I have had the honor of working closely with Nancy during my time in advocacy. She became a fierce ally: someone who listened closely to my family’s story and understood what our experience revealed about the cracks in Arizona’s system.

Thanks for reading Mama Bear Diaries! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Nancy has given generously of her time, attention, and public service to people too often left behind by our behavioral health and broader healthcare systems.

Nancy’s responses are presented in her own voice and organized only for readability.

Where It Started

How did you first come to care about serious mental illness and the families walking through it?

Even though our own family had its own story, I didn’t connect the dots to my work at the Capitol until I began meeting families whose stories, too, ended in the tragic circumstances. Things hadn’t changed much from when I was a kid decades earlier. It was still difficult to find help.

What drew you to P82 Project Restoration and Deborah herself?

Deborah’s family story was no different - she was different. Like others, they had been through every part of the health care system, searching for the answer - but Deborah put her finger on why it wasn’t working. Wasn’t working? That intrigued me because I’d only heard how glowingly our mental health system worked for everyone! It just didn’t work this one time - for this one patient. But they would fix that....

The Gap

From what you’ve seen over the years, where does Arizona’s system most often leave people and families without an answer?

They were wrong, of course - and things had to change. More families than we could even imagine were left to fend for themselves and many were finding the strength Deborah showed to tell their stories publicly, too. Their loved ones were on that roller coaster - had been promised better care but ended up on the streets, in jail, or were lost to a grisly death. Most of the time, it was the unpredictability of their situation and fear of losing the little care they had achieved that kept them from speaking up.

A recent investigation described a level of care Arizona authorized but never opened. Why do you think good intentions, even good laws, so often fail to become real help?

Entire levels of care were missing, releasing patients before they were stable enough to know if the medication would even work and the treatment roller coaster went around its course again and again - costing outrageous amounts of public money - and lives. We passed laws to change it, but after seven years, nothing has changed. The laws were ignored. Families and their loved ones still riding that roller coaster of psychosis, brief treatment and homelessness without hope. We had to do better fast and the Church could help. God’s love was a missing piece.

Why does a permanent, relational home matter for someone living with serious mental illness, beyond a bed, a program, or a placement?

It wasn’t just treatment they needed. They needed the right place to recover and stabilize, and then a less formal place to live permanently and thrive. Neither of those places exist in our mental health system now - but Kenny’s Home, a place where they matter to others in a Christian environment of hope will provide the latter.

Why Kenny’s Home

What makes Kenny’s Home different from approaches you’ve seen tried before?

When people think of “housing first” solutions - provide the place, then everything else works - a place may be a lifesaver for someone with lower support needs who can handle getting up, making breakfast, taking a shower, taking their meds and regular clinic appointments. But people with greater support needs and without an awareness of their illness, they simply disappear or can be taken advantage of when “placed” without consistent, loving support. Kenny’s Home aims to provide that - with the permanency they need as well.

Some people ask, “Why build a home that serves so few?” How would you answer them?

Kenny’s Home is a beginning no doubt, serving a few, which seems like a ‘drop in the bucket’, but that’s ok. A fuller bucket is percolating and will become evident in time because this isn’t our vision, but God’s. We are only His instruments, motivated by His Spirit and endless resources.

An Invitation

What can neighbors, churches, and communities do alongside the public system, not instead of it?

An invitation: An invitation is for all who can “see” the hope springing to life in the lives of men who, in tandem with the public system, need a loving place government cannot provide: the family next door, the friend at church or where you work. You and your family, your church or workplace can participate even if you’re not “wealthy”.

Finances are key, but not the only need. Prayers are vital, too, but they alone won’t move this along. Your compassionate heart, time and talents are the missing elements as we partner with the public health side of things. This interdependence isn’t an “extra” we tack onto health care services. Connection to others is the lifeblood we all need and sometimes take for granted in life.

If you were speaking to someone considering a gift to Kenny’s Home, what would you want them to know?

If you’re wondering how you might help - or considering a gift to Kenny’s Home, there’s no better time than now to learn more because this is the actual launch. Be part of it and experience the joy of this journey with us as hope is born in these men and in those who support them.

What gives you hope about this moment?

