I Did It My Way

In our Life Group the other night we were talking about the fourth chapter of James.  There James tells us that we shouldn’t say we’re going to go here or do this without acknowledging God’s will for us in these things.  James reminds his readers to say, “If the Lord wills, I will do this or do that.”  We talked about the signature song of Frank Sinatra, I Did It My Way, as being the exact opposite of the attitude that James wants for us.

But my friends, laying aside any spiritual implications, I must say that I have found Aaron’s life song!!  How many times in a day could Aaron, with his autistic way of living life, rub his hands together in glee and yell, “I DID IT MY WAY!!!”

Sometimes Aaron’s way is a funny way.  Sometimes Aaron’s way is a frustrating way.  Sometimes Aaron’s way is a very fascinating way.  But it is nearly always HIS WAY!!

One recent evening, Aaron wanted to set the table for supper.  I love having Aaron’s help.  Aaron knows my first comment will be for him to wash his hands, so here’s how it always goes:  “Mom, can I set the table?  I already just washed my hands.”

And I’m thinking, “Yeah, like two days ago?”  Aaron knows what Mom is thinking so he just turns and heads for the bathroom, returning with clean hands (I hope) and ready to set the table.  On this particular evening, when he was all done and had left the kitchen, I stood staring down at his place setting.

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What a perfect picture of Aaron doing things his way!  He must always have multiple forks and spoons, no matter what we are eating.  I was proud of the precise way that he placed his utensils and napkin on the correct side of the plate and humored by this example of how Aaron thinks deep in that amazing brain of his.  Gary and I each had been given one fork and one spoon, but Aaron set his place at the table HIS way.

Gary and I see Aaron doing life Aaron’s way every single day.  Let me show you some examples of Aaron’s way.

Look at how Aaron wears his watch way up on his arm.  He has always…and will always…wear his watch this way.

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Aaron loves this sweater and he wears it every day, even in the summer and even outside in the summer.  Plus, the slipper socks!

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When I drop Aaron off at his day group, I would always tell him to quit picking up sticks to carry inside to Piper, the resident day group dog.  One day I took my eyes off Aaron as he got out of our car to walk into the building.  When I looked up, he was limping.  I was alarmed, especially because we were getting ready to take a trip out of town.  Weird things happen before every trip…things like stitches and staples and ER visits and dental procedures, all involving Aaron.  So, I was very worried to see him limping.  I texted Barb, and soon she sent me back this picture.

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Aaron decided to be sneaky in how he carried sticks into Paradigm to give to Piper!  Now, every day, he stops to take off his shoe and place a stick inside…in full view of me and everyone else.  😊

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Aaron listens to music CDs as we drive.  He loves music, but almost always only as we drive.  And if there are multiple CDs, he will listen to them in order of the date they were produced.  “Mom,” he said one day, “I listen to them as the years have gone by.”

He also watches the credits after every movie, as intent on the screen as if it was the most exciting part of the movie he just watched.

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Watching him clip coupons is very interesting.  He cuts as precisely on the dotted line as he can, and then cuts each of those little strips into very small pieces that fill his special trash can.  The coupon papers are laid out neatly when he is done, with coupons stacked just right in the coupon box and restaurant coupons kept out separately.  If there are good coupons and I buy an extra paper, I hide it from Aaron because he will NOT let me clip coupons.  “You don’t do it right, MOM!!” he angrily says.  One day he grabbed coupons out of my hand and wadded them up into a ball because he was so angry to think of me cutting them.  This is how important it is to Aaron to do these things his way.

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Aaron loves to find items at his day group…even if he must open a drawer to do so…and bringing them home.  How many times I’ve made him return many of those pilfered pens and sticky notes and clips and much more!  One day he got in the van, reached into the bag he was carrying, and showed me the boy’s bathroom sign.  “AARON!!” I exclaimed.  “You took the boy’s bathroom sign?!!”  But he assured me that Chris let him take it because they put up a new one, and Chris came to the car to confirm to me that this was true, and now Aaron’s bathroom at home has the prized sign on the door!

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Aaron crunches mulch outside into a bucket.  This is his special way of relaxing.

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What’s funny is to watch him at a restaurant that serves peanuts.  Here he is yesterday as we ate lunch after his doctor visit, crunching peanut shells just like he does the mulch.

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I could go on and on with these examples.  You see why I say that I Did It My Way is a very appropriate way to describe Aaron.  But I like even better to say that Aaron is really doing his life God’s way.  After all, God has fearfully and wonderfully made Aaron just the way he is.

