"You should work harder."

"Of course my child can do that, I taught them."

I remember sitting around a table with a few other moms and some of their children. Over dinner, we sat and discussed life and parenting. A few of us marveled as we watched a little two year old with Down syndrome perfectly use a fork and spoon.

It was then that the mom plainly told us that she helped her child learn to do it.

"I work with him on it, and he can do it now. The therapists told me that they can see who works with their child and who doesn't. He can do a lot of things because I teach him."

My wonderment of the child using utensils soon turned to embarrassment and shame. My child sitting near me was shoveling food in with her hands and sometimes with a fork that I put in her mouth. She was three and could not use utensils. Though she didn't call me out specifically, I was left with the impression that I should be working harder with her.

Work harder?

What else could I do? At least one meal a day, I helped Jaycee hold a spoon using the hand-over-hand method. I purchased a variety of spoons looking for something that could help her with the wrist motion that she could not make. I found a deep toddler plate that could help her scoop food out easier and placed a mat under the plate to help stabilize it. She also worked on these skills and more in occupational therapy.

And still, I had to feed her because she couldn't do it herself. Around 3.5-4 years old, she finally learned how to move her wrist and grade her movements just right to feed herself. But on that day in the restaurant, we hadn't had that success yet.

There are times when as a mom you feel shame while trying to do your best for your child with special needs. Even if you work on something really hard, the skills don't come quickly or maybe never at all. It is frustrating. It is sad. And sometimes it can bring people to judgments, even people in your special needs community.

Here's the thing we should all remember, every child is different. This is true of typically developing children and children with disabilities. Not every child can excel in a spelling bee. Not everyone can understand calculus at age 16. Not everyone can hold a spoon at 2.

This is a lesson that I have learned over and over again in raising Jaycee, and I have taught it to families I work with in my speech therapy practice. Parents often voice that they have tried some techniques I suggested with little or no results. They are frustrated. They want their child to talk. They believe the solution is another technique (it could be) or that they/we need to work harder.

But sometimes, there isn't a magical fix. Sorry-don't want to be a downer. Sometimes, the child needs time. They need to keep practicing, developing brain and muscle memory. Their muscles may need to get stronger. They may need maturity. It may not be a question of working hard enough.

So if you are a tired momma out there in a situation I have described, I have some advice for you. Cut yourself some slack. I'm sorry if someone made a comment that made you self-conscious and made you feel you weren't doing enough for your child. No one is in your shoes, so try not to let it bother you. Take a moment to enjoy your child today. Celebrate the successes you have had, and try not to view those skills that haven't been mastered as personal failures.

Lessons Learned From Oversharing With a Stranger

I had an encounter last week that I can't get out of my head. I was Black Friday shopping with my sister-in-law and mother. My sister-in-law has 7 children, and I have 2. Black Friday became the day we could spend together without any children, which is a tiny miracle. It's our day to shop, laugh, talk, and brag about our savings at Kohl's.

I was the first to finish shopping in a mall, so I took a seat on a bench to wait for the other girls. An elderly man soon joined me on the bench. He made small talk back and forth. Eventually, he asked me about my family.

"I have a boy and a girl. My daughter has a disability."

The man responded, "That's too bad. What does she have?"

"She has Down syndrome. My husband is home with her today while I get a break."

"Well, there's worse things to have," the man replied.

I continued, "Well, she has other problems too. She has heart and lung issues, and she's in the hospital a lot."

The man said, "That will happen with that sometimes."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," I replied.

Then the elderly man's friends started up a conversation with him, I went back to playing Candy Crush, and that's how the conversation abruptly ended.

I replayed the conversation over and over wishing it would have gone differently. What was I doing? Why was I trying to tell this guy about how bad off my daughter was?

My second thoughts were in frustration that I couldn't make him understand. I feel like when people hear a word like "cancer" or "cystic fibrosis" people tend to understand that these are more serious, life-threatening diagnoses.

When people hear my child has Down syndrome, they tend to think that it's only developmental in nature. For most people, it is. For my child, it goes way beyond Down syndrome. Jaycee has a very unique set of health problems of asthma, obstructive sleep apnea, recurrent pneumonia, frequent atelectasis, lung cyst, AV canal heart defect, GERD, strabismus, and Wolff-Parkinson White syndrome. I feel like when people see or hear about Jaycee, they aren't aware of the fact of how many times her life has been in jeopardy.

But why was I trying to convince a stranger of this?

