The headline read, “Cool Hand Luke”, but my sight was so blurred by the tears in my eyes I wasn’t sure I had read it right. It took Kleenex and coffee before I could read the story but the picture and the headline said it all.  Luke had won his second tournament of the summer and in just two weeks time his back to back wins and years of hard work were finally noticed by our small town paper. Luke’s won before but the newspaper finally caught up with a headline a press agent would die for.   

It sounds vain to want your child’s accomplishments celebrated in such a way.  I suppose it is but there’s a lot more to this and everyone who really knows our family understands why.  The reporter writing the story doesn’t and that’s the best part.  You see he just thinks Luke is another one of the junior players in town working his way up the ranks which is indeed true.   For our family and friends, however, it’s another matter entirely.  It’s not just Luke’s win it’s ours. 

Part of me wants the full story known because it is such a triumph.  I’d like to take the reporter aside after Luke’s interview and tell him the back story.  It would make great copy and be inspiring but is that fair?  I don’t know what the other kids have overcome to get where they are so I’m not sure I should go there.  Not to mention one of the goals for Luke has always been to fit in and he’s doing that.  He might not be the most eloquent of tennis players but he holds his own and actually handles the attention better than some “normal” kids would. 

Still, what I’m dying to tell the reporter is that this kid who at first glance looks like all the other Nike sporting teenagers in his bracket is anything but typical.  For most of his life he hasn’t fit in but with tennis he’s found his niche.  He’s got a team, or some might say a tribe, and life is a much better thing when you are surrounded by people cheering you on.

I also want to tell the newspaper man that it’s not just Luke winning everyone who has invested in his life both on and off the court is winning.  If I were to send a copy of Luke’s headline story to every person that has been a part of his success it would take hours just to get enough papers and even more time and postage to mail them all. 

Making the list would be hard.  I’m not sure how I’d start.  If it were an Academy Award moment the orchestra would cut me off before I’d even made a dent in the list anyway. How do you thank the cast of characters (I say that with love!) that have been involved in Luke’s life since he was four years old?  Where all kids have a list of folks who’ve nurtured them - life for an autistic kid requires a longer list. 

It’s a list that includes pediatricians, speech therapists, occupational therapists, resource specialists, instructional aides, and other folks who have expertise your kiddo needs.  Then you have teachers and volunteers at school who do the day in day out work and deserve more than just a nod.  Add to that the children’s church workers, pastors, and Young Life leaders that have all made an extra effort.   After compiling those names you could start with the tennis folks and then you should really add the snowboarding instructors because he’s not just a one sport kid.  The list keeps growing and you haven’t even mentioned the countless people praying for your kid who do so simply because their heart leads them that way. 

When I think about the people who make up this list I know that most of them would think they’ve played a minor role in Luke’s life even some that have worked with him for years.  It’s definitely a list of very humble people and usually they refuse to take any credit for his success.  Of course this makes them even more special in my mind because they’ve done it for Luke’s gain not their own.   I know without a doubt how vital the roles they’ve played have been in what I like to call Team Luke.  It’s a caravan of social connections that have been helping him travel through life for over 12 years now.  The road has been bumpy at times and sometimes even a bit scary but nobody gave up. 

As a result, every one of those people who has been on this journey with us has broadened Luke’s horizons.  Where the picture for his life at one time looked narrowly focused it’s now much wider than we could have imagined.  These folks have done this first by caring about him and then caring for him.  Through each one of them and their various networks we’ve been linked to something that Luke needed and later on down the road something Chase has needed.  God’s provision as we’ve traveled has been amazing. 

Over the years people have asked me what healing would look like for Luke?  Would one day we be able to say he wasn’t autistic anymore or would he always be and it was just a matter of learning to deal with it.  These are the kinds of questions that are hard to answer but I usually say I think it will come in layers.  I believe that’s how most healing we experience comes - in layers.  The philosopher/ogre Shrek said that love and ogres are like onions they have many layers and I’ve hung onto this metaphor believing the same is true of healing. 

