The Storms of Meds

 

“And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat on that house…”  Sometimes that’s what our homes feel like, isn’t it?  How much more can we take?  Our family is living that right now as we are in the midst of a med change for our son.

The whole process of using meds for kids is so complicated, so heart wrenching, but sometimes so thankfully simple.  In my combination brain of pediatrician/mom/friend/Christian, I’ve gone through so many phases and thought processes about medication over the years.  Early in my pediatric years, when I was still young and single without kids, I tried as hard as I could to stay away from learning about ADHD meds, or even worse, depression and anxiety meds.  I didn’t want to become a psychiatrist…I had studied to become a pediatrician!  If I wanted to be a psychiatrist, I would have been a psychiatrist!  Honestly, on really hard days, sometimes I still think this way today.

But then, several years ago, during a career transition due to a location move, I was forced to once again learn about ADHD meds, as I knew I would be treating these patients again in my new practice.  During that transition, I was blessed to observe one of my dear partners in my original practice, whom I now realize, truly saw these kids as the beautiful, full of potential kids that they are.  Before I even knew how personally this would eventually affect my life, I was privileged to sit in on these few magical visits when he would speak to these kids so lovingly and patiently and positively, challenging them to own for themselves these years of their education, instead of simply obeying the commands and expectations of their parents.  If needed, he would make subtle changes to their medications.  He knew these medications in and out, and had taken the time and effort to learn more and more about each new variation that was marketed, in this field that many doctors, even in pediatrics, avoided or disliked.  Now years later, as I read as much as I can, observe in my own home, and see in my own patients’/parents’ eyes and body language how difficult this disorder is to navigate, I can understand even more, the reasons why my young doctor self and many other doctors before me, have found these particular patients to be a challenge.

However, I am thankful that in time, the Lord gave me an eye and a heart to love these patients, and those with autism, as well.  Again, little did I know, He was preparing me to be ready to face these real struggles on a much more personal level in my own home.

Over and over, I would hear the same stories, and see the same defeated faces of kids and parents coming into my office.  It began to anger me even more when I would hear in the outside world, or even in the church, that people didn’t believe in this thing called “ADHD”.  “That is just an excuse.” “Anyone could say yes to those criteria.”  “Those medications are just used to make classrooms more tolerable.”  My heart would break, as I would hear and see, literally, the same stories over and over again.  “He just can’t sit still.”  “He needs to be moving all the time.”  “I have to tell her 27 times to brush her teeth in the morning.”  “She’s not like my other kids.”  “Homework time is a disaster.  It takes 4 hrs for him to do one page of homework sometimes.  And that is with constant exhausting battles.  Even though I know he knows how to do it, he fights it–crumples up his paper, throws things, fights getting it done.  It’s exhausting.”

And over and over again, I see it.  This beautiful child sitting in my office (or more often, moving all around my office, touching things, interrupting with innocent inquisitive questions, non-stop insatiable curiosity that hasn’t yet learned boundaries or pauses or patience… And these tired, frustrated, out of ideas, teary-eyed parents, who are wondering aloud, “I don’t know if I can handle this anymore.”  “I need help.”  “I am out of ideas.”  “I can’t go on like this anymore.”  “He is disrupting our family so much.”

And we begin the process…which ultimately will lead to a decision about meds…

But before we move on, I have the privilege of pouring into them, encouraging them and lifting them up, during sometimes the most trying times of their lives, before we embark on this journey of evaluation together, most often to confirm what we already know…

So, I always try to take a moment, which become some of my favorite moments…when I literally see the child’s eyes, their soul, and their physical body lift back up as I look at him/her and say, “Having ADHD doesn’t mean you are dumb or stupid!  I bet your brain is super creative, or you’re really good at seeing how things fit together.  OR, I bet in math, you are quick to figure out/see the answer, but then you get frustrated because the teacher makes you show your work, right?”  Sometimes I also get to see the eyes of the freshly diagnosed parent (who has been diagnosed in the process of having their child evaluated and is now looking back over their own life with new eyes, fitting all of the pieces together…), and I say to them too, ‘There is no shame in an ADHD diagnosis!  You might just need a little extra help during boring meetings, right?!”

