random thoughts

1. I'm a wee bit jealous that our church has begun handing out The Jesus Storybook Bible at baby dedications. Why? Because the ones they gave Jocelyn and Robbie were meh. Not so exciting. Or accurate. Or awe-inspiring. So I'm 90% excited that these families are being given a really fantastic Bible storybook, and 10% envious that they weren't doing that when our babes were dedicated.

Because, of course, we all know that the most important thing about baby dedication is which Bible you get to bring home.

2. Laundry is drowning me.

That is all.

3. The Advance the Church 2011 conference was ah-mazing. Will Johnson has posted a lot of the notes he took over here. I'm not ready to intelligently post anything yet, but it will be coming.

4. We ordered pizza for Mother's Day. Best dinner ever, in my opinion. Menu planning will commence again tomorrow after dinner with my dad tonight, but I'm a low-class broad who loves pizza even though it and my affinity for sugar are to blame for my rheumatoid arthritis. Well, that and my lack of faith and the ineptitude of my prayer life. {insert snark here}

5. Domino's won me over for life when they added garlic salt to their crust.

Well, for life or until another chain gets the hint.

6. I love my dog. He is goofy and protective and not incredibly intelligent. And he's perfect.

7. I don't know why this item is italicized, but I'm too lazy right now to undo it. I'm thankful, though, that while my hips, knees, and feet are being affected by my present RA flare, my hands and wrists are not. So typing and writing and reading and all that aren't affected. 

8. There isn't much I love more than a hot, nearly scalding bath. With bubbles. Even though the angle of my bathtub faucet makes it hard for it to hit the water as forcefully as necessary to create said bubbles.

9. (Geez, the italics again?!? What on earth.) I love, love, love my friend Jenelle's new haircut. Love it.

Identifying & emphasizing the essentials

(This post was originally featured on the Treasuring Christ curriculum blog, and you'll need to click through to read the whole thing.)

As those entrusted with the role of teacher, we need to know that essence of what we’re teaching. In other words, how would you answer this question:

If children and students at our church only grasp one thing today, what should it be?

(I don’t mean for that to be hypothetical. Please take a moment to think about your ministry as a whole. How would you answer that for your next Bible study or Sunday school class? How would you answer that if I were to ask what one thing you hope that children and students grasp before they reach adulthood? Take a moment, and think about that if you don’t have an answer already.)

Answering those questions can add clarity to your teaching for every child and student, but it becomes even more crucial for those with special needs. If a child has intellectual, emotional, or behavioral difficulties, then odds are good that you don’t really have the full class time to teach a plethora of points. You might just have five minutes.

Let me give you an example from a couple weeks ago: I was working one-on-one in one of our preschool classes with a little boy – who I’ll call Jack – who loves balls and blocks and who also happens to have Down syndrome... (continued here)


To read the rest, go here to the Treasuring Christ curriculum blog. 

And, while you're there, check out the rest of the site too! You'll see a familiar face - mine! - among the contributors, but Steve Wright and Kim Davidson are the ones who really poured their time, effort, and love for Christ into this. And, while Steve and Kim are absolute rockstars in my book, God is the One who deserves the credit for this amazing resource.

A symptom of a larger problem

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

{Hebrews 12:1-3, ESV}

One thing has struck me recently: The failure of the church to include people with disabilities isn't the problem. It's a symptom of a larger problem.

The problem is not that we don't love people with disabilities.

The problem is that we don't love Jesus. 

If we truly loved Him, then we wouldn't be relying on our own love to welcome people with disabilities and others who we often marginalize. Our hearts would be so fixated on Jesus that His love would overflow from us, spilling over to everyone else we encounter.

We wouldn't need Autism Awareness Month, because we would love people with autism enough to want to be aware of what life is like for them. We would love them enough to do life with them and run the race with them, aware of their realities.

We wouldn't need Mother's Day, because we would show His love to our mothers every day, as well as to the women for whom Mother's Day can be difficult. We would love them enough to know them and to want to serve them.

