Allegra

I had a job interview yesterday (Wednesday). It was for a mother's helper job in a nearby town. The lady who I met with has three kids. Allegra is thirteen, Caleb is ten, and Lucas is eight. I didn't get a chance to meet Caleb, but I met Allegra and Lucas. Lucas seemed like your typical eight-year-old boy. Allegra, however, is autistic.

To be honest, that kinda made me uncomfortable. And this was for a couple of reasons. First, my last babysitting job interview was a very high-maintenance job watching two-year-old twin boys who had minor disabilities and delays (could not feed self, underweight, hearing impaired, etc.) I did not get the job.

The second was probably the primary aspect of the job that made me uncomfortable. We've talked about dealing with special needs students in my Early Childhood Music class. I had a babysitting job when I was fifteen that involved watching a six-year-old boy who suffered from learning disabilities due to his biological mother's drug usage. (He was not potty trained, he had a limited vocabulary, and he often went completely out of control). In elementary school, there was an autistic boy who was a year older than me that went to school and a church daycamp with me.

But, I am generally uncomfortable around people I don't know. And when you throw in something like autism, it's almost scary. I'm not experienced with that. Sure, I went to school with an autistic boy, but all that really did to help me for this was make me a bit more comfortable simply around Allegra.

After the interview, I was given a ride closer to the bus stop (a mile-and-a-half away from their house). Yes, I was given a little insight on what it would be like working with Allegra (hand biting, etc.) But that car ride also opened my eyes even more.

The radio in the car was turned to my favorite station: Star 99.1 (the local Christian radio station). It's the only station they can listen to in the car, and they have to prepare Allegra when they go out of town because that station is not available everywhere.

I just thought that was awesome. I would be perfectly fine not changing the dial on the radio from that station and if I ever drive that's going to be my primary radio station of choice. It's really nice knowing someone else who likes that radio station.

And, suddenly, Allegra wasn't that autistic girl I was potentially going to watch a few afternoons a week. She was a thirteen-year-old that I shared a common interest in: the love of a particular radio station.

And sometimes, it only takes one common interest to start a friendship.

(After all, Alex P. and I became friends after one conversation on the topic of our mutual hatred of our science class).

Celebrating the Freedom

Back in January 2008, Pastor Matt preached his "Revolution" series. During the second week of that series, he mentioned something that stuck with me:

It's ok to celebrate freedom before it comes.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I've been struggling through some pretty major things lately, and I know things have improved a lot over the past, but I also know that I'm still in the fight. I'm still not completely free from this.

But I know I will be free some day, and I'm learning to praise God now. I'm thanking Him not just for what He's already done, but what He is going to do.

I guess it's kind of a test of faith. Praising God and celebrating the freedom to come. In a way, it reminds us that there is hope. It gives us the strength to keep going, and it reminds us that God is still in control over our circumstances- even if we don't see the light.

I mean we kind of believe in "The sun will come out tomorrow." (Well, except for certain parts of the world at certain times of the year of course). We don't expect it to storm all the time. Eventually, the clouds will part.

So why not have that attitude of trust that the clouds in my life will part? Why not praise God for parting the clouds...even if it's still raining?

I know this is going to be tough. It's really hard to keep praising God for freedom that isn't in sight, but I'm going to try to just worship God no matter what. Whether I'm at a high or at a low. Whether I can taste freedom or I feel like it's been snatched away. Because I know that I will experience true freedom one day.

I was sure by now,God, that You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

The Ellie Letters: I'll Never Be Good Enough

Does this make you happy? Do you like to get under my skin?

When I'm at a high, do you like knowing what it takes to bring me down?

Do you like knowing that I never feel like I'm enough. No matter how hard I try, I won't be good enough. I've been rejected, and you've made it clear that it's my fault. I'm to blame for my problems...even if I had no control over the situation.

I'm tired of this. I'm tired of striving and struggling when I'll never amount to anything in the end.

Who I am doesn't really matter, does it? My dreams. My interests. They were only important for a short time, but I'm older now. I need to wake up and move on from these dreams I have.

You say I'm not "normal." The way I think is not "normal."

What the heck do you know about normal?

And what do you even know about me?

I take a risk to try to get help so that I can try to become "normal," but you claim this is all my fault. That I'm not trying.

And maybe I'm not trying anymore. But can you blame me?

After all, I'll never be good enough for you.