Years of prayer, preparation, diligent networking, and daily downright hard work has seeded the soil of Kenny’s Home, and at times, the vision has seemed too distant to see, but today it is within reach! It’s becoming plainer than ever and the hope that soon others will have hope keeps us going.

A Personal Reflection

Is there a person or family whose story shaped why this matters to you?

As we get closer to our goal I think of my parents who lost their son tragically on the streets of Tucson decades ago, way before his time. Every story is different from every other - but remembering his struggle to find hope and healing as we dedicate Kenny’s Home to others with the same basic needs is a daily reminder that God’s grace goes far beyond my family. It covers all of our needs, failures and circumstances. Including Kenny’s.

Kenny. Our namesake. May we honor his life and so many others who did not get the chance to be known and loved in a place like Kenny’s Home.

Former Arizona Senator Nancy Barto has seen decades of people with serious mental illness being displaced, ignored, unable to help themselves, facing a system not built to properly care for their needs. So once again, When the System Fails, the Church Builds a Home. While we wait for change to happen, we make it happen. And I could not do this without your support, prayers, encouragement and sacrifice.

Nancy Barto is a former Arizona state senator who worked for years on the laws meant to strengthen the state’s mental health system.

Kenny’s Home is P82 Project Restoration’s first permanent, supportive home for men living with serious mental illness — a place to be known, supported, and to belong. To learn more or to give, visit p82homes.org/johnnys-story.

Most families do not learn about psychosis until it’s already a crisis, standing in a hospital hallway, trying to make sense of what is happening to someone they love and what they are supposed to do next.

In Part One of my conversation with Dr. Carol Olson, we talk about what psychosis actually is, why it is better understood as a symptom rather than a diagnosis, and what can happen in the brain when it goes untreated.

Then we cover the information families rarely get when they need it most: Arizona’s involuntary evaluation process. Dr. Olson explains the four commitment standards, the difference between an emergent and non-emergent petition, what to include when you apply, and why HIPAA does not prevent you from telling hospital staff what you know about your loved one’s history, behavior, warning signs, and patterns.

I bring the perspective of a mother who has spent years navigating this system for someone I love. Dr. Olson brings the perspective of a physician who has worked within it for decades. My hope is that this conversation gives families practical information before or during one of the most frightening moments of their lives.

In Part Two, we will talk about cannabis, psychedelics, hospital capacity, supportive housing, and the practical support families need to help their loved ones move toward stability and recovery.

Dr. Carol Olson, MD, DFAPA, is board-certified in general and forensic psychiatry. She serves as Chair of the Department of Psychiatry at Valleywise Health, Division Chair of Psychiatry for District Medical Group (a role she has held since 2004), and Chair of the Psychiatry Department at Creighton University School of Medicine, Phoenix. Dr. Olson earned her medical degree from Stanford University School of Medicine and completed her psychiatric residency at Maricopa Medical Center.

If you or someone you love is in crisis, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

The Mama Bear Diaries is a project of P82 Project Restoration.

Subscribe now

I hesitated to write about this because it’s so ordinary, and I don’t want to spill every ordinary moment of my life onto the public highway, but I thought about it further and decided to write precisely because it was so ordinary.

Last Sunday we stopped on the way home from church to pick up my son’s bathing suit at his house so we could head to the public pool after lunch. All summer I intended to do this with him because I know how much he loves the pool, but I’ve been sidelined by a back problem. That day, I was finally feeling up to it.

I do not regret a moment of it. Seeing this large grown man with beautiful brown hair and long, I mean really long, eyelashes splash around in the water like a 12-year-old made my heart leap. He waded around with me in the 5-foot area while I walked back and forth and sideways; my back issues don’t allow me to swim yet. Then I asked him if he was going to go on the diving board. He said yes.

Then I watched him slowly step up to the high dive, quickly grasping and releasing the hot metal rails that fry your hands in the Arizona sun. He made it to the top, and I felt like a proud mom, reliving his childhood again. I felt a little silly but mostly giddy. The sweetness of the moment washed over me like refreshing waves.

The same scene replayed when he decided to go down the large, winding slide. I watched him wait in line with all of the other little kids. My big kid. And I smiled big too.

