I'm not sure how I feel about this subject. There is much talk about it elsewhere on the blogosphere. I seek the Holy Spirit's guidance on most of what I write about here, excluding my kitchen capers and silly pet stories. I don't think it would sit right with me to seek or accept an award for His Work. Am I wrong? Would I change my mind if my blog one day garnered the most votes in a contest where it's actually permitted to vote early and often? I would hope not.
Back in my more liberal days, I was very engaged in politics. My husband called me "Joycie Letter" after an SNL skit about a pen slinger who slayed people with his letters to the editor. Somewhere in our archives is video of me lambasting the members of our City Council on several occasions. One was for attempting to sneak through a change in the city's charter. Another was for attempting to force a trash facility on a neighborhood already inundated with environmental hazards. My husband keeps an entire scrapbook with my letters and editorials. Anyway, after my reversion back to the faith, I just couldn't pick up a pen on behalf of a political issue again. I would sometimes get chided by acquaintances for letting my talent for surgical strikes by ink go to waste. One day I heard a little voice in my head say to me " You can put what little writing ability you have to work for ME." And thus, this blog was born.
I have been feeling guilty about turning down an invitation to a party by someone at my new job. Every year this woman holds a fund-raiser based on the name of a holiday invented by George Constanza's father on Seinfeld. She asks not for money but for simple donations to a charity she's involved in, which is a worthwhile cause. I might have mentioned before that I panic when I'm invited somewhere. I just don't do parties very well. I'm on the reserved side and I am just so uncomfortable in certain social situations ( most of them in fact). I resigned myself to the fact I was going to have to go UNTIL I realized it fell on the First Friday of the month. I try to do something penitential on most Fridays, but particularly on the first one of every month. So I respectfully declined the invitation. I said I have a commitment every first Friday. Well, I do, don't I? Don't we all? Perhaps she'll ask me what that commitment is, and I will tell her it's a day dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and I do my best to go to Mass, confession and adoration. Since I work now on Fridays, the confession and adoration part can only happen after work.
Something else occurred to me with this, and that is that the bigger sacrifice would be not to go to confession and adoration but to go the party. So then I have an argument with myself about which would be more pleasing to the Lord, and I already know the answer. It can't be a bad thing that being with Jesus is not a sacrifice for me (except when I wake up with a migraine and would rather sleep than go to Mass at 6:30am) so why keep hacking away at this subject? Besides, I have a large enough extended family that there are certain social functions with them I can't avoid, so there.
The other day at dinner, something dropped that made a loud noise and I nearly jumped out of my skin. This prompted Matthew, who's on the autistic scale of disorders with pervasive developmental delay, to turn to me and say: "Mom, you're even more autistic than I am. Remember when stuff like that used to really bother me? It doesn't anymore."
He's right. When he was a little boy and even as recently as a few years ago (he's 16 now) he would hold his hands over his ears if we were walking down the street and had to walk past a compressor or jackhammer. He couldn't tolerate sirens and I would have to get him in off the street any way I could if one was passing. He didn't like singing or music on the radio. He's overcome that. I, on the other hand, seem to be getting worse about sudden loud noises. Worse, if I walk into the house and the television is set a Husband Decibel (you ladies know what I'm talking about) it's all I can do not to explode until I can find the remote to turn it down or off. The kid may have a point. Way back when, as we were going to doctors to have him tested, I would have to fill out profiles that were meant to determine if a person was autistic. I thought it was pretty odd that more of the flags applied to me than they did to him. It occurred to me that maybe autism in some children may simply be an exacerbation of little idiosyncrasies they inherit from their parents. Matthew was unfortunate to inherit a lot of quirks from his mother, most of which I have learned to deal with. Weird, eh?
When my son was younger, a lot of what he said never made sense. He would ask what I thought were the most illogical questions. All he was doing was questioning the world as he saw it.
In addition to his other issues, Matt has Scheuermann's disease, which is a deformity of the spine that causes a hunchback. If he stands ramrod straight, it's not so apparent. The brace that could have corrected some of it is an instrument of torture and Matt just couldn't wear it. Pain is the indication for surgery and thank God, Matt has had none. I used to ask God why He had to give my son this added cross to carry, but I don't anymore. It is what it is.
The other day Matt was in a t-shirt and I noticed he wasn't standing up straight, but the hump didn't seem as pronounced. Who knows? I surely don't, but perhaps you will be good enough to keep him in your prayers and in your added generosity, ask God to continue to give me the guidance to do the right thing for him. Because he's a good-looking kid, I also pray to the Blessed Virgin Mary to keep him pure and free from all corruption. In His wisdom, God made Matt a big kid, so I no longer worry so much about kids picking on him, but I do worry about him lacking the judgment to avoid certain moral situations. But at the same time, I trust that Mary will continue to keep him safely under her mantle.