I prayed. I talk to God about what happened that day. What was the point of that encounter? And what was I suppose to learn from this?

During worship in church a few days later, I got my answer. My mistake wasn't that I was trying to overshare information with a stranger. After all, it's hard to hide that part of my life that is so consuming. My mistake was how I tried to present it. Rather than trying to convince him that my daughter was worse off than he realized. I should have shared her problems in the context of a testimony and not as a 'woe is me' story.

It should have gone like this:

"I have a boy and a girl. My daughter has a disability."

The man responded, "That's too bad. What does she have?"

"She has Down syndrome and requires daily medical interventions for other problems. My husband is home with her today while I get a break."

"Well, there's worse things to have," the man replied.

I continued, "Well, she is our miracle child. She's been in the hospital over 20 times with a few scary stays in the ICU. God has watched over our little girl."

Maybe next time, I talk to a stranger, I will keep this in mind.

Your "Worst Thing"

Life is not always easy. In fact, sometimes it is just plain hard, not to mention unfair. We all go through things in our parenting life that remind us of this fact.

Parents often have an experience that they will describe as the "worst thing you can go through" as a parent. These experiences vary greatly. Some things people share as their worst seems like nothing to me. Other stories are unquestionably a candidate for the "worst."

Here's what I have come to understand. Perspective is everything.

When Jaycee was born and diagnosed with Down syndrome, congestive heart failure, and an AV canal heart defect. I can tell you that there were many things that were hard when she was born. I couldn't breastfeed as I had originally planned. I didn't get to bond with her like I wanted because she was in the NICU. And her Down syndrome was a shock. But the absolute worst thing at that time was Jaycee's heart condition and the worry that she may not live.

Over time, my idea of the worst thing you can experience as a parent changed. There were so many experiences I have lived through, and they each impacted my view on life. A miscarriage? It was a sad time, but not my worst. Jaycee's heart surgeries? Those were extremely stressful, but not my worst. Doing medications daily? Difficult but not the worst.

My worst? I have two.
1. One of the worst things I went through as a parent was when Jaycee got very sick, went into respiratory failure, was put on a ventilator with tubes and lines ran everywhere, and spent weeks in the hospital. There were so many times during the hospital admission that Jaycee gave us a scare, leaving me sitting in the parent lounge crying and praying for my child to live. Thankfully, she did. But this didn't happen once, it happened twice. Emotionally, I felt beat up after both events for a long time.

2. My other worst experience has actually occurred multiple times. Jaycee going into respiratory distress at home has been very frightening and has impacted me long term. The stress and fear that hits me suddenly when I see my child with blue fingers and toes cannot be described. I have to suppress those emotions because I have to act. I have to grab inhalers, hook up the oxygen tank, and call for help. Seeing this once was bad enough, but it's happened more times than I can remember. There's always a fear of 'can I help her in time' running through my mind.

There are many parents that can't relate to me. And truthfully, I can't relate to many parents. I use to get annoyed when people would talk to me about what they described as their worst thing. I listened to a story of their child getting ear tubes that scared them while I wanted to roll my eyes. There was lamentation expressed by another for not being able to breast feed when I just wanted to tell them to get a grip. There was a mom in near tears telling me how she was treating her child at home for bronchitis. Sigh! If only these were my problems, I'd say to myself. Maybe I was jealous. Maybe I needed more sleep. But, I hated hearing stories of people describing their "worst" thing that wasn't even on my radar.

But then, I occasionally meet someone in the hospital with a child who has been there for months, and I realize my situation looks pretty good. Even though my problems look easy to these hospital veterans, they are still really big issues that affect my parenting life.

Here's what I have come to understand. Everyone's worst may be different, but this is not a contest (and certainly not one you want to win). Just because your "worst" may be worse than someone else doesn't mean others aren't justified in how they feel. People are entitled to feel the way they feel. Their pain and perspective is valid to them, because it's all they know.

We need to be more compassionate with each other. We need to pray for parents going through their "worst" thing. You might have some wisdom to share with that parent. You might have a word of encouragement to help them get through their worst time. So don't discount their worst time, but see it as an opportunity to show Jesus to them.

Jaycee and her machines during one of worst times in the hospital. Here's the truth. This happened 2 years ago and I can barely stand to look at this picture and think about it.

Looking Through the Right Lens

Remember these glasses from the movie National Treasure? Really, I didn't like that movie but I have seen it more than once because of my husband. In it, Nicholas Cage uses these glasses to read a secret message to find clues to the treasure. Later he discovers that by switching the red and blue lens more of the message is revealed helping him find his way to the gold and gems.

