Praying With Our Feet -- and Our Magic Markers

"Budgets are moral documents."
-- Jim Wallis, Sojourners

In my Saturday morning post, I spoke of taking a Sabbath and not posting on the 20th.

My congregation was holding a weekend retreat at a center about an hour's drive away, and the JoyFamily drove there Saturday morning for a 24-hour getaway.

We needed the break, from the news and the protests and the computers. The week had been exhausting, days on end with insufficient sleep and way too much adrenaline.

However, the retreat also provided a safe space to go in deeper. With our friends, we were able to explore the moral dimensions of the budget proposal and the protests, in thoughtful conversation and in prayer.

I also brought a bunch of posterboard and a fistful of markers to offer an additional option for a craft project activity: making signs to highlight the Medicaid issue, to be conveyed to the press event on Sunday afternoon.

Several of the signs alluded to the moral implications of the budget-repair bill. I particularly liked the ones that said, "Don't deny a voice for the vulnerable." Two of those signs wound up on the wall right behind the heads of the speakers at the press event, in direct camera view.

But even more touching to me was a sign colored by a little fellow of the age of six, just two days older than Joy. For the first two years of Joy's life, our family did a daycare swap with this little guy's family, so he and she were daycare buddies up to the age of two. They've not been close lately, as he is on a typical developmental path and she is on a path all her own; but he really wanted to create a sign, and his mom traced the words "Protect Medicaid" for him to color and explained just a little bit that this was to help Joy and others like her.

His was the sign I chose to hold at the front of the room at the press event (held here by JoyDad on the bus on the way home.)

If you follow the online debate about Wisconsin's budget, or listen to certain newscasts, you will hear the protesters described as greedy, as rioters, possibly even as un-American.

I'd offer the personal view of protesters as people of peace and conscience and deep conviction, many of us as people of faith. I'm reminded of the children's book that was inspired by our congregation in 2005, Praying with our Feet, about taking peaceful, prayerful action for a peaceful world in the face of an unjust war. (The book is out-of-print but can still be acquired through various vendors at the link.)

We're praying in many ways this week. With our feet at the Capitol building. With our magic markers. With our letters to the editor and our calls and e-mails to our legislators.

Please add your prayers / thoughts / positive energies to ours, in any way you feel so moved.

Hope for the Next Generation

Time magazine asks on its cover this week:
"Is America Islamophobic?"

Rose: What's that word? Is... is...

JoyMama: Islamophobic.

Rose: What does that mean?

JoyMama: It means being afraid of Muslims.

Rose: Why? They're just people!


In appreciation of one of Joy's recent baristas, and of Rose's first daycare lady. We've so appreciated their presence in our lives, and wish them grace and courage in the face of others' fears.

Autism & Alleluias: A Review

It feels a little like finding a new autism-blogger-mom for my blogroll, even though I haven't visited her blog yet.

I was pleased to be asked a couple of weeks ago to review Kathy Deyer Bolduc's new book Autism & Alleluias, as part of a blog-publicity tour thrown by her publisher Judson Press. I always love to get a new book in the mail, and the title resonated with the God Sightings theme that runs through my own blog.

In Autism & Alleluias, Bolduc shares "a love story" -- love of God and of her son Joel, a young man who has autism as well as intellectual disabilities and an anxiety disorder. In a series of short 3-5 page vignettes and poems, she offers gently faith-infused glimpses into life with Joel, starting not long before his autism diagnosis as he stands at the cusp of adolescence and concluding as he moves into his early 20s.

Each chapter / reflection / meditation begins with scripture and ends with a prayer. In between, she and Joel encounter the challenges of life in school and church and community, but also grace (alleluias) in unexpected places:

• an Easter visitor who shares a new perspective on disability
  
• a talented aide who composes a special song for Joel on the spot
  
• Joel's own vocal and enthusiastic worship style (which fits better into some congregations than others!)
  
• a poignant reminder from Joel himself that "We need Jesus."