I almost ran into another man in the 5-foot pool as I was walking backward watching my son blissfully jet down the slide. He gently apologized, and my mama bear instinct could tell he had special needs as well. His mother was also in the pool, and she started pleasant chit-chat with my son when he rejoined me. It was so ordinary I could hardly stand the beauty and gift of it.

I continued chatting with this mother, and we both spoke openly and quite proudly about our adult sons. Hopefully, I’ll see her next weekend when we return.

After about an hour, we headed home, but only after a detour to Sonic for Happy Hour drinks, of course. What else would we do? My son kept thanking me as we drove home, already plotting out the rest of the month’s swimming schedule. I kept kicking myself for not doing this all summer, even with a bad back.

Subscribe now

Days like this, ordinary as they are, are exactly why Kenny’s Home matters to me. Every son deserves a Sunday like this one, a pool, a slide, a mom cheering him on. Kenny’s Home is how we make more of these ordinary, beautiful days possible for men living with serious mental illness, in a place built with dignity, community, and faith at its center.

If you want to follow along as we build it, you can sign up below.

Stay updated

I won’t be adding paid subscriptions here on the Mama Bear Diaries, but if this story moved you and you want to help us open Kenny’s Home, you can make a one-time or monthly gift below. Every donation gets us closer to more ordinary Sundays for more families like ours.

Partner with us

* Photo credit: Isaac Geesling

The recent Department of Justice opinion on Olmstead has sparked strong reactions across the disability advocacy landscape. But for those of us working closely with individuals who are severely mentally ill, especially those who cycle through crisis, homelessness, and institutional settings, this clarification is not only welcome; it is long overdue.

For years, the Olmstead decision has been interpreted in increasingly rigid and ideological ways. Federally funded advocacy organizations, particularly those supported through SAMHSA and PAIMI, have often advanced an extreme version of “community integration” that leaves little room for clinical reality. In practice, this has meant aggressive pressure to move individuals out of structured care environments, even when those individuals are gravely disabled and unable to safely function in less restrictive settings.

This is not what Olmstead said.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s majority opinion made the boundaries clear. The ADA does not require states to eliminate institutional care. Nor does it justify placing individuals into settings that cannot meet their needs. As she wrote:

“The ADA is not reasonably read to impel States to phase out institutions, placing patients in need of close care at risk… Nor is it the ADA’s mission to drive States to move institutionalized patients into an inappropriate setting… Some individuals… may need institutional care from time to time to stabilize acute psychiatric symptoms… For other individuals, no placement outside the institution may ever be appropriate.”

This language is not ambiguous. It affirms a balanced, individualized approach, one that recognizes both the value of community integration and the necessity of higher levels of care when clinically indicated.

Yet in practice, that balance has been lost.

Across the country, we have seen the consequences: individuals discharged prematurely into unstable housing, cycling between emergency rooms, jails, and homelessness. Families are left without support. Providers are constrained by policy pressures that prioritize ideology over outcomes. And the most vulnerable, those with severe and persistent mental illness, are the ones who suffer most.

The DOJ’s recent opinion signals a course correction. It acknowledges that Olmstead has been misapplied and that federal enforcement and funding should not reinforce interpretations that place individuals at risk. This is not a retreat from civil rights; it is a restoration of them.

True dignity is not achieved by forcing someone into a setting that cannot meet their needs. True inclusion does not mean abandoning clinical judgment. And true compassion requires us to recognize that some individuals need structured, supportive environments, sometimes temporarily, sometimes long-term.

For those of us building new models of care, models that integrate housing, treatment, safety, and community in a responsible way, this moment matters. It creates space to design systems that are both humane and realistic. Systems that meet people where they are, not where ideology insists they should be.

We should welcome this shift. And we should use it to rebuild a continuum of care that truly serves those who have been left behind.

Subscribe now

In Washington, “mental health” is back in the headlines. Task forces are convening, summits are livestreamed, and fresh initiatives promise “holistic care,” “deprescribing,” and “transforming the system.” But for Americans with serious mental illness, people with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and severe depression who cannot safely care for themselves, very little has changed where it matters most: treatment, hospital beds, and long-term care with support.

This is not what we were promised.

From promises of beds to buzzwords

During his first term, President Donald Trump held a White House summit on mental health and spoke directly to the crisis of serious mental illness. He highlighted how, in the 1950s, the United States had over 250,000 and possibly more than 500,000 state psychiatric beds, but by 2016 that number had collapsed to just 37,679. He acknowledged that roughly 11 million Americans live with severe mental illness, with about 4 million receiving no mental health services at all.

