Tag: Pam Thorson

Pioneer Files: Notes from a Homeschooling Veteran

A man who lives without honor will not gain from education.

Skeptics. Critics. Everybody’s watching.

Dance with the one who brung ya.

As you embark upon this journey in educating your young ones, you may find dealing with critics and skeptics one of your first and most emotionally exhausting battles (especially if you are a people-pleaser like me and hate confrontation).

Thankfully, the homeschooling movement is now largely accepted in much of this country and enjoys a large following. But when I first considered homeschooling in 1982, I was met with unanimous disapproval by my family and friends. Not one person thought I was doing the right thing. Some of them took pains to pull me aside and try to talk sense into me. Even my husband said the idea was crazy. He was understanding enough, thankfully, to let me try it. Eventually, my family became my most solid support base and source of help.

The real surprise was the amount of resistance I received from my brothers and sisters in the Lord. Prevailing attitudes about homeschoolers have mellowed, and many churches support home education today. But in the early years, my most bitter criticism initially came from God’s family. I was chastised for not committing to church programs and not being at some church functions. I was even told that my life was unbalanced because I spent my time at home with my children and husband instead of being at all the church activities. Although the criticism was well-meaning, it made a hard decision even harder. And it greatly contributed to the stress I was already feeling as a young mom, fairly new in my faith, with four little children to raise. How desperately I needed an older, wiser hand to lead me forward and encourage me!

But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market places, who call out to the other children, and say, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’

-Matthew 11:16 -17 (NASB)

Jesus calls the tune to which we dance.

During these early years, God taught me valuable lessons in resisting peer pressure and striving to please Him rather than people. I also learned, mostly through my own mistakes, not to react personally to criticism, and to never see a critical person as my enemy.

Listen, learn, and respond.

So this journey to educate my own children was the path upon which I have been thoroughly “schooled” in the ways of God. In the beginning, I needed to quickly learn three important lessons: Listen to the concerns of others, figure out what God was trying to teach me, and respond in a Christlike manner – even if the criticism was unfounded. Our efforts with our children will eventually rise or fall on their own merits.

Home education, after all, is just a tool in the hands of God to educate an entire family in His ways.

Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.

Matthew 11:19b (NASB)

Next Week: Part 2 of Skeptics and Critics

Pioneer Files: Notes from a Homeschooling Veteran

A man who lives without honor will not gain by education.

It’s Okay to Breathe

The beauty of a home education is in its flexibility. Some days God had plans for us that differed from those I had made. There were days that an illness, death, unplanned visitor, or impromptu field trip invaded upon my neat lessons plans (yes, I made lesson plans) for the day. Then I tried to take a deep breath and flow with God’s plans. After all, this was a good way for my children to get a taste of real life uninsulated by the artificial culture of an institutional atmosphere.

Here, again, were the opportunities for learning as our children watched us interact with others and respond to life’s pressures and demands.

Please have fun.

We loved to occasionally surprise our children with time off for a special family field trip. And yes, we even took days off just to relax at home. It usually didn’t take long to recover lost ground. I just tried to not make it a habit to let trivial distractions consume our days. It took determination to keep going every day, year after year, and to keep moving toward our goals.

Daily experiences are wonderful teaching resources. Often the best lessons emerge from odd moments or spontaneous conversations. A lunchtime discussion of the news or the discovery of a bird’s nest during a morning walk can provide happy memories and direct our attitudes in a life-changing way.

This happened to me.

The Walk that Changed a Life

As a teenager, I was already an avowed evolutionist, well-trained by my public school teacher to scorn as backward anyone who believed in special creation by God. But one beautiful day, my beloved Irish grandmother came to visit us. She and I took a walk in the sunshine, just basking in the joy of each other’s company and conversing in the natural way that sometimes only grandparents and grandchildren can.

That day, we fell into the subject of evolution as we walked. I defended it with youthful egotism; she opposed it gently. At that moment we happened upon a bird’s nest perched in the branches of a dwarf fruit tree, lying low enough for our inspection. Our movement disturbed the young birds, and in unison they raised up their fuzzy heads and opened their wide red mouths for breakfast.

As Grandma Jean and I chuckled over our discovery, she suddenly and urgently cradled the rough nest in her hands, looked at me tenderly, and softly asked, “Now, Pam, can you look at this and tell me there is no God?”