The chapters not only have the cadence of a daily devotional, but also that of blog posts. (I am reminded particularly of Autism in a Word, from my dear friend Rhemashope.) With Autism & Alleluias, it feels as if we're getting the "best of" nuggets of 12 years of reflective blogging (or journaling), in one 140-page swoop! Since I blog from a desktop (and don't carry an iPhone), I was able to carry the book to places I don't blog-read, like the bus. I found myself with the impulse to post a comment after some of the chapters -- I guess that's what book groups are for.

I have not read either of the author's two earlier books, His Name is Joel: Searching for God in a Son's Disability (1999), or A Place Called Acceptance: Ministry with Families of Children with Disabilities (2001), but have them on my list now. Meanwhile, you can visit her website at http://www.kathleenbolduc.com/ if you'd like more information.

Similarities

One of the joys of being part of this bloggy enterprise is "meeting" people who share traits and experiences with Joy (and me), whether across town or on the other side of the country or world.

This was reinforced, in the case of one delightful similar-sister we've never met in person, by a comment on the last post -- and by the photos later in this post.

Sweet Rhema and Joy share so much...

Both carry names that reflect their families' faith-rootedness.

They're just about the same age.

They're both fast and strong (and at risk for flight, fences and tags notwithstanding.)

Both have an on-and-off relationship with spoken language -- generally more off than on.

They're both gymnasts, furniture and otherwise.

Both have epilepsy issues.

Both are Baby Einstein devotees.

Both give glorious butterfly-kisses.

Neither can be reliably left alone with an open cup.

Both are dearly beloved by their typically-developing sisters.

And they're both window-dancers.







Rhemashope, I'm so glad to know you and your darling window-dancer too! Hugs across the miles to our sisters.

AMAZING UPDATE:
Ohhhhh. Look at Rhema's latest window-dance, everyone. From yesterday. As in, within a day of Joy's window-dance photos. Separated at birth, or what?!

Spectrum of Faith and Doubt

This Lenten season, our church has been doing a series called "The Spectrum of Faith and Doubt." Lots of reflection on the nature of faith, doubt, and the interaction and relationship between the two. For me the most powerful part of the series has been the short reflections every week by members of the congregation that fall into the confessional genre; as in, confessions of faith. And confessions of shattering struggles with doubt as well.

I was struck by something that was said last Sunday, questioning the use of spectrum imagery for faith and doubt. The imagery somehow implies that the two fall on opposite ends of some kind of Likert scale (e.g., 5=very good, 1=very bad) rather than the complex interaction and co-existence that is perhaps more common to most people's experience.

It reminds me of a similar pitfall in the use of spectrum imagery for autism, as if we could line people up "on the spectrum" in order of high-functioning to low-functioning, long wavelength to short wavelength, (very good to very bad?) Ummm. Not particularly helpful, to state it mildly.

Some challenges are surely more profound and disturbing than others. There have been some sobering stories echoing through the blogosphere lately. The perfect metaphor, both for autism and for faith, would capture that. Ultraviolet rays can cause skin cancer... look right into the sun too long and you'll burn out your retinas...

On the other hand, which color is the more beautiful, red or violet or something in between? What's the 5, what's the 1, and to what extent must it matter so much? Which person is less a valued and beloved child of God, the one in a place of confident faith or the one eaten to shreds by doubt? The "low-functioning" or "high-functioning" autist?

I think the beauty of the rainbow inherent in the spectrum imagery has a lot going for it, not least the symbolism of the rainbow in the book of Genesis:

And God said, "This is the sign of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth." Genesis 9:12-13

Photo credit listentoreason under CreativeCommons license.

Who Loves Joy?

