagine the depth of his talent. A month later, we were at the camp staff meeting. We were told that the theme had to do with the idea of story and how life was like a "choose your own adventure" book. Camp director Jamon Martin told us that the banner/tshirt art would be something amazing and very special. At this point, Tim and I had seen nothing. We were going to be just as surprised as everyone else at the final product. 

On June 26th, all four of us made the trek to camp. Tim and I were given pretty basic, white staff tshirts. We were told that name tags and schedules would be forthcoming, but we couldn't have them yet. Being new to this camp thing, I thought this meant we'd have to play some kind of mixer game to get our stuff, but the staff veterans seemed to be in the dark as well. The campers all arrived, and it was time for camp kickoff. This is where the banner containing the camp theme and artwork would be revealed. This is always a secret for the kids, but this was the first time that details had been on such a lockdown for most of the staff. Only a few people knew about Pierce's involvement, and 2 of those were me and Tim. All of the campers' parents are supposed to be gone by this time (except staff, of course). Debbie Bagley had come up to drop her daughter off, but she stuck around for the reveal because she, too, had a hint about what was coming. We sat with the staff at the back of the room, while our kids sat with their friends. After a couple of silly camp songs, David called Jamon and high school youth minister Nicole Hendley to the stage. In their hands, they held the rolled-up banner. David told the campers that this year's artwork was very special, because he had commissioned an award winning artist to draw it. He told the kids that even if they weren't familiar with the Nashville "art scene", they would recognize the name. He continued talking to draw out the suspense as long as he could, and the longer he talked, the more teary I became. Finally he asked for a drum roll, and Jamon and Nicole dropped the banner to much applause. It was a huge treasure map! Even from the back of the room, I could see it was very detailed and must've taken him weeks to complete. I was stunned! As the applause died down, David told the kids that the artist was in the room with them. He asked whomever drew the picture on the banner to please come to the stage. There was lots of chatter, but no one moved. He began to spell out "P-I-E-R...", and Pierce finally realized what was going on. Debbie hadn't told him the drawings were going on a shirt, because she didn't know for certain what David was going to do with them. He recognized the artwork on the banner as the pictures he'd drawn months ago. When Pierce got up and walked to the stage, the room leapt to their feet. Campers and staff were crying. Tim, Reagan, and I were an absolute wreck. He stood and looked at the banner for a second, then turned to look at the room full of people...all cheering for HIM. He was beaming with pride. Once the room finally calmed down, David asked him what he thought about the picture. Pierce said, "It's about The Story". He started to go sit down, but David put an arm around him and gave a summary of what the kids would be learning about this week. He then acknowledged that Pierce's whole family would be at camp for the week, and he called the rest of us up. As soon as she saw me, Reagan asked if I'd known about this. I nodded, and she said, "You knew and didn't tell me?!" I said that I'd wanted her to be surprised along with all of the other campers. Pictures were made of all 4 of us with our puffy eyes and tear-streaked faces, standing in front of the banner. Of course, Pierce didn't understand why the rest of us were so emotional. He was just grinning from ear to ear.

Later that day, I got my tshirt, name tag, and schedule, and finally got to focus a little better on all of the detail. The treasure map was on the back of the tshirt, and the full map was on the cover of the schedule book. Parts of the map were scattered throughout the book and on the back cover. There was also an island from the drawing on everyone's name tag. I was in awe. PIERCE did THIS?!