He described the obvious and painful reality: large numbers of those with serious mental illness are now living on the streets or cycling through jails and prisons. He talked about giving “major consideration” to building new institutions and ending federal rules that punish states for providing hospital care.

Policy proposals followed. A Wall Street Journal piece described how his administration moved to end the decades‑old “Institutions for Mental Disease (IMD) Exclusion,” a Medicaid rule that makes it financially irrational for states to maintain or expand psychiatric beds. It was, on paper, one of the most consequential steps in half a century toward rebuilding real treatment capacity for those with the most disabling illnesses.

Fast forward to his second term, and the rhetoric from federal health officials is very different.

The new federal focus: deprescribing and psychedelics

Today, the loudest themes coming from HHS and SAMHSA are not about hospital beds, long‑term treatment, or housing for the sickest patients. Instead, we hear about “deprescribing,” “overmedicalization,” and fast‑tracking novel therapies such as psychedelics, framed as a new path forward for mental health.

HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. recently announced a department‑wide action plan to reduce psychiatric drug prescriptions, increase education and training on deprescribing, and promote “alternative treatment options.” At a national summit on “overmedicalization,” he pledged to tackle “the overuse of psychiatric medications, especially among children,” emphasize informed consent, and move toward a more “holistic” standard of care.

And yet in all this talk of deprescribing and innovation, where is the concrete plan for the people President Trump spoke of, the seriously mentally ill who need stable medication, structured care, and, in many cases, safe, long‑term treatment settings to stay alive?

The human cost of ignoring serious mental illness

The numbers tell a story we should no longer tolerate.

• Serious mental illness is so prevalent in corrections that jails and prisons have become our “new asylums.”

• Approximately 20% of inmates in jails and 15% of inmates in state prisons are estimated to have a serious mental illness—roughly 383,000 people with severe psychiatric disease behind bars, nearly ten times the number in all state hospitals.

• About two in five people who are incarcerated have a history of mental illness, including 37% of those in state and federal prisons and 44% in local jails.

These are not abstract statistics. They represent men and women who are floridly psychotic in solitary confinement, mothers sleeping behind dumpsters because their delusions drive them out of shelters, and sons cycling between emergency rooms, police stations, and underpasses.

President Trump himself noted that of the 11 million Americans with severe mental illness, about 4 million get no care at all. He remarked that over 100,000 homeless individuals have serious mental illness and even questioned whether that number is far too low. When we close hospital beds and refuse to build long‑term treatment and housing, we do not “free” people; we abandon them to jails, delusions, and morgues.

DJ Jaffe warned us

The late DJ Jaffe, a tireless advocate for the seriously mentally ill and founder of Mental Illness Policy Org, spent his life sounding this alarm. He argued that our mental health system had been hijacked by a focus on the “worried well,” leaving individuals with the most disabling illnesses without meaningful care.

His warning was simple and devastating: when resources are spent on marginal distress and feel‑good programs, there is “nothing left” for those with severe brain disorders who cannot advocate for themselves. He pushed for practical reforms, more inpatient and residential beds, stronger assisted outpatient treatment (AOT), and policies that prioritized the sickest first.

Today, much of the federal conversation has drifted even further from his priorities. We are talking about pulling people off medications before we have ensured they have a stable alternative. We are chasing psychedelics and novel therapies while failing to provide basic, sustained, evidence‑based treatment and housing for those already in crisis.

This is a betrayal of the very people DJ Jaffe championed and of the promises made at that White House summit.

What a “serious” commitment would look like

If we truly meant what was said in the first term, that Americans with serious mental illness had been cast aside and deserved real solutions, then our federal priorities would look very different.

A serious commitment would include:

• Rebuilding hospital and residential capacity: Ending the IMD Exclusion in practice by funding a realistic number of psychiatric beds, step-down, and long-term housing so people are not discharged back to the streets or jail.

• Strengthening, not weakening, AOT: Ensuring robust funding and legal frameworks for assisted outpatient treatment that are actually usable by families and communities, not starved or sidelined in favor of short‑term pilot projects.

