it's a quiet saturday morning. life is still. i'm looking back over this week- it was a good week.
on thursday i escaped. basically i realized that i needed a break, a time-out, a day with out zoe, a personal retreat. i had that feeling like the kite strings on my life were tangled. the mild chaos in my mind needed sorting. i'd been on a long stretch of homeschooling because mike was at a conference the days that i usually go to work, and the 'fall out' was me feeling frayed and fried.
my usual response to this feeling is (unfortunately) very medical. i diagnose the problem and i create a solutions list. i'm not good at sitting with it. i'm not great at rolling with it. i want to clean up, tidy my life and 'keep the house clean'.
so on thursday i took myself into kampala with the goal of analyzing my life, identifying the problem areas and finding solutions. i began at a coffee shop with a cup of african tea and made a 'retreat agenda' which covered topics great and small- from "zoe" to "home improvement". then i moved on to a different place where i could sit on a couch for hours and write it all out- expand on the topics- go deep.
i started of course, with zoe. one of the unfortunate things about children is that they are not static :). you really never get to cruise control, to sit back and let the machine drive itself- and this is especially true for special needs kids. and this is especially hard for parents who tend to perhaps over-analyze and be indecisive. whenever i'm struggling with zoe, i tend to go back to square one. here is how this has played out.
when she was little, between 2-6 years old, after seeing multiple specialist with no clear diagnosis, i would alternate between thinking she was "normal" and i was crazy, or thinking she had some great need/ disability. the times i thought she was mostly on track, were fantastic. and the times when i began to wonder what was 'wrong' with her were awful, and in these times, i would run to the internet and for hours, attempt to diagnose her. autism, aspergers, some random chromosomal anomaly, fetal alcohol syndrome (although i think i had one glass of wine during my pregnancy)- i've forgotten the numerous other diagnosis i'd convince myself she had. this behavior felt like a binge, like indulgence. i would consume massive amounts of information in attempt to gain control over the crazy i felt with her, over the fears i had about our future. the good that came from this was in my remembering that whatever differences she had she deserved gentleness, understanding, and compassion. but i so wish i could have spent that time and energy sitting on the floor with her, watching and listening to her, trusting her to God, enjoying the difference instead of trying to diagnose and fix it.
when she turned seven and had a 'formal' diagnosis of non-verbal learning disorder (in quotes because it's not recognized in code form as a diagnosis) i began to relax. well, kind of, because my attempts at control, my response to the crazy, was converted into searching for the best way to help a person with nonverbal learning disorder. and five years later, i'm still doing this. i still haven't really learned to sit, and watch and listen and trust.
so on thursday morning i began to write out my goals for zoe, academic, personal, relational, life skills, all of it. i began to write out her strengths - the things we should support and encourage and develop. i wrote out the problems, what we were missing with homeschooling- because in the back of my mind, my solution was to get her back to school. to get her back to a place of 'normal', to be 'done' with this season, to 'return'. but as i wrote and thought about it- i came to see that most of my goals for her are being met, or can be met with home schooling, and most of her strengths can be encouraged and developed with homeschooling, and probably what's missing can be added with out starting her at a non-special ed international school at age 13.
what i came to realize is that the problem isn't with zoe, it's with me. i'm conflicted about being her teacher, i've lost my passion for it, i want to just be her mom. so i began to wonder why? she's doing better, she's more engaged, she's 'easier' than she's been for the past two years, she has less sticky thoughts, does better with copy work, and math, and comprehension, so why now?
and the clarity came. because my back-up is gone. my rescue boats aren't here. the side-line support is absent. in atlanta if she or i were having a bad day, if a break was needed, i had choices. my mom would take her. barbara mcclure would take her. we could go to erin's house. we could go to sensations therafun special ed gymnasium. there were options, a way out, a life line- because parenting a child with special needs is full time. we also had a scheduled support structure. social group, brain balance, piano lessons, learning on the log, math tutoring, ama time - all with people who understood her, loved her, and really helped her. but they also helped me- not just in providing a break, but with their compassion, their ability to enter into the suffering and the challenge.
and that is the difference. the 30,000 foot view of what's really going on. and it will not be solved by sticking her in school next year. i mean that might happen- someday. that might be something she will want to do, or try- sometime. but it should be for her, not for me.
so this retreat was good and needed. my focus shifted, i corrected the course, and i began to think into ways we could build our back up, our network, our support. we will find them here, things that will help both of us- that will grow both of us. they will look different, but they are here. the same God that has provided so far, will continue to provide. and i will try to sit on the floors of life with her. watch and listen and play. trust us both to God, sit with it, and enjoy the craziness of the ride. i never liked cruise control anyway, i even prefer to drive stick:).
