Category: special needs

Finding Your Life

Posted on by Jessica Ronne
“Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” Matthew 10:39
Dear Caregiver,
It’s so easy to scroll through social media and feel the ache of comparison. I know, I lived that life once too. Maybe it’s the family hopping on airplanes with ease, traveling the world with their typical children. Maybe it’s the influencer sharing polished moments of motherhood. Or perhaps it’s someone like me – now on the other side of 24/7 caregiving: speaking, writing, leading an organization, and appearing to have it all together. It may look like I’ve “found my life.” Found my purpose and found my freedom.
But Jesus turns our definitions upside down. He tells us that whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for His sake will find it.
Dear weary, faithful one, you are living in that second category.
Every therapy appointment.
Every sleepless night.
Every dream you quietly laid down.
Every decision filtered through what is best for your loved one.
You have poured out your life for the sake of another.
The world may not applaud your decision and social media may not celebrate it and it probably doesn’t look impressive or glamorous, but the Kingdom of Heaven sees it differently.
Jesus calls it loss and then He calls it life.
When you surrendered your plans, your preferences, and your timeline, you stepped into a holy space. A space of surrender and a space where dependence on God becomes daily bread.
You have not been forgotten, and you have not wasted your life, and according to our Savior, you are right in the middle of finding it.
This is a glorious promise wrapped around your daily sacrifice: those who lose their lives for His sake will find them. Not necessarily in the way the world defines “finding yourself,” but in a deeper joy and an eternal purpose.
When envy whispers that others are living while you are merely surviving, remember this, you are living in the purest version of life and with each moment of surrendered obedience, you inch closer to the only existence that truly matters, one drenched in approval from the Kingdom of Heaven.
Just keep livin.

I Refuse to Hide Anymore.

Posted on by Jessica Ronne

I refuse to hide anymore.

And I know it’s really hard and exhausting and at times, still very isolating (because truth be told, our kids aren’t exactly a welcome invitation for social interaction, right?)
But – we’ve been brave lately. We’ve come way out of our comfort zone with a child with profound disabilities, and we refuse to hide away in our home – even if it’s hard; even if it causes us discomfort; even if it causes others discomfort too.

We went to a school picnic last night, and we sat on the outskirts of the event because, well, Luke was pretty much “ALL DONE!” when we arrived & we ate food and a few brave souls ventured up to our table and said “hello.”

We exposed ourselves. We exposed our life. We entered into an uncomfortable situation & we did it because it’s time for the world to see families like mine. It’s time for all of us to come out of hiding because it’s time to get the resources and support we need and that only happens when people see us.

Please come out of hiding with me. The world needs our stories.
Just keep livin.

Two Tragic Tales

Posted on by Jessica Ronne

A 12 year old boy is diagnosed with cancer & the prognosis is not good. In fact, doctors say there is very little chance for survival. The whole community rallies because this family’s world has been turned upside down!

Churches, schools, & most of the community reach out to lend a hand. In place of fun events & extracurricular activities, this family now attends doctors appointments, chemo infusions & spends hours on the phone battling with insurance companies. They have very little time for anything outside of fighting for their son.

There are zero expectations on this family & they have meals delivered for months from concerned congregants willing to help. A few women from the knitting club show up to weed their flower beds. Another crew from a local church cleans their house & yet another, does their laundry. Judy picks up the siblings for a fun day of bowling & their mailbox overflows with money from people eager to make a financial difference since Dad had to take time off from work.

Everyone understands that this family is hanging on by a thread & that they need all the help they can get while their child goes through this difficult time which in turn, means the family goes through a difficult time.

Their son fights valiantly for 3 years & dies.

And then, there is another family down the road who received a terminal diagnosis for their daughter when she was born 12 weeks premature. Doctors predict the same – very little hope, but this child lives & because she requires numerous supports, this family also spends most of their time at doctors, specialists, & on the phone fighting for services. This child needs so much support that mom eventually quits her job to care for her full time.

The church was helpful for the first week or two of this child’s life; a few meals delivered, an offering taken & prayers said, but then they became tired or disinterested as the child continued to live, & they backed off or forget to check in as she grew. The community was also invested, initially, but as time wore on, they returned to their lives, oblivious to the hardships & sleepless nights that occurred behind the white picket fence down the road.

This child grew & grew & grew & she reached 22 years old. Her lifeless body grew excessively large as many bodies do on medications. Her mother’s health plummeted as she hadn’t slept in years – up all hours of the night as she sits in vigil over her daughter’s labored breath. Her father’s beard is peppered in gray & his back, hunched low in pain, he grimaces as he gently lifts his girl to bed after a bath.

Her parents have sacrificed their entire lives for her care & she remains very fragile due to her condition & her life expectancy remains low. The school continues to call & ask if mom wants to bake some brownies for the upcoming craft show & the church texts dad &
asks him to serve as a deacon – no never mind that this family hasn’t come up for air in 22 years. No never mind that they have been silently deteriorating for 22 years without any help.

She continues to fight valiantly.

No never mind…

Two tragic tales.

The first family received an outpouring of support when their child was diagnosed with cancer, but the family who has fought a terminal diagnosis with their daughter for 22 years received very little acknowledgement on their difficult path.

I’ve lived these tales – same story, different characters. A young husband who battled cancer for 3 years & a son given a terminal diagnosis at 20 weeks in utero.

Same story.
Similar results.

But why?

Why church?
Why schools?
Why society?
Why world do we acknowledge the one & not the other?

It’s time to bring lifelong parent caregivers into the spotlight.

It’s time to emerge from our dark deteriorating tombs.

It’s time for us to be SEEN.

Just keep livin

Metamorphosis

Posted on by Jessica Ronne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My boy is changing
Before my eyes
What once I felt
As smooth soft skin
And tender limbs
Has transformed
To rough patches
And wiry black sprouts
And the songs have been replaced
With aggression
And anger
As his behaviors flare with indecision.

The Wiggles have left the stage
Their brightly colored spectrum dissolved
And “yummy, yummy” is no more
Metallica takes the place
Of innocence
And pulsating passion ensues
And explodes upon the environment
As joints ache
And bodies moan
Beneath the weight of the exchange
And the curtain rises
To display the headliner.

And yes, it is supposed to be like this
But no, it’s not supposed be like this.
My boy thought dead before his first breath
Now erupting with exhalation.

The constant
Conundrum
of
Change.

Some –
Should not have a front row seat
To the metamorphosis
That occurs
But sometimes
Some –
Don’t get to choose.

My boy,
My beloved child
Has challenges
Beyond his control
Or mine
And he’s incognizant
of the fact
That I am
Indelibly,
A high roller
Money baller
Ticket holder
To the show
That first began
Within my womb.

Every change
Viewed up close
Center stage
While the soloist rages
Against the backdrop
of a mural
Splashed with red & yellow, black & white
They are precious in his sight
Left by those who came before
A symbol of life & love & pain.

And I whisper to the usher
“Any availability elsewhere?”
I consider sneaking away
To the nose bleed section
Where the big screen replaces
Intimate reality
And where I would no longer be privy
To the drops of sweat
Or peach fuzz
Or manic defiance.

I would move
If I could.
But I can’t.
So I continue to cheer his advances
And his wins
And his changing appearance
And his powerful masculinity.

I accept his body banging
And celebrate his flapping fingers
Swaying to the chaos
Of a private concert
For one.

I will embrace
The raging thirst
For growth
And transformation
For change equals
Life
And breath
For me
And for him.

And yes, it is supposed to be like this
And no, it’s not supposed to be like this.