So, yes, Aaron is doing things his way but it’s because God made Aaron HIS way!!

 

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The Chicken Whisperer

God did the sweetest thing last week and I wanted to share it with all of you.  Some of you read my last blog about how Aaron and I went from a very happy almost three days, to having Aaron crash and taking me with him.  We went from happy to sad faster than it takes for me to run from a spider…and those of you who know me know that’s FAST!

On Saturday evening, while Aaron and I were happily watching a movie, I got a message from my friend, Summer.  She asked if Aaron and I would like to come down to her family’s home in the country to see their chickens.  A couple of the hens recently had baby chicks so Summer thought Aaron might like to see them.  I eagerly said yes!  That sounded like so much fun.  The invitation just added to my happy and I was…well…VERY happy!

Our future chicken visit was a bright spot after Aaron’s happy disappeared on Sunday night.  I looked forward to it so much…to having something fun to do with Aaron that was out of our norm.

Wednesday, chicken day, finally came.  Aaron slept later than anticipated, but at last he and I made it to Summer’s house.  How pretty the day was, and how pretty their home was as we pulled into the driveway!  I immediately noticed the windmill and thought it was a perfect Kansas scene.

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Aaron was a little nervous because he had forgotten meeting Summer, and he had not met her sons, and he wasn’t too sure about meeting the chickens – fun as it sounded.  But Summer came right out to meet us, as did Austin and Tyler, and they all put Aaron right at ease.  Right away we were standing at their pond, where they tossed out some fish food and up from the water appeared lots of catfish.

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Aaron thought that this very cool!  And what fun it was when he got to throw some food out in the water as well!

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We walked behind the house then, and there were the chickens…and a goose, Paco.  As we approached the gate, one of the chickens hopped up right beside Aaron.  Aaron petted her, and Summer told Aaron that he was a Chicken Whisperer.  😊

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Inside the enclosure, Aaron got to throw some chicken feed on the ground and soon we were surrounded by chickens.

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Aaron got to hold a chicken, managing to still hang onto his prized goose feather he had found at the same time.

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Then we saw the cute baby chicks under low hanging evergreen trees.  Surprisingly, the mama chickens were very tolerant of us being so close to their babies.

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Summer was telling us that no one had been able to hold a baby chick yet because of their protective mamas.  Just then we turned around and saw this:

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“How did you do that, Aaron?” Summer asked.

We laughed, and I wondered if maybe there WAS something to this Chicken Whisperer after all.

Aaron sat in a chair and Summer gently talked to him about how to carefully handle the wee one.

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Then one more up close and personal with one of the grown-ups:

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And the opportunity to gather some eggs with Austin before it was time to go.

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We left there later with a plate of cookies that Summer had made, and with the eggs that Aaron gathered, and with such happy memories just made.

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When we got home later, after eating too much at the Pizza Hut buffet, a thought hit me.  I couldn’t remember when exactly Summer had messaged me about coming to see the chickens, so I looked at my messages and there it was.  Summer had messaged me, as I said earlier, on Saturday night.

Saturday night…when Aaron and I were still in happy mode.  Saturday night…before the sadness of Sunday night.  Saturday night…before I knew just HOW much her invitation would mean to us.

I know in my heart that Summer was nudged by God to message me that night.  I was excited to receive her offer, but I had no idea what the next night held.  I had no idea that I would be wiping away tears of disappointment on Sunday night when on Saturday everything was going so well.

But God knew.  God cared about me enough to prompt Summer to invite us down.  God knew before I knew…and He knew what Summer didn’t know…and that was this:  that He wanted to bless me and give me a hug when I really needed it through the action of one of His children who was listening to Him.

This thought and this seemingly simple action is simply profound to me.  God indeed does go before me in ways I sometimes never see, but when I do see it I can only say, “WOW!!”

And to thank God for His sweet care for me, and for Aaron, by using one of His very sweet families.

No action is too small or insignificant to be used by God in a huge way in someone else’s life.

Thank you to Summer, Tyler, and Austin!

And a special thank you to God!

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Mother’s Beautiful Hands

This past May our mother passed on to heaven.  We said our final earthly goodbyes to her on May 8, and thus began our year of those firsts.  Many of you know them…those first special days that you spend without that special person.  Our first “first” came quickly.  Mother’s Day occurred just two days after Mom’s funeral.  Isn’t that just like life?  Life doesn’t wait on us to get ready for the things that are hard.  They happen whether we’re ready or not.

