Choose Grace

My first job out of high school was as a grocery store courtesy clerk. I was always so irritated by parents who OBVIOUSLY did not know how to parent.  I'd roll my eyes, sigh extra loud and occasionally make a comment loud enough for them to hear. 

I had never heard of Autism.

And Attention Deficit Disorder?  Not a clue.

I assumed that every child acting out was the result of bad parenting.

I was ignorant.

The funny thing was that I was completely at ease in the presence of someone with a physical disability.  I had spent my childhood visiting my favorite uncle (and his friends) in the group home where he lived.  You could SEE the challenges they faced; that gave them a free pass of sorts I guess.

Apparently I thought I could decide who was worthy of my grace? 

And that they wanted a "free pass" from me?

Incredibly ignorant.

(Side note:  Thank you Jesus for offering grace to everyone.  Even me.)

Well, eventually there was this mom who started coming in to shop each week--her little boy was adorable!  And loud.  And one time pulled out of his mother's tight grip at just the right time so as to dart between other shopper's carts, leaving a trail of destruction in his path. His small body was able to squeeze through tight spaces allowing him to escape her view and leaving the frantic mom to run up and down the aisles in a race against the clock, attempting to reach her precious boy before he made it out the doors into the parking lot.

I'm sure you can imagine the rude comments.  "Completely ridiculous...  Can't control her own child...  Just a few good swats to the rear..."

When she finally found him (hiding in the back room next to the garbage compactor; eyes closed and hands over his ears) what she felt was...numb. Without saying a word she pulled him off the ground and headed straight to the aisle where their shopping cart sat next to rows of Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops.  All the while wincing as he dug his nails deep into her skin in an attempt to break free.  People stared.  Or they tried so hard not to stare that the rejection stung every bit as much. As she considered pushing her cart to the front of the store--her mind drifted to the night ahead. Instead she grabbed a box of cereal off the shelf and leaving her cart where it was, proceeded to the check stand and threw a couple of bills on the counter.  And then, as they walked toward the front doors, he asked calmly for a quarter for a bouncy ball and...she lost it.  Bursting into tears and shaking, this mom--at the end of her rope--got down to her son's level and grabbed hold of his shoulders.  And she shouted.  Loudly, in the middle of that store.  She looked into his eyes and she said "What is wrong with you?"

As his tears began to fall, she loosened her grip on his shoulders and firmly took hold of his hand.  He screamed all the way to the car "Stop it!  You are hurting me.  Stop!  I hate you.  I hate you.  I hate you."  

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sobbing, I sat in my car for the better part of an hour.  My sweet boy curled up in my lap, tears softly falling from his big, brown eyes.  When we arrived home shortly thereafter, the evening began with a few curse words (not mine), kicking, hitting, a bite sharp enough to break skin and ended with me laying on the living room floor, one arm and one leg wrapped around my little boy in an effort to hold him still long enough for the fight to leave his body and him to drift off to sleep.  A few hours later I might finally sleep too, but the harsh words I had spoken would replay themselves even in the quiet of my dreams.
 
All of those people at the store that night--did even one of them feel compassion for my child and I, or did they feel nothing beyond irritation and annoyance....just as I had about so many families in the past?  Maybe they were, like me, ignorant.  Simply unaware.  

I guess that's why I am sharing. 

I know how it might feel to go to dinner with your husband, expecting a quiet evening out, only to be seated next to a child excitedly clapping his hands and gurgling as he awaits his meal.  I realize it is probably unnerving to witness a complete meltdown when the lights are too bright, the music too loud or the food not cooked just right.

But consider a few things?  Please.

Maybe this is not bad parenting.

Maybe this is the first time this family has attempted eating out in a very long time. 

Maybe the mom whose son is jumping up and down with his McDonald's happy meal could not stand to be alone at home one more dreary afternoon this week.

Maybe that child in the booth next to yours would return your smile should you make the decision to offer one...and your heart would be changed forever.

Maybe all. it. would. take is letting that mom, at the end of her rope, go in front of you in the check out line. 

Maybe you and your husband could choose to laugh about the "interruptions" at dinner instead of getting angry. Because life isn't always perfect anyways. And laughter is good.  Really, really good.

YES parents need to teach their children manners and discipline them when appropriate.  And YES there is a line.

But no meal, movie or shopping trip is worth seeing a family leave more broken than when they came.