At dinner that night, I was flooded with questions. I told people that beyond knowing Pierce was involved, I was as clueless about the details as they were. Pierce's art teacher, Emily Martinez, also attends Otter Creek, and she was there for the reveal as well. We got to chat for just a bit, and she told me that Debbie worked with Pierce for about 30 minutes a day, everyday, on these drawings, and that Debbie was the one that made the suggestion to David that Pierce's artwork could be used for something great. Pierce was told that they wanted a treasure map, and he was shown lots of pictures that would work. He chose from those what he wanted to draw, and they were able to use a few pictures he'd already drawn earlier in the school year. Emily was the one that compiled them all together for the finished product. I didn't get to talk to Debbie before she left, but once I got home, I emailed her. She shared a few more details. She began the school year modifying his art assignments but quickly saw potential in Pierce. When he finished an assignment early one day, she gave him a step-by-step drawing book and was amazed at the finished product. She began challenging him with harder pictures, and he did a fabulous job with them. Earlier this year, the students were taught how to draw using a grid technique. By putting a picture on a grid, Pierce could copy the picture nearly perfectly onto his own blank grid. This was the method he used to draw all of the pictures for the banner. Debbie says, "Pierce worked so so hard. I would say, can you draw another picture, he would always respond 'yes!'" ...he really surprised me too with his artwork. This project forced us to push his limits. Trying to find things he could draw, that high schoolers would want to wear, forced him to have to try harder things. I wasn't sure he could do the dragon, and when he easily did, I wasn't sure about the alligator or even the treasure chest. But he worked so hard and did so well!"

It was a super emotional week, seeing Pierce's drawings all over camp, hearing how moved and impressed people have been. For the first couple of nights, the banner was used as an actual treasure map for the nightly skits in worship. The last couple of nights, it hung over the stage while kids raised their hands in praise and worship. Some have said this is the most special theme reveal and artwork the camp has ever seen. There were 13 baptisms at camp, and some of these kids want Pierce's artwork as a memento of their "birthday". On the final day, the banner was laid out on 2 big tables, and campers and staff signed their names in Sharpie, following a long-standing camp tradition. The island that contains Pierce's signature ("Mouse Island") was reserved just for his parents and sister to sign. When Pierce got home Friday, he dug his camp shirt out of his trunk and put it on. He stuck out his chest and ran over to me. I said, "You drew the picture on the back." He spun around and tried to look at it. I asked him if he was proud of himself. He grinned and answered, "Yeah", then went on his merry way. I don't think he has any idea what a big deal this is to me and everyone who knows and loves him. This kid that just couldn't figure out how to tap into his creative side when he was little, has discovered a skill that I could never have imagined he had within him. This child that's known by all of the youth group as a quirky teen that can make you laugh with Pixar movie quotes, has created something so special that these teenagers were moved to tears. Will he ever fathom the enormity of this moment? Teens and adults are in awe, but Pierce?...he just knows he had a great week at camp and got a pretty cool t-shirt.

Hope In The Midst Of Despair: My 1st Vespers Homily

When I signed up to give a homily for the first time in Vespers, I didn't know when I would be asked, or what texts I would be working with. Eric contacted me a couple of weeks ago to ask if I could be ready in 2 weeks, and I had just a slight freakout. Public speaking is not my forte. I decided I should just go ahead and jump this hurdle now, rather than put it off until later in the year. I was pleasantly surprised when I looked over our texts for the evening. You see, I am a gardener. I feel that God has blessed me with a green thumb. While gardening brings me pleasure, I also find that it's one of the best ways for God to speak to me. It's impossible to deny intelligent design when surrounded by such beauty. So when I saw that our chant and 2 of our 3 passages of scripture told stories of a vineyard, and the portion of our peace prayer this week deals with sowing hope in the midst of despair, I felt an instant connection. Jesus spoke in parables, because it was a language everyone could understand. Some people identify with lots of sports references in their sermons (sorry, Josh; I wish was one of them), others with references to careers, parenting, or marriage. When Jesus talks about the different types of soil in which seeds are sown, or the size of a mustard seed, or bearing good fruit, I get it. My gardening experiences give me a point of reference to help me understand His meaning. 

