Movie time

Starting planing out things with Niamh on how to go about teaching them to make movies. I know how to teach young adults. Introduce them to basic story structure, character development. Idea webs, and outlines. Draft, Draft, draft until you have something that might look something like a movie script. Children don't have this kind of patience. My daughter spent most of the time trying to name her production company, and couldn't understand why couldn't film in the kitchen that instant. She also wanted to be in charge and I interpreted her selfishness, as an act of defiance, and not the typical response of a child with Asperger's. After some tears I decided to back off, and let her just start making up a story and I'd do my best to write it down. She focused on character development and what each character was like why they were the way they were. Astonishing! Considering I thought she would be much more interested in stimulating yet unconnected anecdotal details. For Niamh it would be a science experiment scene, or the protaganist has glasses. Instead this is what I got.
A story about a girl who is trapped in a life she doesn't like. Her name is Rebecca. She wants to be a scientist who studies canines, foxes in particular, but instead is forced to be an actress by her evil Aunt Vivi. Her parents left her in Vivi's care because they are "those kind of people". Rebecca is also 7 and has red hair. She is from Texas and is shooting a movie set in Egypt. Vivi is 43, and is cruel and ambitious with dreams of Rebecca being a movie star, which she is well on her way. Agerfer, is 12. Agerfer, is a girl with dark skin. I assume African American, but I didn't think to clarify as I didn't want to interrupt Niamh's flow of consciousness. She is the hero of the story she will eventually save Rebecca, although she doesn't know how yet. The girls also become best friends.
I don't think it a bad start...

just thinking...

These thoughts come to me every once in a while, moments where I recognize the blessing of it all, in a crystal clear, powerfully vibrant explosion of truth.
This week Tadhg has had a cold, a nasty, coughing, runny nose thing, and through all the fussing and tears, he has had the words to tell me all about it. At first, it just adds to the stress of 4 sick kids, while I myself am not feeling too hot but then it comes back to me, taking my breath away, how life used to be for us. Living in the city, still in the beginning of figuring out what it all means to be a parent and a family with something different about us. And then there is the now, a cozy home with a yard, a cat, a bunny, 4 kids running about, learning thru living in the burbs in Illinois. Not that now is easier than then, just different.
It hit me today that no matter how many times it happens, I am still amazed whenever my son tells me how he feels, that he loves me, or even little things like "mommy, my ear hurts, it makes me sad"...a precious thing we often take for granted, and a skill my girls are still learning at ages 5 and 8...he'll be 3 this valentine's day and I am finally breathing easier that autism will not be his personal journey. For all intensive purposes, it looks like he beat the odds. Statistically, as a boy with 2 sisters on the autistic spectrum, he should be severely affected. However, it is just not there. Praise God!
At the age Tadhg is now, Niamh was still almost non-verbal after losing language the year before, and the neurologist, neuropsych and doctors were her entire life as we searched for answers. Efa was on the way and we were determined to beat this thing that took the eye contact and words away from us. We knew she was in there and nothing could make me give up my quest to figure this out, to find the clues to put the puzzle back together for my baby girl. At the same age, thanks to our experiences with Niamh, Efa's daily routine for years had involved ot, pt, speech and the stress of dealing with the constant bombardment of sensory overload. Her words were better, but the near violent meltdowns were not an if, they were a when. I remember the first time our physical therapist, who happened to be a neighbor, saw Efa in full meltdown because we had to leave the community pool. I could see the shock and concern on her face as I struggled to wrap my munchkin up in a towel to keep her from hurting herself. The water was her favorite place, she felt good in the pool, and unfortunately at some point we just had to leave. The sensory impact of the change overcame her nervous system and in that moment I realized that my normal, well, it just wasn't. Carol came and helped me scoop her into the stroller and strap her in so I could securely hurry her across the street and back to her "safe" place at home. She couldn't tell me how she felt that day, but I could feel it thru her eyes, I gave her the words she couldn't access, and God gave me the strength to carry thru, like so many times before and since.
At nearly 3 years old, life for them was about healing, taking 1 step forward, 2 steps back, therapy, learning, and alot of prayer. I feel like I should have several degrees for all of the late nights, hours, weeks, months, and years of research I've done. I wish I had had more time and energy to write it all down, but maybe now is a better time, when I can look back over the triumph, and not be crushed by the not knowing of it all. That said, I will always battle the questions of "what if" for them, those taunting demons that encroach in my weaker moments. If we only knew then what we know now. Tadhg has never been vaccinated, a choice strongly supported by our medical team. He has never really had dairy, no artificial colors, flavors, preservatives, no junk of any kind. He has only ever lived in a home with non-toxic, mostly organic cleaners, soaps, and even diapers. I have to fight the thought that he is healthy and strong because they were not. And the lies that I should have known better, could have done something, anything, and it would be different.
But then, I look up, I watch and listen to the girls as they play. Together. Taking turns, listening to eachother's ideas. They shouldn't be doing that if autism won. I feel Efa's once chubby, but increasingly slim arms wrap around my middle as she tells me "Mom, give me a big hug!" If the sensory overload had won, there would be no squishy bear hugs. I am overjoyed as I watch Niamh reach out to other children, often those that don't always have a friend, loving on them, telling them they are cool, fun and special. If the social disorder had won, there would not be a long list of friends waiting for a playdate. The battles we face regarding autism, we fight, with God's strength and the knowledge and peace that comes form trusting in His perfect plan for our girls. It isn't anyone else's normal, but I really don't care. It's mine, and I am more than ok with that. The beauty that surrounds me far outweighs the stress of being "different". If people don't get it, too bad for them.
I am perpetually blessed by the gifts my girls have, gifts that i know are made stronger by the "disorder"/differences that they face. They amaze and astound me with their intelligence, creativity and love, their understanding of God and his plan for their lives and the joy they share with others. And whether they realize it yet or not, their "normal" little brother worships the ground they walk on. He will fight just to be with them, for them to include him and love him. And as I watch his love for his 2 big sisters grow, I know without a doubt, that he will fight for them always, and that God gave them a mighty protector in that determined little man.
And at the end of it all, to God be the glory for our successes, on Him I rely for strength and hope when things are rough. And in full honesty, our crazy, creative, brave and different family is perfection to me, and i would never have our normal be anything other than it is...