But, eventually, the questions will come and the fears will emerge…  “Do we have to do medication?”  “I’m not ready to start meds yet.”

And I get it!  When I put on my mom brain, I get it.  “Do we really want to start something at such a young age?  Is he going to need this med forever?  Have we tried everything we could possibly try?  Maybe we just haven’t been parenting right.  Should we be praying more?  Is this a Christian thing?” I get it! It is terrifying and consuming and can break your heart if you let it.  And honestly, there are some kids and some adults who have ADHD and can still manage in the right situations, adapting their surroundings to function without needing medication.

However, there are many who truly do need medications in order to function in their daily lives.  Thankfully, there seems to most often be an obvious time to start.  I think these moments of discovery are gifts from the Lord.  When we’ve been agonizing over these decisions for weeks, months, maybe years, there is almost always an obvious tipping point…when the difficulties cross a line that we just can’t ignore…when maybe they’ve been managing, even if not easily, or neatly, but there comes a time that suddenly makes it undeniable in our minds…we need this extra help of medication.  Most often, it has come to a point when the child is saying negative things about themselves, or they are now hating going to school, or they are losing friends because they are so impulsive they don’t realize they are saying or doing things that are driving even their super supportive friends away…Or worst of all, which has sadly often been a trigger for us, they have become a danger to the safety of the home–their fits of anger or rage or frustration have resulted in impulsive actions which have hurt us or siblings or even themselves…

And, it becomes clear.  This is no longer an option.  It is time to use this tool of medication.

So, we begin those talks…and trials.  We begin to discuss potential side effects and things to watch for.  And we take the scary step in beginning this journey.  But, unfortunately, it is not always simple.  These medications are used for ADHD, or depression or anxiety, or aggression, and are often also used in autism as well.  So many of these entities occur together in many children.  And, unfortunately, these medications don’t have the same easy formulas that antibiotics or other medications have–plug in your weight, and here is your dose. With these medications, it is more often trial and error, using lots of educated guesses in how they have worked with others in the past, knowing as much as we can about each medication profile, and watching closely for signs of effectiveness, then making fine toothed changes when needed, so that these kids do not become the stereotypical “zombies”, or have “changed personalities”.  (Side note from my pediatrician brain–if they do cause these things in your child, it is not the right med, or it is not the right dose or combination of meds!!)  These meds are meant to become simply an oftentimes amazing tool to help organize their brains, to calm them, thereby allowing these kids to finally shine in ways they have not yet experienced.

Then come the really fun visits in my office, with the amazed reports from parents and teachers and grandparents and friends and neighbors, who can’t believe the changes they see in these kids!  And again, the immense joy in seeing these kiddos come out of their shells.  The relationships between the parents and the child, are now able to see some light, a glimmer of hope, that maybe this can get better.

Those are amazing moments.  And every time I see these kids, we find reasons to pause and celebrate, even if they may be small during some intervals.  “What is something you are proud of?”  “What has gone well?”  “You should be so proud of that accomplishment!”  “Aren’t you so glad you were able to work so hard at that?”  We also try to find ways to look ahead and see new possibilities that they may not have even imagined before…things to strive for both in school, in relationships, and even in thinking about future careers.

We pause to celebrate… because it isn’t always perfect…And these medications aren’t miracles…

Often, there are still plenty of challenges, especially with ADHD, since the medications tend to only last a certain amount of hours, and then they wear off, and then those difficult to control impulses come back, along with the moments of conflict and hyperactivity that result in not always easy to deal with, or lovable, behaviors.