Joyce, I haven't been around the blogging world long and was surprised to find when I got here there was such a thing as 'blog awards ' for Christian sites. When the Lord led me to start this I told Him," Please keep my motives pure..I'm so flawed and weak...If I let people's approval rule what I write I'll have to quit before a week's time." I asked Him to make me effective for whatever He needed, not necessarily popular. Thanks for making me re-examine why I'm around and maybe I should write about it.
ReplyDeleteYou're a real blessing. I'm praying for your son.
+PAX
Caroline, I pray the same thing! I am very glad you were moved to start a blog and it's a good one for other bloggers to emulate. You, too, are a blessing for me and for the world and I appreciate your prayerful presence on the "blogosphere".
ReplyDeleteIn Him
Joyce
I will certainly include Matthew in my prayer for you and your family.
ReplyDeleteyeah, I kind of think blog awards are silly. There are SO many blogs floating around in whatever goo they float around in...I am perfectly sure the really great ones are like yours and mine, well okay maybe not mine, but the ones that are honest and down to earth, and especially- full of God's love.
I will pray for your son, for healing, according to God's perpfect purpose, for Matt.
ReplyDeleteYou made me smile talking about tv noise and loud sounds making you jump or irritable. I am getting very sensitive to these as I get older. I love my own company and quietness, yet I used to be real social type. Or maybe it was just the alcohol acting out a part. The real me is rather introverted in any social situations. Even the phone ringing can make me jump!
I think I'm just getting old.
As for blogging awards, I would rather stick pins in my eyes and go on a course of valium, so no, probably not my sort of thing at all.....
I do want to start sewing something, anything. ;)
I lost my post, maybe duplicated it? If so, please delete one. This is a terrible keyboard. I wanted to tell you that I have been thinking about autism more and more over the past years. I don't understand who made the rules of what is considered normal, which tags anyone else as abnormal -in a bad way. I have heard of so many autistic people who might be different in some ways but brilliant in others. Maybe some have been given a gift that most "normal" people don't have. That gift might take something from another area. I looked up famous people who would be considered in the autistic spectrum and it includes such great people as Newton, Mozart, Einstein, Dickinson, etc. I'll keep your son's health condition in my prayes.
ReplyDeleteI used to have another blog and it got a lot of awards. I never acknowledged them because it seemed wrong. For our type of blogging, I cannot even imagine an award.
ReplyDeleteAnd I will certainly include Matthew in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteKelly, you are so funny. I love you and your blog.
ReplyDeleteRos, I have considered the same thing - that I'm just getting old and maybe even cranky. Thank you for your prayers.
Kathy, yes, it's a fascinating area of study. I could see where some of the people you mentioned could be considered autistic. I've always identified with Emily Dickinson to some degree, especially the not leaving the house part.
MC, I didn't know you had another blog. What was it about? Not only can I not imagine awards for Catholic blogs, I have a hard time with those who go shilling for votes. To each his own I guess.
You are very hard on yourself Joyce.
ReplyDeletePunishing yourself with feelings does not seem to stop your drifting back and forth to decide....GO, or DON'T GO, to a company party.
In truth, feeling are NEVER right or wrong. Feelings just ARE!
We all have them, and they are unreliable to build a life, or decision on, as they change.
Give birth to a child and watch your enmity to a hubby filling his mouth with salami sandwiches on a nearby chair, as you labor, give way to the first cry of your child, and feelings change quickly to joy.
Neither feelings were right, nor wrong; they just are.
But I think you did yourself a world of good in the final analysis.
You are the new kid on the block at work, and I am sure you are still being "sized up" by your contemporaries. Your response may save you a multitude of parties in the future, to which you have no desire to attend, but have social pressure to be there.
You drew a line in the sand, that delineates you will be you. Nothing further need be added, but if this coworker is bent out of shape, you may discuss with her, making a small donation to her charity, as you will not be able to attend them due to the perpetual conflict of the date.
If she says zip, other coworkers are watching, and you have outlined your priorities to all.
Score? God 1 Company Life 0
That seems about right to me.
Now lighten up on punishing a woman named Joyce.
God finds her worthy.
To not accept that decision means placing your perception of you, higher than that of Him.
"Joyce is not worthy" says Joyce.
"My daughter, Joyce, IS worthy" says God.
Your Bible is replete with HIS thoughts on you....all of them glorious.
I think He is right.
You made me laugh with "husband decebel." My wife would know exactly what you mean. I prefer louder volume levels too. I keep telling my wife that I am not a mouse. :)
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry to hear about your son's medical problems. I will most certainly pray for him. He sounds like a good young man.
I voted the other day on the Catholic blog awards. The only one I recognized was Father Z's, and so I voted for his.