Inertia

I read a review for "Creation". It's a British film chronicling Charles Darwin's life as he struggled to write and publish his controversial and world-changing book "Origin of Species". Wherein he introduces the world to the concept of evolution and coined the phrase "survival of the fittest." I know the reviewer generally panned it as "uninteresting", but the overall concept was well intentioned, just ill-conceived. What stuck out to me was Darwin's fear of what the book and his theory would do to not just the world, but his wife, a devout Christian. If there is no God, and this is all, life, just a struggle to survive and adapt, and there is no greater Kingdom or purpose what becomes us? When the inertia of intellect and intellect of the Spirit collide, what then? I found myself pondering this. Regardless of your opinions of Evolution or the concept of a Godless universe, or at least a ruddlerless universe. What would it be like if life was devoid of purpose or guiding force? It seems as impossible as God creating a universe in 6 days. Our souls know this doesn't add up. To deny that evidence of God or intelligent designer is the same as denying the fossil record or carbon dating. What then does one make of this conflict? I'm not a scientist, but being as trendy as the next hipster I'm pridefully addicted to jargon and so I desperately want to be an expert on all topics. However, time, my attention span, and my broader interests don't allow me to dive into this arena in anyway adequate to come to anything resembling a definitive answer, and unless someone invents a time machine, no one else can know either really. The reason I bring this up is I had something of a faith crisis the last couple of weeks. I would love to feed you the cliche of I was just struggling and this struggle grew my faith, well, actually it kind of did, but at the time it was as close to an outright denial as I've ever come to. Let me break it down. I was feeling sorry for myself because I still don't have full-time work. On top of that I had a tough week at my contract job. I let this stress really get to me, and to be blunt I was pretty abusive verbally to my family. I'd hear the typical news of the recession on the news, and how the banks get huge bonuses while others lose their house, and how I may be facing that very real specter soon. I thought about everything that went down at Harvest, and how can a church do that to a family. I thought about the quake in Haiti and all the suffering there. About all the innocent children who either died, or were maimed or orphaned. The killer was a conversation I had with Sarah. She told me very honestly, "I don't know who you are, we have to live together, but I can't have a relationship with you while you're like this. I have to treat you like a roommate. I have to protect my kids." I wonder how many men hear something like this from their wives, and never in a million years thought they would ever hear it? And I wonder how many more would know they're right? I knew she was right, and it destroyed me, like nothing else has ever destroyed me. So, I did the mature rational thing. I cursed God. I told Him, "If You're real and let these things happen than you're cruel. If You're not real, than I won't waste my breath because that's all I have left." I would like to say that God showed up right then, but I believe God is not "punked". Whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.
Inertia. Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to a change in its state of motion. It takes two things to put an object in motion time, and energy. I spent a lot of time being self-focused. I spent a lot of energy on my career. Even when presented with an opportunity to change stopping that selfish train was much harder than I could have imagined. Even when presented with all the blessings I received this summer and fall I resisted. The mass and energy of my past pushed forward despite best intentions.
I got a call today from my mortgage lender today. They are modifying my loan. The 4 months of back payments have been erased and I start with a clean slate on March 1st. Praise God!
I spent the last few months waiting for pre-foreclosure to start, trying to figure out how I was going to come up with the thousands of dollars to keep my family from becoming homeless. Now I have a new deal. It was at the moment when the ruminations of the past few months and weeks coalesced into a single collective truth. Grace makes inertia, inert. In other words grace defeats your past, defeats your literally and figurative demons. Its the hand that stops the wrecking ball. It also defeats the logic of survival of the fittest, because it has no interest in self. It's completely illogical, yet sets the world right. Grace evokes change. Grace is how we evolve. I used inertia in a negative context, but inertia like most things can be used for good or evil. What would my life be like if I consistently wrote? What would my life be like if I consistently sought God in prayer? What would things be like if I consistently read and studied the Bible? What would my life be like if I acted on what I really know to be the truth? What if I gave to the poor? What if I got involved in helping the helpless? What if I joined in on the inertia of grace and love? If this is what I sow, what will I reap?