Sometimes we end up talking about adding second meds, or even third meds.  And again, the Lord has brought me through these cycles of overcoming previous stereotypes in my own brain about kids who are on multiple meds.  Back in my young pediatrician, single, no kids brain, and even later into my practice, and even if I am honest now…in weak or tired judgmental moments…I can fall into those same patterns of seeing a list of medications that a child is on and quickly think, “man, this must be a difficult child” or a “disturbed child”.  And then I remember my own son’s list, and realize it is long.  And I’m thankful again, that similar to the very first time we decided to put him on medication, each time we have needed to add another med, the Lord has brought us to an obvious undeniable fork in the road, that made us face his need for an additional tool, and helped outweigh our fears of adding yet another medication to his young body.  Without these meds, we have seen the pain that he suffers in his inability to control his impulses or his worries or his obsessions.  We have seen the dangers that his lack of control could, or has caused, our family, either physically–bringing harm to his siblings, or emotionally–flinging stinging, tormenting words to his brothers, or saying things that break our hearts as parents–how can he think that? Or why is his brain going there?  We realize that we, as a family, are exhausted, and it cannot, should not be this hard.  Those are the times we know it is time to seek help.  “The rain is falling, the floods are coming, and the winds are blowing, and are beating on our house…”

So, we have again prayed, and we trust, that the Lord made him just the way he is.

He is “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139).

The Lord has a plan for him, and for us, through all of this (Jeremiah 29:11).  We do not and cannot understand it.  (Isaiah 55:8-11 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.  ‘For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.’“)

And we trust the He will be glorified through all of this.  (John 9:3 “Jesus answered, ‘It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.“)

And we seek the wisdom of those He has brought into our lives…our amazing pediatrician, who is so knowledgable and has so much experience both professionally and personally with all of these things, and who sees, as we do, the beauty and potential in our kids.

And we surround ourselves with friends who understand and who have been through the same things.  It is a small community who truly knows and has experienced how difficult it is to live through and function well in the midst of the ups and downs of these behaviors, getting used to the medications, and knowing the heartbreak of watching your children struggle, or watching your marriage struggle, as again in your weakness and fear you turn against one another instead of building each other up or leaning into one another.  We know we have to surround ourselves with friends and family who are safe to be real with, who will walk with us and cry with us and will lead us back to truth.  Sometimes, especially in difficult times, that means we intentionally avoid those we know who do not understand, or who make us feel judged–who may or may not realize they are doing this.  Sometimes even those who are trying to be loving, will at times be hurtful or cause more pain or frustration in our weak and trying times.

So, we surround ourselves with those who will lead us back to truth…to scripture, to worship, to songs that speak truth…all of these leading us back to our one true Rock, who “…sees our sadness, He feels our sorrow, and in weakness, He is strong.  (2 Corinthians 12:10) He holds the weight of all of our failings.  Great is our sin, but greater is the cross…For every heart that is breaking, for every soul that is shaken, for every sickness, there is healing in your hands.  Let every heart awaken to see it is You who saves us.  You are my help and the Rock on which I stand…I know the answer to every question, the one solution to every fear.  I know my help and where it comes from…Jesus, He is the Answer.”  (From Jeremy Camp’s song, “The Answer”)

We know there will be moments of great joy and great peace and great celebration in our lives with our boys.  And we will do our best to pause and teach our kids to see and celebrate these moments!

But, we also know there will be storms of difficult moments…

When again, the “rain will fall, and the floods will come, and the winds will blow, and beat on that house…”

And we hope to then be able to cry out together…

“But it did not fall, because it had been founded on the Rock.”

Matthew 7:25

No, you are not alone

No, you’re not alone…and no, those are not the worst stories I’ve ever heard.

I’m realizing that I need to say this more often than I do. I know I have been given the privilege as a doctor, but also as a mom, or a friend, to hear people’s stories…to enter into a very private place in their world…with their words and their stories to enter into their homes…to their high emotions, their fears…

I have long accepted that the Lord has given me my own stories with my own boys, in our home, in our hearts and in our fears, so that when I am listening to a story…hard stories…I can nod and truly understand, instead of trying to hold my face into a nonjudgmental look allowing them to go on. I am always hoping that in my face, in my eyes, they can see that I know…that I see the beautiful child in front of us…that I know they are not terrible parents…that inside both of them, the child and the parent, there is a deep relationship waiting to be brought back, to be nurtured again, to be filled with laughter and peace, instead of the painful cycle that has evolved of frustration and impatience and yelling and defeated giving in out of sheer exhaustion.

