Tag Archives: blessings

Virtual tea date

If we were hanging out this morning, I’d be sipping on my favorite casablanca mint tea.  When I’m under the weather as I am currently am, I can’t stand the thought of my beloved coffee; I finally understand what’s so comforting about tea-drinking, and yet, I confess that’s why I always feel like a bit of an invalid when I’m drinking it!

It’s been a whirlwind of a week, packed with teaching for me and unpacking for my husband, but having his family in town broke up the projects and made the follies more tolerable, I think!

One little joy of having his family in town is watching our nieces, especially our youngest, play junior nurse with Lucia.  I’ve noticed that when Lucia screeches and writhes for some unknowable reason and all our lips get a little tight and our hearts a bit anxious, Hannah stands by quite contentedly.  I appreciate that many children, including her, seem to know how to stand by when there are tears and pain and carrying on, perhaps placing a comforting hand or offering a kind sigh, but not trying to rush us others through their feelings.  What a lesson, I think, to be comfortable and at ease with one another’s distress, to be able to witness and hold but not press and prod, maybe offering the best consolation by just being human beings together.

That Hannah is a gem.

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Our evening bliss.  Photo by Evan Schneider.

I’ve begun to allow myself to look forward to all the things we will do in this house, like baking scones in the kitchen, hosting our first overnight guests in just a week, and enjoying more beautiful evenings on the patio.

I’m also hoping there’s enough room left in August for me to get my book off to publishers, put the finishing touches on a few articles, and maybe conjure a few more writing projects!  I’ve been trying to be better about setting and keeping writing goals, and I’ve been inspired by the progress of my students–it pushes me to be a better professor!

We are so thankful that Lucia continues to thrive in her new environment.  There is much to be figured out and much to pray for–she has equipment cliic on Tuesday, her IFSP next week, and we’ll be looking into what to do for school for her, but again, we’re so blessed to be in a state that creates possibilities for our child with special needs.  It reminds me that this anchor that we’ve put down here may yield some limitations, but it’s also what helps us keep our bearings and keep in view that many blessings we have.

…oh, and the Olympics!  I’m so excited!!!

What are you up to this weekend?

 

 

 

 

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Why I’ve learned to see gifts where others see limitations

The tenure track job.

It came up again today in conversation and I heard myself explaining away Lucia as somewhat of a limitation, a barrier to my acceptance of a prestigious position at a faraway university, and the words stung on my lips.  I didn’t like the way they sounded, not because of what they necessarily made Lucia out to be, but as to what they failed to communicate about my life with her. We may not be in China or Europe or even the Midwest anytime soon given that moving, let alone traveling with Lucia is daunting, but I’m starting to see that parameters aren’t always limitations, but often, good and wonderful gifts.

When I focus on the things I can’t or no longer do as Lucia’s mother, I neglect the way in which our tax payment to the state of New Jersey took on new, holy meaning this year, as we’ve become so gracious for the services our daughter receives from the state everyday.  Even the fact that we are seemingly grounded here because of Lucia’s state services misconstrues the amazing provision that we just happened to have a special needs child in one of the states with the greatest benefits for such kids.  Lucia wasn’t accidentally born into such a blessing, but wonderfully, purposefully so.

And then there’s the incredible academic rebirth I’ve had as a result of learning to love Lucia.  Whereas I was already studying foster children with disabilities in China, my experience with Lucia pushed me to develop and teach a new course on “Disability and Difference” at Princeton, to write on my personal experiences, and to begin to combine my scholarly and personal pursuits.  My journey alongside Lucia to reconceptualize diversity, justice, and faith through the lens of disability has been revelatory, and I am so grateful for her guidance.

There’s a really mixed bag here because I often suffer with Lucia, and I also struggle to comfort her, understand her, and help her.  I feel firmly that Lucia’s daily struggles shouldn’t be eclipsed by my own growth or edification.  But several years after God acquainted me with foster families raising children with disabilities in China who made us want to become parents, then God granted us our one-in-a-million Lucia.  I seek to embrace what God has shown me as God teaches me so profoundly that my daughter is fearfully and wonderfully made.

