A CHRISTMAS LIKE NO OTHER

I am one of those people who do not mind listening to Christmas music early. As soon as Halloween is past, I have the radio in my car set to the stations that play non-stop Christmas music until the day after Christmas. It is a holiday that has been very meaningful and sacred to our family. This Christmas has become one I will never forget. Early in November, while driving in my car and listening to some of our traditional carols, I turned down the music and began praying. I asked God to make this Christmas a special one, one like no other Christmas we have ever had. I did not want it to be just another holiday season of family traditions. I wanted it to be more. I wanted it to be life-changing for all of us. Well, I do not know how many times I have heard people say, “Be careful what you ask God for. He may give it to you. Fast forward to Tuesday, December 18th. I happen to be at home. I was doing some needed chores around the house that morning. I saw my phone ring. I did not recognize the number, so I did not answer. A couple minutes later my phone was ringing, I saw it was Becky. Upon answering, I heard screaming on the phone, “Jon, the school called. Jacob had a seizure. The paramedics are at the school. They are going to take him to a hospital but I do not know which one.” I left for the school expecting to find Jacob worn out, groaning and crying. When I arrived at the school, I found the ambulance by the gym and pool entrance. I thought that was odd. Jacob has autism and spends most of his day in the ASD classroom. I was then directed to the pool area. There were many thoughts that went through my head, including whether or not Jacob’s seizure happened in the water. When I saw Jacob, instead of seeing him worn out and groaning, he was unresponsive. He had a tube in his mouth. I tried talking to him. “Hey Bubba! Daddy’s here!” I found Becky crying. When the paramedics took him into the ambulance, I told Becky she could ride in the ambulance and I would follow behind. While in the car, I was trying to call all the people I could to inform them of what was happening. It was when we were going down Square Lake Rd that Becky called me from the ambulance. She told me the driver said I still needed to follow the traffic laws and I could get pulled over or hurt in an accident. At the time, being slightly irrational, I was thinking to myself, “What traffic laws? Who cares? I want to be with my son.” However, I did comply. The last thing we needed was to have another crisis on our hands. Upon arriving at the hospital, Jacob had been moved into the trauma unit. It is much different than on television, especially when you hear one of the docs say, “This does not look good.” After what seemed like eternity, they finished a few X-Rays and moved him into a room for a few more tests. I was standing in the Hallway of the Emergency Unit, trying to be strong for Becky and help her while at the same time feeling helpless and weak. I thought of the words to a song from a long time ago, “The Warrior is a Child”. That is how I felt. How could I “be strong” for Becky when I was trying to make sense of it myself. I was wondering if I would ever speak to my son again. I was longing to hear one of his funny sayings, such as “Jacob did spit his chicken out in South Dakota, mommy was mad”. I wondered if I would ever feel the “not so gentle” hit on my back every morning. If he did survive, how much functioning would he have? Will he be able to speak at all? After all, if he had water in his lungs, that could change his ability to function. I began to think of how our life would change if Jacob didn’t make it. We began to fear the worse. I was praying, “God, don’t take him!” We have so many happy memories. Jacob is well-liked by all. At church he walks around and greets all his favorite people. Many of his peers, at church and at school, love him. At Clarkston High School, they have a link program where they match up a peer with each of the students with autism. I remember once suggesting to one of his peers whom I knew really well, that he be Jacob’s link because of his heart for people. He said he would, except that “everybody wants to be Jacob’s link”. You see, life would not only be different for us. It would also be different for the many people who have the privilege of knowing him and being his friend. Jacob has a sense of humor that can rival just about anyone. He can imitate others like that of famous imitator, Rich Little. This is especially true in the autism classroom, where people can witness many different sayings and sounds of those who are blessed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Yes, I did say that. This is not an error. I am a parent who initially had to work through the acceptance of having children with autism. I have often said, if someone finds a “cure” for autism, I would not want our children to have it. I believe God made them who they are and in His eyes they are how He made them to be. I am offended by all the “cure autism” bumper stickers. What do they need to be “cured” of? Is it possible that those of us who are “neuro-typical” need to adjust or thinking? Then again, who of us is “neuro-typical”? While the doctors were doing the tests on Jacob, I told Becky I was going to step out for a bit. I wanted to send a message on Facebook, asking our