Healing for Luke has come and is coming in layers.  Those layers have been built upon a foundation of God’s grace, mercy, and love demonstrated through all the people who have journeyed through Luke’s life with him.  Healing looks like a kid who back in the day could barely tolerate the playground and now walks out onto a tennis court in the blistering sun and gives it all he’s got.  He handles the pressure, the distractions, the weather, and even being the center of attention like he was born to do it but in fact he wasn’t.  Sometimes he wins and sometimes he loses but the picture as a whole is still what healing looks like.

That snapshot isn’t one a reporter or photographer can capture but for those in the know Luke’s face on the front page of the sports section is a picture that is worth a thousand words.  Thanks for reading these words and thanks for being a part of God’s healing hand at work in the life of Luke as well as his number one fan Chase. 

I don’t know what the future holds but if by chance it includes a Wimbledon final you might want to put in your request for tickets now!  In the meantime, there’s plenty of room on the bleachers at GJHS where Luke will be playing this fall.  All he asks is that you not say, “Good try!” when he misses a shot. 

At the end of the summer when my son goes back to school he’ll no doubt be asked about what he did by his teachers and classmates.  If he has his way he’ll be able to report that he was the summer 2010 Uno Champion.  While his big brother is acquiring as many friends as possible on Facebook Chase is busy challenging everyone he can to a game of cards.  He’s figured out it’s a really fun way to spend time together and it is. 

Before the card craze started I had decided that summer 2010 with the boys had to be filled with all the simple pleasures of the season -  swimming, riding bikes, playing tennis, drive-in movies, sleeping in, 4^th of July fireworks, and lots of summertime foods like fried chicken, potato salad, barbecue, and cold juicy watermelon.  I had no idea before that weekend that Uno would have to be added to the list but after my first decisive victory I wasn’t complaining.   

I’m new to Uno but it seems that everyone else on the planet isn’t.  In my data bank Uno cards come in a box that’s on an end cap at Target along with games like Farkle and Crazy Eights. I’ve never played those so why would I pick-up Uno?  My boys haven’t really been into card games so I never paid much attention.  Little did I know Uno is one of the most popular card games in existence with more reincarnations than Barbie who happens to have a Cali Girl Edition where you can draw a friendship card that allows you to swap hands with another player.  OMG - I had no idea!    

When Chase challenged me to a little Uno I never expected to actually like playing it.  I enjoy playing cards but prefer games like Gin Rummy while sitting poolside.  Saying “uno” when you only have one card left to play has only occurred to me when the waiter comes by and you can ask for “uno mojito por favor”.  However, Chase has found his competitive spirit and I really have no choice but to go along even if I don’t think of myself as someone who actually cares whether she wins or loses.   That was the case until we sat down to play and before the second deal I went from ambivalent to determined faster than the shuffle. 

Something about those plus two, reverse, skip and wild cards was just intoxicating and there was no rum involved!  Oh what I could do if the action cards in Uno could be used in real life! Beyond this intriguing thought why did I care so much about mastering the game and winning?  Probably for the same reasons most of us care about winning.  We want to feel successful and let’s face it winning feels really good. 

I was so proud of my big win first time out that I commented about it on it Facebook only to have my oldest son scold me for bragging which I deserved.  Besting your 14 year old at Uno isn’t really something to feel particularly proud of.  Unfortunately as much as I’d like to think I’m not insecure I am and in this case during that first game I somehow thought that winning mattered.  For some silly reason I needed to prove that I had value beyond putting a meal on the table.   I played a light-hearted game but inside I cared entirely too much. 

Winning validates us giving us the stamp of approval we sometimes desperately need - so much so that we create all sorts of symbols for our wins.  Some of them are fairly benign.  For his Special Olympics wins this year Chase got several ribbons and he displays them on his bulletin board.  It seems harmless especially in light of it being the Special Olympics. Luke has a shelf full of trophies from his tennis tournament wins.  These aren’t as benign in my opinion because they’re a pain to dust. Aside from the cleaning challenge I know that Luke puts a great deal of pressure on himself to keep winning.  I don’t think the trophies are the reason but they don’t help matters.  He’s figured out that winning bolsters his sense of self.   He also believes that if he didn’t have tennis he wouldn’t have much of a social life which makes it even more important.  Tennis success equals social success in his economy and that’s a lot of weight to carry. 

