Lauren Sparks

The Sparks Notes

For the Love of a Cow

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We flew to California for one day passes to Disneyland.  We had to.  We were on a mission to get my special girl Shelby to see a life-sized Clarabelle Cow.  At lease that’s what we thought we were doing.

 

To back up, our 18 year old daughter has the mental and emotional intelligence of a toddler.  And my first born baby is obsessed with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Some of you got to outgrow that phase with your children.  We probably never will.  It can be annoying at times, but it brings her so much joy that I can’t help but enjoy it too.  Because Shelby struggles to communicate, I might never have known that Clarabelle, a minor character in the show, was her favorite.  But we got her a Mickey Mouse book, and she kept it turned to a picture of the singing cow all the time.  She was only ever interested in looking at that page and talking about her.  Once we found a Clarabelle stuffed animal on ebay (for entirely too much money) and presented it to Shelby, we knew FOR SURE that the cow is her favorite.

 

Stuffed Clarabelle is now Shelby’s almost constant companion.  That 15 inch toy only leaves her hand under duress.  Bath time, meal time, school and therapy.  When our daughter went away to summer camp for a week with the Epilepsy Foundation of Texas, we told her counselors that they would have to pry Clarabelle out of Shelby’s unwilling hands for activities and that Shelby would tell them she was sad.  We assured them this was necessary and that Shelby would rebound quickly when her beloved was out of sight.  Those tender-hearted counselors must not have been able to deal with anyone being sad at summer camp.  Every picture of Shelby they posted on social media that week included her doll.  Clarabelle went to the mess hall, rode horses, kayaked, did arts and crafts and swam in the pool.  She was a sad and tired mess after 6 days.  And Shelby was exhausted too.  The love of the cow runs deep.

 

When we got to Disneyland the Saturday of Columbus Day weekend (they set an attendance record – wouldn’t recommend going then), we trucked it to the guest services desk post haste to find out when and where Clarabelle would be appearing.  The answer stunk.  She would not be present in the park that day.  Now we knew when we started planning this trip that there were no Clarabelle guarantees, but I confess that I bummed hard.  For the love, we made a cross country trip.  *Sigh*  Anyway, our next hope was Clarabelle’s Creamery – a popular ice cream parlor.  We imagined her image adorning the walls and memorabilia for sale in the gift shop.  No such luck.  There was not a picture of Shelby’s best friend, or any other cow in the whole place much less a t-shirt or keychain for sale.  All of this prompted my husband to caption his social media photos with

#Disney #fortheloveofacow

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With all of our musical cow dreams dashed to bits, we got about the rest of our day enjoying the park.  And did Shelby enjoy the park!  We discovered that our meek and gentle girl LOVES the speed, thrills and potential spills of roller coasters!  She rode rails that would make this mama mess her britches and whooped and hollered the entire time.  Smiles and giggles ALL DAY LONG.  Turns out that Chuck and I were the only ones disappointed.  Shelby had no expectation of seeing a bigger than life Clarabelle.  Her mind can’t even fathom the possibility.  She was as happy as I’ve ever seen her just hanging out with her people, and making some death defying turns – at least that’s how it appeared to this scaredy chicken.

 

In retrospect, I think the coaster-love was God’s sweet little surprise for us.  We made plans for what we thought would delight Shelby, but God knew what would do the trick.  In a silly and whimsical way, Space Mountain illustrates Proverbs 19:21.  “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”  We most often use this verse to remind us that God knows what’s best for us, which is absolutely true.  But I think it also points to our God’s propensity to surprise us.  He loves us so much that He delights in our delight.  As much as the sound of Shelby’s laughter brings me joy, my love for her is dwarfed by our Heavenly Father’s pleasure in us.

 

“Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.”  Isaiah 30:18

 

Saying Goodbye to the Inner Critic

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The New Year lies just around the corner.  The time when scores upon scores of us set resolutions.  And while there is nothing wrong with goal setting and self-improvement in and of itself, many of us have already started down the path of self-degradation.  We put expectations on ourselves while we simultaneously already fear failure.  I invited my friend Stacey Cartlidge to guest post again and this piece is cash money.  “How much is it worth?” you might ask.  The going rate for a session with a Licensed Professional Counselor like her – at the very least.  Lap this up my bloggy friends.

Photo by Roberto Delgado Webb on Unsplash

Make today the day you stop making excuses for why you can’t be kind to yourself.

Would you talk to a friend the way you talk to yourself?

Who wins when you are at war with yourself? Who loses?

You’ll be OK without the control you think you gain by punishing yourself.

Break up with the verbal abuser in your head. You don’t need them anymore. It was a codependent relationship built on the lie that in order to survive you must be accepted at all costs. At the cost of having your own opinion, at the cost of confidence, at the cost of freedom, at the cost of your dignity, at the cost of joy and purpose.

Forgiving yourself doesn’t mean you’re a bad person who doesn’t care about others. It means you’re not God. You’re not your own Jesus.

Get out of the Judge’s seat and out of the courtroom. Your case was closed long ago.

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We are attracted to the strength of an abuser at first and it’s not until later we realize how manipulative and hurtful they are. The strength of our anger – even when it’s aimed at ourselves can feel better than feeling sad. It feels more in control – like maybe we could do something with it, with this rage against ourselves. But if the law (judgment) could save then we wouldn’t have needed a savior. The truth is, our imperfections are real, but they don’t define our value. The truth is, we make mistakes but we are not a mistake. The truth is, because we are loved, our brokenness will not be the end of us. We are sinners who have been given the righteousness of Christ. So don’t stand on the side of the accuser. Satan wants nothing more than for you to leave leaning on your Father and join him in pointing out your failures and your sins.

Why do we find it so heartbreaking to see the Autistic child beat his head with his fists, but then walk away and beat our very souls and hearts with words of contempt. What has happened that we are callous to our own pain? Except that somehow it seems right. The reason it “seems” right is that somewhere, someone has said those things to us before. And even though that person or situation is gone now, we have taken their place, taken up their job of humiliating and demoralizing the child within us. Like a crying child having a nightmare, we need a loving parent to come along and wake us up – to rock, cradle, and shush us with gentle whisperings, telling us the danger is gone – the dream has passed. To awaken us to a bright morning, the light streaming through the window, the lilt of birdsong in our ears. Wake up and hear the song, feel the warm morning sun, look up into the smile of the Father who has woken us from the dream, taken us up in his arms, and opened the window into a new world. A world where the enemy has fled and joy abounds.

The night has passed and morning has come. So wake up, dear child. Wake up.

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