friends to pray. We are a family that believes in prayer. We believe God is present and hears our requests. As I stepped out, Becky began praying out loud, “Jesus, please don’t take him!” During that time, a person in the hallway approached Becky and said, “God is going to take care of Jacob. He is going to be okay!” Becky had never seen this woman before, nor did she see her again. Could it have been an angel telling her Jacob was going to be fine? Following my return, one of the medical professionals told us Jacob was going to be moved to PICU. We could meet him there. We were told the tests look negative and as far as they can see, there was no water in the lungs from the pool. The brain looked good, but he was going to need more tests. They also said Jacob would have a breathing tube for at least 24 hours. He would likely be at the hospital through the rest of the week and possibly on Christmas. Upon checking my Facebook account, we had received a plethora of messages from friends and family saying they were praying for us. Even a pastor friend of mine from the West side of Michigan, with whom I had been on many Bike Trips, mentioned they prayed for Jacob during their board meeting. Can we “feel” the prayers of people? It may not go along with some of the more fundamental doctrines and/or theologies. However, I do not know how else to explain the “peace that passes understanding” we felt. Not too long after Jacob’s arrival in the ICU, he woke up, complaining as best as he could without being able to speak, about the tube in his mouth. We looked at the nurse. She said, it’s not like he is not able to breathe on his own.” They took the tube out of his mouth. About an hour later, he was trying to move his restrained arms to take out his IV and a horribly uncomfortable neck brace. He was talking and saying, “Time to go home! Somebody else’s turn to stay at the hospital.” We were thrilled out of our minds to hear him talk, even if he had “an attitude”. By this time, I was telling the nurses, “He will sleep and feel better if you take that brace off his neck.” With his autism, Jacob cannot always communicate for himself. They took his IV out and removed his neck brace. Jacob rolled over and with a sigh of relief, went back to sleep. About an hour later he woke up and looked at me. I said, “How are you doing Bubba?” He responded by saying, “Good!” I said, “Becky, he responded to my question!” One of the big highlights for me was at about 4am, laying on the hospital room futon (Becky and I were alternating between the futon and the chair). I woke up to Jacob’s face being only a foot above mine while saying “Lay down with daddy!” He was up and walking around. By 6am Jacob was yelling at the nurses and doctors, “Time to go home! Hey Lady?” Two day’s prior, we would have been upset with Jacob for his obnoxious behavior. On that morning, we were thrilled. I will never forget that morning in early November while driving my car on the way to work, praying that this would be the most special Christmas ever. I remember praying that the birth of Christ would be ever more real to us than any other season in the past. Through this, we have learned so much about God’s love for us and his goodness. We are thankful for the many people who were praying for a recovery to be quick and complete. We did not expect Jacob to be home so soon. In speaking with so many people, we heard the phrase, “You got an early Christmas present!” I began to think about all the things people believe are so important. It was like on the movie “Titanic”, while the great ship was sinking, money was flying everywhere, but nobody cared. They were running for their lives. As I reflected, I began to think of how unimportant so many things in life are. While Jacob was lying on bed in the trauma unit, I did not care about any sports team, what I was getting for Christmas, what bills we had to pay, when my student loans would be paid off or how many clients I needed to see this week at my private practice. It all seemed insignificant. I just wanted to be with Jacob, talking with him, laughing with him and going places with him. On Thursday afternoon, Becky and my daughter Hannah went to meet with the Lifeguards who were present and performed the chest compressions on Jacob. Becky heard one say she could not find a pulse at one point with Jacob. All of them had tears in their eyes and were so happy and shocked to hear how well Jacob was doing. We thank God for their timing and effective response. Yes, this will be a Christmas we will never forget. Over 2,000 years ago, God brought hope into the world by sending his son to be a sacrificial gift for us. He sent him into our violent neighborhood, knowing he would experience pain, hurt, rejection, death and resurrection. I have said before, I would not give Jacob up for the world, even if the world deserved it. Yet, God sent Jesus Christ into our world, for us, even though we do not deserve it. It is in times like this that we can get more of a glimpse of God’s love and goodness. Looking back at that early November drive to work, I probably would not have asked God to make this Christmas “so special”, if I had known all that we were going to go through with Jacob. However, I do not regret it. I am thankful for what we have learned through this. May God bless all of you and have a Merry Christmas!

