how the light gets in

by Andrea Smithberger
how the light gets in
  • November 1: Honoring
  • Day 2: Signaling
  • Day 3: Revealing
  • DAY 4: Reminding
  • Day 5: Reflecting
  • Day 6: Changing
  • Day 7: Surrounding
  • Day 8: Healing
  • Day 9: Filtering
  • Day 10: Spreading
  • Day 11: Unveiling
  • Day 12: Distinguishing
  • Day 13: Challenging
  • Day 14: Nourishing
  • Day 15: Unassuming
  • Day 16: Leading
  • Day 17: Delighting
  • Day 18: Reaching
  • Day 19: Shining
  • Day 20: Reviving
  • Day 21: Growing
  • Day 22: Comforting
  • Day 23: Holding Space
  • Day 24: Beckoning
  • Day 25: Stunning
  • Day 26: Igniting
  • Day 28: Introducing
  • November 2020
  • Tag: PTSD

    • Eye Exercises

      Posted at 3:08 pm by How the Light Gets In, on March 5, 2020

      I’ve become a real big girl in these past few years. I mean, I am 44 years old. So, in theory, I really should behave like a strong, determined, positive, aware adult but that hasn’t been the case.

      Are you all grown up and settled into your best life? Yeah, I didn’t think so. In my 44 years of well-earned wisdom, I’m here to tell you:

      1. You are ok

      2. Keep Going

      3. There’s so much more to learn

      My trigger for this random post was a #2 Ticonderoga. Lily put the freshly sharpened pencil in my face and asked, “Aren’t pointy pencils the best?” And just like that, my heart got all heavy and achey.

      Remember when Joseph was sick? If you don’t, here’s the recap: For 18 months or so, Joseph was declining before our eyes. His brain was so swollen from whatever he was fighting that his eyes went crossed and stayed there. He had 11 lesions on his brain. He’d lost 14 pounds and was losing muscle tone every day. He struggled through brain fog. The swelling also gave him hypersensitivity to just about everything. My little boy was slipping away in front of us and no one knew why and no one knew what to do.

      Among many visits to many doctors, there was one I looked forward to and that was our weekly check up with the ophthalmologist. Dr. Collins always offered a calm voice in the chaos of appointments and tests and diagnoses.

      One visit, Dr. Collins gave us homework. A daily assignment for me and Joseph.

      And I didn’t want to do it.

      Her instructions were for Joseph and I to sit across from each other, knee to knee. I was to hold up a sharpened pencil right in front of his little nose and then move the pencil slowly to the left and back to center. And repeat. And repeat until his eye got tired. Then we would do the same to the right.

      Try to imagine how hard it was looking at my boy back then. I would willingly sit beside him and sketch with him. I would happily make him cookies and hold him in my lap and feel him relax.

      But this homework was making me do something I was avoiding; I would have to face Joseph. I would have to look him in the literal eye and face what was scaring me. And I would have to do it again and again.

      And I did my homework. Every night, I faced Joseph and we did eye exercises. I looked right into his eyes that were confused and trying and saw a little boy much the same.

      I learned that when those tiny, spidery vessels would show up turning his eyes red; he would want to keep pushing. So, I learned to hold back my tears and push him to keep going. I fought with God in my head, “Why is this happening? What is even happening?” I learned how determined Joseph is. I learned I could face the hard stuff.

      Only God could use a daily eye exercise to train up my heart.

      What little thing could you start doing today to train your heart?

      If I can do it, you can do it. Face the hard thing – with a friend, in prayer, through therapy – Face the hard thing.

      Start small.

      Maybe screenshot this verse from 2 Timothy 1:7 and repeat it every day.

      2 Timothy 1:7 TPT

      Mighty. Power. Love. Self-Control.

      God made you stronger than you know.

      Remind me of this when I’m wimping out later today💗

      Posted in March 2020, Uncategorized | 2 Comments | Tagged 2 Timothy 1:7, How the Light Gets In, Jesus, Pain, PTSD, Therapy
    • PTSD…maybe?

      Posted at 6:20 am by How the Light Gets In, on January 24, 2018

      Joseph: Mom, I hate 4:00.  It’s like the worst time.

      Me: (eye roll) Why Joseph?  Why could you possibly hate 4:00?