Sometimes these are terrible stories. My heart breaks to hear over and over again the words of suicidal thoughts…sometimes real, sometimes used to manipulate when frustrated, defeated kids have no other way of expressing their desire for help and understanding. Sometimes they are shocking stories filled with impulsive actions, with knives or saws or fists or hammers…they may have been using them in appropriate ways–working on a project, putting away dishes from the dishwasher, but then something snapped…someone said something that frustrated them, that hit a hot button in them, and instead of logically stepping away or thinking it through or seeing it from the other person’s vantage point, they felt anxious and out of control and couldn’t find that front part of their brain full of executive functioning, and instead they acted from the back, the fight or flight, and that knife, that saw, that fist, was now aimed inappropriately…

In these moments, yes, my heart is breaking, and yes, somewhere inside I am shocked, or used to be shocked. But, now, after hearing so many similar stories in my office, or from friends brave enough to share the real happenings in their homes, or yes, from inside my own home, I know…and I have seen how quickly these things can happen–how quickly things escalate from seemingly small things…

…one more homework problem that feels like a GIANT ticking time clock stealing away precious “playtime” on a school night;

…one seemingly innocent “helpful” comment, “don’t forget to put your snack in your backpack” that instead feels like another WEIGHT on the back of a day full of “helpful” suggestions reminding him again that he can’t do it right or on his own;

…or one more misinterpreted tone of voice that snuck out of an exhausted, overwhelmed, out-of-ideas-to-help parent that became a BLARING stab of disapproval to a hyper focused beaten down self esteem of an inner child desperately seeking the loving cheerleader voice from her parents…

I know that these are the moments when chaos ensues and somewhat normal nights turn into terrible nightmare moments that cause us to think, “Is this really happening?” “Is this really my child?” “Did those words really just come out of my mouth?” And in panic and reactionary thinking, we often do enter into the dark snowball of fight or flight reactions.

Then, as the dust settles, we are able to make it through, and maybe even sleep. And maybe even move on to another day that hopefully goes better, maybe even without blow-ups. But, then those same kinds of triggers return and it is all happening again. And we wonder, “Is this really happening?” “Is this ever going to get better?”

These are usually the nights when Brandon and I have fallen into bed, barely speaking, still reeling from the effects of all that may have happened in one of these out of control moments…

…and in my weakness, my desperation to be known and understood…instead of seeking comfort in the One who knows us and who made us and who desperately loves us…

…instead of praying, I am searching on the internet for others who can give me some comfort, who have been through this, who can bring hope…I search “Christian mom of ADHD”, “parenting ADHD or anxiety or anger or…

Many times I have not found much. I’ve often told friends that there seem to be so many blogs about autism or parenting autism…and there are… so many great ones. Maybe it’s easier to write about the sweet innocence that is often present in our autistic kids, even in the midst of frustration. Unfortunately, I think the parents of ADHD, anxiety/anger, executive function difficulties are too busy reeling and recovering to have time to write about their experiences…

So, this is my hope, and my prayer, and my resolve…

To say more often that next step, as yes, I am listening without a face of judgment, and with eyes of understanding and empathy and love for the beautiful hearts inside these tired, fearful, and often isolated parents and children…

To say, “No, you are not alone. And no, those are not the worst stories I have ever heard. And no, I don’t think your child is awful. And no, I don’t think it is your parenting that has caused this.”

No, you are not alone.

