Outliers, part 3: Rolling with it

Our son is a bona fide outlier in terms of his weight. He's got good motor and cognitive development for his age, but he hasn't really been gaining weight for the past year. Working with his pediatrician, we've kept an eye on it and kept giving him time to add some poundage, and it's never come.

So in February, we did a round of initial blood tests. These showed no reason why he wasn't gaining weight. So our doctor wanted to next check for cystic fibrosis. I have done very little reading about the disease because the name sounds so scary. But my understanding is that cystic fibrosis could be preventing him from absorbing the nutrients he needs to grow.

We went in for this test which measures the salt in his sweat. But he didn't sweat enough. So we're going to need to go in again which we'll do at the end of April. We could have scheduled earlier, but February was too full of tests. We all needed a break.

I think that people see positive outliers (those smarter, faster, taller, etc.) and think, man wouldn't that be wonderful and aren't those parents so lucky to have kids like that. And there are some great things about such a situation, but also some draw backs -- like what kind of bed and what kind of clothes did 7ft+ Yao Ming need?

Then I think that people see negative outliers (those sicker, dumber, slower, etc.) and think, isn't that terrible and aren't those parents so cursed to have kids like that? And as we peer into the (hopefully remote) possibility that we will care for a son with an awful disease, I don't think my heart is processing things that much differently.

Part of it is my own mess, from part 1, where I grieve the loss of "normality" that comes with giftedness. So grief for smarts? Check. Grief for illness? Check. But we're in a place where we don't know for either kid. There are signs and symptoms that suggest that our daughter's intellectual development may be ahead of her peers, and there are signs and symptoms that suggest our son may have cystic fibrosis or some other disease.

For now, we have to live by faith that God is providing what we need for today. And for May, if we discover our son does have a dread disease then we will move forward trusting that God will provide for that occasion. And if, in a year or two or three, we discover one or more of our children are unable to flourish in their school, then we will move forward trusting that God will provide for that occasion too.

UPDATE: links to Part 1 & Part 2

Effort and faith

I think a lot about what's my part and what's God's part. Like when it comes to becoming a mother who is kind to her kids, what's my part and what's God part? Kindness is very hard to fake, in my mind. So it's probably going to involve an inward reorientation and that always makes me think of something God has to do.

Lately, the Dallas Willard stuff has been making me think hard about what's my part. Willard's model for change requires "VIM": Vision, Intention, & Means. What vision do I have about my relationship with my children? For starters, I want them to experience grace from me that they can hook up to the grace they've received from God. I can't imagine memories of their mom yelling impatiently at them is really going to help. As I understand it, by intention Willard means the focus of our will. When I come to the point of yelling or not yelling, will I force my will to override my emotions and choose kindness?  Means, in the case, the means are very easy. My vocal cords and lungs can modulate my volume and my tone easily. There's no physical reason why I have to yell.

This notion of forcing the will to override emotions is the most unnatural part of this to me. It feels a little godless, like all I'm going to do is muscle up and sit on my yell button so I can't hit it. But as I think about it, for my example, it's probably the place where I need to be most disciplined about calling God into the process. "God, help me to carry through with not yelling, with having an attitude of kindness."

I think I question the what's my part, what's God's part because God is so obviously more able. So why should I expend my puny effort or how can I believe  that my relatively puny effort will be necessary or productive? Here I think the answer is that I need to ruthlessly apply my effort not because it is big in God's world but because it is big in my world. My efforts represent my desire for "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." Is it more important for me to get my way, or is it more important for God's will to prevail, and surely his will is for me to be kind to my children? Who sits on the throne of my life? If I'm to allow God to sit on the throne and run my life then surely it's not surprising that I have to spend my effort to keep myself off the throne.