Last night at Sunday School I got to fill in as Joy's volunteer aide for part of the session. She sat in my lap on the story-rug next to the three little pre-school guys (including her former day-care buddy) who are her classmates, while the teacher read Guess How Much I Love You, a board book by Sam McBratney in which Little Nut-Brown Hare and his father talk about how very much they love each other! Then we had a conversation about "who loves you?" The kids were finding it easier to think about "who do you love?" but the teacher managed to get some thoughts out of the guys about how their parents love them, and their siblings probably do too, etc.

Then it came Joy's turn and I gave her a great big hug in my lap, while asking the guys if they could think of who might possibly love Joy so very much.

They thought for a second and then Joy's former day-care buddy blurted out, "I love Joy!"

All together now: "Awwwwwww!"

And -- the lesson toward which we were working -- God loves her too. So very much.

All the way to the moon and back, in the words of the story.

And God loves her day-care buddy, and her classmates, and her mama, and her teacher...

And you, too.

Wednesday Photo Blogging: Leap of Faith

In the comments to this post, Barbara/therextras asked if it was JoyMama jumping off the bridge in JoyMama's profile picture. Here's the picture:



I responded with a question of my own: "You don't think I'd marry a woman who would fling herself untethered off a bridge, do you???? Well??????"


There are a number of possible answers to the question:

1. It's not JoyMama, so therefore the answer is no, I wouldn't marry a woman who would fling herself untethered off a bridge.

2. Yes, it's JoyMama. I had no idea when we got married that she would do such a thing, and I'm shocked, SHOCKED that she would put herself at such great personal risk. It reflects badly on her as a person and sets a terrible example for Joy and Rose. For I would never do such a thing…

3. Yes, it's JoyMama. She made the leap before we were married when she was young and foolish. As part of our wedding vows, she swore off such desperate acts of thrill seeking, promising to be the sedate librarian from a small town in Kansas I always hoped to marry.

4. Yes, it's JoyMama. In fact, I was the photographer. Which means I stood by, nay, encouraged her to fling herself off the bridge to meet an uncertain fate. It reflects badly on me that I would allow her to put herself in such peril and not do anything to try to stop her.

What exactly is a leap of faith anyway? In common parlance it means believing in something despite, or in the absence of, any available evidence.

Marriage is quite the leap of faith, isn't it? We vetted each other by dating for a year and then spending a year as an engaged couple. But forever is an awful long time to commit oneself to another. In essence, we based a decision on how to order the rest of our lives on a small slice of time compared to how long we were planning on being together. Thankfully, neither of us got cold feet before our wedding day, and at least so far, almost 15 years in, our faith in each other and in the decision to combine our lives has been rewarded. I mean, look at those pictures of the girls in their pretty flower girl dresses -- it amazes me every day how richly blessed we are to have them.

I guess having kids entails a leap of faith as well. There's no crystal ball you can look into to see how they will turn out. Certainly, we wish Joy didn't have to contend with autism or epilepsy, or that our family didn't have to deal with the fallout from those conditions. But if I'd had a crystal ball to gaze into before Joy was born, it would have shown me that despite all of that, raising Joy would turn out to be a wonderful experience. I tell people all the time that despite the struggles and challenges of raising Joy, we ain't giving her back. In fact, because it is a such a challenge, I think the successes we have with Joy (like seeing her becoming more interactive with people, as she has lately) are that much more rewarding.

Oh yeah, the picture... That is indeed JoyMama taking the plunge. And I am the photographer. We had already been married for a while at the time. It's not quite the leap of faith it might have been... We were camping at Baxter State Park in Maine. On one of our first days there, we were hiking near our campsite and came upon the bridge in the photo. There was a group of people swimming in the river, and a number of them were also jumping off the bridge. And not perishing... There was deep spot on one side of the bridge which made jumping off relatively safe. It was quite a refreshing way to end a day of hiking up and down mountains.

And I, of course, took my own turns leaping....

Photo Wednesday: God evry Where

Just when I was thinking that Rose (my neurotypical first-grader) had been zoning out in Sunday school and was doodling during worship and nothing was sinking in, she turned and handed me this:


They're listening. They really are.