In Isaiah (chapter 5:1-7), God is a gardener. He created this great big, beautiful world. He prepared the earth so that when He planted us there, we would shine for Him, thrive, produce wonderful fruit for his Kingdom. But just as any gardener knows, our best laid plans are sometimes thwarted when the plants we've placed have a mind of their own. No matter how we nurture them, some plants just won't give us the beauty we expect. This makes me think of my love of gladiolas, and my frustrating attempts through the years to grow them. I get my green thumb from my grandmother. Gladiolas were her favorites, and they were always a show-stopper in her garden. Try as I might, I just can't get the results she was able to get year after year. More sun, less sun. More water, less water. Good soil, not-so-good soil. Unfortunately, she passed when I was 13, long before I discovered my passion for gardening and had any interest in learning her secret to producing such gorgeous blooms. I imagine God gets just as frustrated with us as I get with those silly plants sometimes. Because, despite His perfect plan for us, sin entered our world and destroyed it. God gives us so much, more than we could ever deserve, in which to grow, soak in His love, and spread the hope of Christ throughout His Kingdom. Yet, sometimes for us, it's never enough. We join the world and their negativity, whine about how unfair life is, complain about what we don't have, spread stories about all the evil and despair in the world. But just as I keep trying to duplicate my grandmother's wonderous gladiolas despite my many failures, God never gives up on us. He keeps giving us reason to hope, showing us over and over again that the battle against evil has already been conquered. In Matthew (chapter 21:33-46), God is still the gardener, but we aren't the plants in the vineyard. Instead, we are the caretakers, entrusted with all that God has given us, and he is sending us constant reminders that we are only the tenants, we own nothing. Not to brag, but gardeners tend to be some of the most generous people I know. Mostly because, as plants multiply in our gardens and we divide and replant, we eventually run out of places to put them. It's our duty to share the bounty with our friends and families, even complete strangers on Craigslist. Though I find it easy to share the gifts from my garden, it isn't always so easy in other areas of my life. Why is that? So many times, we conform to the standards of this world and fight tooth and nail to get what we feel we deserve and then keep it to ourselves. We listen to those voices telling us that people that weren't blessed to be raised as middle or upper class, or weren't as fortunate as we were to have a quality education and therefore, better opportunities in life, are undeserving of our help. I'll admit that it's a struggle for me to tune out those voices, and instead, listen to my Father whispering to me, "Give. Just as I gave to you". Hope in the midst of despair. 

 

 I'm no different than any of you. We've ALL weathered storms and been in that pit of despair. Maybe you think your pit doesn't look as deep as my pit, or maybe you think yours looks deeper than mine. I assure you, the feelings are all the same. So when David pleads with God in the Psalms (Psalm 80:7-14) for restoration, for light to shine through the darkness, on some level, we can ALL identify. For me, it's been 3 separate bouts of clinical depression; Pierce's autism diagnosis; the day we thought we'd never see him again when he wandered too far away from home; the devastating (but necessary) decision to leave a church that we so desperately loved, but that no longer represented our family; the many, MANY health crises my sister endured over the last 21 years of her life; the peace my family thought we'd feel when my sister's suffering was finally over, only to endure months of turmoil and uncertainty filled with false accusations that we hastened her death. 

How do we sow hope in the midst of despair? Again, I bring up the gardening analogy. I, quite literally, sow hope in my garden by planting perennials and bulbs. In the fall, I dig these pits in my garden, and fill them with little lumps of nothing. They sit in the ground, throughout a freezing gray and bleak winter. But in the spring, I'm rewarded for enduring the torturous cold with bold, beautiful blooms. Same thing with my perennials. I watch them all turn crispy and brown and eventually crumble away every winter. And then, just when I start to think they are never coming back and I may have finally killed them for good this time, I witness their rebirth as tiny green shoots poke their heads through the cold ground every spring. How does this translate into our everyday lives? I don't know exactly. It's taken me 40 years to figure this out, and, as Paul says in our passage in Phillipians (chapter 3:4-14), "Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it." I've been surrounded with such negativity throughout my life, but I'm slowly and surely realizing that God won't shine through if I stay in that place. So, I surround myself with gems of light. Church activities, including Life Groups, affirming quotes (you probably see me whipping out my phone every week to snap pictures of the quotes on the screen. Especially when I forget to turn off my flash), scripture, activities that let me showcase my gifts, like singing and gardening. Sometimes, I have to "fake it, til I make it" when I'd really rather wallow in my pit. Maybe you do, too.  But eventually, you pretend long enough that some hope starts to take root, and eventually, it grows high and wide enough to lift you out of that pit and into the light. And once we become filled with that light, we can't help but spread it everywhere we go, sowing hope in the midst of despair. "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead."