Christmas 2009

This was a transitional Christmas. It was the last Christmas of the decade. It was my youngest child's first Christmas. It was my first Christmas being unemployed, and God willing my last. It seems a fitting end to a hard yet wonderful year. My 4 children crowded around the tree. They can't wait to see what they got. They don't know what it is, but they know it's good.

I awoke before the kids that morning. I felt a heavy weight. All I could focus on is how I have failed my family so many times. How many times I put my needs ahead of theirs. How many times I have personally failed to be not only to be the Father and husband they need, but to be the man the God wants. I sank below this feeling, and before I could get a chance to wallow I looked at the gifts they we had gotten. I've had Christmases with much more under the tree for less people, but when I thought about the people God has lead to help us out. The clearance at the thrift store where Sarah found 20, nearly untouched high quality children's books for pocket change. If it were Barnes and Noble it would have cost hundreds of dollars. This was enough to give me pause. Then I starting thinking about all the people that have blessed us over the past 6 months. Then I starting thinking about all the people before that blessed us before that. Then I started to weigh that against myself. Against my own decisions. Not to sound old fashion, but my sin. It didn't add up. This shouldn't be happening. I should be foreclosing on this house. I should be alone for the way I've treated my family, yet here I am looking at a picture perfect Christmas...Then I thought about Jesus. I was in a Good Friday mood on Christmas. He was born to die. Born to forgive. Born so we can start over.

My prayer for this new decade is hope. That God will make a place in me that hope never dies. Like Thomas I need help with my unbelief, but I know this place is just a poor reflection, but sometimes, even a poor reflection can shine bright.