The First Game He Ever Saw Me Play

In his book, “A Father, a Son and a Three Mile Run”, Keith Leenhouts tells a true story about an Ivy League football player who lacked talent, but was indeed a dedicated team player. He never missed a practice, but rarely played in any games. The coach noticed the boy had a rather tight relationship with his father. He often saw them walking arm in arm around campus. One day the player’s father died. He asked the coach if he could start in the upcoming game. It was the biggest game of the year. One small mistake could destroy the team’s chances of winning. Reluctantly, he agreed to start him. At the opening kickoff, the ball went sailing to the player. Coach held his breath, hoping he would not fumble or make a costly mistake. Instead the player ran it up to midfield. Sensing something good might be happening, coach left him in the game and designed a play for him. The player ran the ball for 20 yards. The next play, he ran it in the end zone for a touchdown. Throughout the game, coach had the player play offense and defense. He would tackle, knock passes down, intercept the ball and run with determination. The opposing team was confused by this mystery player. He was not on any of the scouting reports. They had not properly prepared for his game. When the game was over, the coach went over to the player sitting quietly in the corner with his head in his hands while everybody else was celebrating. The coach asked him, “What happened out there? You are not as good as you were tonight?” The player responded softly, “You see coach, my father was blind. This was the first game he ever saw me play!” Today, it seems as if fatherhood has become an endangered species. In wishing a Happy Father’s Day to the many father’s out there, I also hear the words of the Apostle Paul saying, “Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.” Yes, I rejoice with many like myself who love being a dad and a husband, and also have been blessed with a great dad and had the honor of having a great father-in-law. Yet, I also mourn with those who have never known their father, or experienced abuse or hurt from their father. I also mourn with those like my wife, whose fathers have passed away. I mourn with fathers who have experienced the loss of a child through runaway or death. May God bless all fathers and the many who have taken the time to mentor those who have needed a dad. Happy Father’s Day!

Eighty-One

I was recently asked by a parent what only a small minority of people could do to help stop bullying in our schools and communities. I have had others ask me if it is worth it to try to make a difference in our society. I have heard pastors ask the question, “If our churches ceased to exist, would our communities even notice. It reminded me of a story I once heard.

Almost 20 years ago, the late African-American Preacher from Los Angeles, Dr. E.V. Hill, spoke to a crowd of 20,000 at an event near Denver, Colorado. He told of the time when J. Edger Hoover had invited 200 people, including himself, to Washington D.C to talk about the problem New York City was having with the Black Panther Party. Mr. Hoover informed the group that the Black Panther Party was ruining New York City. They were causing stores to close at 4pm. Millions of people were leaving the city because of the disruption the Black Panther Party. Some stores were closing their doors for good. Central Park was no longer safe to walk in. Churches could not have services at night. Why? The Black Panther Party was intimidating and ruthless.

Dr. Hill raised his hand to ask an important question. He said, “Mr. Hoover, how many people are part of this Black Panther Party? How many people is it that are causing stores to close their doors? How many are chasing 4 million people out of the city?”

J. Edgar Hoover responded, saying “81!” Addressing the crowd, Dr. Hill repeated the words a few times over. “81! 81! 81 chasing 4 million people out of the city. 81 are causing stores to close and people to cease from walking through Central Park. Even though the activity of the Black Panther Party should be condemned, they should be applauded for their effectiveness.”

Then Dr. Hill looked to the audience of 20,000 people and said, “When I look out here, I see 81 all over the place.” He then went on to challenge the audience to not limit themselves as to what kind of impact they might be able to have on their families, communities and world.

With God’s help, anyone can make a difference.

A Tribute to Farmer Frank

It has been almost a month since my father-in-law, Frank, passed away. Even though my only relation to him was via marriage into the family, he was still one of my favorite people I have ever known. Our trips to the farm in Iowa will never be the same anymore. I had the privilege of sharing at his funeral. Below is a written document of what I shared. We all still love and miss him.

If I were asked to write down a script describing the characteristics of the most ideal father-in-law, I would say sense of humor, highest quality of wisdom, uncompromising integrity, genuine love for people of all ages – especially his family, and a passionate faith in Jesus Christ. Frank Dagit fit these characteristics like a glove.