What Christmas Means To Me

Here I go again, stirring things up and asking for trouble. This is a post that I intended to write last Christmas but never got around to it. It's something that I've been wanting to get off my chest for a few years now. As I've pointed out many times in my musings, I was raised in the Church of Christ. I dearly love the CofC, and right now, I can't imagine ever worshipping with any other denomination. That being said, as an adult in the CofC, I began to question some of our traditions. In this way, I've made religion my own, and not "just my parents' religion". I think it is completely healthy to question, and I encourage everyone to discover for yourself what it is you truly believe. I sincerely hope that my family and other Christians from my childhood don't take this post as a slam against the Church of Christ.

As I was growing up, there was a firm belief in the Churches of Christ that Christmas should NOT be celebrated as the birth of Christ. One reason for this was that the specific birthdate of Christ is not given in the bible. Celebrating Christmas as Jesus' birthday would be in violation of the command to leave scripture as is; do not add to or take away from the word of God. I can't remember ever being given a "book, chapter and verse" for this command, but now that I'm researching, I've found a couple of scriptures in the OLD Testament (Deuteronomy 4:2, and Proverbs 30:5,6) and a scripture in Revelation pertaining specifically to the prophecies in that book (Revelation 22:18,19). The second reason for not celebrating the birth of Christ at Christmastime was that, according to scripture, we should not keep any holy days. Again, I can't remember any specific scripture being given to me, but I found one in Galatians (Galatians 4:10,11).

As a kid, we celebrated Christmas as that day that Santa Claus brings you presents. We had a tree, stockings, "Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph". All of the PAGAN aspects of this holiday, but none of the religious. We didn't sing traditional Christmas songs like "Joy To The World" or "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" or hear sermons about the birth of Christ at all during the month of December. I don't think I even knew what the term "Nativity" meant until high school. I can remember a sermon from a preacher one year giving us his list of reasons, based on research, that the world had it wrong. Jesus could't possibly have been born anywhere near December 25th, because it would've been too cold for the shepherds to be out in the fields that time of year, or something like that.

I remember vividly when my beliefs became known to all of my friends. Back in the 80's (and especially in the south), it wasn't yet completely taboo to talk about God in school. In the fifth grade, we were given a writing assignment: Write your version of The Christmas Story. In describing the assignment, our teacher said he was talking about the birth of Jesus. Naively, I raised my hand and said, " But I don't believe that's 'The Christmas Story'". The gasp from my classmates was audible. To them, I was the Anti-Christ! If I remember correctly, I still wrote about the birth of Christ, but I ended it with a paragraph about not believing this was the Christmas Story; that it was "against my religion" to believe this. Try as I might to explain why my family felt this way (like, we choose to celebrate Christ's birth EVERY day, not just at Christmas), I did not win a single person to the Kingdom of Christ. All they heard was that I didn't believe in The Christmas Story.

I can't remember exactly what point it was in my life when my beliefs about Christmas began to change. When Tim and I dated in high school, he invited me to his Baptist church's Christmas program, The Living Christmas Tree. In it, was a live Nativity scene. Boy, did I struggle to sit there for what I thought was a completely blasphemous performance. We had many arguments about this subject throughout our years of dating. Once we became engaged, Tim became a member of my church and we didn't argue about Christmas anymore. It wasn't until we moved to Nashville a few years later and began attending Antioch Church of Christ that I began to see that not all people in the Church of Christ held the belief that Jesus' birth was not to be celebrated at Christmas. We actually sang a few carols during the month of December and had at least one sermon about baby Jesus. One year (the memory is kind of hazy, because I can't recall if this was a sermon or just someone expressing his thoughts before the Lord's Supper), we heard a story from someone confessing his guilt about a situation similar to my story from fifth grade. He'd had a fight with a girl in school about Christmas not being Christ's birthday. Now as an adult, he mourned that he hadn't acted very Christ-like. The impression he left with her about the kind of Christian he was, was that he thought it was more important to argue about Christmas than it was to share the love of Christ. His confession had a huge impact on me.

