Hello Dude Perfect!

I'm sending a SEEMINGLY unimpressive "Trick Shot" video you inspired for two reasons:

1. I made a promise to a 7-year old.

2. I'm wiling to bet even my small testimony matters.

I've been praying specifically for "the joy of the Lord" for our family this week. Our autistic son is in a kind of burnout I never knew a child could experience. He is home with me full time and has almost no ability to access to himself, relationships, or any measure of delight. Paradoxically, our household feels like we're walking on eggshells AND our legs have been cut off at the knees.

Since interceding for joy, the meltdowns and heartbreaking moments still happen... But joy entered too. Joy that felt foreign. Joy that didn't match, didn't fit, and didn't "fix"anything either. Honestly, it gave me false hope at first. Maybe this would end soon. Maybe the intensity would let up a little. But that's not it.

The joy of the Lord isn't the absence of hardship. It's the nearness of Christ.

I clocked a new level of “frazzled” this week. I couldn’t even tolerate a worship song playing in the background of my overstimulating life. Surprising even to myself, I responded by burying myself in stories. The memoir of an admirable Christian leader played in my headphones while I folded towels and mashed potatoes. I read the journal entries of a 19th-century woman’s journey toward God when I would normally turn to social media. Internalizing the way others told their stories quieted my own story just enough to give me a small measure of perspective.

I didn’t take a single Father’s Day photo or do a gushy post, although he’s so gush-worthy. BUT a friend recently resurfaced this old beauty and it deserves a place here.

2015. Lifa was seven and hardly had any teeth that whole year.

This was before we were married, before he ever called him Dad. We had no idea what God was doing, but we all knew He was in the center of it. Family began in a usual way, an out of the ordinary order for us. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I’ve been a self-taught weightlifter for ten years. I purchased a secondhand set of adjustable dumbbells a few years ago when caring for a very young child and one with extra needs made it harder to get to the gym. Those dumbbells finally broke beyond repair last year, so I joined an Olympic weightlifting gym. I had never learned the Olympic lifts but quickly fell in love with the sport. I decided to go all in and even got a pair of lifting shoes for Christmas. I could feel strength building in my entire body and see the evidence of muscle definition. Gaining strength has always been a way for me to honor God with the body He’s entrusted me with.

I was excited to get back to the gym after our recent trip to America. My son with a nervous system disability has gone into a state of burnout, however, and I am currently his 24 hour co-regulator.

Like Wyatt says, “When you turn 43, you don’t get taller. But you do get better.”

Welcome to Baking with Wyatt… where you just never know what’s gonna happen in the kitchen.

We are HOME! I don’t think it’s ever felt so good to be home. Eight weeks of international travel. Over 30 hours to get home on the last leg. We did it! The boys did great! Happy brothers!

I called her… actually I think I just texted her… at the end of February and told her I had to come to America with the kids. She didn’t skip a beat. She just asked when she should fly in to help. She’s been ALL over the place with us over the last two months, sacrificing more than even I can understand. And she’s really seen the underbelly of special needs parenting.

But she’s never stopped being my mom first. In our worst of times on this trip, when I need the most help, the kids won’t let anyone but me near. So my mom stands back, quietly, longingly, and watches over ME. She gives her whole self, even when she feels stuck on the sidelines.

My youngest sons and I are traveling through America. The boys have loved meeting family and learning their heritage. My 7-year old son has complex special needs, and the travel has been overwhelmingly difficult for him. We have canceled flights, changed plans, and seen less people than we’d like to accommodate.

Last week, we took a long flight from Houston to Los Angeles to submit South African visa applications. The airport, flight, LA traffic, hotel stay, and waiting in a big office was more than my son could handle. My mom was with us, and we’d planned on staying with her from that point. But her home was three hours away. My son just couldn’t. We sat on the floor of a train station in LA, completely exasperated…

If you ever find yourself sitting on a train station floor, paralyzed by your child’s disability and inability to do the next thing…

Or mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted from multi-tasking rapid decision making, the admin of living abroad, and managing meltdowns on a very small amount of sleep…

Have a party. Whatever kind of party you need it to be. Just make sure you call it a party.

What we were up to last week. (And why I was so quiet in communication!)

The video says it all…

I didn’t know how I could see a lifetime of people I loved while my feet were so briefly on American soil. I was in my hometown, but my kids’ needs trumped my desires for connection, reunion and alllllll the things. A few very dear friends and my cousins helped me put together a dream God put in my heart when I began planning this trip. It only took a few text messages in transit. They orchestrated the details, created an invitation, and made the snacks. People from every chapter of my story gathered in one room, in the church that taught me about the Church, for a couple of sacred hours.

It was too short. It was just right. It was everything

Yesterday was a “get through it” day. The needs of my 7-year old autistic son, Benjamin, trumped the plans and preferences of everyone else. On those kind of days, I choke back parenting principles to let safety and regulation be the priority.

Wyatt, his 4-year old brother, tried to process the long, hard day at bedtime. With tears streaming on his pillow, he said he didn’t want his brother to have hard days. Wyatt confessed he had disobeyed because his brother was disobeying, and he wanted to have the same kind of day as his brother. Wyatt loves his brother fiercely. He does everything he can to stay in close proximity “to make sure he’s ok” and puts Benjamin’s needs above his own.

My mom, Wyatt, Benjamin and I land in America in one week. I’m sweating (record-breaking heatwave) and scrambling to tick all the boxes for our visa application submission in America. We had a medical clearance appointment with our pediatrician, Dr. Sinclair, this week. Another requirement fulfilled, but it was more. I told my mom, “God has put the most extraordinary people around us here.”

I’ve been far from “home” so long that this is home and nowhere is home. But we are not on our own.

I’m resharing a post from last year as I prepare to take my first trip back to the USA in over 10 years. My two youngest sons will come along for their first time in America!

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My neurodivergent six-year old is into creating nonsensical trivia. A recent car ride went something like this...

Him: "What color is an oval?"

Me: "Green."

Him: "NO! PINK! How many bricks are in a wall?"

Me: "Probably 96."

Him: "You were SO CLOSE. But sorry, it's 89."

The Details:

My Mom, Benjamin, Wyatt and I will travel from Cape Town International Airport to Atlanta on March 16th. My mom will get us through a six-hour layover and continue to her home in San Diego. The little boys and I fly to Knoxville, TN to stay with Chris’ parents.

We have passport renewal appointments in Knoxville on March 25th and…

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. She’s the best Gosa there ever was. I am so thankful for a mom who loves deep, far and wide. She’s here in Cape Town with us for two weeks, and then the little guys and I are flying back to America with her!

This is day one in Cape Town.

Please join us on Sunday at 9am @ Vista Nova High Pinelands. We’re not a weird church. We don’t use “churchy” words, and we come from every age, stage, ethnicity and ability.

We put on name tags so we don’t feel awkward when we forget someone’s name right after they’ve introduced themselves. And we gather for good coffee, encouraging teaching, and a place for the kids to learn about Jesus in a way that’s relevant to them.

These three brothers. They are God’s gift to me and to each other. Sure, there are less stable moments than unstable, and they could not be more different… but God designed Lifa, Benjamin and Wyatt each with a very special capacity for brotherly love. I pray they will be lifelong friends, always calling out the best in each other, and continually overcoming every obstacle with their unity.