I was cut to the quick. This was no scientific debate, no angry exchange of facts and theories. It was nothing less than the Spirit of God, using a little mousy-haired woman to draw my heart to Him.

To this day, I can’t explain why her simple statement touched me so deeply. I can only say that when I looked at the nest and those little birds inside it, I knew without a doubt that I was wrong. Only much later would I read the first chapter of the epistle to the Romans and learn that creation itself testifies to the reality and nature of the Creator.

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. -Romans 1:20

It was not many years later that Grandma Jean died. But that one day sent me on a journey to find her God and to know Him as she did. It also taught me to never underestimate the work of the Holy Spirit in the simple things we do with our children.

It’s okay to breathe, take a walk, and let God lead your path through parenting.

Pioneer Files: Notes from a Homeschooling Veteran

A man who lives without honor will not gain by education

Yep, you’re in training, too.

A certain disservice has been done to parents by some who have portrayed home education as a kind of perpetual wonderland. We are given the impression that if our children are not always having fun, it’s because we are two structured, stiff, and formal. While this could be true at times, and certainly there should be time for fun and pure adventure, parents should be prepared for many routine and tedious days. This in itself is not inherently evil. Children need to gradually learn how to stay with a routine job and see it through.

For you, this will take much time, effort, and creativity. It will also require your decision to sacrifice other interests for this goal. Why not let someone else chair the church committee? For our own good, it will be better if we don’t take on too many outside responsibilities during this season.

Commit yourself to doing one thing well.

It’s hard to put our own ambitions aside for the long season it takes to raise a child. Society has told us that we’re not fulfilled unless we work and serve outside the home. But it’s for the welfare of the entire family if we resist the urge to get involved in too much stuff. If we commit ourselves to doing one thing well, we won’t feel so scattered or have torn loyalties.

Throughout the ages, those who have made great achievements in sports, the sciences, music, and other fields have done so by the single-hearted concentration to their goals. Think of the goals you want for your children. Understand the commitment that will take, and be prepared to pay the cost.

When I was homeschooling, that meant that within a certain time each day, I dedicated my energies to my children. Without apologies. People eventually learned that I wasn’t generally available to chat on the phone, babysit, or run a church ministry outside the home during those hours. While it’s healthy to include a broader community in your homeschooling and have time for your own emotional health, trying to “do it all” will do you in. Set your eyes on the prize, commit yourself to the race, and put on spiritual blinders to keep you from getting distracted.

This is a marathon, not a sprint. Prepare for the distance.

Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Therefore I run in such a way, as not without aim; I box in such a way, as not beating the air; but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified. -1 Corinthians 9:24-27 (NASB)

Living the Impossible

Impossible.

That’s what they told us. Oh, they used different words at different hospitals, but they all said the same thing. After Kevin’s devastating spinal cord injury sustained in a fall, his situation seemed hopeless. He lay paralyzed from the neck down and kept alive by a ventilator.

He was first taken to the local hospital at Lethbridge, Alberta, but was quickly transferred by helicopter to a Calgary hospital. We drove twelve hours through the night to join him after we received the call. When we arrived at the Calgary hospital the next morning, we were ushered into a gray room and joined by a gray doctor. He talked somberly about all the challenges Kevin faced. I don’t remember much of what he said to us. But his face said it all:

Expect the worst.

The second consultation was with a sour doctor who presented us with a bunch of “nevers.” Kevin would never breathe again. He would never move his body below his chin or possibly his shoulders. He might not even survive the complications of the injury. He would never go home to the United States, because no airline would take him on a flight. No medical crew would consent to accompany him, and no doctor in the States would accept him as a patient.

And, the doctor added, they didn’t have vent patients there. Kevin’s only way out was death.

But God is a God of the impossible.

We rejected this push for euthanasia, and God opened the way for Kevin to be flown back to a hospital in the United States in a chartered Lear jet, accompanied by a volunteer medical team and his brother Erik. Through the generosity of the people of Canada and here in the States, everything was paid in full. Kevin’s Canadian surgeon was a wonderful man who gave us our first ray of hope by telling us Kevin would probably survive, although his chances of recovering any function or feeling were one in a hundred. Virtually impossible.

