Lauren Sparks

The Sparks Notes

Grieving

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Posted by Lauren Sparks on July 23, 2014 at 12:35 AM Delete “My eyes have grown dim with grief; my whole frame is but a shadow.”  Job 17:7

A special needs mommy who is very new to the journey asked me recently if I had grieved for Shelby.  A better question might be, “when have I NOT grieved for Shelby?”  As I write this I am sitting at the hospital while Shelby is in surgery to have an endometrial ablation. Although I have no doubt that it is the right thing to do – for Shelby and for Chuck and me as her caregivers, it is something else that feels very final.  We have known for years that Shelby would never have a “normal” adulthood with a husband and children, but there is still a little grieving going on now that it is a done deal.  It reminds me of the day Shelby’s school district officially diagnosed her as mentally retarded after extensive testing.  I knew she was far behind her peers academically and socially, but the label tied a very messy, ugly bow on the whole thing.  I grieved (complete with a public breakdown and repeated boo-hoo sessions).  I grieved when she started having seizures, when she had to have her first surgery, when she got her offical Dravet diagnosis and when she entered a very un-normal adolescence.  Those are all HUGE things in her life.  But you should know that I also grieve for our everyday routine that is such a challenge for her.  I grieve when I hear about her peers scheduling classes to prepare them for college.  One of Shelby’s school goals this year is to fold wash cloths.  I grieve when she has 12 seizures in one night and calls out “no, no, no”.  I grieve when I see my precious two year old grandson fly by her developmentally.  I grieve every time she is evaluated for benefits and I have to answer questions about her health and social appropriateness.  I grieve when it is time to change her diaper.  
Sigh.  Let me see if I can scrape myself up off the floor now and give you the good news.  You see, much like Job (if you are ever feeling sorry for yourself, look up that story in the Bible), God doesn’t leave me in my grief and He doesn’t leave you there either.  For where there is grief, there is comfort.  The following verses are great to meditate on when you need lifting out of a pit:
“But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted; you consider their grief and take it in hand.” Psalm 10:14
“Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.  For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.”  Lamentations 3:32-33
“So with you:  Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.”  John 16:22
“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith – of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire – may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”  1 Peter 1:6-7
“…weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”  Psalm 30:5b
If you are grieving something – whether it be the loss of a person or the death of a dream – I would be honored to pray with you or for you.  And if joy in the midst of heartache sounds like an impossible scenario for you, I would love to take you to lunch or coffee and tell you about how Jesus can walk beside you in your struggles.  Let me hear from you!
*****Bible passages are quoted in the NIV.

It’s Called a Cliche Because it’s …Bunk

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Originally published July 16, 2014
Three weeks ago something happened with Shelby that I have not, as yet, been able to write about.  I’m not sure if that’s because it was scary, or because I didn’t want to alarm anyone, or simply because I was embarrassed.  But here goes.  I doubled Shelby’s evening medications.  After the build-up I gave it, you were probably expecting something to sound much more dramatic.  But before you tune out from boredom, let me ‘splain (in the words of the great swordsman Inigo Montoya).  Shelby takes A LOT of medication.  Anti-convulsants, sleep aids, and allergy OTC’s.  Before bed time she takes 3 different – and might I add potent – seizure medications, zyrtec, melatonin, and a prescription sleep aid dose that is so large that the on-call neurologist didn’t initially believe my report!  As my husband says, a double dose should be enough to bring down a horse.  
Chuck and I are usually pretty good about double checking each other to make sure Shelby’s meds are been given appropriately.  But this particular day, I had undergone a minor back surgery (I’m claiming I was still under the effects of anesthesia).  We take the precaution of separating her drugs into a pill dispenser labeled with days and times of doses, but I was obviously distracted when I looked at it and saw that the Friday night dose was still there.  So I gave it to Shelby.  The problem is that it was Thursday night.  I was off by a day, and hence, off by a mile.  I mentioned to Chuck that I had given her the drugs and his eyes expanded in diameter.  “I already gave them to her,” he said.  The truth unfolded slowly in my brain, like a nightmare.  I called the on-call line for Cook Children’s Hospital.  The doctor wanted us to head to the emergency room so she could be admitted for observation overnight.  His fear was that all these sedating medications would put her so deeply asleep that she wouldn’t be able to protect her airway and would stop breathing.  Nice.  This is what I did to my child.  And since I was newly recouperating, it was Daddy Doctor Chuck to the rescue.  He got the pleasure of sleeping on a hospital cot and waking every couple of hours for vitals.  (And do you know with all that medication Shelby still had several seizures during the night?  But that’s neither here nor there.)
Have you heard the expression (I’m sure meant to be an encouragement), “God only gives special kids to special people”?  In light of the event I just shared and more additional insidents than I would carecxz to remember, allow me to weigh in on this:  Bull-ona.  That is some serious caca, folks.  Bologna, made of bull.  Permit me to counter with a cliche I believe to be much more accurate.  “God doesn’t call the equipped.  He equips the called.”  This is applicable to so many areas of life.  But I know without a doubt, that I am no more special than anyone else.  And who knows me better than me?  And yet I have had so many people tell me that they could never handle the challenges of my life the way I do.  Ridiculous!  You could probably do it better!  Or different.  But at least as well.  When we lean into God, regardless of the circumstances, He gives us what we need.  You don’t have to be smart enough, patient enough, strong enough, or wise enough.  He makes you enough!  I have been listening to “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brene Brown on audio.  Something she wrote in the book has implanted itself on my heart and I’m struggling to internalize it.  “We need to stop hustling for our worthiness and just accept it.”  Accept it.  Though none of us is worthy or deserving of anything on our own, trust in Christ MAKES us worthy.  All we have to do is accept it.  Accept HIM!  There is rest in that.  No matter what difficult road we find ourselves trudging down, we can’t cover the miles on our own  He makes us able.  He makes us worthy.  And there is nothing we can do to earn it.  We only have to accept it.  

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