I’m no different.  I have a letter from the George H. Bush in my office that makes me feel good and one other framed commendation that I hung up because it’s hand painted and very pretty.  At least I tell myself that’s why.  Sometimes I look at those and think my work used to matter and now it doesn’t and that’s ridiculous.  Such stinking thinking I hate to admit to it. 

Western culture values winning almost obsessively to the extent that we talk about the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat far more than we do the idea that you can win while you play.  Our insecurities about losing creep into every area of our life giving birth to an inner monologue that erodes our sense of having any value apart from what we can master.  Sadly what that can translate into is wanting to master everything even people. 

Jerry Seinfeld knows this and it’s why he created the, “Marriage Ref”.  It’s billed as a television show where every couple gets what they want out of a marital dispute – a winner.   A panel of celebrities hears the disagreement, offers their opinions to the referee, and then he makes the call.   It’s a very funny show but after a few episodes you begin to realize that little thought is given to what winning will cost.  When the stakes are low it’s not that big of a deal but when the stakes are high in a given scenario not much consideration is given to what will be left of the relationship once the winner prevails.  It’s a classic example of winning the battle but losing the war.  If your sense of self is all wrapped up in the battle everyone will lose.  These are victories few can afford. 

We can’t afford them because relationships have more value than bragging rights.  The Pharisees had all the bragging rights and yet they didn’t actually know God.  They spent so much time trying to win every argument they missed the opportunity to defeat their egos and have meaningful relationships with others.  If you can’t figure out how to play with your family and friends who give you very tangible feedback you are going to have a hard time engaging an unseen God.  Relationships provide the reflection we need to see ourselves for who we really are but when you’re after a win you’re just looking at yourself in the mirror.      

I’d like to think I’m not a Pharisee but sometimes my ego is so fragile that I need to fill the void with a win more than God.  I’m blinded by my need and lose sight of the reality that winning doesn’t matter.  There’s nothing to prove. How you play the cards you’re dealt is far more important in life than whether you win every hand.  A win apart from God is nothing and a loss without Him is insurmountable. 

Fortunately Chase gets it far more than his Mom.  He wants to win and it will feel good but even with all his insecurities he realizes that no matter how the action goes down he’s still won.  He’s hanging with his family and having a good time and that beats anything.    

Checking in at a conference these days is a like checking into an all-inclusive resort.  You get a map, schedule of activities, meal ticket, satisfaction survey, and all sorts of other information designed to help you enjoy your stay.  One of the items in your goodie bag is always the dreaded nametag.  For some, a nametag might feel just fine clipped onto their lapel but for me it feels like a five pound out of focus snapshot hanging from my chest.  Whether it’s a clip-on, pin-on, stick-on, or lanyard I hate what has now become the equivalent of a resume. 

Fortunately, when I arrived at my first-ever writer’s conference last weekend a nametag hadn’t been made for me.  The registration volunteers scurried to make one but I stopped them quickly and told them not to bother I’d be just fine without it.  This turned out to be a good decision because after three days of surveying hundreds of nametags I’m not sure what I would have wanted printed on mine.

The name part seems pretty simple but since my name has changed again which name would I have used?  I could use my legal name but if I was going to promote my writing perhaps I should use the name under which it’s been published?  A quandary for sure but the good news is that I wasn’t the only person with this dilemma.  I noticed quite a few nametags where first names had been crossed off and changed and last names had been hyphenated.  I even saw a man with a hyphenated name but I wasn’t brave enough to ask him about this. 

Where you’re from is pretty straightforward but I noticed a few people who added details here as well.  The best was the tag that said, “Temporarily in Branson, MO.”  I got to thinking maybe the guy was a huge fan of country music and since the Grand Ole Opry is rained out he had to relocate for a while. 

Name and place used to be uncomplicated but we’re a society on the move struggling to find our identity so what can you expect?  Where it got really crazy was with titles and this is where I went nuts people watching.  As hard as I tried I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone because I was so intrigued with all the titles that had been preprinted and/or added in.  Despite any effort to the contrary my eyes immediately went right to the nametag.

It seems for one conference participant it was very important to let people know she’d earned her Master of Arts degree.  She’d taken a Sharpie and added “M.A.” after her name.  I wondered which art she felt like a master of - art or fine art.  I looked high and low for an R.N. or M.D. in case I started feeling faint at the sight of so many labels but I couldn’t find a medical professional in the bunch. 