Kevin’s trials increased after transferring to Spokane, when he experienced two respiratory codes and nearly died both times. He struggled with two bouts of pneumonia, finally stabilizing enough to be moved to a rehabilitation hospital. Along the way, he surprised the medical personnel by beginning to regain feeling and some slight movement.

Still, they reminded him that he could never wean off the ventilator. They told us that it would be impossible for us to care for him at home, and he would have to live in a nursing facility.

Our God is a God of the impossible.

Seven weeks after his injury, Kevin went home with us, his family, as his caregivers. Two years after the injury, he weaned off the vent during his waking hours, only going back on it at night to sleep. He gained more feeling and movement back in his body.

Today he can run a computer, walk with help, and do a few things for himself. Recently he began a new, self-imposed exercise regimen and has made new gains. He taught himself computer animation and 3D graphics, ran a studio with his brother, and now is the founder and senior editor of a website devoted to Christian music, http://www.cmaddict.com.

In 2008, he served as honorary groomsman at his brother Erik’s wedding. He was honorary groomsman at his friend Grant’s wedding, as well. Last September, Kevin rolled down the aisle of our church to stand beside his brother Daniel as his best man at his wedding.

Every day for twenty years, we have lived the impossible.

It has been with great joy we have watched God work in our weakness. He has given us miracles without end in this journey. Together, we have watched God bring our family closer through trial and release the fragrance of His grace in our broken lives and dreams. We have stood amazed at the tenderness and love with which our adult children have served their brother and us. We see with joy that God is building new dreams.

Yes, life has been hard. Kevin has suffered much. But he has chosen to serve God in his suffering. We have chosen to serve God in standing beside our son. The beauty we have been privileged to witness far outweighs the sorrow.

Today, on July 11, 2017, we celebrate twenty years of watching an awesome God at work. We rejoice at twenty years of life restored to our son. We look forward to the future, knowing that our Lord is still a God of miracles. Every day, in His power, we live this wonderful, impossible life together.

 

The things that are impossible with people are possible with God.

-Luke 18:27

 

 

Charlie Gard: The Conscience of a Nation

He lies in a hospital room, his little eyes mostly closed. Although he is nearly a year old, he seems so small. Like millions of others, I only know Charlie because his picture and story have been in the news recently.

The first thing that catches my eye in his pictures isn’t the tubes attached to the ventilator keeping him alive.

I’m used to ventilators. My son Kevin has been on one since a fall in 1997 paralyzed him from the neck down. He has since weaned off the ventilator during the days, and only goes back on to sleep at night. For our family, the ventilator is well-named: life support. We are grateful for life support because it has given Kevin a chance to live.

The first thing I notice about Charlie is his beautiful face. His long eyelashes brush his cheeks. His wisp of hair is carefully combed. Stuffed animals have been tucked around him. He is obviously well-loved.

Charlie Gard was born to Chris Gard and Connie Yates of London, England, on August 4, 2016. He began to decline shortly after birth, and eight weeks later his parents took him to the hospital. It was discovered that their son suffers from a rare and terminal disease called mitochondrial depletion syndrome. He is one of only sixteen known cases of the disease worldwide. It has left him with brain damage and progressive weakness. He now requires life support.

Through aggressive research, Charlie’s parents have discovered an experimental drug that has not yet been used to fight MDS, but has helped some children with a related syndrome called TK2. This treatment is not available in the United Kingdom but is available in the United States. A fundraising effort has raised more than a million dollars for his treatments, care, and travel.

But there’s a hitch in their hope.

The Great Ormond Street Hospital, where Charlie lies, wants control over when and how he should die. The doctors there have decided to turn off Charlie’s ventilator. They have denied the family’s right to either transfer him to a hospital in the United States willing to treat him or to take him home to die.

In June of this year, the case was appealed to the authority known as, ironically, The European Court of Human Rights. The high court ruled against Charlie’s parents and in favor of the hospital’s case to remove Charlie from life support and prevent his parents from seeking experimental treatment for their son outside the United Kingdom.

His parents have fought hard to help Charlie keep fighting for life.

“If he’s still fighting, we’re still fighting,” says his father, Chris Gard.

These words ignite my heart, because Charlie Gard could have been my son. Kevin did not have the rare disease with which Charlie was born. But we have faced some of the same crucial life issues that surround this little boy since Kevin’s fall in July of 1997, during a teen mission’s trip to Canada.