on thursday i escaped. basically i realized that i needed a break, a time-out, a day with out zoe, a personal retreat. i had that feeling like the kite strings on my life were tangled. the mild chaos in my mind needed sorting. i'd been on a long stretch of homeschooling because mike was at a conference the days that i usually go to work, and the 'fall out' was me feeling frayed and fried.
my usual response to this feeling is (unfortunately) very medical. i diagnose the problem and i create a solutions list. i'm not good at sitting with it. i'm not great at rolling with it. i want to clean up, tidy my life and 'keep the house clean'.
so on thursday i took myself into kampala with the goal of analyzing my life, identifying the problem areas and finding solutions. i began at a coffee shop with a cup of african tea and made a 'retreat agenda' which covered topics great and small- from "zoe" to "home improvement". then i moved on to a different place where i could sit on a couch for hours and write it all out- expand on the topics- go deep.
i started of course, with zoe. one of the unfortunate things about children is that they are not static :). you really never get to cruise control, to sit back and let the machine drive itself- and this is especially true for special needs kids. and this is especially hard for parents who tend to perhaps over-analyze and be indecisive. whenever i'm struggling with zoe, i tend to go back to square one. here is how this has played out.
when she was little, between 2-6 years old, after seeing multiple specialist with no clear diagnosis, i would alternate between thinking she was "normal" and i was crazy, or thinking she had some great need/ disability. the times i thought she was mostly on track, were fantastic. and the times when i began to wonder what was 'wrong' with her were awful, and in these times, i would run to the internet and for hours, attempt to diagnose her. autism, aspergers, some random chromosomal anomaly, fetal alcohol syndrome (although i think i had one glass of wine during my pregnancy)- i've forgotten the numerous other diagnosis i'd convince myself she had. this behavior felt like a binge, like indulgence. i would consume massive amounts of information in attempt to gain control over the crazy i felt with her, over the fears i had about our future. the good that came from this was in my remembering that whatever differences she had she deserved gentleness, understanding, and compassion. but i so wish i could have spent that time and energy sitting on the floor with her, watching and listening to her, trusting her to God, enjoying the difference instead of trying to diagnose and fix it.
when she turned seven and had a 'formal' diagnosis of non-verbal learning disorder (in quotes because it's not recognized in code form as a diagnosis) i began to relax. well, kind of, because my attempts at control, my response to the crazy, was converted into searching for the best way to help a person with nonverbal learning disorder. and five years later, i'm still doing this. i still haven't really learned to sit, and watch and listen and trust.
so on thursday morning i began to write out my goals for zoe, academic, personal, relational, life skills, all of it. i began to write out her strengths - the things we should support and encourage and develop. i wrote out the problems, what we were missing with homeschooling- because in the back of my mind, my solution was to get her back to school. to get her back to a place of 'normal', to be 'done' with this season, to 'return'. but as i wrote and thought about it- i came to see that most of my goals for her are being met, or can be met with home schooling, and most of her strengths can be encouraged and developed with homeschooling, and probably what's missing can be added with out starting her at a non-special ed international school at age 13.
what i came to realize is that the problem isn't with zoe, it's with me. i'm conflicted about being her teacher, i've lost my passion for it, i want to just be her mom. so i began to wonder why? she's doing better, she's more engaged, she's 'easier' than she's been for the past two years, she has less sticky thoughts, does better with copy work, and math, and comprehension, so why now?
and the clarity came. because my back-up is gone. my rescue boats aren't here. the side-line support is absent. in atlanta if she or i were having a bad day, if a break was needed, i had choices. my mom would take her. barbara mcclure would take her. we could go to erin's house. we could go to sensations therafun special ed gymnasium. there were options, a way out, a life line- because parenting a child with special needs is full time. we also had a scheduled support structure. social group, brain balance, piano lessons, learning on the log, math tutoring, ama time - all with people who understood her, loved her, and really helped her. but they also helped me- not just in providing a break, but with their compassion, their ability to enter into the suffering and the challenge.
and that is the difference. the 30,000 foot view of what's really going on. and it will not be solved by sticking her in school next year. i mean that might happen- someday. that might be something she will want to do, or try- sometime. but it should be for her, not for me.
so this retreat was good and needed. my focus shifted, i corrected the course, and i began to think into ways we could build our back up, our network, our support. we will find them here, things that will help both of us- that will grow both of us. they will look different, but they are here. the same God that has provided so far, will continue to provide. and i will try to sit on the floors of life with her. watch and listen and play. trust us both to God, sit with it, and enjoy the craziness of the ride. i never liked cruise control anyway, i even prefer to drive stick:).
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