These glasses remind me of how I view my own life and circumstances. If I look through the clear lens and see my reality, it gives me only one perspective. But by adjusting the lens, I can see more and more.

Here's an example. When we got home from the hospital last month, I was immediately in my post-hospital funk. That was Jaycee's 21st hospital admission for an illness or emergency. (That doesn't count surgeries or admissions for tests.)  After 3 weeks of being away from home, I was exhausted and stressed from her hospital stay.

When I'm in the hospital, I'm just reacting to circumstances and trying to make it through the day. When I get home, I start to really fully process everything that has happened. I think about the tubes, the bad news talks from the doctors, and the scares Jaycee just survived. There's sadness that this happened again. There is also a sad reality that this probably won't be the last time she's ever in the hospital. It's never easy even after 21 times, though it does get more familiar.

I was in a teetering position when I got home from the hospital...feeling so isolated, feeling like no one has our problems, feeling on the verge of depression. But there was also a feeling of gratefulness that she had survived again, and I still had my little girl. I wasn't sure how to resume life again after another trauma in the ICU.

The reality of the first look through my glasses said...life wasn't good. I don't have much to be happy about.

But, then I did a smart thing. The first time I went back to church after her hospital stay, I asked someone to pray for me, because I didn't want to stay looking at my situation through this lens.

So I did. I didn't feel any differently when I walked away from the altar, but I did get some good encouragement from that prayer partner. The next day, the lens changed though. I was able to see things through a different perspective.

I didn't feel sorry for myself anymore. I didn't have the urge to hang on to depression and to the negativity. The lens has changed for me even though nothing in our situation changed.  I could see something differently that I couldn't before. I didn't have to be afraid of future illnesses. I also didn't have to meditate on those traumatizing ICU images that tried to appear.

I was happy. Happy Jaycee was alive. Happy we all survived. Thankful that we made it through number 21. Encouraged to enjoy the days we are given.

I'm so happy God can help get us looking through the right lens to see the treasure in our lives!

Why I Cringe at the R-Word

The r-word is thrown around often in our society. I admit that even I freely used the r-word when I was younger. It took having Jaycee to understand why the r-word is so offensive. Jaycee became the face of the r-word for me. When I hear people say it, I instantly think of Jaycee.

Even though intellectual disability has replaced the term mental retardation, the r-word is still present in everyday speech. When I hear people say things like, "His hair is the r-word," it got me thinking about how people use the r-word loosely.

Based upon things I hear people say when they use the r-word, these are apparently descriptors of people like my daughter:
-Someone who has a bad hairdo.
-Someone who makes big mistakes.
-Someone who asks too many questions.
-Someone who messes up in games or are the losers in the games.
-Someone who looks ridiculous.
-Someone who doesn't make sense when explaining something.
-Someone who isn't smart.


I have never heard the r-word used in a positive way.

So let's give a name, a face, and a description of someone living with an intellectual disability.

This is Jaycee.
Yes, she has trouble speaking because of a combination of diagnoses despite years of speech therapy.
She cannot run fast and isn't very athletic because she has low tone and lung problems.
She is a slow learner, needs lots of repetition, and can work on the same task for months or years before catching on because of her intellectual disability.
Sometimes, she has trouble understanding directions to the point where 1 or both of us get frustrated.
Sometimes, her face gets messy when she eats. Her low tone makes it difficult for her to feel light food particles on her face.
Sometimes, she gets really, really scared and wets herself because she can't verbalize that fear to me.
Sometimes, her hair looks messy. The bi-pap mask she wears every night leaves her hair a complete mess by the morning.
But, Jaycee is toilet trained, dresses herself, buckles her own seat belt, reads simple sentences, uses a few hundred signs to communicate, and can navigate Netflix as good as I can.


I hope you understand why I cringe at the r-word.

Because she has an intellectual disability, she has to work harder for everything she does.

She's not a joke. Neither are her problems or the way she looks.

The use of the r-word is a cheap shot at people like Jaycee.

Can you see why the r-word makes me cringe?

Life After a Near Miss

About 1.5 years ago, Jaycee was fighting for her life.

It started in September 2013. (I blogged during that time, so if you want to know what I was thinking and experiencing, look up those dates on here.) I took Jaycee to the emergency room for breathing difficulties. She had already been admitted in June, July, and August that year already for breathing issues. So, Jaycee was on a bad streak. The emergency room led to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU).