Where the nametags became very puzzling was with the distinction between “writer” and “author”.  I understand the difference between a publisher and an agent even though both just essentially sell books but by definition a writer is an author so what gives?  It feels like a tomato/ta-mot-oh kind of deal but apparently quite a few of the Christian writers/authors in attendance were very concerned about being labeled properly. 

Curious lady that I am I finally decided to look up both words.  Ahead of cracking open my 30 year old Random House College Dictionary I thought surely I’ve been confused all these years and a writer must do something different than an author.   Nobody would go to the effort to change their nametag unless the difference between a writer and an author was significant. 

It seems, however, that for once I’m not confused and I do have it right.  An author is in fact a writer and a writer is an author if they actually write which they do.  A writer does need to produce something to be an author but that’s as far as the distinction between the two goes.  Now I was getting somewhere but just to be sure that time hadn’t changed things I looked up these definitions online only to discover that my Random House had proven reliable.  Time has not changed the definition of a writer or an author. 

Why then were people so concerned about this?  I could only conclude it had something to do with ego.  To say you’re an author suggests your work has been published whereas a writer could simply be someone who has strung a few words together.  I guess this is why if you want to get your proper respect when someone asks, you can’t simply say write because that doesn’t sound nearly as prestigious as, “I’m the author of Gone with the Wind II”. 

Labels, labels, labels, everywhere we go they follow.  Sometimes labels are useful.  A short word or phrase used to describe something can be very helpful.   It would be impossible to catalogue all the information we process during our lifetime without some labeling.  Categorizing things in terms of helpful, harmful, friendly, tasty, etc. brings order to our thinking.  People, however, are complex targets and when our labels shape our perceptions and stereotype them it’s not good.

Perhaps this is why the first time the word “autism” was mentioned to me with regard to my son I passed out.  I pictured Dustin Hoffman as Raymond in the movie, “Rain Man”.  I didn’t know a thing about autism beyond what this movie had portrayed.  From that day forward more labels have been attached to his life and mine than a widowed Orange County soccer Mom of four struggling to get by.  Just like that mother would be I’m as weary of labels as I am my life experience but I suppose it comes with the territory just like author, writer, publisher, and agent prevail at a gathering of wordy people.

It’s sad because our descriptions do more to limit our understanding than stretch it.  When someone refers to an autistic as “high functioning” what does that mean?  Does it mean they look more normal?  What does normal actually look like?  Does it look like you and the people you know?  With so many possibilities the circling begins and you miss the point.  If the casual observer thinks that life for a more normal looking autistic is easier than a child who is noticeably more impacted by autism they are mistaken. 

Ask a mainstreamed autistic teenager trying to navigate the crazy social landscape of high school and they might tell you they would rather live in their own little world.  Having enough social awareness to understand that you are a fundamentally different person than your average peer is not such a great thing.  Looking like you fit in doesn’t mean you do and at times like that you can’t feel very “high functioning”.  Being more adaptable and able to function fairly well with your peers isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  The emotional wear and tear combined with hormones is a rollercoaster ride. 

Perhaps this is why all the nametags make me crazy?  Yes they can break the ice and stimulate conversation but will it be anything meaningful?  Outward appearances are deceiving.  What you do isn’t who you are and how you are labeled isn’t what defines you.  What you do with what you’ve had says far more but even if you put your life story on your lapel nobody can read you with a quick glance!

If I wrote a blog post about every wonderful friend that I have I would be writing for days.  I don’t say that to sound impressive as if I did anything to deserve these friends.  I haven’t.  I try to be a good friend but on the friend meter I don’t know that I’m an extraordinary friend.  I’m not saying that to solicit compliments so PLEASE don’t send any. 

My point is that I’m very humbled by my friends and their obvious love for me and my children.  If I could be more like some of the friends I have I would be a better person.  I believe that God has brought many of them into my life just to show me that. 

One of those friends is Kelly my neighbor.   I hate to single out a particular friend because it’s like choosing a favorite between your children.  You simply can’t.  Still, I feel compelled to share the way Kelly has touched my life recently because it’s been very inspiring to me at a time I could use some inspiration.