Our next first is tomorrow.  Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday.  She would be 89 if she had lived to see this day.  I know, though, that none of us wish her back.  We had been saying goodbye to her for a long time as the symptoms of Alzheimer’s overtook her brain and body.  What a sad disease it is!  Alzheimer’s takes a person slowly, robbing them of their essence and their personality and their memories.  I’ll never forget going to see Mom last year, in June of 2014.  When Gary and I entered her assisted living apartment with Jan, Mom not only didn’t know us at all, but she didn’t even show any joy that we were there.  She would usually at least act happy to have visitors, but on this visit she was completely devoid of even that.  For the first time, I did indeed feel like a visitor…..and an ignored one, at that.

Our visit that June was also the one where we gathered around Mom in the kitchen at Jan’s house as we sang hymns. Mom sang with us, surprising us all.  That time was deeply precious to each of us, including Mom.  Her eyes lit up as she sang.  She smiled and she tried to express what she was thinking about each song.  She remembered words very well, and we knew that each song resonated with her deep in her heart and mind.

 

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Before we left that evening to go on our separate ways once again, Mary Beth wanted us to all put our hands on the table together and take a picture.  I’m so glad we did that.  Something about that picture is so personal…so tender.  There is our mother’s hand, nestled among her children’s.  Her hand shows the effects of age…of hard work…of arthritis.  But her hand is beautiful.  And us…our hands also show the signs of age that are creeping upon us.  You can see some spots…some lumps on our joints…and several of us have that funny little finger that Mom had.

 

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I look at that picture and I think of how Mom’s hand was always in our lives.  From an early age her hands were ever busy with caring for us five children, and for Dad.  I remember her hands cooking and baking, sewing and cleaning, caring for sick children and looking after busy children.  She used her hands to show us how to make little troll doll clothes out of felt while she sewed real clothes for us to wear.  She used her hands to let us turn the handle on the food chopper as she made Cranberry Salad for Thanksgiving.  She used her hands to fill our table with huge baking sheets of homemade rolls while she pinched off little pieces of dough for us to happily eat.  She used her hands to teach us how to set a table and how to wash dirty dishes after loading the sink just right.

Her hands wiped our tears…and sometimes caused our tears as she spanked us for disobedience.  Her hands worked to grow beautiful flowers and delicious vegetables, which she froze and canned and cooked and shared with others.  Her hands taught us how to do the laundry and to fold the clothes correctly.  Her hands taught us to iron whatever she had placed in our four baskets, each basket bearing the name of one of us girls.  Where was John’s?  J  Her hands taught us how to clean a house, how to hem a dress, how to play some of her favorite card games, how to make a bed the RIGHT way, how to take care of our varied pets, and how to plan the many practical jokes for which she was famous.

Perhaps the most important use of her hands was when she would open her Bible in the early mornings as we all sat around the breakfast table.  Dad would have already gone to work, so before we left for school, Mom would be sure that we all opened our Bibles as she did.  She would read from the Our Daily Bread devotional book, reading the selected Bible passage first and then reading the devotion before we prayed.  Her commitment to God and to us was never more evident than during that precious time together every morning.

Her hands made each of our wedding dresses and bridesmaids dresses.  Her hands cared for us after each of our children was born.  Her hands loved and doted on her grandchildren and great-grands.  Her hands knit literally countless numbers of Christmas stockings for family, friends, friends of friends, friends of family, pets……you get the idea.  Her hands quilted each of us a totally handmade quilt after she retired.  Then those always busy hands made, again, an untold number of quilts for others to enjoy.  Her hands took meals to shut-ins.  Her hands stuffed envelopes for the Crisis Pregnancy Center, for missionaries, and for church.

Her hands cared for Dad for eight years as he fought cancer.  And it was her hands that he wanted to scramble his eggs that he loved during the final few weeks of his life.  Only her hands would do, and I understood that totally as I stepped aside and let her do this thing that she loved so much.  It was in their little kitchen that I noticed her hands doing things differently than she had ever done…and I knew that the Alzheimer’s was lurking, waiting to overcome her in the following years.

Her hands worked hard to care for Dad during that final month that he lived.  He preferred her hands above all others, but he knew that she was struggling, and so he allowed Jan and I to help as well.  But it was Mom’s hand that he reached for as they sat on the couch.  It was Mom’s touch that comforted him when he was so sick.  It was Mom’s hand that he held as he lay in his hospital bed…..her hand reaching through the bed rails as she lay alone in their bed beside his hospital bed.