This post reminds me of a rainbow, for every color of topic is covered in one post. I have looked at some colors in comments already. Now, I turn to my favorite colors covered in this rainbow of words above.
ReplyDeleteHe was not quite 1 and a half years old.
He seemed to enjoy himself at a family picnic, and I scooted him all over the grounds and as we approached a picnic table, I lifted his arms high, and he giggled with glee. He never broke stride and ran all across the empty picnic table, arms high in the air, held by my hands.
At the end came no hesitation, for he was securely held and knew it; he JUMPED up and laughed as loud as any kid ever born. We repeated this as both of us were in a serendipity moment of joy.
Minutes later, he was screaming at his mom for no reason, and she was exhausted dealing with him.
She was at the end of her rope, and to my mind as a parent, a good swift swat on the behind was in order.
I do not know why I did it, but it was the wisest decision I am ever likely to make in my life.
I raised my daughters, and now, it was one of my daughter's chances to make decisions on how to raise her own children.
“Drawing on my fine command of the English language, I said nothing.”
--- Robert Benchley
Soon, it got worse. Behavioral disorders not acceptable. The doctors intervened early, and the diagnosis of my grandson, Christian, ...autism.
I am so thankful I shut my big fat mouth for once.
After years of intervention, and a need to move where better care was available, he is at a point you would never know autism was in his life.
I asked God often about that happening to a child, and He delights in letting me know that "last He heard, miracles are STILL, His specialty".
I turn those prayers from Christian to Matt.
This color in the spectrum of your blogpost smarted my heart closely. Matt will be remembered often as a result.
Nine years separate my daughters.
ReplyDeleteThe younger had a heart for sports,...ALL of them.
And musical instruments; all of the string instruments practiced in a pitch that I am glad I can no longer hear.
Gymnastics had her in three separate classes, in three companies. She was pretty good to watch, although I always worried on balanced beam.
A fall on a chunk of wood can knock you out.
"My back hurts dad". I took her to the family doctor and he gave pain meds and a therapist referral. Therapy went on for 6 months.
"Dad, whenever we leave here, my back is fine. But after a bit, the pain comes back the same".
"Did you take your pain pills?"
"No"
"Why Not!!!!???"
"Dad, if I take the pain pills, I can't feel anything. When the therapist pushes my back, if I can't tell him where it hurts, he can't help me"
I could not argue with the logic of a little child.
She was right. So I went back to the therapist on the spot and told him my daughter's back hurt whenever she was not in his therapy office.
He quickly referred her back to the family doctor, who punted my daughter to the Shriner's Hospital.
When I took her there, I saw so many kids in deep pain, I braced myself on the wall, fell to the floor sliding to my butt, and cried.
They x-rayed her with an x-ray as long as a floor to ceiling size. The doctor ordered her to the Cleveland Clinic and added she wear a clear plastic neck to hip brace for $2,500.
He asked me to follow her spine from neck to base on the xray. His finger traced the spine. It was dark on any place of bone, but a gap of white showed part way down. Her spine was broken and they were baffled she could walk.
Cleveland Clinic is hard to get in, but a friend long ago said her boss can get my daughter in within 48 hours. They and the Shriners tested galore. Come back in three weeks we were told.
I explained to my daughter that I did not see her fall from the balanced beam. She said it was a floor exercise and felt a bad landing. I told her we were seeing a therapist for six months who was unable to identify a broken spine, a family doctor with no clue, and zillions of new doctors, so I had little faith in doctors and we need to pray to the Master Physician.
We did intensely, nonstop, for three weeks.
They took a new x-ray at the Shriners and a series of doctors gathered on this, and talked quietly as I grew anxious. Then a fourth guy joined.
"Can we take another x-ray, Keystone?"
"She's just a kid and that's a lotta radiation" I said.
"It will be the last" I was assured.
A half hour later, the doctors gathered still talking of my daughter's spine, and finally all but one left, each of the other's quietly shaking their head back and forth as they left. He called me over.
"Watch my finger" he noted as he traced the spine from top to bottom. It was dark all the way, and no ray of light for broken spine existed.
He had consulted other doctors to see why the machine was broken, as this spine was clearly well broken, in the comparison x-ray of three weeks before.
The retest showed the machine fine.
"Take off her cast" he uttered, still in disbelief.
"Her spine is fine".
True and false. Scoliosis developed, and like your hunchback, she has a choice to live in pain forever, or have a bar of steel embedded and stand upright, no bending. Otherwise, bend as you move, and have enormous pain at all times.
She chose the pain, as she did earlier for the benefit of a crooked therapist, who knew day one she had problems out of his expertise.
We are working on it too Joyce.
This color is Gold in your rainbow tonight.
The post will be remembered in prayer; I could have written it myself.
Thank you for your heartfelt comments Keystone. Yes, you could have written this yourself, only better. Your comments will be remembered in prayer as well.
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