      Joseph: They were supposed to let me out at 4:00 and they didn’t and we hoped and hoped but they didn’t.

      Me:  Joseph, are you talking about GBMC?  Buddy, that was a year and a half ago.  And 4:00 now is snack time and it’s the time we sit down for Thanksgiving dinner and it’s still light outside so you can play.

      Joseph: It still makes me worried.

      I’m doing the best I can.  But this is hard.  Maybe you can help.  6 out of 7 of us Smithbergers are on the same page.  That’s 84.5% of our family that is happy to be free from the mess of the past two years.   Joseph is just not free.  The rest of us want to hang the “Hooray” banner…

      But, Joseph is simply not there. I can’t tell you how many times over the past two months I have asked, maybe even yelled, “Why Joseph?  Why are you not happy all the time?”

      Why isn’t he excited about life and his new found freedom??  Last year our lives were consumed with doctors visits, new diagnosis paths, projections, brain fog, pain, testing, making up school work, tears.  We are done with all that!

      He is just NOT happy.  He is timid and angry and hard.  Nothing is ever good enough.

      What makes things worse is he looks so perfect.  He has one scar on this chest but NOTHING else.  He has nothing after almost two YEARS of medical chaos.

      But Joseph is somewhat crippled inside.  His scars are deep down.  And those are the worst kind.

      I try to talk things out.  (words are my favorite tool for just about everything) I light a fire and pop popcorn and bake M&M cookies.  I read “Wonder” or “Tom Sawyer” out loud at bedtime.  I let him use whatever he wants from the recycling bin for his creations.  I pray with him.  I pray for him.  I. I. I…

      I am not enough. And that is hard to accept.  I can not erase his flashbacks or nightmares.  I can’t calm his angry outbursts.   For the love, at this point, I can’t control my angry outbursts.

      I can’t figure out when or how to let him live out his authentic healing path or when to step in and nudge him or stop him to help him along that path.   Because this is HIS story too, obviously.  And he needs to process and heal in his time.  But he’s a little kid.  And, I am his mom.  I want for him to work through his feelings and to own his healing.  But, it’s not happening.

      So, what do I do?  I consult my favorite medical professional, Google.  I type in some of Joseph’s behaviors and get PTSD.

      I kind of shrug it off because I have always associated PTSD with soldiers, as a post-war sort of thing.  But it starts make so much sense.  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  The little dude is so stressed out because he is dealing with the stress of such a crap year that he fought through and stuffed down and it’s all unraveling.

      So, here’s where I usher Google out and invite God in.  And by now, you know, we know, He is going to answer.  

      I journal every morning.  It’s my way of laying it all out.  Sometimes it’s just whatever comes to mind, or maybe a nagging pull on my heart.  There are a lot of Thank you’s in my journal.  Recently, Joseph is filling the pages.  God, WHAT is going on?  God, WHY can’t he be happy?  Lord, HOW do I help him feel peace in his 9 year old heart?  When you ASK, God answers.  There are so many references to God hearing you in the Bible.  But my most relevant comes from the Book of Andrea.

      I fill my journal pages with questions to a seemingly invisible God, and God answers on a Tuesday filled with friends & conversations.  At breakfast with one friend, I never get to talk to, and her first question is have I seen the article on childhood trauma & how it affects adulthood. And we spill honest, hard, good words.  So thankful.  Then I get a phone call from another friend I rarely see and she tells me I have “been on her heart” and she wants to know how I “really” am.  So, I tell her.  Oh, we’re fine.  That lasted for 5 minutes and then I unload what’s really been going on.  And she tells me her sister is a… wait for it… she’s a therapist who treats kids with PTSD.

      Why consult Google?  Because it’s at your finger tips?  So is God.  

      “And this is the confidence that we have toward Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, HE HEARS US.” 1 John 5:14

      You have stuff.  I have stuff.  We all have stuff.  If it’s pushed way down deep, or if it feels like it’s choking you; ASK God to see it and help you navigate through it.   And watch for, listen for His answer.

      As for Joseph, I contacted the therapist and we will see.  Right now, I’m going to open up my journal.  A few thank you’s are in order.

      Posted in JANUARY 2018 | 1 Comment | Tagged 1 John 5:14, How the Light Gets In, PTSD, Scars

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