When our oldest son was still a toddler, the Lord placed it on our hearts to give him a verse…

We kept repeating the verse to him over and over again; telling him it was his verse. We would say it at bedtime. We would pray it over him. We would write it in chalk on the sidewalk in front of our house. And one day when he was still little, maybe three years old, we started to say it and he finished the rest! We knew it was in his heart. Now today, at 10 years old, it hangs over his bed at night. It is still a frequent prayer of ours for him. It is spoken over him when he is fearful as he falls asleep. It is prayed on nights before big or new events, which are always anxiety provoking for him. It is whispered to him if we see a look in his eye, a moment of fear or hesitation…

It is his reminder that, “No, you are not alone.” And yes, you are so, so loved.

Keenan’s verse is this…

Joshua 1:9 “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be dismayed (or worried); for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Before Jude was born…before we even knew the challenges he would face, the Lord laid on our hearts a verse for him. In his difficulties with speech and language, he doesn’t always understand it fully and can’t yet recite it, although he does know some of its parts. We still know this is the verse given for him. We wrote it on the back of the helmet he had to wear as an infant to help his head grow the right way. We still pray it over him before new or big situations, just like Keenan’s. And probably more frequently, we pray it to ourselves, as we are preparing for something new or difficult in his autism journey.

It is his reminder, and our reminder, that, “No, you are not alone.” And yes, you are so, so loved.

Jude’s verse is this…

Isaiah 41:10 “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed (or worried), for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

When we found out we were pregnant with Luke, this time we prayed for the Lord to give us a verse for him. I came across this one, with so many of the same reminders and promises of the other boys’. It has been written on the head of Luke’s bed to help him remember as he is falling asleep, frequently fighting the toddler battles of monsters and other unknown shadows in the darkness of the nights. We pray it over him, and we watch the many ways the Lord uses this verse in all of our lives.

It is his reminder, and ours, that, “No, you are not alone.” And yes, you are so, so loved.

Luke’s verse is this…

Deuteronomy 31:8 “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed (or worried).”

I hope and pray that whenever you need a tangible reminder that, “No, you are not alone,” the Lord will lead you here to these words He is speaking through me, as I bathe them in prayer for you. And you will be comforted. And you will feel that you are known and understood…And that I am cheering for you. And we will walk this together!

No, you are not alone.

Blindsided again

September 1, 2017

Last night, I was blindsided again by the depth of emotions always underneath the surface of autism, adhd, and anxiety…
It was such a paradox, since just yesterday morning, I had posted about the incredible joy and privilege I have as a doctor to instill hope into my patients and parents of adhd. But last night, I definitely was not the logical doctor. I was the vulnerable, fearful, brokenhearted mom, as I once again went through the wave of emotional extremes in the night that is called Open House…

I had forgotten to prepare myself emotionally for this night. It seemed like it should be an exciting night, full of expectation…which it was in a lot of ways. But, even an event seemingly one of simply obtaining information and filling out more forms, can painfully bring to the surface, and force us to face, the ways in which our children are different.

It was such a busy, bustling atmosphere…excited older kids filling the halls, happy to see their friends again, and trying to act a little more grown up as they freely moved about the hallways without their parents…contrasted with clingy little kids, afraid of this next chapter everyone tells them will be so much fun…and frazzled parents trying to follow the steps they are told to do–pick up the forms, drop off the school supplies, meet the teachers, try not to lose your kids!

There was immediate joy for us in this night too. Brandon had already picked up the boys and had been through the maze of entering the school, immediately following Keenan, our oldest, to settle the question of “Would this be the year???”

I walked in later, coming straight from work, and was greeted by the bright eyes and thumbs up sign from one of our best friends, which told me that YES!, this was indeed the year that Keenan and his best friend since preschool were finally going to be in the same class together, after five years of being disappointed on this night!

And with that, the emotions began to surface…first with these tears of joy and thankfulness welling up in my eyes.