 

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Jan took one last picture of Mom’s hands as she lay dying this past May.  There they were, crossed on her lap, still and un-moving.  She was nearing the end of her time on earth.  Her hands, though, spoke volumes to all of us.  I’m again so thankful for the picture that Jan took.  Her hands showed the evidence of years of love and work.  Now her hand’s work was done.  It was time for her to rest.

 

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But the work of her hands will never be done.  Her work in our lives does indeed live on.  So much of who we are and what we are is because of her beautiful hands in our lives.  None of us King children would be who we are today without the influence of her godly, kind hands.  Then our children, and their children, show the impact of Mom’s hands.  What a treasure is to be seen in those soft, wrinkled hands!

I’m pretty sure that her hand is now holding Dad’s hand in heaven.  I doubt that they’ve let each other go since she’s joined him there.  Unless there’s work for her to do, and then I can totally see her using those hands to make something or to keep things straight.  I wonder how many quilts she’s made by now?

The Proverbs 31 woman was described as one who works with willing hands.  Our mother did just that, and for the rest of our lives we will benefit from her wonderful, willing hands in our lives.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  Thank you for your beautiful hands in our lives.  You will always be loved.

 

Mom, Don’t Be Sad

Blah!  Bleh!  However you want to spell it, it’s how I feel right now.

If we’ve learned one thing about Aaron, it’s that we’re always learning about Aaron.  The autistic brain, as well as the brain changed by seizures…and let’s not forget the brain impacted by so many meds…is indeed a complex mess at times.

Aaron’s mess often makes me a mess.

I also feel like a Yo-Yo.  Up and down…up and down…up and down.

Aaron had a cold last week and was home for a couple days from his day group because of it.  On Friday he was out of bed and reluctantly ready for Paradigm when I looked down the hall and realized that he had gone back to bed.

Oh well, I thought.  I guess it’s another home day for Aaron.  I had a must-do trip down to the air base scheduled, so off I went, minus Aaron.  But I was barely down the road when my phone rang, and there was Aaron, out of bed and ready to go to Paradigm.  I turned around, picked him up, and off we went – his current CD of choice playing and a smile on his face.

What a relief to me to see him happy!

I told him about the pizza lunch that was scheduled, being careful not to use the word “party,” because Aaron doesn’t care for parties.  I definitely didn’t tell him about the planned dance, either, because Aaron not only doesn’t like parties, he REALLY dislikes parties with dancing.  It’s all just too much sensory overload for Aaron, despite the fact that Aaron himself causes plenty of sensory overload for those of us who are routinely living in his world.  Go figure.

Aaron was still pleasantly happy when we pulled up to Paradigm.  He was still happy when he called me later to give me a report on his day.  And happy still when I picked him up later…an early pick-up just for fun and so we could make our Friday Wal-Mart shopping trip for weekend treats.

Aaron came to the van looking like this:

 

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Chris, one of the staff, jokingly put some tape on Aaron’s mouth…and I can surely guess why…and Aaron loved it.  He wanted to go into Wal-Mart that way, but stuffy mom said no!

Aaron immediately asked me in Wal-Mart if we could buy him an Xbox and I immediately told him no…as always.  I reminded him that an Xbox is too expensive to buy for a weekend treat.  Aaron asked if he could go to the electronic section to look around since he had no interest in looking at hair spray and make-up, so off he went with a reminder from me to NOT run!

I should have also reminded him to not bother any of the associates since I know that Aaron invariably finds an unsuspecting associate in their blue vest, and invariably asks them questions.  Friday was no exception, as Aaron told me later what happened.

“Hey!” Aaron said as he pounced upon said associate.  “Do you sell any CHEAP Xboxes?!”  😊  😊

Once home, Aaron helped me carry bags in the house.  He helped me make spaghetti for supper.  Never mind the broken noodles all over the stove-top.  He was trying his best.  He helped me make brownies, looking down at the bowl of batter and asking, “Is that the WHOLE brownie?!”

 

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He set the table, took the recycling items to the garage bin, and learned a funny song to sing to Kyle the next day for his birthday.  And after supper, he crammed spaghetti in his mouth and mumbled, “Send a picture to Andrea!!”

 

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On Saturday morning, we called Kyle for his birthday and Aaron happily sang his funny song that he had practiced over and over in his monotone voice while on his computer:  “Happy Birthday to you!  Happy Birthday to you!  You look like a monkey.  You smell like one, too!”

