Jimmy Buffett and the power of prayer.
In my late teens I was the equivalent of a Salt Life sticker on a Missouri SUV.
Jimmy Buffet was my hero (yes, in a landlocked state).
My grades were bad and life was good.
I was wild, but I was kind.
I was some type of dirtbag hedonist hippie who wanted everything to be breezy, fun, and simple.
My senior year, I sat down with my high school counselor to talk about next steps after graduation. I still remember my counselor telling me that college wasn’t a viable option.
She was right.
I had bad grades. I was disruptive in class. I went to every party and hosted even more. I had been arrested for underage drinking. I lived like I had already flunked out of college – why did I need to go prove it?
On paper I certainly was not college material.
But four years after that conversation with my guidance counselor. Who told me not to even consider college. Who rightly tried to get me to explore other options. I graduated from the University of Missouri with a 3.4 GPA.
There are two lessons in my story that relate back to being a special needs parent.
Life can change so much in four years.
With Jude, milestones come and go without any real progress. Change is incremental. At times, I feel like nothing we’re doing is working. But then I remember in my own life when time, maturity, and change seemed to accelerate. Those moments for me felt like a bolt of clarity that God used to thrust me forward into something better. I’m praying that Jude, like her dad, has the same eras in her life. While she takes her time maturing, she has moments of clarity. Where everything clicks and she plays catch-up. Will it happen? Who knows? But I have to force myself to remember the miraculous way it happened for me.
There’s life-altering power in praying parents.
Without the prayers of my mom and dad I’d be somewhere warm (even though I sweat like it’s my job), in flip flops, probably bartending and never waking up before 10:00a.m. I’d be living that Jimmy Buffet life trying to fill my emptiness with cold beer, trashy women, mediocre bar food, and terrible Hawaiian shirts. If I’m honest, there’s probably a doobie or two in there somewhere.
But my parents prayed for me. I firmly believe who I am and what I am is a result of God hearing and answering their prayers. God answered prayers that protected me. That helped me find positive friends. That helped me push forward. That ultimately led me back to Him.
And I want to pray that way for Jude and Miller that way. I want God to be at work in the middle of their mess. I want Him to move like only He can and change the trajectory of their lives through His divine intervention. And I pray now that I’m wise enough to recognize when it happens and give God the credit.
God thanks for holding my kids in your hand. I pray for protection and guardrails when they need it. I pray that you push them when they need it. I pray for moments and eras of clarity and accelerated growth. Thank you for what you’ve done in my life. Thank you for what you’re doing in theirs. Amen.