When Kevin broke his neck in Lethbridge, Alberta, he was airlifted to a larger hospital in Calgary that was better equipped to treat spinal cord injuries. When we learned that he had been injured, we made the twelve-hour-drive through the night from Idaho to Calgary to join him there.

Upon our arrival, we learned the awful news that Kevin was paralyzed from the neck down and on life support. The doctors at the initial consultations gave us little hope for his survival and virtually no hope for his recovery. One doctor was adamant that Kevin could not live. When I realized he was talking about euthanizing Kevin, I rebelled with all my strength.

No one had asked our son if he wanted to live. We would not make him die.

Through a series of events I can only describe as a miracle, Kevin not only came home to live after seven weeks in hospitals and rehab, he gained back more than the doctors could have guessed. He has lived at home with his family for twenty years and accomplished much in that time. We are thankful for every day we have had with him.

Through Kevin’s injury and recovery, we have learned several important lessons:

  • Doctors can be wrong.

Had we listened to the medical advice we were given, Kevin would be dead. The doctor who gave us no hope and tried to force his viewpoint on us was wrong. Kevin did improve and has lived a useful life.

  • It is not up to others to decide which lives should be saved.

We’ve had the joy of seeing God intervene in Kevin’s case and restore much to him. But we would have fought just as hard for him had he never regained any feeling or function.  Once society begins to set a standard for humans to fulfill to be allowed to live, we are no better than Nazis. Because organs and medical treatment are at a premium, life has become a commodity to be doled to the most deserving.

When medical personnel make decisions based on the profit margin and a person’s perceived worth to society, a nation has lost its soul.

  • The term “death with dignity” is subjective.

Who gets to decide what constitutes dying with dignity? As a matter of fact, what constitutes living with dignity? When my mother was disabled by a series of strokes, there came a time that she developed pneumonia. The doctor decided not to treat her because, in his words, “Her life is useless.” He was going to let her die crying in a bed because he had made a judgment call about her worth. How dignified was that?

We insisted that he treat her. She recovered from the pneumonia and died some time later, peacefully, at God’s timing and with her family present. Her death, when it happened without duress, was more dignified than being forced to die at the doctor’s convenience.

  •  Parents should have the right to fight for their children.

In most cases, no one is going to care more for a child than his parents. It is their God-given duty to protect their child. A truly caring health care professional considers the well-being of the entire family. What could it hurt to allow them to love their little boy for as long as possible, and let God take him home?

  • If we don’t fight for the life of others, we will all become Charlie Gard.

Once life becomes worthless, once we have allocated to others the power to give and take the life of another human being, we are all at risk. Who knows when the standard will change again, and your life no longer rises to the new level of worthiness?

Today there are protests in the streets over the G-20 summit. In ten years no one will remember the G-20 summit. But who will fight for the Charlie Gards of the world?

Who will fight for the soul of the nations?

 

UPDATE: In the face of mounting international pressure, the Great Ormond Street Hospital has postponed removing Charlie’s life support for now. The hospital and parents will return to the European court to seek permission allowing Charlie and his parents to travel to the United States for his treatment.

The Vatican hospital, Bambino Jesus pediatric hospital in Rome, and the New York Presbyterian Hospital and Columbia University Irving Medical Center have offered to accept Charlie for treatment. New York Presbyterian Hospital has also offered to ship the experimental drug to the Great Ormond Street Hospital and provide advice on its administration if needed.

Both President Trump and Pope Francis have weighed in on the matter in Charlie’s favor.

 

 

Threads

“For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother’s womb.”                                                                                                                                            – Psalm 139:13

My bones were not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, when I was being skillfully woven in an underground workshop

 -Psalm 139:15 (GOD’S WORD Translation)

You’re Complicated.

You probably guessed that. You may have even been told that a few times by a frustrated friend, co-worker, or family member. You may not have realized, though, just how complex you really are.

According to National Geographic, the average human body contains thirty trillion cells. 1. Each individual genome, or set of instructions for the development and operation of one person, contains approximately three billion base pairs of the chemical code that comprise our DNA, attached to twenty-three pairs of chromosomes. 2. This chemical code determines our sex, what we will look like, and much more. That’s why it’s called the master blueprint of the body. 3.