So the next time you are out somewhere and a child is announcing NFL draft results for the last 27 seasons, rocking back and forth in his chair or throws the biggest tantrum in all of history....

Don't assume you know what is really going on.

Give the benefit of the doubt.

Choose grace.


-Cassi

Edited to add:  At the time of the grocery store incidents--there were several--I had no idea that my son would, at 16, receive a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder.  Even if I had known, I knew so little about the diagnosis that I likely would not have correlated his anger/sadness and sometimes erratic behavior to ADD.  I also want to add that I never would have shared this without his permission.  He actually asked that I post it, in hopes that it might help people to understand.

Happy Anniversary to My Valentine

This was originally a father's day post from a couple of years ago.  I updated a few things to share it for our anniversary! 



Twelve years ago you walked into my life and immediately won the heart of a sweet five year old boy who needed you even more than I did.

Thank you for being his "buddy".

Nine years ago you asked me to marry you.

You not only vowed to love and cherish me but promised to love, cherish and protect my sweet boy as well.

Thank you for meaning it.

 

Eight years ago you became a proud daddy for the second time.

To a little boy who would become your shadow.

Sooo much Exactly like his daddy. 

Thank you for blessing me with our bug.

Thank you for showing me that I'm worth it.

Thank you for loving me so well.

You are my hero.

Label Jars...Not People

Picture Source | Teddy's Ts

The other day I was trying to describe a family to my youngest son that he has met just once.  Their son has a fairly severe (and physically visible) disability.  I was reminding him about how this boy had served him dessert...

Ashton:  "Is that the boy who has special needs?"
Me:  "Yes it is.  Do you not remember him?"
Ashton:  "Of course I do.  I just couldn't remember if he had special needs."

He went on to talk about all of the minor details of that night.

And when I say all...I mean ALL.  

Love this kid.

He remembered his name, his cat, the dessert they shared....but he didn't remember that precious boy's (very visible) disability.  

At least, he didn't find it note-worthy. 

This brief exchange left such an imprint on my heart that I had to sit down and write it out. 

So many of us live in fear of saying the wrong thing.

What do we tell our child when they ask about that man in a wheel chair at the grocery store?  

How do we explain the way that a child with Autism thinks in pictures?

It hit me that while teaching kind words and people-first language is extremely important--definitely answer their questions!--it becomes so much less "scary" when we remember that ultimately we need to teach our children to LOVE PEOPLE.  

When we love people, the rest comes pretty easy.

And when we remember that we are ALL broken, all facing a disability of sorts, we can identify with those around us and see them the way that God sees them.  

The way that He sees us.
 
Soo...what do I want most for my boys?

I want them to forget the disability and remember the person.  I want them to have compassion for the differences they come across in others and to love them anyways. I want them to accept love from others despite their own brokenness and spiritual disability.

Love God, love His people.

That's all. 

-Cassi

Response to Tina Fey {In That I Am Not A Gray-Faced Man With A $2 Haircut}

This post isn't likely to gain me any friends. But it's one of those that has been bouncing around in my head (and on my heart) for quite some time. I sit down in hopes of writing something else--anything else--but I just can't get around this thing.

So I apologize in advance.

I know this is going to offend some of you.  Feelings will be hurt; tempers may flare.  

And I'm sorry for that. 

I am not sorry for writing it though.

Truth be told--I will be feeling the same hurt and anger as I type these words.

Here goes....

"If I have to listen to one more gray-faced man with a two-dollar haircut explain to me what rape is, I’m gonna lose my mind!” --Tina Fey

Rape is inexcusable.  It's disgusting.  Under no circumstances are there any exceptions to that fact. 

Rape hurts the victim and the victim's family.  Likely for the rest of her life she will experience the affects of being brutalized in this most horrific way.

Rape is a crime that should be punished to the fullest extent of the law.  Every time.

Without exception.

But who should be punished for this horrific crime?  The rapist. 

End of story.

Rape shatters hearts--crushes spirits.  Rape makes it extremely difficult to experience real intimacy for a long, long time...if ever.  Rape steals innocence, leaving anxiety in it's wake.

Please know that I hear you on these things.

So does my husband and everyone else who has chosen to love me.