I have often heard Bev say about Becky, “She is her father’s daughter!” Like her dad, Becky is a straight shooter, has a sense of humor that can liven up any crowd and they are both avid Iowa Hawkeye fans. Becky and I will both miss the conversations during every Iowa game.



Beginning with his sense of humor, Frank had a fun way of teasing others. He was never too old to pull a prank on someone. One time while eating dinner at the farm, I made the mistake of turning my head to look for something. While my head was turned, Frank picked up a bottle of Tabasco Sauce and began pouring an excess amount onto my dinner. As I took my next bite, my face turned bright red. It took me about a half a second to realize what had happened and who was responsible for the burning sensation in my mouth.



Becky often shares the story when robbers were trying to break into their home. Ideally, one would think it might be best to leave some of the more dangerous activities to the police. Not Frank. He thought it would be better to catch the robbers. He was ready. He told the rest of this family to stay put upstairs. Of course, the driver in the car about a quarter mile up the road saw flashlights moving through the upstairs window, so he honked the horn, which signaled to the other robber to run out of the house and get away. You would think that would be enough. Everybody was safe and maybe now would be the right time to call the police and let them take it from there. No, Frank jumped in his pick up and chased after them.



Frank had a way of making friends. Everywhere we lived, Frank would meet someone and become a new best friend. 8 years ago, when we first moved to Michigan, Frank was taking a walk down our street. We had made the mistake of not giving him a curfew. When he returned home, Frank said, “Hey Becky, I met Duane.” Becky responded back, “Who’s Duane?” He said, “Your neighbor down the street. I saw a John Deere flag in his front yard, so I went up and knocked on his door. We’ve been talking for the last hour.” Duane became an instant friend, not only for Frank, but also for Becky and I.



Frank’s friends included people of all ages. He loved everyone, regardless of age. He had the kind of integrity where one could leave him a blank check and trust he would take honest care of it. He would never be able to live with himself if he felt like he was taking advantage of someone. If there was ever a person in need, Frank and Bev would be the first people there. He was the kind of friend, as the scripture says, “would lay down his life for…” Over the last three days I have heard many people say, “We don’t know where we would be if it hadn’t been for Frank and Bev.”



His grandkids were one of his greatest treasures. We lived in California when our daughter Hannah was born. Upon arriving in California, Frank had a cold. It was killing him not to be able to hold his newborn Granddaughter. He was overanxious to get healthy enough to hold her. I remember him saying, “Once I shake this thing, she’s all mine.” Often our son, Jacob, who has autism, would say to us, “Call Papa!” We would hand him the phone. As soon as Frank would answer it, Jacob would say, “Papa sing the bunny song!” (a song from the Veggie Tales DVD series) Frank would still sing, even if he were with some of his friends. It was always followed with much laughter and joy. Why? He was talking with one of his greatest treasures.



What I loved best about Frank was his faith. Whenever I read about the faith of a farmer in the scriptures, I think of Frank. When I was a youth pastor, I would always have him come and share with our group about his experience in Alaska. He would bring his walking stick, which he found in the middle of the tundra with no trees for miles, after he sprained his ankle. He prayed and asked God for help. Later on that same evening, Frank was with a group of people that did not know where there location was because of a heavy fog. He prayed and asked God to help them see which direction they needed to go. The fog lifted for about 10 seconds, which was just enough time for them to see the lights where they were lodging. Frank said, “I just looked up to God and said, ‘Thanks!’ That’s really all I needed to say.”



Three days ago, at the house, I heard a gentlemen talking about Frank lifting weights with a group of young guys. He said he heard him talking about his faith in Jesus Christ. That was what was most important to him. Frank had a simple, but very real faith.



When I married Becky, I did not choose for Frank and Bev to be my in-laws. I would have married her regardless. Then again, God in His goodness takes care of us by bringing people into our lives who are there for a purpose. I thank God Beverly Dagit is my mother-in-law. And, I thank God Frank Dagit always has and always will be my father-in-law.