Kelly’s son Mike has cystic fibrosis and is battling leukemia.  I suppose some other combination of horrible things could happen but I can’t think of any.  The softest most palatable way I can describe it is to say it’s a health train wreck.  When Kelly sends me messages about how Mike is I wonder how much more he can endure?  Then I shake my head and ask myself how is this mother holding up enough to send me this message?  I say this with a little experience in the mothering challenges category and believe me I’m nowhere near as tough as this gal.  When I think about mothers with soul strength Kelly has to be on the top of it.

Are you getting the picture?  Kelly is living every mother’s worst nightmare and then there’s me.  I’ve got some “stuff” going on right now in my life.  It’s hard but nobody’s life is threatened.  Healing and the full measure of God’s provision will come in time.  I have no doubt about that and yet sometimes I just can’t muster up a smiling face.  I try but I’m not that great of an actress.

Knowing this I prepared myself with every happy thought I could and went to visit Kelly and possibly see Mike.  I was determined that I would say absolutely nothing about what was going on with me.  I put every worrisome thought I had in the furthest corner of my mind before I walked in the door of her house.  Kelly came down the stairs smiling and after giving me a big hug immediately says, “Are you okay?  Something is wrong I know it.  Tell me.”  I stood there in her doorway taken aback by her mind reading powers!

What could I say she’d figured it out?  Am I that pathetically transparent I thought?  Yes, apparently so and as hard as I tried to distract her Kelly did not relent.  She found out what was troubling me and dismantled every bit of false bravado I had.  Then in a moment I will never forget looked me in the eyes and said, “Karen you don’t have to be strong because I will be your strength.”  She didn’t say it just once she said it several times looking me square in the face.  “I will be your strength – don’t you worry.  I will be your strength.  I will not stop praying and I will be your strength and you will be mine because I need that.”  Her tone was emphatic and she wouldn’t let go of my shoulders until I agreed.   So of course I did. 

I was speechless.  I stood in her entryway wondering how I could deserve such a friend.  I left overwhelmed and thought about every other friend I have and how while they haven’t said it just the way Kelly did they are saying the same thing.  They are saying they will help carry my burdens and likewise they need me to carry theirs because we’re in this mess called life together and indeed we are.   

I thought of what Paul writes in his letter to the Galatians when he says, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”  In the Greek the word used for burdens means “heaviness”.  It’s a heaviness that is overwhelming to a person.  A burden that is too much for them to bear alone.  It may be a burden they brought into their own life unintentionally or one that was arbitrarily handed to them.  Either way it doesn’t matter according to Paul.  It is also different than the type of burden he talks about later in his letter which is a load you are expected to carry on your own.  The first burden no matter what the cause is one you won’t be able to handle and the second is one you will.  The first kind of burden can’t be addressed by the often quoted belief that God never gives you more than you can handle because that’s simply not true especially when it comes to emotional strength. 

I think this is where we can take a lesson from Kelly who was reminding me that there is a fellowship that can only be found when we are willing to share in one another’s suffering.  There is a collective strength that can be harnessed if we enter into and share with each other the heartache we are all feeling for different reasons.  This is how we fulfill the law of Christ which is to love one another. 

The only way this can work, however, is if we are willing to let people see into us past our smiling veneer and if we are willing to look into them past theirs.  That’s what Kelly was saying to me.  I see you are hurting and you know that I am and so we have to be each other’s strength.  What made this so poignant to me is that Kelly has learned this because she is desperate and willing to let go of any bit of vanity she might have.  She’s fighting for the life of her child and subsequently anything that would get in the way of his healing she is willing to let go of. 

Most people in this kind of situation would horde their time and emotional energy but she looks at her situation in exactly the opposite way.  Instead of hanging on she’s letting go.  The beauty in that to me is inspiring.  How many of us when faced with a desperate situation can look past ourselves and offer someone something we don’t even think we have? 

When I think about my life I have to ask have I ever been that generous or humble?  If not I want to be because I believe it is in that kind giving that we can receive abundantly more than we could ever imagine.  Perhaps then whatever the burdens we have to bear will feel that much lighter.   