I have a hard time remembering without crying.  A hard time writing these words without wanting to throw up.  But can I just tell you that through that absolute most traumatic experience I have ever had....God had a plan!  Rape was not His plan but from the beginning of time He knew how He would use it.

That is what I believe Richard Mourdock was saying.

Here's the thing, my rape did not result in a pregnancy.  But it did set forth a chain of events in which I found myself giving birth to a precious baby boy at the age of 15. And while I was not violently assaulted by my son's father, I was taken advantage of, emotionally/psychological abused and manipulated, lied to, stolen from, threatened....for years.  The time I spent with him is in close competition with the time I spent with my rapist (wow.  hardest two words I've ever put together).

Obviously my son is a reminder of the time I spent with his abusive father.  But that is NOT who he is.  He does not deserve to be punished in any way for the pain I suffered as a result of the actions of his father.  He is one of my greatest joys.  A life created so intentionally, with a PURPOSE, a perfect blessing.

We have to stop telling girls who have just experienced the horror of rape that ending their babies lives will make the hurt go away.  It absolutely will not.

As I write this, tears flow, but not for my own painful memories.  My heart hurts for the girl out there RIGHT NOW carrying a child in her belly, no one loving her enough to tell her the truth.

And then be there for her no matter her choice.

I am not writing this to bring shame to any woman who has chosen abortion.  I am not claiming to know anything about the road that led her to that point. I don't. But what I do know is that from great pain can come great blessing. There are options.  Options that don't require ending a life.

If you truly do not think that abortion ends a life, this post is not for you.  I believe there is overwhelming evidence in support of that....but I am not sharing today in hopes of convincing anyone.  

I'm speaking to those who believe abortion is wrong, except in cases such as rape. I cannot wrap my mind around exceptions in this case. If it's not murder, it's not murder...and should be allowed no matter the circumstance.  

Likewise, if abortion is taking the life of another human being and not an acceptable option when a baby would simply be an "inconvenience"...it's not an acceptable option no matter the circumstance.

Rape does not justify murder.

And I feel like I can say that because I am not a "gray-faced man with a $2 haircut".

-Cassi

(Note:  I chose to use female pronouns for this post; however I am well aware that men can also be victims of rape.  My intention was not to ignore that fact.)

Dear Sweet Girl Who Thinks She Isn't Worth It

Dear sweet girl who thinks she isn't worth it:

It hasn't been so long that I don't remember.

Not so long that I don't feel the pain as if I were still living it...blinking back tears as memories wash over me.

It only takes a moment to bring me back.  

And in that moment my breath catches--the air suddenly seems thin--my lungs struggle to take it in.

I remember.  

---

I was daddy's girl.  Sitting on the kitchen stool reading Little Miss books while he stirred spaghetti sauce.  

Cleaning his shop for a dollar, then running to meet the ice cream man while he watched through the window.  

Riding shotgun, windows down, singing at the top of our lungs "...and they all go marching down, to the ground, to get out of the rain...boom, boom, boom".

I remember like it was yesterday.

And I remember the moment my heart was shattered and my innocence lost to a vast sea of self hatred and doubt.  

I wanted more than anything for my daddy to spin me in circles in the living room while Dean Martin crooned about selling his trailer and how he ain't got no cigarettes.  

I wouldn't even roll my eyes this time.

But there was no going back. 

A single decision too late to change.

The first boy who ever pretended to like me.

I hardly recognized the fear-filled voice as my own.

I shouted at first but it didn't take long before my resolve was gone and fear gave way to shame. 

Shame that took the fight right out of me; those same pleading words now barely audible as they escaped my lips.  

In the end, silent tears were all that fell. 

I was 14.

---

All my life I had fought against lies I told myself:

I wasn't good enough.  Smart enough.  Pretty enough.  

If I was he wouldn't have left us right?

If I wasn't me he would have stayed out of jail, turned his life around and treated mama better right?

If it wasn't somehow my fault I wouldn't have had to go stay with grandma while mom started over in a new town, fell in love, and had another baby.

I never really felt okay--never felt that I belonged anywhere.

I finally see it though.

I know why I had to stay with grandma for just a little while so mama could work long hours and put some money away to take care of me. I thought she had abandoned me but really she loved me enough to let me stay someplace safe for a short time instead of spending hours every day lonely, crying by the pick-up door at daycare.

I understand that maybe my biological father really did think that I'd be better off without him and I see how God used that emptiness to make room for my daddy. A daddy who stayed with me, sang to me and listened to my endless chatter!