I think the transforming of my mind has happened rather slowly. I choose to celebrate Christmas as the day that God came to live among us in flesh as a newborn baby. Born to a virgin, in a dirty stall. I think this has been a gradual shift for many in the Church of Christ. The church I grew up in now sings carols and talks about the Nativity during the month of December. My parents do as well. It really gripes me when I hear the old thinking in the CofC regarding Christmas. There are many that still hold fast to the old beliefs. I read a blog written just a couple of weeks ago proclaiming that if Christ had wanted to be a part of Christmas, He would've given us specific instructions in the bible that His birth was to be celebrated on December 25th every year. It even implied that people that celebrated Christ at Christmas don't celebrate Him the other 364 days a year. How presumptuous! All I know is that if the world chooses to celebrate Christ's birth during Christmastime, I think we should take this opportunity to spread the gospel to ears that are willing to hear, instead of debating timelines and scriptures. If we win more souls for the Kingdom at Christmastime, how can this approach be wrong? So, yes, I'm going to wish you a Merry CHRISTmas, and a Happy New Year!

The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

I'm touched that so many of you have asked when I'm going to get back to blogging, and that you're anxious to hear "the rest of the story". Well, it's been a long time coming, but here it is. I hope I don't disappoint you!

I need to back up a little bit and mention something very important that led us to choose Otter Creek as our new church home. I've said before that several friends that had once attended Antioch C of C (that's Church of Christ for you non-C of C-ers) had made the move to Otter Creek, so it was one of the first churches we chose to visit. We visited there twice before leaving Antioch; in December of 2008, Tim went with the kids while I was out-of-town one Sunday. In January of 2009, our whole family visited together. Before the very first visit, a friend of ours, Jeff, told one of the children's ministers that we were coming and had an autistic son. They were thrilled to have Pierce visit. After our second visit, this children's minister, Janet, flagged Jeff down in the parking lot after church to ask how Pierce (and the rest of the family) felt at OC. She wanted us to feel welcome there, and she wanted to know what she could do to be more accommodating. Jeff gave her our number, and Janet called that week. She asked me the same question. Even if we chose not to return, she wanted to know how she could help other kids like Pierce in the future at Otter Creek. This made a HUGE impression on me and Tim. This proved to us that the children's ministry at Otter Creek was more about "acceptance" than "tolerance", and it was just what we needed to hear.

So, now I'll fast forward to a year later. In January of 2010, Tim had just about had enough of my attitude regarding church. After a couple of heated discussions, Tim sent me an email one day outlining what he saw as our options. 1) I needed to get with the program and find a way to plug in at OC. 2) We needed to visit the church that a couple of my hens attended. 3) We should try a church that we'd visited a couple of times (another church that one of my hens attended). He made it very clear that he loved Otter Creek, but he couldn't stand to see me miserable any more and didn't want me to feel like I was "taking one for the team" by staying there. A week later, Tim and I had breakfast together to discuss these options. I continued to insist that it didn't matter where I was; I was going to be miserable unless a change happened within me. We left without any resolution being made. That afternoon while I was napping on the couch, the phone rang. It was the other children's minister at OC, Melanie. She remembered me asking her at a luncheon for prospective members last summer about whether or not OC had any other kids like Pierce. I had told her that day all about the support ministry I had been involved in at Antioch. Melanie told me that that conversation had been on her mind lately, and she felt as if she needed to do something. She thought that Otter Creek needed to be a place that welcomed ALL children, including those with special needs. She wanted my advice about starting a ministry that would accommodate kids with special needs and asked if there was any possibility I'd be free tomorrow morning to discuss this. I was completely stunned (not to mention a little foggy from my nap), but agreed to meet with her. From that moment, something began to change in me.