First, she was diagnosed with rhinovirus, which is basically a cold virus, and pneumonia requiring oxygen support. Then without warning, her blood pressure dropped. That was beginning of a 4 week nightmare for us. Over time, we learned that septic shock, acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS), and a cyst in her lung all contributed to her critical condition.

Jaycee spent three weeks on a ventilator which also meant she was sedated during that time. There were brief moments when Jaycee came to, but for weeks we watched her sleep. She was fed through a NG tube. Therapists came to move her arms and legs to help keep some muscle tone while she slept.

Things were touchy for weeks. Her blood pressure would be too low; other times it would be too high. Her oxygen saturations and amount of ventilator support was changing often.

There were many scary moments. Moments that caused me cry uncontrollably in front of other parents in  hospital hallways or in the family lounges, which is something I can normally hold inside until I'm alone in a hotel room or bathroom. The moment the doctors gave me the "we are doing our best but she may not make it" speech, offering a clergy and to call family in for us will stay with me forever.

Have I made the point that it was a bad situation?

But Jaycee miraculously recovered, and it was so amazing. We felt our prayers were answered because we did pray and pray for her to recover.

Jaycee left the hospital without any oxygen support but on a lot of medications and with extremely weakened muscles. Jaycee came home wheelchair bound unable to sit up unsupported let alone walk. My husband and a few friends built a temporary wheelchair ramp on to the house. Due to her weakness, Jaycee slept with her mattress on the floor since she couldn't get into her bed, had to have sponge baths, couldn't attend school full time for a few months, and did a couple of months of outpatient rehabilitation. The recovery was a family effort, and it did take almost 10 months for Jaycee to fully recover and get every little skill back.

Having a child nearly die changes your life and attitude as a mother. It is a wake up call as you realize that there is no guarantee for the future. As a result, I have changed. How can you go through something like that and not be changed?

Here's some things about myself that have changed since Jaycee's near miss:

• Saturdays are more relaxing. I always felt bad about allowing Jaycee watch movies all day (her favorite activity), so I made sure Jaycee painted or played with play-doh instead. I ruined her poor Saturday by making her do kid activities that she liked but didn't love. Now, I ask her if she wants to do it. If she says no, then I don't make her do it. I let her do what she wants which usually involves hours of movies.
• I like to make strong memories. It's not that I didn't try before but I'm more conscious of some things. If an opportunity comes up, my husband and I consider how quickly it will come up again and how enjoyable it will be for Jaycee. Like, we made sure Jaycee saw the ocean when we were on her Make-A-Wish trip. We purchased a camper last year in hopes that we can start to make new family memories too.
• There's just some things I don't care about anymore. I don't care how many sight words Jaycee knows or how far she can count. Don't get me wrong, I totally celebrate when she learns something new in school. But I don't sweat it anymore if she can't learn something. Jaycee's health and happiness are way more of a concern of mine than her educational status. (Sorry teachers!)
• I have to take more time out for myself. Since Jaycee's illness, twice daily airway clearance was added. Then more daily breathing treatments were added. Shoe orthotics were needed due to her muscle tone change affecting her feet. Then weekly bleach baths were necessary to combat a staph infection that will most likely never go away. The number of specialists Jaycee sees has increased by three, which means more trips to doctors. You get the idea; her care needs have always been high but the list has grown longer since that major illness. This means I really have to help myself. If I'm tired, I try to find a way to get extra rest. If Jaycee is at school, I try to carve out a few minutes of time at home with no chores for me to relax. Honestly, relaxing is hard for me when I have so many responsibilities but it's necessary for me to stay on top of everything.   

There are other things have happened as a result of her near miss. We felt strongly about getting Jaycee baptized, which happened last fall. We took in a stray cat to allow the kids to have their first pet. That cat had kittens allowing us to see Jaycee experience that too.

Each day with Jaycee feels like a gift. We feel so fortunate that God helped her pull through that illness and that she is still here being a part of our family!

Bad Parenting? It's all about Perspective.

Years ago, I was at a stoplight. In my rear view mirror, I saw an acquaintance in the car behind me. I sloppily threw my hand up in a half-hearted wave. In my mirror, I saw the acquaintance give a look of surprise. To my utter embarrassment, I realized that person thought I gave them a nasty, obscene gesture. I didn't, of course. I knew I had my index finger up while I gave my wave. My perspective: I was saying hello.

But, the perspective of the driver behind me: I was saying something entirely different.