Merry Christmas.
Happy New Year

Thanks you's and Niamh and I learn about Pride

Wow, I'm a lazy blogger, but I'm starting my new years resolutions early this year.  I'm going to work out a little everyday and write a little everyday.  (Don't expect a blog entry everyday.  I'm also trying to write a screenplay.  "Trying", being the operative word).
  I wan to say thank you again for everyone who helped out with the concert in October.  Again, without it my family and I would be facing down homelessness.  Now, instead God's blessing with more than we can imagine.   I still do not have a full-time job, but I've been able to work part-time contract at Judson, as well as teach at Columbia, and produce Corporate videos, as well as still getting gifts from near strangers.  It's odd have three bosses all the time and no benefits, but being able to pay a bill is very good feeling, which brings me to my next point...
   Pride, or rather humility, or should I say Pride vs. Humility.  My 8 year old daughter Niamh a couple of days ago began to develop a fairly strong defiant streak, well, at least for her.  For instance she'd get on the computer and start playing a game when I asked her to pick up her room, and she'd pretend I wasn't there.  At first I thought I wasn't getting her attention, but as I said it for the third time she finally said in a voice slightly louder than a whisper, "I only want to do what I want to do."  Of course I was a little upset and explained that that was unacceptable, but throughout the day this phrase was repeated in one instance after another, with the volume and physical body language becoming more exaggerated with each outburst.  Finally, I had had enough and we had a talk in her room alone.
Sometimes I struggle with my faith in fundamental ways, like, "Is God real or a social construct",  "Is my belief in God a well developed evolutionary survival mechanism."  You know man having become self-aware needs a reason to survive and thrive besides that fact that his body is telling him to.  Sorry, my life long Christian friends.  I went to public school, so I think about these things sometimes.  However, I know there is a God  when I say things that make profound sense.  I am an idiot most of time, and simple not saying anything the rest of the time, but occasionally I'll say something that as Banyan would say on Seinfeld, "It's gold Jerry!  Pure Gold!"
"Niamh, you have a pride problem, and pride will eventually take everything away from you."  I think I looked around to see who said it, but I know where it came from.  "You want the computer and toys, and friendships, but if you want it all just for you no one will give it to you.  Everything you wanted today I would have given you, but you didn't ask, and you decided you knew better, but none of that worked out because you didn't stop to ask me."  This is true.  I'm not a narcissists.  I'm looking out for her best interest as well as her siblings.  I see the big picture that she cannot see.  I now realized at this point I was speaking to my daughter but could have just as easily been listening to God.  I was blind to it but I thought I knew better.  I thought I had something to do with the blessings I had.  It's ALL a gift.  You have nothing to do with anything you have or don't have.  You're always where God wants you to be.  You just have to ask Him what He thinks.  What's His will, not mine?
   This hit home, but the story of Moses sealed the deal.  She's very familiar with Moses so all I had to say was,  "What happened to Pharaoh?"  "He died," she said.  "Before that." "I don't remember."  "Remember the plagues?  Each time God gave him a chance to do the right thing, and each time he said no.  Do you know why it was so hard for the Pharaoh to let the Hebrews go?" "Why?"  "Because once you let pride in it takes over.  You have to stop it as it knocks at your heart.  You have to tell it to go away as soon as you start wanting everything your way.  Even if you have to do it in Jesus name.  Pharaoh had it all and lost everything because of pride, even his son."  By this point Niamh was crying (I was a little too), but we had both learned a valuable lesson, she learned I was reminded I should say that we can't go it alone.  We need God.  We need others.  I don't care how badass you are you were not created to be insular and completely self-sufficient.  In fact it's pretty badass to have a connection with God and your fellow man.  In other words it's pretty sweet to be zen!

Making Strides

Woke up to a glorious day!  bathed in sunlight, a relief from the varying shades of gray that we've experienced here in Illinois over the past several weeks.  Although, cold it's dry, but by God I'll take it at least it's not wet.  Sarah decided last minute to go, just her and Niamh,  to the Making Strides for Breast Cancer Walk at Chicago Premium Outlets, instead of all of us.  It's just as well, the younger ones didn't understand what it's about, and probably won't last very long in the cold.  We all go through a various personal tragedies, but we're not meant to bear them alone.   My wife's cousin, and good friend Christina Berger was recently diagnosed with Breast cancer.  She's going through Kimo and we've never heard her complain, not even once.  Nevertheless, this is a frustrating persistent disease that takes still so little is known about.  Here's how you can help. 

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=19898&pg=pfind

Visit this link and make a donation using her name, or the name of anyone else you know who may be walking this morning.  Christina's story is here as well.  Even you don't have the money she also takes prayers :-). 

When I consider...

In the quiet twilight, heads turned away. Lost in imaginings, these people I have been blessed to know so intimately gather their vaporous thoughts into mass. One, innocently, in naiveté, embracing the boyish thought of a man's strength. Another, the beauty of a flat world, it's hue and characters dead and flat on the page, resurrect themselves. Their tones warm. Their movement strung along and within the third dimension. Surrounded. Jovial. Specters of light and joy. The third, howling. Mischievous. Rolling with laughter. Nirvana in flesh! Absolved of pain. A stranger to the worries of this world. Her few years, and relentless spirit push against the weight of all that is wrong. Her confidence taunts deaths mysteriously absent sting.
A fourth! Dear God, a fourth so beautiful it makes me cry. An ache of joy that rattles me into surrender. There can be no doubt of You. These so called poor reflections so clear and bright I could no more deny them then I could deny my breath. Your people. Friends and strangers alike hear Your call. Your arms have many names. Your hands the hands of the humble. God in flesh. Today. Here. Now.