The next morning, while I was heading to the church, Tim was typing up his prayer for me and (unbeknownst to me) sending prayer requests to his closest buddies. I had many people petitioning God on my behalf. Before getting out of the car, I spent a minute or two in prayer as well. Melanie and I talked about some of the logistics, but she was certain that this was a ministry Otter Creek needed. She wanted me to help her start it. When I left that meeting, I had chills and even felt a little shaky. I called Tim immediately and asked just what exactly he'd been praying for me, because something was happening! I was so excited, I asked him to meet me for lunch. When I got home later, I found Tim's prayer in my inbox:

God,

I don't exactly know what to say in this prayer. You know the struggles that our family has faced in the last 18 months. We lost a church family, and Melissa especially feels like she has been let down by our brothers and sisters here. And I believe she feels like she let down the people at Antioch that she left behind, especially the families that we were working with in the support group. Lord, I ask for you to heal this wound in our lives. I don't know if my belief is right or not Lord, but I want to believe and to trust that thru this painful time, that you will open opportunities for Melissa to serve you and serve your people...especially children like our own son. I pray that Melissa's talk with Melanie will bear fruit for your kingdom, but I don't pretend to believe that I know how you might bring this about. Help us to put our trust in you, and be willing to use our passions that you have given to us in your service.

Only a couple of months later did I know that he had emailed his friend Jason, the husband of a hen, and asked him to be praying that day. Jason then told his wife, who told a couple of other hens.

Even now, trying to put this into words has been hard to explain. I feel as if a switch within me was flipped that week; that's the only way I know to describe it. I almost heard God's voice say to me, "You are home. This is why I brought you and your family here." Our family placed membership at Otter Creek Church Of Christ on Valentine's Day. Pretty soon, we joined a life group and started making connections. I even stepped out of my box a few months later and in one night volunteered for both the Praise Team and the Vespers chanters. What's that all about?! I can't lie and say I love all of the new-fangled "Praise and Worship" music, but I'm starting to appreciate it for what it is. A couple of months after we placed membership, a new family placed membership; they have a child with Cerebral Palsy. At about the same time, another Otter Creek family was getting a diagnosis of autism for their three-year-old son. I feel blessed to have the opportunity to help these families. I still miss Antioch. I'll never forget the friends we left behind and all of the wonderful blessings we received there. But, the ache in my heart is gone. I finally feel peace and acceptance.

That Dark Night Of The Soul

It's been a long time coming, but here is the next post in my "church saga" series. As usual, I hope not to offend; I'm just sayin'...

It was hard to separate the Anger phase from the Depression phase. I think I volleyed between the two for a while. One aspect of this change in churches that greatly disappointed me was the support group I had left behind. I had been motivated to start a support group for the parents of special needs kids in the summer of 2008 after talking to a mom at Antioch. She felt she could benefit from meeting with parents that were going, or had gone, through some of the same struggles she was having with her special needs child. We met once a month on Wednesday nights at Antioch. As I felt abandoned myself, I felt guilty that I was abandoning them the same way. This was a ministry I felt passionate about, and so many families needed it. Antioch had about 10-12 families caring for a child with some sort of disability. Just walking away from them the way I did made me feel sick. Logistically, I couldn't continue the ministry, because they needed a leader that was a full-time member at Antioch. When I asked one of the children's ministers at this new church whether or not there were other kids like my son here, she named one other child that had some struggles. I felt like I couldn't be of use here and that I was denying God's purpose for my life.

I desperately missed my hens. I could connect with them once or twice a week before, but now we were scattered all over Nashville on Sundays and Wednesdays. We rarely saw each other, and the loss was like losing a limb. I spent my Saturdays dreading church the following day. Sunday became a day I hated. Worship for me was ANYTHING but joyful. My husband and friends could tell I was miserable and suggested that if I hated this new church so much, maybe I should find somewhere else I could be happy. I knew that it wasn't that simple. I didn't think I'd find a place to be happy because I was so jaded. The foundations of my faith were shaken. Why would I want to devote my life to another church family for another twelve years or more just to see this happen again someday? All of those scriptures about the body of Christ and unity in Him felt like a load of bunk to me. Church politics just seemed inevitable. People were going to worship together until something annoyed them, and then they'd move on to greener pastures. The concept of a home church started looking pretty good to me. I wouldn't have to form any new relationships, I could just worship. Of course, this didn't sit well with my family, so I had to suck it up and go to church every Sunday. I was drifting aimlessly, because my anchor was missing. I felt so alone and very far from God. I couldn't even talk to Him anymore.

