special needs dad chronicles

honesty, hope and healing for Special Needs Dads and those on their journey



A Thanksgiving Day Prayer

 Dear God,

Today I pray for those of us who will travel long on little sleep. Who must explain to relatives why their child won’t eat. We pray for those who want to visit and laugh, but instead have to walk the halls or the yard or even take a ride in the car.

I pray that if something is meant to be broken it will be something unsentimental and cheap. That if someone’s hair is to be pulled it will be the least dramatic of the group and certainly, please God, not great-grandma when she only wants to give a hug. Most importantly, may any poop stay contained in the diaper and occur AFTER the meal.

Please let there be something our kids like to play with whether it be Paw Patrol or grandpa’s foot massager.

Please let our child do at least one cute thing that will make Grandma feel like her prayers mean something.

Please help us to be quick to forgive silly arguments, snide comments and well-meaning cliches.

And God, though this day may sometimes be hard, let us view THIS Thanksgiving through the lens of the surreal and of good humor – that any idiosyncrasies will be inside jokes and any horror stories will simply be a great story to tell our SN friends.

May this Thanksgiving be full of thankfulness, and peace and love- unconditional love- which is the specialty of people like us.    Amen


God won’t give you more than you can handle and other myths people invented


Do you remember that verse in the Bible about, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”

No, neither do I. You know why? It doesn’t exist. Yep. Just another quaint phrase invented by a Pollyanna well-wisher, a preacher to appease his congregation, a zealot to assuage rage or, perhaps even if I am more gentle in my judgement, just someone trying to help someone get through a hard time.

But, it is not Biblical. Kind of the like the old phrase, “every tub sits on its own bottom.” Sorry, folks. That is an English proverb. Not from the Bible either.

But, candidly, even if you take Biblical effort out of the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle,” it is offensive, insensitive and callous.

Can you tell this phrase strikes a nerve?

Why is that?

When A was born and my world was turned inside out, the very foundations of reality shifted, my script rewrote, hearing a pithy phrase like this was enough to raise my blood pressure.

I wanted to yell, “That is complete bull! This is made-up Hallmark crap! I am hanging on by a thread. By an eyelash. And you, in your meme wisdom, dare to tell me some empty notion like this! As if this knee jerk phrase should be enough to make all right with the world.”

I never did do that. Not to anyone’s face, though I did nurse the grudge many times alone and have poured it out through the windows of my car while driving to work at times.

It is so patronizing. Like, “God gives special needs kids to special parents.”

Where did they come from? No one gets made for this. No one who comes into this sphere of being has a built-in switch they’ve been waiting to use called the “Special Needs Parent” switch. No, when we find out our child has special needs, that our child will never have a shot at ‘normal’ or living a typical life, we are shot up, beat and bent, and our emotions are twisted and our faith wrenched. We find no comfort or hope in a phrase like that. We don’t want to be special and, God knows, we never wanted our children to have special needs.

It goes hand-in-hand with the old saying, “I don’t see how you do it.” A phrase that is never a question, but a statement, perhaps of admiration, but it can drive one crazy. I mean, I have restrained myself for the most part and left with a, “we’re all doing the best we can,” but what I’ve wanted to reply is:

  •  You don’t see how I do it? I don’t know how I do it.
  •  You don’t see how I do it? Well, what are my options? Escape to Narnia? Push the pause button on life? Move to Mars? The ‘S’ word? 
  • You don’t see how I do it? Again, the divorce rates for special needs parents hovers around 80 percent and the suicide rate for special needs dads is much higher than average. Don’t tell me you don’t see how I do it. I really, somedays, don’t know how I do it either.

My apologies for the aforementioned sarcasm, but that is the way it is

So, there it is. My rant on this is over. Where does that leave us? What should you say to a parent of a special needs child? Sometimes everything. Sometimes nothing. We – and I say this collectively – don’t want to be pitied. We don’t want to be praised. We want – much like our children – to simply be accepted.

HONESTY: Lessons from Lazarus, Part I

One of the strangest passages in the New Testament is about Lazarus, one of Jesus’s good friends John 11: 1-44. Christ waits until after Lazarus dies to visit his family and, then, bring him back to life. I see the miracle aspect as I see many of Christ’s miracles – he was empathetic and if He had the ability to heal, by God, he was going to do so.

He healed the blind man. The sick child. But, the key point of this story I want to focus on is piece is the authenticity of the situation. When Jesus arrives at Lazarus’s home, he was greeted by many, but, according to most interpretations, he had to summon Mary. One can imagine Mary feeling angry, or forlorn. After all, where was this miracle worker, this savior, this one she had honored when her brother was sick? Why didn’t He come when they sent messengers for him? 

And what did Mary say when she saw him?

Did she praise him with hollow phrases or memorized salutations?

Did she say, “Great one, I have faith in you! From my brother’s death, your will is done!”

Did she say, “Our God is an awesome God! You are the best!”

No, she said, and one can imagine quite flatly or accusingly: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Wow. Period.

How did Jesus react? Did he strike her down? Did he admonish her? Did he tell her to be quiet or not to question him, his motives, his timing?

No, he cried.

There is something in that when it comes to truth-telling. Christ can handle our honesty. Our sadness. Even our accusations. That is stated throughout the Bible in different ways, but I find here it resounds with me on a matter-of-fact level. This is not David weaving poetry in anguish or Job questioning the very nature of the cosmos. This is a simple, almost stoic, accusation as Mary, in essence, says, “Where were you?”

And then the reaction. What did Jesus do? He cried. He did not preach a sermon at that moment. He did not tell her to rejoice. He cried. The truth is He cries with us. He is empathetic. He loves us. Even though there are mysteries that the finite mind cannot grasp, even though His Ways are not always Our Ways, He cares. And He is willing to listen. He does not strike us down for our honesty. We can tell the truth.


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