I weaved through the busy hallway, trying to meet up with all of my boys, so thankful to be in this place we had come to love so much. This was my school too when I was their age. My parents still live across the street! Our boys love it here.  Brandon and I had prayerfully decided to keep them here, even when our new home was outside of its boundaries.  I kept walking and met the eyes of teachers, support staff, parents of our kids’ friends who had become our own dear friends, and our beloved principal, all excited to be here this night to begin this next year in our journey. I was excited too…

I walked by and briefly met Keenan’s new teacher, and told her I was thankful that they would be together.

I walked by the preschool classroom that would be Luke’s this year, again thankful for the smiling faces, the brightness of the room, the wonder of all that Luke would finally be able to experience, and the joy that would come with all three of our boys in the same school for the next two years!

Then, I came to the room with Jude’s name on the list. He will have the first grade teacher we knew the least about.  Yet I knew from our previous years, not to get discouraged by that. So many times, our false disappointment in not getting the teacher we had hoped for, had turned into amazing reassurance that the Lord knew exactly who we needed for each child. So, I introduced myself and found my boys, unpacking all of the new supplies into Jude’s desk. Jude was clutching his beloved “box of cars” that came with him with to especially anxious and new situations…his physical comfort…the trademark that people had come to know him by…what he used to more easily interact with so many people young and old…

I could see on his face, the fear starting to roll in, as he tried to figure out “was this the day that I have to stay here by myself and you are leaving me alone?” As the fear increased, he turned back to what he knew to be safe, and repetitively kept asking us to go see his kindergarten teacher…his sweet angel the Lord had provided for him (& us) last year…

We made our way with the little boys to the gym where they were supposed to be excited about seeing a magician, though I’m pretty sure they didn’t even understand what a magician was. All of the kids filed in and found seats on the bleachers. The brave ones were already sitting on the top row, ready for the fun to begin. The more timid were cautiously approaching the bottom step with their anxious parents trying to tell them to go find a seat so the show could begin. Jude’s face began to crumple with the giant crocodile tears welling up and falling. His usually brave little brother was by his side, still trying to comfort him, but himself not knowing what to expect.

And there it came…the fullness of emotion that comes with leaving your vulnerable child…
…hoping that it will all work out…
…pained that you can’t stay to help him…
…trusting all of these decisions we had made to keep him here, in this place that we loved, with these people who had shown themselves over and over again to be amazing…
…and the ugly way all of this immediately makes Brandon and me turn our thoughts and our body language against each other, each of us hurting in our own fears, and in ugly human pride, turning our fears into anger and judgment, “I am doing it right. You should not be doing what you are doing. You are making it worse.” All lies…of fear and doubt.

In this emotion, we make it back to the classroom where we will hear from the new teacher that will lead Jude this year. She shares the excitement she has for the new year, the plans she has made, the schedules they will have…all good things…until in my mind the little details become the BIG roadblocks and fears…things that will be so easy for typical kids, but will need to be taught to Jude…transitions & expectations other kids will easily meet, that will be struggles for Jude…All of this swirling around in my head as I listen to this teacher’s loving and reassuring words our family always longs to hear…”Your family time is the most important”, “The homework is meant to be practice,” as she gives us the grace to be late sometimes if family time rightly takes over…all of these good things that I will cherish later, but the fears and anxieties choke them out tonight, as I also suddenly realize that in first grade, there will no longer be a para in the room, an extra eye to watch over Jude and give him the extra help & guidance he may need.

I had forgotten to prepare for all of this! Our beautiful summer, when Jude had made so many BIG gains, and had continued to blossom and literally grown into this big happy fun boy that we know and love…This summertime had again become comfortable, and Jude was Jude–our amazing blessing the Lord had given us to shine His light on us, and to anyone who knows Jude (John 9:3). But here, at this milestone night called Open House, we were faced again with all of the challenges in his little world, and were overwhelmed in our own fears for him, forgetting the strength he has and the power of the One who loves him more than we do…