• Long‑term housing with care, not slogans: Funding supportive and supervised housing tied to treatment for those who cannot live independently because of their illness, instead of simply “housing first” models that ignore clinical reality for this subgroup.

Only after we have secured these basics for the sickest among us should we allow the federal agenda to revolve around deprescribing campaigns and psychedelic fast‑tracking.

Stop ignoring the seriously mentally ill

“Stopping overprescribing” sounds appealing until you realize that many of the people being quietly tapered off are the same individuals who lose housing, family contact, and basic safety when their illness takes over. For some, medication is a lifeline, not a symbol of oppression.

“Holistic care” sounds compassionate until you understand that without a hospital bed or a long‑term program, “holistic” often means “no care at all.” And “transforming the system” means very little to a mother who is spending her nights calling ERs and jails to find her psychotic son.

It is time to return to the promises that were made to the seriously mentally ill, not as a talking point, but as a governing priority. That means measuring success not by how many press conferences we hold or how many medications we deprescribe, but by how many people with serious mental illness are no longer living in tents, jail cells, and perpetual crisis.

Until we build real treatment and real housing for the sickest among us, we are not reforming mental health care. We are simply rearranging the deck chairs and calling it progress.

Subscribe now

Sixteen years since our family was first introduced to the “system” that’s supposed to serve people with serious mental illness and anosognosia, those who are too sick to recognize they’re ill. Our journey started at least four years before that, but crossing into the adult system was an ice-cold shock. It was far worse than jumping into my city’s outdoor pool at 5 a.m. to swim laps, any day of the year.

Back then, I became an avid collector and seller of vintage tablecloths. It started as a distraction during those early years of crisis. My late-night research used to be about patterns, mills, and dates on worn linens. Somewhere along the way, that focus shifted. I went from scouring the internet for old fabric to scouring it for any shred of meaningful advocacy for people with serious mental illness.

What I found were sparse islands of courage scattered across the U.S. and a few places around the world. DJ Jaffe was one of those islands. His message was, to some, a little too honest. But he was effective. He got the attention of the media and of Congress. I soaked up everything I could during that season, not to copy someone else’s convictions but to clarify my own, to discern what God was prompting my husband and me to do.

As we leaned into the Lord and kept fighting for our son in this massively complex, often maddening system, our hearts began to beat for housing. Not just “a placement” or a building with four walls, but a place that could offer long-term stability, dignity, and genuine care to people living with serious mental illness. My husband describes it simply: a Christ-centered home that will be like family.

For years, I poured myself into advocacy. I spent countless hours at the Arizona State Capitol. I flew to Washington, D.C. I served on task force committees. I was appointed to Arizona’s Joint Legislative Psychiatric Hospital Review Council. I helped found another organization and sat on a prestigious board focused on housing for SMI. From the outside, it might have looked like impact. On the inside, I often felt like I was floundering, asking myself what on earth I was doing.

I wrestled with God, relentlessly. Why wasn’t I satisfied? Why did it all feel like not enough, or not quite right? Over and over, my husband gently pointed me back to our original calling and to the Lord who had put that desire in our hearts. I knew he was right because the ache never went away, his or mine.

Eventually, it became clear that the organization I was serving with held a fundamentally different view of housing. That was my line in the sand. I could not support lowering every barrier and expectation just to get someone indoors. I believe we are called to the hard, patient work of helping people rise, to lift, not just remove, expectations. People with serious mental illness need hope. They deserve a future that is not chained to addiction, apathy, and endless isolated days in front of a television while their relationships and cognitive abilities quietly erode.

There are days I still question those years. Why did I spend so much time that way? Why didn’t we just walk away? I wanted to give up more times than I can count. And yet, what God did in me during that decade of advocacy is beyond any price tag. He was shaping me into the kind of person and leader He wanted me to be. It also reinforced who I did not want to be.

I studied every on-ramp to housing until I was sick of the data: homelessness statistics for people with SMI, how many Behavioral Health Residential Facilities existed in our county, readmission rates, and so on. I listened to horror story after horror story, often with no real solutions in sight. We made small gains, and I do not regret them. But my dissatisfaction with the state of housing only deepened.