Feelings, Nothing More Than Feelings

I've described for you the body of believers that I was once a part of. I've also given you an idea how difficult it is for me to tolerate change. I think now I can try to put into words just what I've been feeling since the summer of 2008. I don't know if I can accomplish this in one post, because I've experienced such a variety of emotions. I'm learning that my honesty is going to offend someone out there, and the only way I can prevent that from happening is to remain silent. Since I intend to continue blogging, I'll just have to apologize up front for any hurt feelings my blog may bring you. Please understand that I'm trying my hardest not to be critical of certain people or churches and that my thoughts are not complete. God is not finished with me and my journey towards acceptance.

I'm familiar with the stages of grief, as I have been through all of them since the day we learned that our beautiful, first-born child was autistic. I will most likely go through some of them again as Pierce makes his journey to adulthood. It is debatable just how many stages there actually are. I thought there were only five, but it has recently been discovered that there may be as many as seven. Since the summer of 2008, I feel like I've visited most of these stages of grief again as I've tried to process the changes in our church community. That summer, an announcement was made that change was coming to Antioch Church Of Christ. Some people were accepting of this change, but some were not. The stage of grief that I went through first was Denial. I thought that everyone's emotions would settle down eventually, and we could go on worshiping together as we always had. We loved each other and we loved the Lord, so surely nothing could come between us. I even thought that if we discussed our differences, we could find resolution and no one would feel compelled to leave. Alas, every Sunday our class got smaller and smaller as dear friends decided it was time to find another place to worship. I began to feel as if the life was being sucked out of our church, but I clung to the hope that we would see those "glory days" return. After all, we still had many friends that remained, and Antioch was the only church our children had ever known. Once so many of our friends were gone, it became blatantly clear to us that there were things that our family needed that could not be provided at Antioch anymore. We had chosen not to dwell on those things before, because we loved our church family so much and couldn't stand the thought of leaving them. Finally, we decided that the time to move on had arrived for us as well. Our last Sunday at Antioch Church Of Christ was Easter 2009.

I thought for a little while that I would move pretty easily to the Acceptance stage. The new church we were visiting was vastly different from our former home, and I appreciated some of the newness. The children's ministry was outstanding, the worship was joyful, and while the church was huge, the bible class we were attending was small and somewhat intimate. It helped that there were many familiar faces from Antioch to make us feel more at home. However, I soon discovered that the thing that stayed so constant here was how much they loved changing things up. Tim and the kids fell in love with this new church immediately, but I entered into the next stage of grief: Anger. I had left everything that was familiar and comforting to me. Now, bible classes were constantly changing so that I felt I'd never get to know anyone. We were always learning some new praise music instead of singing the old hymns that I so loved and had grown up with. Everyone I knew seemed to be happily moving on, while I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my friends and my church. Why did a few decisions have to destroy the church I loved so much? How could my closest, dearest friends just abandon me and start over some place new? I resented this new church we were attending with a passion. I refused to sing these new praise songs. One Sunday, I felt the tears coming, and I had to hurry out to the ladies room where I sobbed in one of the stalls. I didn't want to start over again. I didn't want to make new friends. I just wanted everyone to return to Antioch; I wanted to go back in time a couple of years.

Whew! I think I need to stop here for now. This is a pretty emotionally exhausting process. Maybe I should take a friend's advice and just write about sunshine, rainbows and unicorns.