What is hindering you from loving Jesus fully and letting His love overflow in your life? Whatever it is, it's sin. Even if it's something good, if you let it keep you from loving God, then it has become a hindrance that is entangling you.

Examine your heart, and repent. 

And love Him.

the poor neglected middle child

I was going to say first born, but then I remembered that I dabbled with Xanga, which makes this my second blog child. I have completely forgotten my first born, though, other than that it was called SillyShenanigans but I never ever wrote about anything silly on it.

Let's see if I can find it...hmm, there is some funny stuff there. Like this:

Interesting quotes from my husband this evening...

"How can I be 'the honorable'?" after Secretary of Education Margaret Spelling was introduced as "The Honorable Margaret Spelling" on Celebrity Jeopardy. (Amusingly enough, our Secretary of Education couldn't beat out a couple of actors. Sad, huh? Not that this was a surprise, though, since this was a re-run that I watched the first time around...)

"Don't we need cookie mix?" in response to my suggestion that we use the caramel-chocolate chips for cookies later instead of adding them to the cake batter tonight. I showed him the back of the bag of chips, where the recipe can always be found, so he could see the exact ingredients required to make cookies. A few moments later came the next quote...

"So you mean this is just flour and sugar and some other stuff?" he asked while holding the bag of cake mix.

"You're right. This bag has a recipe too!" as he held up another bag of chocolate chips.

"So who reads your Xanga?" he asked after I told him I was beginning this post. He was okay with it once I explain it's only Jenelle and sometimes Derek.

Which was true. But more of y'all read this blog. Or at least you did before it became my neglected middle child blog.

I have been posting a ridiculous amount over at The Works of God Displayed. It's where I write about special needs ministry stuff.

And it's official, based on pageviews, visitors, and Twitter followers: my ministry is more popular than I am.

And I'm okay with that. Well, I wasn't totally okay with it, and then a sweet friend reminded me of the verse at the end of my emails: "He must become greater; I must become less." {John 3:30}

So I'm okay with it now.

What I'm not okay with is neglecting this space. Because, as much as I love my ministry stuff, I love my own space that doesn't have to be specific to any one topic. The eclectic area that fell together here sort of like the original Dinglefest did ... you know, the crazy carnival wedding reception that we threw together in Texas after we scrapped the wedding we planned in Florida? It started as a joke by my man, and it evolved to the best wedding reception ever.

My first real post here was about my then one-year-old daughter preferring dead leaves over the company of Mommy and my then twenty-five-year-old self preferring the rubbish of the world over the treasure of Christ. And while the blog has changed much since then, I still want that fresh, real attitude to be here. Along with the other randomness of life I've added in.

All this to say: my newborn blog is two months old today. It has 45 posts, most of which I love. And while I would love for you to check it out, I wanted to share with you that I think we're through the late nights and difficult first days. I'm thankful for the hundreds of folks who care what I have to say there, but I miss the comfort of the tens who like to check in on me here.

I'm back. No promises about how frequently I'll be back, but I'm back. I missed y'all.

Fridays from the Families: Even angels need lip gloss

A couple weeks ago I posted about a new series in which you'll hear directly from individuals with special needs and their families. This week I am so excited to have Amanda joining me from LifeIsASpectrum.com. If you're interested in posting for this series or you know someone who may be, please email me at shannon@theworksofgoddisplayed.com.   

Though I'm now the parent of a special needs child, I have also been a Sunday school teacher – and occasionally, when a sub is needed and my duties in the music ministry allow, I still step in. So I've had the opportunity to see our children's ministry both through the eyes of a parent and through the eyes of a teacher.

The kids in the Sunday school class can range in age from 5 to 10 years old. And they are awesome, in every meaning of the word.

It's true that I occasionally have to leave Sunday school and go repent of a few thoughts I've had over the past hour, but I always leave with a fresh perspective on religion, spirituality, life, and sometimes, variations on a few songs I thought I knew.

On most Sundays that I step in, the class is pretty evenly divided between girls and boys, but one particular day, I had a class of eight girls. All girls.