There is, in fact, nothing simple about the “simple cell.” Each individual cell in your body is a finely-tuned factory working closely with the other cells of the body to sustain your life. You are not generally aware of the incredible processes of the systems keeping you alive, but you know when something isn’t working correctly. The body strives to stay at a pre-set “normal,” a state known as homeostasis, and even a small change in those processes can threaten your health or your life.

All that, and you’re just one person.

On a planet filled with over seven billion people, it’s easy to feel inconsequential. It’s even easier to see others as inconsequential, especially if their lives don’t meet society’s expectations or they become inconvenient. The aged, the weak, the disabled, the unplanned, seem expendable from that perspective. What’s one damaged life out of so many?

What’s one broken thread in the fabric of God’s plan for mankind?

Only everything. Just as every thread is needed to complete a work of art by a master weaver, so every life holds an important place in His plan for the world that is and the world to come.

Complexity points to a designer. A piece of art proves the existence of an artist. We all know that an intricately woven fabric is not made by dumping a bunch of thread on a loom. Someone must create it.

You are part of a grand design.

You and I are living threads in the hands of a Creator immense in power, limitless in imagination, and exquisite in the care with which He fashions His world. The skill with which He wove you in the womb, in all its unfathomable precision, pales beside the magnitude of the loom upon which He crafts history’s story. Not only are you a vital part of that plan, so is every other human. Our job is not to decide the value of others on this earth, but to respect every person’s value before God. Only He knows which threads will display the bold, royal colors of the kingdom, and which will carry the softer shades of grace. All are needed to complete the heavenly canvas upon which His story is revealed.

You matter. So does the homeless man on the corner, the baby with Down’s Syndrome, and the elderly woman with Alzheimer’s. May God forgive us for thinking we can choose the design for Him, for believing we know best.

 

1.http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/01/160111-microbiome-estimate-count-ratio-human-health-science/

2.https://www.genome.gov/11006943/human-genome-project-completion-frequently-asked-questions/

3.http://science.howstuffworks.com/life/cellular-microscopic/dna5.htm

The House That Grace Built

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In a day, our world changed forever.

It was nineteen years ago this month that our son Kevin broke his neck in a fall and sustained a devastating spinal cord injury. It’s one of those anniversaries that are bittersweet. So much is so good in our lives. And yet, the loss is there every day.

I nearly forgot the day this year – a testament, I guess, to the fact that we’ve moved on in many ways. Kevin is still mostly disabled, and yet he still continues to make new gains when we least expect it. We’re still mostly caregivers. And yet, I love and appreciate life more than ever.

It’s strange and wonderful how we need both darkness and light to grow.

The end of last year began a new season for us as a family. A series of events have unfolded in a phenomenon that has, in rapid succession, answered several of my most desperate and long-standing prayers for my children and grandchildren. You know, those “the stone will have to roll away from the tomb” prayers, breathed so often I feared that I might irritate God with their frequency. They were the prayers carried in the night with a heavy heart and many tears before heaven. The ones that spring automatically to mind. You know.

Those prayers.

I prayed them for years without answers.

Then, without warning, a door opened. Then another, and another.

In August of last year, our youngest daughter Grace began a good job locally. Prayer answered.

In November of last year, we received the news that our son Erik and daughter-in-law Rachel were expecting for the first time after being told that would probably never happen. We welcomed our first grandson into the world in May of this year. Prayer answered.

In May of this year, our youngest son Daniel announced his engagement to a wonderful woman named Jenna. Prayer answered.

In June of this year, our eldest granddaughter Rebekah graduated from homeschool and was immediately accepted into the university of her choice. Her parents, our eldest daughter Jennifer and husband Scott, had sacrificed for many years and throughout many trials to educate their daughters. Rebekah is the second-generation to graduate from homeschool in our family. Prayer answered.

Their youngest daughter, Vanessa, will begin her first year of college level work as she finishes her last years in homeschool. Prayer answered.

This August, our son-in-law finally begins to see his long-standing dream of teaching become a reality. Prayer answered.

This summer, Kevin has been able, for the first time, to sit unassisted for nearly an hour at the side of his bed. This, from a man who was never supposed to move again. Ever. This, from a man who was thought – by some in the medical profession – to be better off dead. This, after nearly two decades of disability. Prayer answered.