But I didn't see it in time.

I didn't see it before I convinced myself that if a boy didn't love me no one would.

I didn't see before deciding that I wasn't worth it..time and time again.

And so the story goes.  

Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to tell the whole story but for now, know that happy endings do exist.

Remember that Jesus died for you and it is never, ever too late to dance in your Father's arms.  

You are so worth it.

-Cassi 

The Inconvenient Truth

I sat this morning, coffee in hand, armed with a slew of notes on things I want to blog about disabilities ministry.

It's been a couple of months since I've written anything.  I took a step back to really consider what it is the Lord wants me to do with my--almost obsessive--need to write on this topic. 

Who am I to speak on behalf of these families?  What can I possibly offer that everyone around me doesn't already know? Why me God? 

As I sat there this morning tapping nervous fingers next to the keyboard, torn between wanting to speak up and wanting to just be done with this whole thing...it hit me.

Again.

The inconvenient truth.

God does not call me to be the hands and feet of Jesus when it's comfortable.  He doesn't ask me to serve His people when I feel like it.  And He does not promise that responding to His call on my life will be convenient.  

But He calls me still.

And He is faithful to show me time and time again that the need is real.

This morning He used the powerful testimony of a sweet mother I met at a retreat for families touched by special needs.  As I read her thoughts, her heart bared, the tears began to flow.

If you read one thing this evening let it be this:

An Inconvenient Life. 

Or bookmark and read it when you have time.

Or call me and I'll read it to you.

But please...read it.  Soak it in.  Let it change the way you see these precious families.

And consider this:

If you group those affected by special needs and their families all together, they are--in essence--the largest unreached people group in the world.

"The disappointment for us, is that they all talked about it from their mission statements and prayers and speeches: they want to embrace diversity and reach all people and be missionaries… yet in their efforts to reach the world they’ve stumbled over us at their doorstep and kept right on walking." 

-"An Inconvenient Life" / Snowflakes and Seashells blog

Again (because I don't want you to miss this) those affected by special needs and their families make up the largest unreached people group in the world!  

What are we waiting for?!

-Cassi

RAFFLE: Beautiful Cannon Beach Watercolor {Benefiting The Elisha Foundation "REACH: Ukraine" Project}

Photograph of painting by Mr. Xiaogang Zhu (22x28) - January 2012

This past January I had the privilege of volunteering at The Elisha Foundation's Family Retreat in Cannon Beach, Oregon.

Life. Changing.

The people who came together--from ALL over the country--to serve alongside one another, loving on and caring for twelve very special families absolutely blew my mind.  

Every single one of them.

Like Mr. Xiaogang Zhu.  

Mr. Zhu, a talented and accomplished oil and watercolor artist who chose to spend his weekend at the coast, with all of us, painting the view from Ecola Park looking south to Cannon Beach and Haystack Rock. 

The precious kiddos at the retreat that weekend?  They got to watch!

What an amazing gift it was.  And now Mr. Zhu has given the finished painting (22x28; framed) to The Elisha Foundation so they might raffle it off as a way to raise funds for their upcoming "REACH: Ukraine" project.

Blown away.  

Both by Mr. Zhu's generosity and by the Reimers who will travel to Ukraine once again, spreading the love of Jesus to some of His most precious children.

"Partnering with the Elisha Foundation to more effectively serve the disabled community in our region in Ukraine is an answer to prayer. The need is massive, the disabled in Ukraine are largely removed from society due to social stigma carried over from the Soviet period, and the church is inexperienced in building in-roads into the disabled community, as well as uneducated on how to practically serve and meet their physical needs. The Elisha Foundation’s strengths are exactly what the church in Ukraine needs. Our church is looking forward to learning, growing, and developing a more long-term approach to serving the disabled to bring about both gospel-transformation and physical well-being to those who are largely rejected and unseen in our city." 

--Jake Knotts / Missionary Church Planter in Ukraine (quote taken from The Elisha Foundation Blog)

100 raffle tickets. $20 each or 2 for $35.  Raffle ends April 24th.  Winner will be drawn April 25th.

Ready?  Set?  Call or email NOW so you won't miss out!  And whether or not you win...you'll be helping a pretty amazing ministry do some pretty amazing work!

Pretty please?

-Cassi