Another thing that I see is God melding these seemingly separate lives–that of the scholar, the pastor, and the parent–in far more intentional ways than I ever could.  In other words, we have partially stayed in New Jersey because of Lucia’s special needs, but I’ve also stumbled upon an opportunity to minister and teach and care for my child here that is life-giving and good.  The gift of living life alongside Lucia has taught me that life is not always as it seems, because there is blessing in what God builds amidst difficulty, sacrifice, and challenges.

In a recent blog post, a friend of mine wrote about how much his son with special needs has taught him not just about life but about the Bible and about God.  The truth is so much of Lucia’s giftedness is in revealing to me my own limitations, in enlightening me in what God is already doing, and in inspiring me to be a better follower, servant, and mother.  Lucia shows me the fullness of life, not in her limitations, but in our mutual, challenging, deep relationship, and I am deeply grateful.  Lucia continues to push me to fulfill my purpose in God and for others.

I might have said then, that Lucia is hardly a limitation–rather she is a gift.

She is a person that has made my life so much more meaningful than it could have been otherwise.  From one vantage point, her life has placed certain constraints on my own, but I believe she has also grounded me to see and experience the gifts and the goodness of God anew.  She has pushed me to reevaluate that tenure track job, not because I can’t have it or she doesn’t want me to have it, but because it doesn’t necessarily represent promise, privilege, or prestige that really matters.  She pushes me to live a life that matters, a life worthy of the calling I have received: she makes me whole in a way I could never have conceived.

And so I say, thank you God, for this good and perfect gift.

Lucia and Daddy
Lucia staring into her Daddy’s eyes during a recent hospital stay.  My photo.

 

Thanking God for the woes

But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.
Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.
Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets. –Luke 6:24-26

I’m not usually such of fan of negative passages in the Bible, you know like the whole ‘Loving God, please heap burning coals upon my enemies’ heads’ lines that often fall at the end of the Psalms.  Something just doesn’t seem quite right with those…

Sermon on the Mount by Laura James

So I guess that’s why I tend to gravitate toward the version of the Beattitudes in Matthew 5, you know the one that wraps up with blessings, joy in heaven, and then moves onto that cheery salt and light bit.

And perhaps that’s why these few verses at the end of Luke’s version struck me so profoundly with their recognition that it’s not only poverty of spirit that’s too be cherished, but gluttony, wickedness, and pride that are to be avoided.

Yesterday, as we made our way to a foster family’s home on the outskirts of the city and down a dusty road, a Chinese friend of mine turned to me and said, “You know people think that because China is developing so rapidly that things are fine here, but we still have a lot of problems.”

This morning I read an article about the education that few can afford in China, and the widening gap between the rich and poor.  And yesterday I saw it with my own eyes, far removed from the gleaming skyscrapers in the city, among these lovely old ladies who live in shacks and take care of severely disabled, needy kids for next to nothing.

But we can all relate to that story of the haves and the have-nots, can’t we?

It’s the same story in America just on a different frequency, and it must have been the same story back in Biblical times or Jesus would have been able to stop with that list of blessings.

But he didn’t.  

He went onto to preach that he wasn’t just talking about the plight of the poor or charity, where the rich could chip in a few cents for the poor and go on their merry way, but life-changing justice–the kind where we’d all have to give up something so that others don’t have to go without the necessities, where we’d have to stop rejoicing in the struggles of others, or attributing our success, wealth, and status to our own good graces.

I’m grateful during this Lenten season that Jesus didn’t stop with the blessings, but heaped on the woes.

Because its causing me to ask myself the hard questions like, What is Jesus calling me to give up this season so that others don’t go without?  And what burdens is Jesus calling me to shoulder so that others don’t stumble and fall?  

These are the questions that Lent begs of us, and the questions that renew our search for God’s wisdom and for Christ’s kingdom here on earth.

They are the questions that I ask even now when I’m afraid to do so, so that in some humble way someday I might not be facing these woes or trashing Jesus’s good name with them, but that I might be a blessing to others.