Girls and boys are different, obviously. The boys will punch one another in the shoulders, make up violent lyrics to hymns, stick the craft pipe cleaners where the sun don't shine, one-up one another and get increasingly loud until I have to shout to hear myself think.

The girls always raise their hands before talking. Their comments aren't always necessarily on point, but they do politely wait their turn.

On the Sunday morning in question:
Hand goes up in the middle of our story about an angel breaking the apostle Peter out of jail.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Look what I have!" and an energetic five-year-old jumps out of her chair and pulls a circular plastic lip gloss out of the pocket of her dress. "IT'S HELLO KITTY!!!" she's practically screams. Several necks crane to look.

"That's awesome," I say in what I hope is an adequately admiring tone. "Now let's put it back in your pocket until church is over, OK?"

Ever polite, satisfied and happy that she has now shared this with everyone, she complies and I go back to the story.

Another hand goes up. It's reaching and reaching and reaching, so eager to share.

"Yes?" I ask this new participator.

"I have lip gloss too!" And she pulls it out of her lavender sparkly purse. An appreciative sigh goes throughout the group about this remarkable coincidence, which prompts a general dumping of purses in the middle of the table as everyone examines the contents of everyone else's purse in the search for yet more lip gloss.

"OK! OK!" I tell them. "Purses away. We're at church. And you all look beautiful. But today we're focusing on how we make ourselves beautiful on the INside." I get kudos for bringing this back around to a life lesson, huh?

Another hand goes up.

"Does your comment have anything to do with Peter and the angel?" I ask her.

She carefully considers this for several seconds. And slowly nods her her gorgeously curly red head.

"OK," I say. "Let's hear it."

"I'm stronger than my dad."

We all mull this over a bit before several enthusiastic voices pipe up with "Me too! Me! Me!" and "I'm stronger than my dad too!"

After the lesson we went into a bigger room outside the class to play a game. It was a kind of "Tag" game with some kids playing angels and some playing guards and some playing prisoners. At first, they all wanted to be angels, until they realized that the guards had the most fun. One of the “prisoners” nearly got to the point of tears, so fearful was she that she wouldn't be "rescued."

My son Billy's class, the class below the girls in age, was in the big room too. Their class is less structured. They mainly play with toys, listen to music and have a snack.

The “tag” game with prisoners and angels totally enthralled Billy. He was so excited watching the girls play that he started jumping up and down and running in and out of the players, tagging people randomly.

Billy is autistic.

He approached one of the girls – she's two years older than him but about the same height – and got very close to her. A bit too close for normal social comfort, probably.

But he had a big smile on his face, and I could tell that he wanted to say hello. So I got down on my knees next to him and led him through the process of saying, “Hi, my name is Billy!” which he handled pretty well with prompting.

The beautiful big-eyed girl smiled back at Billy and told him her name.

Back in our classroom, I talked to the girls about Billy, about autism, and about how much I appreciate their kindness and patience with him as he learns things like how to introduce himself and how to share – still not his strong suit. They listened and took it all in matter-of-factly.

Later, as I was coming out of the nursery where I was picking up Willow, I saw a table of “my” girls playing with various games. Billy had plonked himself right down in the middle of them, reaching for the games and poking at the parts and pieces. And the girls weren't laughing at him or getting impatient or angry.

On the contrary. They were showing him how the games worked, which parts moved, how to make them turn. One little girl gently took Billy's hand and used it to make the spinner spin. His eyes lit up and a big smile spread across his face. He looked directly into her eyes and she smiled back.

I learned everything I need to know about angels that day.

~+~
I believe that including people with special needs fully into our congregations is not only a blessing to those individuals. It is also a blessing each of us, and particularly our children, who are given the opportunity to minister to their peers with special challenges and through these experiences, put Christ's love into action.

Amanda Broadfoot is a Florida-based freelance writer, wife and mother of a brilliant autistic preschool son and precocious toddling southern belle. A member of Good Samaritan United Methodist Church, she blogs about special needs parenting at LifeIsASpectrum.com.