Aaron and I continue to have the health we need to be caregivers and walk Kevin’s journey with him. Nineteen years ago, we were told it would be impossible for us to care for him at home. We live the impossible every day with him.

Prayer answered.

Living in Graceland.

A friend once told me that her daughter, who liked to come to our place and see Grace, used to call our place “Graceland.” We chuckle at the ironic designation. It seems fitting, though, because we are the house that grace built. This anniversary of Kevin’s accident is our reminder that God is always at work. Prayer is crucial, and He is never irritated that we bring our heartaches and hopes to Him.

If you’re facing impossible odds today, if darkness is all around you, lift up your head. God still answers prayer. He loves you, and He is at work in your life.

You are the house that grace built.

What One “Useless Life” Taught Me

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Just an old woman.

She lay against the stark white sheets of the gurney, her face gray and her hands bent awkwardly inward. A series of strokes had long-silenced her lilting Southern twang, and she communicated much as an infant, her cries and grunts only distinguishable to the initiated. At the sight of me, her face contorted in a pathetic wail, brownish-red drool drizzling from one corner of her mouth.

“Pneumonia,” someone at the nursing had said two hours earlier, when they first called to tell me that they were sending my mother to the hospital. I had quickly arranged my schedule to meet her at the emergency room when she arrived. My brother joined me in the waiting room, and we watched in vain for her arrival. Finally I checked again at the desk and discovered she had not yet been sent down from the nursing home.

I called the home, and they said they were still awaiting the doctor’s order to transport her down. We waited some more. I called the doctor’s office to see what was happening. No one knew. After two hours, she finally landed in the emergency room, where she lay untreated as busy nurses and techs buzzed around the nurses’ station. I could only guess they were waiting for doctor’s orders to proceed.

She continued to cry. We continued to wait. I stood at her side, stroking her hair and murmuring meaningless words of comfort as I choked back angry tears.

No one ever came in the room to care for her.

Something was definitely wrong, and I finally lost my patience. I summoned my nerve and marched out to the nurses’ station. “Is Doctor in the hospital?” I asked the startled nurses.

“Uh, I can try to page him for you,” one of them ventured.

“Fine. I want to talk to him.”

They exchanged nervous glances and had him on the phone in short order.

“This is Opal Soyk’s daughter,” I spit out. “We have been waiting hours in E.R. to have her treated. What the h— is going on?”

My rare foray into profanity surprised even me. But Doctor was up to the fight. “I wasn’t planning to bring her down here. She’s only here because you insisted.”

I was momentarily confused by the direction of the conversation. After all, I was only there because I had been called by the nursing home. What was going on? My mind raced to untangle what had happened as I asked, “Well, what are you planning to do for her?”

One worthless life…

“Nothing. I wasn’t going to treat her. She’s an old woman. Her life is useless, anyway. Why do you want to keep her alive?”

My soul exploded into little shards of red-hot pain as clarity came. He had planned to let her die untreated in her bed at the nursing home.

But this was not a useless old woman. This was my mother.

All my life, my mother had fought for me. Always, unconditionally, and without reservation, Mother had been my champion and protector. It was time to return the honor.

“That is not your decision to make,” I retorted loudly, turning heads at the nurses’ station. “Your job is to treat her.”

Doctor hung up on me.

He never did bother to show up at the emergency room. But shortly afterward, she was admitted to the hospital. With proper treatment, Mother recovered from her illness and lived some time longer before dying peacefully at the nursing home with her family in attendance.

Who Is the Lord of Life and Death?

In the months leading up to her strokes, Mother knew something awful was happening in her body. She kept it mostly secret, but looking back, I realized that she was preparing us for the inevitable. One day she told me that if anything happened to her, she wanted every chance at life. She also said, “I changed your diapers; you can change mine.”

I remembered those words after her strokes, and I was thankful to know her wishes. But I often agonized as I watched her body slowly wither away. I knew, though, that if we hastened her death, it would not be her choice, but ours. That would be neglect. Or worse.

In the long nights during those five years, I reminded God that she had taken Him to be Lord of her life. I asked Him to be Lord of her death.

The last night the nursing home called us, she had fallen into a coma after not responding to medication for a new infection. Her body showed the obvious signs of shutting down. We gathered around her bed, sang all her favorite hymns, and cheered her on. We read Scriptures to her, prayed quietly, and loved her into God’s presence.