And Aaron, who is often jealous of his new brother-in-law, rubbed his hands together in delight after he sang his song, and ran upstairs after laughing loudly.

That afternoon, while Gary worked on our extremely frustrating messed-up internet, Aaron and I went for a walk in Swanson Park.  We saw beautiful Kansas prairie grasses.

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We saw lots of very old, dramatic trees.

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Aaron even happily posed for a picture.

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But best of all, we got up close and personal with this gorgeous deer.

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What a very fun, relaxing afternoon!

We finished the day watching a movie while eating supper, with Aaron totally delighted to eat his egg rolls as he watched a huge volcano erupt.

After church on Sunday, Gary had to get busy on our internet repair again, so Aaron and I scooted down to the grocery store for his favorite Cheddar Pasta Salad…and chicken…and drinks…and then doughnuts at Paradise Donuts down the road.  But as the day went on, and especially while I was on the phone with Andrea, I noticed that Aaron’s happy brightness was fading.  And after another movie that night, and one of his favorite television DVD shows, I knew that our happy time was over.

I just wish I knew why.

I really wish that Aaron knew why and could talk about it.

Asking Aaron to talk about his feelings or to verbalize his thoughts about these things would be like me asking him to walk up the stairs if he had Cerebral Palsy and was in a wheelchair.  That’s how impossible it is.

And even though I kept telling myself that this very happy time would no doubt end, I still realized that deep down I dreamed that maybe it wouldn’t end…that maybe Aaron would see how much fun it is to be happy and compliant, and would want to stay that way.

It was like Aaron crashed.  Like he went from being manic to being angry again, for whatever reason.  He was just upset for no reason that I could see.

He said he was not taking his pills, but he did.  He said he was not taking his CBD oil, but he did.  He said he wasn’t going to bed, but he did.  He said he wasn’t going to brush his teeth, and he didn’t do that.  Of course.  😊

I just shut down, trying to stay flat and unaffected in order to not escalate Aaron’s unhappiness.  He noticed my change every bit as much as I noticed his.  He didn’t like it and wanted me to be happy even as he was anything but.

“Mom!” he said.  “Don’t be sad!”

But if I tried to explain why I was sad he did not want to talk about it or to hear me talking about it…talking about how he had dramatically changed so quickly.  No talking allowed.  But no sadness, either.

Aaron was worried that I wouldn’t participate in our nightly routine, especially talking to him over the monitor from our bedroom after he was all tucked in his bed.

“Mom?” he asked over the monitor.  “Are you going to say goodnight?”

So I did, half- heartedly, and he knew…but he thought that he should just be happy with what we had at that moment.  And so did I.  But once more before we were done, he said it again.

“Mom, don’t be sad.”

My tears came then when Aaron couldn’t see them.  Tears of frustration and sadness.  Tears due to the realization of how very much I loved our fun days, without any stress, and how much I wished they could last forever.

And having those happy days, only to have the anger re-emerge, showed me just how stressed I often am.  I was so relaxed and content when Aaron was happy, but the instant stress again was a real blow.

Many of you reading this, in your own particular context, know exactly what I mean.  The ups and downs of life take a toll.  The good news and the bad news.  The hope and then the dashing of hope.

Long term care-giving mamas, though, know it all too well.  Balancing the moods, the environment, the activities, the meds, the decisions…and most definitely, the guilt for not thinking we’re doing it well enough.

Gary was right beside me last night, as always.

And so was God.  He reminded me as I laid awake for a long time of His love for me and of His unending grace.  Grace upon grace.  Grace for me and for Aaron…and grace to give to me so I can give it to Aaron.

God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness.  He never lets me down or leaves me to my own resources.  He is forever there for me with that tangible comfort that only those who really walk with Him will know and understand.

In a real sense, these hard times…this Yo-Yo life with Aaron…keep me experiencing God in a way that I might not otherwise.  For that I am thankful.

“Mom, don’t be sad.”

Aaron has no idea of how God uses him to teach me so much.

 

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The Battered Pepper Plant

Written a few years ago:

Weeks ago, we had a strong storm during the night.  It was a Kansas storm, full of bright lightning, loud thunder, and very strong winds.  When I was able to get out in the garden several days later, I was disappointed to find that my only pepper plant that had done any decent growing was now toppled over.  I stood there staring down at it as it lay on the nearby zucchini, whose leaves had also been tossed around during the same storm.  I stood there, tempted to just uproot the battered pepper plant and be done with it.