-Ellie

The Ellie Letters: The Prayer of a Sixth Grader (May 3, 2008)

Dear God,

You know things at school are getting rough for me. I can’t seem to find any friends. I mean some people are nice and all, but they just aren’t good friends to me. I really need Your help. I pretty much have NO friends and people teasing me. Help me please. Why are you doing this to me? Please. I’m tired, scared, lonely, and unhappy. Just please find a way to show me that you really care for me. I’m miserable. I need you. I need a way to feel that I’m not the only one in the world.

Love,
Ellie

This letter is unique in that this was actually taken directly from my prayer journal from sixth grade. This was first published online in May 2008, but it was written in October 2002. This is also the only letter that is not written to a particular person or group of people.

The Ellie Letters: Cows with Devil Horns Play Middle School Volleyball (October 16, 2007)

Hey, remember me?

Don't bother answering that. I know you do. You see me in the halls between classes, though we never acknowledge each other. We've had classes together for over three school years. I know you remember what happened. Otherwise, maybe things would be different.

We were only in middle school at the time, and at the top of the school. As eighth graders, we supposedly ruled the school, but in actuality, there was no "we" to it at all. I was nothing more than a thirteen-year-old sixth grader. The sixth graders knew the building better than I did. I was new to the town that year, and of course new to the school as well. I carried with me from my old home more than just the bags that were packed in the mini-van and moving truck. I carried the heavier baggage locked up inside my heart, and then covered that up.

But that doesn't really matter.

There is little point in telling you about the entire year. I honestly don't care to remember it all. Still, there is one thing I cannot seem to forget and that is our gym class. It was period eight, right between my Reading and Writing and English classes. I assume it was your favorite class, but I only saw it as a sweaty Hell.

I've never been good at gym. I've never been able to win the relay races, throw, catch, kick, or anything related to gym class. I have been teased and mocked since elementary school because of that. I have been the last one picked for teams, and that's usually only because the teacher just put me into a team; if it were up to the captains, I wouldn't have been picked. I also never learned how to play volleyball. They never really taught the real rules in school where I came from. The rules changed from day to day, but nothing was ever "official".

Was that my fault? I don't think so, but what does that matter anymore? Even with learning the rules to the game, I still found it to be stupid. You yelled at me to get a ball that flew over my head and out of reach from my outstretched fingertips. It was obvious much earlier that my skill was null, and it is only common sense that I would not be much better with a ball out of sight and out of reach. You saw no difference though. You kept yelling at me. I tried and missed; you yelled. I didn't try; you yelled. I was always on the loosing side.

So, it wasn't as if you made my life any less miserable during the year. I'm certain it was a misunderstanding, but you loved yelling, so I was unable to get a single word in. So this is my chance to say what I was unable to say before.

I have never seen such an immature conflict. Honestly, I find the whole thing stupid, and most of it a little funny. I'm sure most outsiders would agree. You freaked out because I supposedly called you "cows."

I did no such thing.

Either you thought it just be fun to mess around with me, or maybe you actually did think I called you cows. Either one is a possibility. I did have a sore knee or something a few days before, and perhaps you misheard the"ow, ow..."

You didn't know I said "ow" did you? Well, I did.

Still, I don't think that being called a cow is such a bad thing. It's actually kind of funny. That's the only funny thing though.

You were laughing, but what is so funny about being cornered in the locker room? What makes cursing and yelling and laughing at me so entertaining? Do you get all of your satisfaction from making other people cry, or just me? Your lives must have been very dull before I moved here.

I just wanted to get out of the locker room and talk with my friends before I went to English. I said only two words to one of you: "Excuse me."

"What? Did you fart or something?"

So, maybe I did snap a little in response, but you had given me a hard enough time in class. Plus, that comment was completely unnecessary Still, maybe I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, and I apologize.

But then, you swarmed in like an angry hive of bees. At once, nearly every girl in our gym class stood so that my only retreat was the corner. You yelled, and claimed I called you cows. You cursed and screamed, and only after an unsuccessful attempt to stand up for myself, I was able to escape.

There are a few things I cannot deal with. Among the top of that list are being accused or blamed for things I didn't do, being yelled at, and constant teasing. You did all of those.

And I ran out of there, shouting for you to "shut up" as I tried to hold back those angry tears. My attempts failed.

You didn't let it go though. The next day was another torturous class."Don't have a cow! Moo! Don't have a cow!" It was endless taunting and laughing.

That wasn't the worse though. I think you said it purposely so I could hear. You looked straight at me when you said it. You saying it almost confirmed that you find satisfaction in hurting people.

"I don't care if I make her feel like less of a person."

You didn't care? Well, maybe you would be glad to know that it worked.

-Ellie

This was the second "letter" written in the series, and it is currently the only letter written to people I met in New Jersey... specifically, a group of girls in my eighth grade gym class.