Both professionally in my private practice as a neuropsychologist, but also personally, if I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it 100 times: “I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.” People come to me when they are broken and hurting, in need of help, in need of answers. They aren’t sure if their child has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, a learning disability, or autism.
“We’re in the fire.” That’s how I described our current life situation when I ran into a couple of friends recently who asked how me and my family were. “This may go down as our most challenging year ever,” I explained. “That’s saying a lot given all you two have endured in your 30 years together!” one of them replied. [more]
Have you ever longed to be part of the group? To be noticed? Accepted? I’ve been there. Wanting to be accepted, included, validated. At a women’s conference, I hoped for the wisdom of a mature woman in the faith for my current heart’s cry. I stood in front of her, waiting in line to have just a few moments of her time. [more]
“I’m worried that, no scratch that. I have a concern that if we don’t address the issue, it could become a bigger issue later on,” I explained. “Why did you say it like that?” “Because our words have power, and God tells us not to worry. So I’m going to choose not to worry in this situation, and trust Him, while taking appropriate action.” [more]
Everything inside me was on hyper-alert as I sat in the hospital’s surgical waiting room. When someone stood to get a cup of coffee, my gaze reflexively followed them. When someone signed in or out at the waiting room desk, my head jerked up. When a name was called over the speaker, my mind did a double take to ensure it wasn’t mine. And every time a surgeon walked through the doors to confer with a family member, I started to rise, even though I knew it would still be hours before I would hear a word. [more]
I recognized her, but not for the reason you might think. She walked into my office, her two week old infant over her shoulder, infant carrier slung over one elbow, diaper bag with burp cloth falling out over the other elbow. A pacifier hanging from a robin’s egg blue ribbon dangled from her clenched teeth. “Here, how can I help you?” I offered. [more]