Somewhere down the road of my life a friend of mine and I developed this way of saying the word barbeque that was completely ridiculous.  It sounded more like bar-beee-cue than barbecue.  Whenever the subject of barbecuing came up we would laugh and slaughter the sound of this word with our exaggerated pronunciation.  It was one of those inside jokes that make no sense to anyone other than the people who made it up. 

Since that joke developed I have come to learn that in some parts of the world barbecue is no laughing matter and that poking fun at it is not a good idea.   Fortunately my education started before I moved to Texas where I have to come to decide that barbecue has to be the “state food”. 

If you’re like me and you’re not from the South you might think barbecue is something you do and not something you eat.  Fortunately, I learned this from my husband before I moved to Texas or I would have been completely confused by all the billboards going down the road advertising barbecue.  I would have had this picture in my mind of either thousands of people having cook outs or hundreds of stores selling outdoor grills.  The two pictures go hand in hand but that’s not what is being advertised.  The signs are directing you to countless restaurants all of which claim to have the best barbecue around.  In Texas the number of barbecue joints is comparable to the number of Starbucks in Seattle.  You can find one on almost every corner.

Like most Southern California girls I had no idea that barbecue is a method of preparation that doesn’t involve a grill.  That’s right there’s no Weber and the debate about what wood is the best for smoking meat - could split a family not just a tree!  That debate typically takes place while people are gathered for a meal in the Lone Star state because when folks get together there’s a 99% probability that you are going to have barbecue.  Barbecue is everywhere you go and the standard menu of sausage, brisket, ribs, beans, cold slaw, potato salad, white bread, and cobbler for dessert doesn’t even need to be published.   If you’re from Texas you just know. 

For the out of town folks all this barbecue probably sounds delicious and it is but I’ve got to confess I don’t know if I can take much more.  I feel like I’m drowning in sauce because almost every gathering I’ve been to has served barbecue.  Add to that the take-out barbecue that’s been served at home because it’s a quick easy crowd pleaser and I’m totally saturated. 

With this confession I feel ungrateful for a whole list of reasons and yet I still feel the way I do.  Before you write and scold me please consider that I can make a list as long as you can about all I have to be thankful for.  Having a meal to eat is a certainty for me and a luxury for more people in the world than I can even imagine.  I understand this. 

What I’m saying with my cries is that I miss what is familiar to me.  Moving, getting married, blending families, and figuring out what’s what in one of the largest states in the union has been a little overwhelming.  While it’s all good that much change in such a short amount of time can leave a person craving all things familiar including their favorite foods and barbecue just isn’t mine. 

A few weeks back at the reception for new families at my son’s school while I was sitting with a plate of barbecue in front of me I felt a little bit like the Israelites in the desert complaining.   After such a short time into their journey they started grumbling to Moses and Aaron and worried that they would starve.  They went so far as to say their life of slavery in Egypt was better.  I’ve read the story many times and thought they were very ungrateful to complain after they had just been released from captivity.   Knowing the end of the story and that God provided for them it’s easy to be judgmental and criticize them but lately I have a different perspective.

Change is unsettling and when you are trying to navigate through a sea of it you want to feel connected to something.  The easiest things to feel connected to are your routines and for most of us the routine things in our life involve familiar faces, places, and you guessed it - foods.  There’s a reason we call those foods “comfort foods” and it’s because we associate them with memories that steady our mind. 

I’m not a theologian but I can’t help but wonder right now if all the Biblical commentaries that criticize the Israelites for their complaining in the dessert are missing an important point.  I think the Israelites were missing with their hearts more than their stomachs but didn’t know how to say that.  It’s easier to say a bowl of ice cream will make you feel better than it is to admit that you just want to eat some ice cream with a familiar face and someone who knows something about you and your life experience. 

More than anything what my last plate of brisket and the near meltdown it brought told me was that I need to make a point amidst all the change going on in my life right now to connect to people that I have some history with.  It was a bar-beee-“cue” that I’ve been so focused on physically getting settled that I haven’t paid enough attention to the emotional aspect of feeling settled.  These relationships and the familiarity of them remind me of who I am and the purpose I know God has for my life.   There’s no shame in admitting that I miss what is familiar and comforting.  It doesn’t represent any unhappiness or lack of gratitude for where God has me - it’s just honest.