So we listened, and then moved on to Keenan’s classroom, filled to capacity with all the parents of 5th grade. There were not even any chairs left, and I was thankful to sit in the back on the floor, with my face hidden, as I listened again to the mixture of beautiful words our family wholeheartedly agrees with…”we want them to socialize with each other, not have their faces in screens”, “it is so hard, but we want to teach them how to be organized”, “we want them to develop a love for reading”, “we want each of them to feel confident in their abilities.” And these great teachers laid out the plans they had in place to make all of these things happen…All of these words so comforting, mixed in with the laughter of these teachers who obviously enjoy working together and have stayed in just this place for so many years. I will eventually remember to cherish these words, but again tonight, now for different reasons, and with a different son’s face in my mind…the fears and anxieties choke out these encouraging words, as I realize the struggles we are again about to be up against…

I had forgotten to prepare for this too! Keenan over these months, had begun to be so peaceful and happy. He had been able to live in the moment, instead of continuing to worry and countdown the summer, as he had started to do after only the very first week! Those moments of anxiety of summer ending, he had learned to capture and turn back into enjoying the “now.” These were things we had worked so hard at, with the helps and people the Lord had again provided all along the way. He was doing so well that I had been willing to accept and go along with his refusal to even say the word “school.”  But now, here we were in the building, and we could already see the ugly face of his anxiety working its way up and out in him. Others would see a busy, crazy fun boy, running around with his friends. We would again be thankful for this too, eventually, but tonight when those people were all gone, his fears would surface into anger, sass, inappropriate words, and misbehavior–the tangible signs of his internal fears.

I knew the battle had begun in his world of transitioning from the fun and freedom of summer into new unknown routines and expectations that would initially cause him to freeze and act out. The exhausting battles that would ensue over homework. All of the unbelievably hard things of adhd and anxiety, that in my pediatrician mind, I knew to be the difficulties of executive function–the inability of his brain to travel from fight or flight response to logical thinking…the difficulty of traveling the uphill of “just getting started” into the comfort of knowing he could actually do it. These are all the things my logical brain knows when I am able to counsel and encourage my patients and their parents.  But tonight, my mom heart and mind were overwhelmed.

As we all left the school for the night, full of mixed emotions, fatigue and hunger, unfortunately the tornado of negativity and sin continued. We tried in our exhaustion to make it through the routines of dinner and bedtime. We tried to add in moments of encouragement and fun laughter, but more often than not we failed, with words of impatience, and body language of disapproval & frustration. And as Brandon & I turned off our light, I spoke these words…as much of a reminder to myself, as to him, “His mercies are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:23)

Then, this morning, as I sat down in my favorite spot in our sunroom, with my coffee, my Bible, and my devotional,** my mind still spinning from the night before, but my body refreshed from a night of sleep…
I opened my devotional to the page I had not yet read from yesterday, the day of the Open House, and my heart was kissed once again by the amazing, powerful, personal touch of our Lord who remembers us, loves us, and KNOWS us…

The title of yesterday’s page…”Why We Never Give Up”…

The verses…2 Corinthians 4:16-18… “That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”

The words in the body of the devotional from the day…”Parenting is difficult. It’s a lot harder and a much longer assignment than most of us knew when we signed on for it. Sometimes it gets so hard that we’re tempted to give up–give up on pursuing meaningful relationships with our kids, give up on teaching them, give up on disciplining them, give up on expecting God to work in them. But {he} wants us to see the bigger picture. And the way we gain that perspective is to stop focusing on our troubles and fix our eyes on the glory that makes the heaviest burdens seem light and the eternal future that makes even lifelong struggles seem momentary.”

The prayer for the day…”Lord, I really need your help to keep from focusing on current troubles. They loom so large and appear so relentless. Sometimes I want to give up. Please help me to fix my gaze on the realities I can’t see with my physical eyes. Renew me day by day.”

And with that…the living, breathing, intimately personal reminder that He will be with us, the crazy mixed up Weis family, in a way that each of us needs, walking in us, and by our sides…
…With that, we are off…to start the new year!!

**Devotional…”The One Year Praying through the Bible for your Kids”, by Nancy Guthrie