Poetry

A while back I went for coffee with a friend and told her about how I wrote poetry to process my feelings (a mixture of rejection, spiritual devotion, and puppy love) throughout junior high. I shared with my coffee partner my prayer that God would reawaken the creativity in me. That night I went home and wrote my first poem in 15 years. (I let the hope in and all kinds of weird things can happen.) My prolifically poetic sister-in-law liked it, giving me the courage to finally share it with you. The setting is on the floor beside K.'s crib (circa 2001).
Or is it?



Now I lay me down

leaning on the bars
streaming through the tears
through the years
begging for forgiveness
from one who cannot speak
is asleep
not knowing that face
beautiful face
we face
Out-ism
in the morning he will climb over the bars
I will cry again
Loose sleep, lose hair, bow
free from but not for
what
now

ADHD survival kit

At the end of Kindergarten K. was diagnosed with ADHD and then a year later with an Autism Spectrum Disorder. I wasn't sure until recently whether the second diagnosis replaced or added to the first. According to the doctor we're working with both.

I was actually relieved when we got the autism diagnosis. Autism is more debilitating and less treatable, so why was I happy?

Because people take it seriously. People still have the impression (either conscious or subconsious) that ADHD stands for Adamantly Defiant, Hardly Disciplined.

Funny - 30 years ago psychiatrists were told autism was caused by "evil mothers."

This summer I've been taking my kids to every church daycamp I can find. It's a bitter-sweet experience: I get a break, but I also have to explain to stranger after stranger what's different about my child. I tell them about high-functioning autism, not ADHD.

But it's there nevertheless. When I have to say, "K., do you want a snack?" 7 times before he looks at me, that's the ADHD. When he responds like a parrot with "K., do you want a snack? K., do you want a snack?" that's the autism. When he runs up and down the hall, that's hyperactivity. When he throws his body into the wall at the end of it, that's sensory input seeking associated with autism.

Here's what I recommend for an ADHD parent's survival kit:

*tons of patience! ADHD is a disease of inefficiency. Homework, bedtime snack, and the walk to school will take 3 times as long as it should. When you want to scream, remember underneath that infuriating wandering turtle is the baby you watched as she slept.

*an open mind. Try medication, try removing food colouring from his diet, try different routines, tones of voice, and reward system. Most won't work, but don't give up.

*thick skin. Strangers will walk by you and your adorable little whirling dervish, muttering, "There goes a posterchild for Ritalin," whether he's on it or not. And an equal number of strangers will tell you ADHD doesn't exist, Ritalin is really cocaine, and your child just needs a good spanking. Ignore them. Or ask if they'd like to babysit.

*a great resource teacher. School is tough. A resource teacher is your advocate, adviser, and support system leader. Mine believes in K. even when I doubt.

*faith that your child is doing the best they can. You may wonder why they can focus on video games for hours but can't look at their math sheet for more than 30 seconds at a time. Are you that different - How long can you watch movies compared to how long you can concentrate on filling out your tax forms? Their brain make-up makes it that much harder.

There's so little known about ADHD but if you want to watch a good documentary go to
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/medicating/watch/6_hi.html

Christians - scared or scary?

Last week on The National (CBC News) Mark Kelley did a special feature called "7" - on his week exploring Christianity in Biblebelt USA. (What - he couldn't find enough Christians in Winkler or Red Deer?)

He visited youth rallies, mega churches and a Christian theme park. I think he would have gotten a better view of Christianity if he'd been to a prayer meeting. Not the "bless grandma and puppy" kind, but the ones where someone forgives, confesses and finds healing from anger, fear or addiction. Although I think he saw a smidge of that sense of community and emotional impact surrounded by weeping people as actors portrayed Jesus' crucifixion. Or maybe he was joking. Watch the clip and decide for yourself:

http://www.cbc.ca/national/blog/video/seven_mark_kelley/seven_christian_soldiers.html

He admitted he was exploring Christianity because sometimes you have to "face your fears." Kelley's fear: Christians were out to change his world.

He discovered: Christians are more scared than scary. I'm not scared, just sad.

When Kelley asked Christians, "What do I need to know?" They told him, "Christians aren't stupid or backward." They never mentioned Jesus, prayer, Scripture, or the difference God had made in their lives. Here's a man who needs Jesus' peace and we're doing personal image management?!!

Jesus never said, "Go share the bad news." Why are we attacking culture when we could be using it to share God's transforming love? Kelley was most impressed by the church that made the movie, "Facing the Giants," film about courage and teamwork (rather than on the evils of wild living) because in his words, "Christians are better off building bridges than bombing them." Aren't we all!

The Christians Kelley interviewed (even the debate team) had spent so much time preaching to the converted they had no idea how to explain their faith outside a church. They spouted cliches, criticized Hollywood, and preached against pre-marital sex and swearing but never said WHY sex was worth saving or what it meant to have a "God-shaped hole in your heart." Frankly I was embarrassed to watch Christians from the lens an outsider and realize that we have never learned to hear ourselves from other points of view.

Kelley (and I) was impressed by the "XXXChurch" preacher who went to Porn conventions and handed out free Bibles with "Jesus loves porn stars" on the cover. He was disgusted with the Christian filmmakers who made their own boring, clean, low-budget, out-of-touch movies and refused to work on the set of a film that involved other lifestyles.

No kidding - Christians will never have an influence on culture if we isolate ourselves in subculture! We hide at Christian concerts, Christian bookstores, Christian colleges. (I'm pointing a finger at myself here since I work for all of the above!) Why aren't more smart, talented Christians in Hollywood, Harvard, and MTV where people will actually see them?

The Christians Kelley met were afraid of temptation, persecution, controversy, ridicule, losing the next generation to pop culture, declining church attendance, etc. They were defensive, threatened, timid. (I'd like to think Canadians Christians would be a little more gutsy and articulate but it could just be the deadly sin of pride talking...)

I'd like to ask Kelley's Christians: If we really are in a relationship with the Creator and Master of the universe, what do we have to be afraid of?

a divine arrival time

July 10 was quite a day. First, I turned thirty-somethingelse surrounded by friends from church. All of whom are older than me, which softened the blow.

Second, my friends returned from Ethiopia with their 8-month-old baby girl - for whom they've waited two years - to an airport full of pink balloons and cheering friends.

She's finally here!

It was one giant Kodak moment: Her 5 and 7 year old brothers waiting nervously at the bottom of the escalator and then glowing with pride as they rubbed her little head. The baby meeting grandpa for the first time and reaching out to stroke his cheek. The beaming grins on her parents' faces. The other children adopted from her orphanage who came to greet her. It wasn't just a part of Ethiopia touching Canada....

....It was a little of Up There come down here. We were easvesdropping on a heavenly moment - and not just because the brown-eyed bundle resembled an angel.

Because that's the kind of reception God gives each of us.

Birthdays are a reminder of my mortality. (I send out my love to the coffeeshop clerk who saw the photos of my kids in my wallet and told me I look too young to be a mother.) Another year of my life is behind me and I'm another year closer to heaven. And when I do pop up in God's presence he probably won't be holding pink balloons or a Kodak, but I do believe he will beam as he shouts:

She's finally here!