Home Sweet Home

In 1996, Tim and I moved from the upstate of South Carolina, the place where we grew up. Tim was offered a job in Nashville, Tennessee where his dad and other members of his family lived. We both welcomed the opportunity, but for me it meant leaving behind my family and, for both of us, our friends. We began our "church search" right away. Nashville TN is the place to be if you worship in a Church Of Christ. There's one on every street corner. We visited a number of different churches, but never found a reason to visit more than once. I was not working, so I had no way to make friends. I was feeling an increasing sense of loneliness. I was talking to the wife of one of Tim's coworkers at the office Christmas party about our efforts to find a church when she suggested we visit her church. We decided to visit Antioch Church of Christ the very next morning. Leisa told us where to find the Young Couples class. Right away we could tell that this place was different than any of the other churches we had visited. It felt like a family. Several couples talked to us and we were introduced to the whole class. They said that the saying in class was, after your 3rd visit, they considered you part of the family. One couple asked us out to lunch that very first Sunday. We never looked at another church and placed membership within a month. Antioch felt like home and I had finally found the family and friendship I had been craving.

This was a group of believers that was closer than any I'd ever been around. There was always some sort of social event going on and an annual marriage retreat. Over the years, we grew into the Young Families class as we all began having children together. We didn't have as much time for social events, but we remained as close as ever. We helped each other move into bigger houses for our growing families. When I was on bed rest with both of my pregnancies, they brought me food and helped us finish our nursery. Older couples came in to teach parenting classes and mentor us. They became parent figures, especially to me since my family was several hours away. One of the best things about this group of people was their passion for prayer. In fact, our lessons in class were frequently shortened because of the desire to share both our hurts and our praises. We were the body of Christ described in Romans 12:15--"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn". We helped each other through the good and the bad. They cheered for us when we announced pregnancies. On many occasions, we surrounded one of our own, laying hands on them while lifting them in prayer. This was done for Tim and I twice. Once when my sister was diagnosed with numerous blood clots and doctors were giving us little hope that she would survive, and again when we discovered that Pierce was autistic. If they couldn't be there physically, they would pray with you over the phone. As a class, we experienced births, adoptions, promotions, divorce, job loss, military deployment, cancer and other life threatening illnesses, and death. From this group of people emerged the closest friends we had ever known. It's where "the hens" were born. I just knew this was the church that would baptize my children, give them their high school Senior Ceremonies, host their weddings and our 50th wedding anniversary. This was the church that would perform my memorial service one day.

There's a song about Nashville by the Indigo Girls with the line: "Your town is made for people passing through". Some of our friends were called away by jobs or mission work. The faces would sometimes change, but the sense of family was always there. A couple of times, there were issues with church politics. We lost a few families to other churches, but our group still thrived. Most of us thought that even if we didn't always see eye to eye, the family at Antioch was too precious to give up on. But in 2008, things changed for good. I don't want to point fingers or assign blame, but I think it's safe to say that the Antioch family was ripped apart. One by one, the families that I had loved for 12 years slowly began to leave.

I will address my feelings about this in another post. The purpose of today's post was to illustrate a picture of the community that I once belonged to and perhaps help you to see what I've been mourning over this past year. I'm sorry this post has been such a downer and I promise they won't all be this serious!

The Nap That Lasted All Year

I'm starting to discover that I have a lot of things that I want to say, but for some reason they seem to be stuck in the thought process. I have written VERY sporadically in the past, and I have found it to be therapeutic. Eighteen months ago, I felt like my life was on a good path. But slowly the "Dead End" signs began to appear. It became obvious that I would have to choose a different path. For the last 12 months, I have experienced a variety of different feelings. I am beginning to realize that I've been hibernating, and it is finally time for me to wake up and get my life on this new path. I am embarking on a new journey, and I'd like to chronicle my experiences. Just so you know, I am NOT, repeat, NOT referring to marital problems. Most of you that know us will know what the issue is, because you've been dealing with it, too. I'm torn about whether or not to share this journal with the public. Part of me feels like this is private and just for my own healing process. But another part of me knows that when I have shared my past experiences, such as my struggle with depression or the ups and downs of raising an autistic child, others out there have benefitted from what I've had to say. To blog or not to blog; that is the question.