Every morning, my son, Cooper, would relentlessly ask, even before my eyes had focused, or I’d had my coffee, “Mommy, what are we doing today?” And then he would ask again thirty more times in a row. Cooper had an agenda, and if it wasn’t accomplished in due time, he would be edgy and fragile. And I would be already exhausted before even waking up.
I stayed home with Cooper and his twin brother, so my entire day was dictated by their needs. On top of being energetic boys, they were both diagnosed with autism at four-years-old. Yes, both of them. Every day was, and is, a constant lesson in patience and selflessness.
Their diagnosis gave me a path to navigate and helped me understand why things were so hard. But I was grieving, overwhelmed, and fragile myself. My husband and I looked for help wherever we could find it. I even took a part-time job so we could afford to pay for private occupational therapy for our boys. Their therapist was a God-send. She understood them like no one else we’d met. She helped equip us to move forward, even if it was just a small baby step—so we weren’t paralyzed with indecision.
She recommended a schedule for Cooper, and desperate to try anything, I bought a magnetic schedule, with different buttons to place on the days of the month. Every morning, when I heard, “Mommy, what are we doing today?” we’d go through our schedule. He would draw pictures or use the buttons to order his day.
Simple really, but wow, it was as if someone handed me a manual for my son! When he knew what was coming up, he would relax. Do you know what it’s like to have an on-the-verge-of-a-meltdown child suddenly relax?! It changed our lives!
I used to think he wanted me to entertain him all day, but he really just wanted to know what to expect. No surprises meant he felt safe and no longer lost.
The kicker was when an a-typical day came along, something out of the ordinary—like a dentist appointment or a haircut—it would throw us (yes, I mean all of us) into a tizzy. Cooper called it “DIFFERENT DAY.” He had a special category in his head that helped him understand it. It was the opposite of regular, it was different. As we did for typical days, we would talk through the details so he knew what’s coming. The haircut goes faster if I sit still. I get a toy out of the prize box if I let the hygienist clean my teeth. Although he was still more anxious than usual on those days, and it didn’t cure all the meltdowns, it certainly decreased them.
On Different Days, I also reminded Cooper constantly that no matter what happens, I love him. His dad loves him. God loves him. No matter what happens! Even if nothing goes according to our plan, I would get to him as quickly as I could, and God never, never leaves him. He can talk with God even when he can’t talk to me or to his Dad.
I think a lot of us can relate to Cooper, I certainly can.
I don’t like it when things are out of order. When my world is unpredictable, I feel out of control. It’s a helpless feeling. Cooper has helped me realize how I must pester God with some of the same questions like:
“What’s going to happen today, God?”
“How are you going to handle this?”
“Why aren’t you doing what I want?”
“This isn’t going like I planned.”
In those times of uncertainty, I also want to melt down, and sometimes I do.
One day, in particular, I was struggling with paying the bills, and I was emotionally exhausted. I was putting the boys to bed, and Cooper could tell something was wrong because my eyes were damp, and he asked, “What’s wrong, Mommy?” I replied, “Sometimes, days are hard, Cooper.” He said, “Different Day, Mommy.” “Yes, baby, Different Day.” He understood.
On those days, God wants us to trust. Sure, we can make a schedule, place our predictions, and voice our hopes, but when all that goes to pot, we have to trust that God’s loves us and has a better plan.
I may not always understand or know the plan, but I know God loves me. God loves my family. And when I can remember that, it helps me rest.
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I have something like 1,300 contacts in my phone. No doubt, 1,300 is a crazy number. You might have double that, or half that. It’s just the world we live in.
But even if you only had 100, you wouldn’t really know each of them well. Not deeply. Not personally. You couldn’t. Our relational span just isn’t that big.
But there’s also a “favorites list” on my phone, as there probably is one on yours. On that list are the people who are one touch-of-the-screen away from a call or a text. My favorites list is much shorter. In fact, there are less than twenty people on that list. If I were to get even more granular, there are really only about five that I call or text all the time. These are the handful of people closest to me.
These five know me inside out…my good points and not so good ones. My dreams and my struggles. My favorite and least favorite things. They’re the ones who are not only great friends, but great advisors.
I’m sure you’ve got those people too.
But do your kids?
When your kids need to talk, who do they talk to? I mean beyond their friends and beyond you as a parent? Friends are of limited help; sometimes the last thing a 16-year-old needs is advice from another 16-year-old. And sometimes the last person they want to talk to is a parent. I’m sure there are parents who say, “my kid will talk to me.” But let me ask you something, did you tell your parents everything? Exactly!.
So who do they go to? To whom can they turn?
I dream of a culture in which every child has five adults, other than their parents, they can talk to about the important stuff. Like school. And girls. And parents. And the future. And God. And faith. And their problems.
If you were fortunate when you were growing up, you might have had someone you could talk to other than your mom or dad about the big stuff and the little stuff. Maybe it was a coach who took an interest in you, a teacher, a neighbor, a grandparent, or an uncle who always seemed to have the time for you. If you had someone like that. you know what a difference those relationships can make.
That’s why I wanted my kids to have at least…
five other adults in their life guiding them and giving input.
five people who know their hopes and dreams,
five people who know their quirks and good points.
five people they can talk to honestly about what’s really going on in their lives.
five people who can offer wisdom when life gets confusing.
five people who care about them and pray for them.
My question is simple: who are your kids’ five? Who will they text and who will they call when they don’t know what to do?
If you don’t know who those five are, you’re not alone. But you can change that. Soon.
I would encourage you to spend some time over the next month identifying people your kids can build a trusting relationship with.
My guess is between small group leaders, neighbors, family friends, uncles, aunts, grandparents, coaches and teachers, you will find a few who will be willing to spend a little one on one time with your child periodically.
Ask them if they’ll spend some time getting to know your child or teen, and even pray for them regularly. And then watch what happens.
If every child and teen ends up with five adults on their phone’s favorite list, we might indeed be raising a wider, more secure, more grounded, more Christ-centered, more joyful generation than we’ve seen in a long time.
And if you’re still not convinced, I have a simple question. Don’t you wish there had been five other adults in your life growing up that you had a great relationship with, trusted, and could talk to?
I do. Which is why years ago, I sat down with my sons and drafted theirs. It’s a different world out there. And it can be a better world.