The truth was found in my perspective. But, it didn't really matter. That person saw what she saw. From her vantage point, she had an entirely different story to tell from that chance encounter on the road.

***********

Perspectives are funny. Sometimes, one's perspective is entirely wrong even though they would swear they had it right.
 

Imagine seeing a four year old child throw a tantrum in Wal-mart. It's not too hard to imagine. What would you think as you walked by the child throwing himself down and crying? What would you think of his mother? What kind of things would come to mind? Would you think the child was a brat? Do you think his mother can't control her son?

Now, would your thoughts change if I told you that child had autism? It would change my opinion. What if you imagined the child protesting had Down syndrome? Would that make a difference in some of your thought processes? What if you knew the child was nonverbal? Would it make a difference? It would for me.

There are people who are very opinionated about parents of children with special needs. Some of the most opinionated people I have found are 1. professionals who work with this population and 2. family members.
 

It's easy to say, "If that was me, I'd never do ___." Or, "If that was my child, ____ would be so different."

It's very easy to say these things and to form a wrong perspective when YOU are not the one living it day in and day out, hardly ever getting a break.

 

There are some things people say that really bug me. These things include, parents of children with special needs:

-baby their children too much.

-don't work with their children enough.

-don't discipline their children enough.

-tolerate too many bad behaviors.

 

I admit that all four of these sayings have been true about me at one time or another. It's not easy being a parent. It's far more complicated when your child has special needs. For me, I have struggled with finding a balance between being Jaycee's mom, nurse, and teacher. At times, I have been too stressed or emotionally tired to care about certain issues (like school work). I have struggled to discipline a child who communicates non-verbally. There have been times when I have let her "get away" with stuff I normally wouldn't because I'm just glad she's alive after a health scare. I'm not a perfect parent.

But, can't all four of those statements be applied to almost every parent in the world? It doesn't just go with the special needs population. But because these kids with special needs often have poor communication skills, their "bad" behaviors may be more obvious. Still, I have seen a "typical" 3 year old with a pacifier, when they don't really need a pacifier anymore. These awful parents baby their child! How dare they? I have witnessed children whose parents are not involved in their school work because they work long hours. I see parents of typically developing children unable to successfully keep their child in a seat at a restaurant. I have seen parents let their child do and say things that are inappropriate. I have heard a two year old curse without any sort of reaction from his parents.  

 

There is no perfect parent. We, as parents, all do things for a certain reason. Our perspective of our own child and parenting is one that is rationale and completely logical. The things we do. The things say. The things we allow. In our perspective, it's all reasonable. But, someone else may view our decisions, actions, and language in a negative light.

Perspective. It's important to understand that you may form an opinion on someone else's actions but you will never, ever truly know what it's like from their viewpoint. And just like the person behind me at the stoplight, you may just get it all wrong.
 

A Special Purposed Life Swap

Sometimes, I wish people could spend a day in my shoes. But, it's probably not for the reasons you think. Sure, if someone swapped lives with me, they'd be a little overwhelmed by the vest therapy treatments. The person would probably wish they had a nursing degree as they pulled medicine into a syringe or put Jaycee on her bi-pap at night. They'd be lost when it comes to keeping Jaycee safe and secure inside the house and outside of it.

My intention in a life swap would not be for pity or to get people to understand the work involved in Jaycee's care.

No, the swap would be all about teaching people the value of life and the value of setting right priorities.

I want people to understand that my nonverbal child is smart, funny, and sweet. She can sign and gesture her way through a television show that is truly entertaining. Her hugs and kisses are desired by everyone close to her, except her little brother. A day with Jaycee would surely show other people her personality that isn't defined by the label of Down syndrome. If they opened their heart, they would feel the love she gives to those close to her.

I want people to see that in caring for someone else day after day with no "recognition" is an opportunity to act out the heart of Jesus. Having a special purposed child means you have to die to self even more. Putting a child's needs above your own is what any mother does, but this goes on in a deeper way and for a longer period of time when your child is special purposed. Loving someone unconditionally. Showing patience and understanding in situations that can test your limitations. Caring for your special purposed child teaches you about yourself. Your strengths and your weaknesses as a caregiver are revealed. If someone swapped lives with me, they would hopefully discover something new about themselves.

