July 25, 2011 By Leave a Comment
|Cami's First Dance, December 2001|
We talk often about how the devil tries to trick our hearts. (Thank you for those words, Betsy.) He tries to tell us that we’re bad and stupid and ugly, and we can’t do anything right. But God’s word says those assessments of our character are lies. Psalm 139 says that God made us in a wonderful way. He doesn’t make stupid things, or worthless things, or unredeemable things. He formed us in our mother’s womb, crafting the bodies we have just the way He wanted to. He delights to watch us walk through our day. There’s nowhere that we can go where God isn’t. He has ordained—planned out, purposed, already made provision for—every day of our lives. He’s written every one of them down in His Book before we were ever born.
|Cami's dad helps her diaper her dolly in 2001|
Just last night Cami was so agitated at bedtime, and the self-talk coming out of her mouth was more negative than usual. One long sentence ended with “You probably think I’m crazy, too!”
Wow. New curve. Pay attention and go after this one, Cassandra. “Cami, what made you say that? I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“It’s okay, Mom. Sometimes even I think I’m crazy.” She climbed up into my bed and put her face down in the pillow.
|Cami and her Daddy try out |
the Blackhawk in 2010
I can’t count how many times in my 45 years I’ve wondered if I’m crazy, too. (More about that in another post.)
I climbed into my bed with Cami. “Love, who told you you were crazy?”
Muffled by the pillow: “No one.” She sat up. “No one’s actually said it, but they all think it.” She harrumphed and put her arms over her head.
Calm Mommy voice: “How do you know they think that?”
Cami sat up in a huff. “I can tell by the way they look at me!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Whenever I talk about seeing dragons or catching Pokemon, they look at me like I’m crazy! Even I think I’m crazy sometimes.” Face down in the pillow again.
Oh, Lord, give me words. Please. We talked some more, determining who “they” is. I must confess to wondering if my daughter’s hidden disabilities go beyond the scope of learning disabilities. She sees things that aren’t there. She hears voices that no one else hears. My husband thinks our daughter’s eccentricity is delightful. Sometimes it terrifies me.
Last night, Cami didn’t find comfort in my words. Cami’s daddy spoke words of love, encouragement, and blessing over her, words that we both needed to hear. He reminded us how wonderfully God has made Cami. He recalled the story of creation, of Adam and Eve in the Garden, and how when God made them, He saw that it was very good (Genesis 1:31).
|Cami's daddy shows her |
how to keep her balance
Her daddy also told her that the next time someone thought she was weird, to tell them, “You should meet my dad. He was in a play once and went on stage dancing while wearing a diaper.” (He really did. I was there.)
Cami told me that today at the pool, another child looked at her weird because she took Littlest Pet Shop animals with her. “Mom, I told them that story about Daddy wearing a diaper on stage, and I giggled so much it didn’t matter what they thought.”
I confess that I’ve felt pit-trapped this summer. I’m letting the devil trick my heart. Jesus has set me free, so I am free indeed. Yet the accusations and self-assessments I hear in my head have me trapped in a pit of grief and despair. I’ve shared this tendency of mine with a few close friends, who seem to always call or email when I’m in the pit of self-condemnation. Their love and prayers don’t get me out of that pit. They remind me of the Truth of God’s Word, and it pulls me out of the pit, where I can feel the breeze on my face and the sun through the trees.
|Cami and her Daddy in 2002|
How blessed I am!
Clinging to the Truth of my Daddy’s Word,