 

 

I bent over and gently lifted it, realizing then that the main stem of the pepper plant was unbroken and was still safely in the soil.  “Why not just leave it and see what it does?” I thought.  And that’s what I did.  I left it to grow if it would, knowing that if I messed with it and tried to bend it back up, I would just break it and kill it for sure.  So I let it remain where it was, bent over and not looking too promising at that point.

 

 

This past Saturday, I went out to the garden to harvest the last of the zucchini and squash.  They have now fallen prey to heat, lack of rain, and bugs.  Their brown vegetation only served to accentuate what I now found as I stared down at my pepper plant, still bowed down in the dirt.  Though my pepper plant was stooped low to the ground, its leaves were bright and green.  They were quite a contrast to the brown ugliness around them.  And there, under the leaves, were peppers……peppers that hadn’t been there when it first fell to the ground in the storm.  They had grown since the plant was blown over in the storm.  Firm, pretty green peppers that were the fruit of this plant that had been pummeled in the storm, yet still survived.  And not only survived, but was producing fruit there on the ground.

 

 

I don’t remember a time when I’ve seen so many people suffering in one form or another as I have in recent months.  I routinely communicate with or receive prayer requests from those dealing with serious health issues themselves or with someone they dearly love; others are going through divorce and single parenting; parents are struggling with children who are living apart from the Lord and how they were raised; others are very lonely and are feeling set apart; some are grieving the death of someone they love; and of course, I know many families who are weighted down by the particular challenges of raising a child with special needs.  So many heartaches from so much suffering!  What’s a person to do?  And primarily, what’s a follower of Christ to do?

 

James opened his book of the Bible with this very issue.  He didn’t waste time in laying the subject of suffering out on the table.  “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials.”  James said what?  Consider it joy when we suffer?  I love that the word “various” here means “multi-colored.”  Doesn’t that describe our life’s struggles so well?  We all encounter many different forms of suffering in our lives on earth…..many multi-colored afflictions.  Sometimes I wish my life was a bland, constant egg shell color myself.  Yet we all know that bland isn’t how our walk on this earth turns out.

 

James goes on to tell his readers why we should consider our trials with joy.  He explains, “Knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.  And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

 

When James talks about testing producing endurance, he uses a Greek word that means to bear up as we abide under difficulties.  Notice the word “under.”  Not to bear up as the trials are removed, or the suffering is lessened, or the answers are made clear.  No, we are to endure UNDER the suffering…..while the suffering is going on in our lives.  Then James says that this endurance will produce maturity and full development…..its perfect and complete result in our lives.

 

Considering suffering to be joyful is not a trait that comes naturally.  How do we do that, anyway?  Like my pepper plant, down in the dirt and buffeted by the storm, we sometimes find ourselves bent over with the storms of life.  Tired, defeated, scared, and just lying in the dirt.  But our roots are in Christ, and it’s from Him that we draw the strength to “consider it all joy.”  We may not feel joyful on many days, but we can in obedience thank God for our trials and for what they are teaching us.  We can say the words even if we don’t feel it in our hearts.  That’s called faith.  Faith that God is indeed working all things out for our good.

 

I saw those green peppers growing on that pepper plant, despite its pitiful condition.  And despite my pain and my doubt, when I trust God with my situation and I praise Him in the storm, it won’t be long before I’ll also see fruit growing.  James talks about some of that fruit as he mentions maturity and development.  He also says that I will lack nothing.  My faith will grow, my thankfulness attitude will mature, my patience will increase, and peace will rule my heart.  Maybe not every second of every day, but for most of the time I’ll see the fruits of being joyful in the bent days of my life…..the hard times…..the days that seem unending.

 

Like the hymn writer said:

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

 

When darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on His unchanging grace.

 

 In every high and stormy gale, my anchor holds within the veil.

 

On Christ the solid rock I stand.  All other ground is sinking sand.  All other ground is sinking sand.

 

So when we are tossed around by all that we meet in this life…..when we see for real that the ground around us is just sinking sand and that nothing in life is constant…..when the winds of deep trials come our way…..let’s consider it joy.  Let’s lean into Jesus even as we lean down with the weight of our circumstances.

 

And just like my bent pepper plant, we can still see that we are alive in Christ and that He has not left us alone.  He is still using us and still producing His fruit in our lives……..fruit which will benefit others, and give us joy and maturity.

 

It’s so good to know that God is in control.  He both sends the wind that sometimes bends me down, and the strength to be joyful as I stay rooted in Him.  May all of us grow fruit for Him and for others to see as we live in the struggles and storms of life.