There are too many people out there selfishly going through life with out-of-whack priorities. I'm not a perfect person, but I do believe that having a special purposed child gives you a unique perspective. When you have a special purposed child, you realize that a B or a C on a report card is okay as along as it was your child's best. You understand that a child that doesn't talk has communication. You understand that your child's life purpose is important even if it doesn't include being a star athlete or the most popular child. You understand that the size of your house or the amount of money in your bank account means absolutely NOTHING when your child is laying sick in a hospital bed. You understand the importance of positive relationships because in times of trouble, certain people have proven themselves invaluable to you. You understand that the lives of those with disabilities need to be protected from the peers on the playground all the way up to the lawmakers in Washington.

If I swapped lives with someone, that person would truly learn so much. And me...I would miss my life.

The Results of a Challenge

While Jaycee was sick last week, I had time to do a lot of reading. The Girl in the Green Sweater ended up being a quick read for me. (The movie In Darkness is based upon this book.) The story is written by a woman who survived the Holocaust as a child with her family & other individuals by living in the sewer for 14 months. The conditions were...well you have to read the book. But, the attitude of the writer was what impressed me the most. They experienced such disrespect and hatred for their faith. Her description of her attitude towards their experiences years later left me speechless.

As I read the book, I kept imagining how I would have responded in that situation. I can't imagine it nor do I have any experiences to even remotely compare to it. I thought about things I have went through in the past 7 years with Jaycee: the shock of her diagnoses, surgeries, illnesses, feeling uncertain about her future, battles with professionals regarding her care, etc. These experiences have resulted in me struggling with depression, anxiety, social withdrawal, and confusion. I have questioned the purpose of my life and my daughter's life. I have questioned my faith and whether or not my prayers were effective. I have wondered where God was when my child was seriously ill.

So as I read this book and compared her reactions to her situation to my own, I felt so embarrassed. This woman survived unthinkable living conditions and in the end did not become a bitter, angry, or hateful person for what she suffered. I cannot say that about myself.

Looking back on my experiences, it was such a waste of time and energy for me to be so upset about a baby and later a child who has access to great medical and educational assistance in America. I can't believe I allowed myself to get so beat down just because my life and my child's life took an unexpected turn into the world of special needs with pit stops into hospitals. I struggled for years with how to make sense of what was happening to us. Thankfully, I'm in a better place now mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

But, still it makes me wonder how a sour attitude or bad perspective takes root? How do some people go through something totally horrible but maintain a good attitude?

I don't have all the answers to the questions. I can only challenge myself to live with more gratitude and happiness and to face situations with a can-do attitude. To live with the principle that God loves me and any bad in my life doesn't come from him; therefore I won't blame Him for those bad things. To challenge myself to see good around me even when it's so clouded up that it's hard to see.

ME, ME, ME, ME, ME, you

Things happen in your life that changes your perspective. My perspective changed enormously when Jaycee was born. Having a child with a permanent disability and health problem after health problem changes how you look at life. Here's one example:

Before Jaycee, I had read the story of the man healed at the Pool of Bethesda (John 5) many times. The story is about a man who has an infirmity for 38 years. He spent his time at this pool of water because "an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water, then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had."

He told Jesus that he had no one to put him into the pool when it's stirred and that someone steps in front of him.  Jesus tells the man to get his bed and walk. He man did it and was healed.  What I mainly got from this story is that the man suffered a long time and his healing came in a way he didn't expect.

After I had Jaycee, I got something new from this story. I thought about that man and the other people who stepped out in front of him. He suffered for 38 years, surely the people around him knew it. Obviously, the other people felt they needed the healing more. There were some pretty sick people there who were "blind, lame, paralyzed." To step in first, you got your healing. But, that also meant that other people (maybe worse off) did not and would have to wait.

So what did that story mean for my life? It's very easy for me (& probably other people too) to become very self-absorbed in the middle of a health crisis. When Jaycee had a health issue arise when she was a baby or toddler, it would affect my emotions, thoughts, and attitude towards life. OK, it still affects me but not at the same intensity. When I would hear about another person's health problem, I literally couldn't take it in. I had my own problems and it was all I could handle. I couldn't deal with anything else. Most likely, there were some people I should have stepped up and supported in times past but I didn't because I felt I couldn't. Not only that, I would get very irritated when someone complained about a health issue that was sooo not a big deal comparatively.

This story reminds me and challenges me. No matter how "bad" things are going, no matter what craziness is going on in my life, I need to stop and take a look around at the people I encounter. There may be someone in need whose being ignored by everyone else. Self-pity and self-centeredness only gratifies one person but a life looking outward can reach an unlimited amount of people. This is a lesson I'm challenged by often and hope to have perfected at some point in my life.