Trading Character for Success

I remember watching the Olympics in Beijing, China only four years ago. The media was enthralled with the success of Michael Phelps winning a record number of Gold Medals. They were equally as excited about the darling gymnasts, Shawn Johnson and Nastia Liukin. We heard story after story of athletic success and perseverance. It certainly was entertaining to witness history being made and seeing two of our youth excel in their sport after all their training.
Yet, in the middle of all the hype, there was a brief story of a swimmer, Eric Shanteau, who was battling cancer. He chose to withhold treatment so he could represent his country in the Olympics. One could argue whether it was smart for him to risk his life just to swim, knowing he was not favored to win any medals. However, one has to admire his determination and perseverance.
Shanteau did not receive much attention. He was overshadowed by the many victories and accomplishments of his teammates. His story was not the only one that caught my attention. Nor were these Olympics the only games that contained what I call, “Inspirational Stories”. There are many more.
Also in Beijing, a swimmer with missing legs swam in a distance race. She did not receive a medal, so there was little said about her. During the Olmpics in Athens, Greece, two female athletes, one from Iraq and one from Afghanistan celebrated after their races, not because they broke a record and not because they won a medal. They did not even win their heat. They celebrated because they could run as free women in a race and represent their new found freedom in their country.
My favorite Olympic story is Derek Redmond at the Barcelona Olympics in 1992. He was supposed to win a medal, but a pulled hamstring shortly after the gun sounded off kept him from winning. As he was attempting to stand up while enduring physical and emotional pain, his father jumped out from the stands, knowing his son wanted to finish the race. He embraced his son, then helped him through his final steps to the finish line.
Although the Redmond story did receive attention from the media, many of these stories had not made the cut. Do I dare say our western culture is addicted to success at the expense of character? Do I dare suggest we have enslaved ourselves to the lie that mankind’s integrity and compassion do not measure up unless they have the resume to prove their worth in academic, athletic, occupational and financial success? Do I dare challenge our Western Cultural Values by suggesting our performance based society is leading us into a trap of deception, leading people to believe thier value and sense of worth trumps character?
It does not have to be this way. If ever there was a time to change the values of our culture, today is the day.

Wasting Energy Being Angry

A few years ago, I was participating in a group counseling session. One of the group members was expressing much anger about a situation she was in. The therapist asked her, "Is there anything you can do to change your circumstance. She said, "No!" He responded by saying, "Then why are you waisting your time being angry about it if you can't change it?"
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The group leader's response stimulated a discussion. Anger is an emotion we experience daily, whether it is through ourselves or others. It is a very real emotion. There is nothing wrong with being angry. However, it becomes a problem if we do not take the time to decide what to do about it.

The Serenity Prayer says, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference." It gives us three choices as a response to others or circumstances when we feel anger. They are: 1) Get our way -- "courage to change the things I can", 2) Accept it -- "accept the things I cannot change" or 3) a combination of 1 & 2 -- "the wisdom to know the difference".

So much of anxiety, depression and pathology stem from choices we make, when we really do not have much of a choice. For example, if I am on my way to the airport to leave for a vacation and I am stuck in a traffic jam, does it do me any good to stomp my feet, honk my horn or flip people off? No! Why? Because I cannot change it. Sure, I will be angry, and there is nothing wrong with it. However, I must put it into perspective by realizing since I cannot change it, there is no sense in me waisting my energy on anger when I know my airline will help me get a flight the next morning, if not later that day. Point being, it is still ultimately my choice if I am going to let that incident ruin my day.

There is also the problem when we choose to accept something we can actually change. For example, I have heard many people complain about being in a "toxic" relationship. I ask, "why do you spend time with him/her?" They respond, "Well, you know, ...I can't really turn them down." Or, "They are family so we can't just not go to our family events." Or, "I know he abuses me, but he doesn't mean it. He really is a good guy." It amazes me how people view themselves as powerless and will allow others to hold them hostage. I often wonder why people will continue to share information with someone who repeatedly breaks their trust or puts them down. Probably at times we have all been in relationships like this. We can do something about it. We can break off the toxic relationship. We can keep sending out resumes and contacting places that are hiring. We can make that phone call that could, or should I say will help us get what we need. We just need to stop making excuses, which I have made many.

This all comes down to our choices. If we are angry, we must ask ourselves, "Can I change it?" If I can, then I must do something about it. If I cannot, then I must remind myself I am waisting energy being angry about something I cannot change. Then, I must accept it. It really does make life much easier when we choose not to be entitled, but rather choose to control only that which we can. It was a great discussion we had that day. I learned some valuable tips from that therapist.