My mother taught me how to live. She taught me how to die. And she taught me that God is the Lord of both.

Out from the Shadows Book Excerpt

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Today we celebrate the release of Out from the Shadows by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Many thanks to my publisher, associate editor, agent, and my friends and family. I’m so grateful to God for His inspiration, leading, and encouragement throughout the long two years it took for it to come to birth.  In celebration of the launch, I just had to share an excerpt from the book with you. This one is very special to me.

Jimmy’s Hunger

A good name is to be more desired than great wealth. Proverbs 22:1

He was just a little boy when he was abused for the first time. His dad raged at his mother again over some imagined offense—the rough German carpenter never needed a reason to be angry. The tiny house rattled with the sounds of the man’s raving.

Jimmy was afraid.

Suddenly his father turned on him. The man hit the child broadside, striking him so hard he slammed backward against a wall and soiled his pants. Jimmy never knew what he had done to deserve a beating.

But that was just the beginning. He grew to manhood under the constant shadow of a father given to adultery and violent, drunken rages. The entire family suffered, but the boy was the favorite target of his father’s wrath.

When the man wasn’t beating them, he was often gone. Jimmy helped his mother support the family with his meager earnings from odd jobs. Their food supply was scanty, and their threadbare clothing offered little protection from the brutal Wisconsin winters. Jimmy owned no underwear. He slept naked in order to save his one set of clothes for school. His father loved to shame him by yanking him out of his bed in the middle of the night and beating him in front of his mother and sisters.

The physical abuse stopped the night Jimmy was big enough to sit in the dark, fully dressed, to initiate the fight when his dad first walked through the door. He learned, too, how to stop the mocking boys at school with his fists.

Fighting gave him a feeling of power for the first time in his life. People said he would grow up to be just like his dad. He had learned all the wrong ways to live. He had every excuse to victimize others as he had been victimized.

But he didn’t. Jimmy grew up to be like his mother, gentle and kind. He finished his schooling in the Navy, married a lovely young woman, and started a family. He adored his children and worked hard to give them the stability he never enjoyed as a child. He became a musician, a newsman, a broadcaster, a businessman, a county commissioner, a caregiver, and a pastor.

Jimmy is my father.

If anyone ever had an excuse to give up, he did. He had nothing going for him in life, except a mother who loved him and the desire to be different from his father and his grandfather. Instead of continuing the family line of shame, he taught my brother and me an important lesson: It’s not where you come from, but where you’re headed, that matters.

When my father was growing up, children shouted our surname at other kids when they wanted to insult them. My father was determined to have a name his own children would never be ashamed to wear. He not only redeemed the family name, but he also has lived with such integrity that we are proud to be known by it.

Today, his adult grandchildren love to tell people who their grandpa is. He is a well-known local personality and beloved icon in our community. As a pastor, he tells others of the Father God who took him out of a life of poverty and abuse and gave him a real daddy’s love.

My dad’s hunger for God inspired my own search for life’s meaning. His determination to break free has challenged me to wear my heavenly Father’s name with integrity and leave a legacy my family can be proud to claim.


Father God,

I understand my perception of You
has been shaped by my earthly father.
I ask You to reveal to me the ways
in which I have misunderstood who You are.
Help me break free from wrong pathways
and understand the depth of Your unconditional love.
Amen.

Reflections on “Jimmy’s Hunger”

1. Do you know anyone who has a similar story of abuse?

2. Have you experienced this kind of abuse yourself? Have you been able to break free?

3. List the qualities of a father you think are the most important.

4. In what ways has God displayed these qualities in your life?

5. How can you use these qualities in your role as a caregiver?

Pam Thorson/copyright 2014

Find Out from the Shadows here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/194110312X/

Podcast March 1st

 

http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-photography-microphone-stage-spotlight-blue-curtain-image14819847

Join me for a podcast with Denise Brown of Caregiving.com on Saturday, March 1 at 10 a.m. ET (9 a.m. CT; 8 a.m. MT; 7 a.m. PT). Listen live or download the podcast here:
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/caregiving

Denise is the founder of a vibrant online community of caregivers. I’m honored to join her for an interview tomorrow morning as I share the story surrounding our son’s disability and my perspectives on caregiving.

Hope to see you there!

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