Then, about a year ago, a business professional friend offered to consult with me on our vision. He generously brought ideas, asked pointed questions, and helped me sharpen our mission. In what I can only describe as a gentle “Shark Tank” style conversation, I landed on a concept that suddenly made everything click: a private homeowner leasing their property to us at an audaciously low price, in exchange for P82 remodeling and upgrading the house.

That idea would not let us go. My husband and I prayed, talked, and turned it over and over again in our hearts and minds.

A few months later, I met a dear friend for brunch. Over eggs and avocado, she asked, “What’s the latest with P82?” I shared this housing concept, almost tentatively. She looked at me with a curious, careful expression and then told me that she and her husband had a home they’d been praying about, asking God how He wanted them to use it.

Fast forward to this year. With our Board’s enthusiasm and full buy-in, we now stand on the cusp of a new endeavor: Kenny’s Home.

Kenny’s Home will be our proof-of-concept house. A private homeowner will lease their home to us for $1 per year. We will remodel and upgrade it. In that home, we will provide 24-hour staff and care for two men living with serious mental illness, men who need more than “a bed”; they need stability, dignity, structure, and family-like support. Connection to the community.

This will be where we prove the model. We will test it, refine it, and, Lord willing, show that there is a better way to do housing for people with SMI, one home, one life, at a time. If God grants us success, we will not stop with one house. We will scale this model to more homes, more neighborhoods, more families who have been waiting for something like this.

And we will do it relying solely on private charitable contributions.

We are stepping into this first home with a mix of trembling and courage. It is small on paper, one house, two men, but it is not small to the families who have been begging God for something like this. This is Phase One, where we begin to prove that a different way is not only possible, but powerful.

P82 Project Restoration comes from Psalm 82:3–4: “Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy.” The restoration project is not just Kenny’s Home. It is us, the community, rediscovering and reclaiming our God-given obligation to help the weak and stand in the gaps that systems refuse to fill.

Some of you carry your own deep story with serious mental illness. If that is you, please hear this clearly: you are not a project, and you are not our volunteer base. You are the ones we long to stand beside. Our hope is that this community rises up around you, not the other way around.

In the next few weeks, we will launch our first matching grant campaign to underwrite the remodel, opening, and early operating costs of Kenny’s Home. An anonymous partner has already committed $10,000 to match what comes in. Our goal is to build a core of monthly givers whose steady generosity will help keep this home anchored, lights on, staff in place, doors open 24/7.

We’re calling these first givers our Kenny’s Home Founding Partners, the ones who say “yes” before anything is polished or proven, simply because they see the vision and believe that defending and rescuing the weak is our shared calling.

If Psalm 82 resonates with you, if something in this story stirs your heart, I invite you to join us:

• Pray with us for wisdom, protection, and favor as we launch Kenny’s Home.

• Share this vision with your church, your friends, and your networks so more hearts can awaken to the need.

• Consider becoming a monthly donor and one of Kenny’s Home Founding Partners to help us unlock the full $10,000 match and lay a strong foundation for this first home.

• Consider offering your professional skills and practical talents to help with the home's remodeling and preparation.

We cannot do this alone, and we were never meant to. P82 Project Restoration is about all of us, allowing God to restore our hearts, our sense of responsibility, and our willingness to show up for those who cannot fight for themselves. As you prayerfully consider your next steps, watch for more details from us in the coming weeks so we can show you exactly how to take part and become a Kenny’s Home Founding Partner.

Subscribe now

Mental Illness and Breakdown

The area of mental illness and mental breakdown is a real category for the pastor. In almost any size church, if you do not have a member affected by mental illness, there will almost certainly be members with extended family and friends who are affected. Mental illness is a real physical category in most situations. Dealing with this area is difficult. It is an area where it is encouraged to direct the individual or family to seek proper, professional psychiatric diagnosis and help. Medication can be helpful in curtailing the bizarre mental activity that can lead to the behavior resulting from certain mental conditions.

Mental Illness and the Gospel

My encouragement is that even in the situation of mental illness, the gospel should be the focus of your help toward them. If the individual is not a believer, helping them to see the hope found in the gospel is the only hope that is sure. One suffering from a mental illness is in a place where they can never get away from the challenges they face. The gospel brings real hope for them that cannot be found anywhere else.

If the individual suffering from mental illness is a believer, then the truths of the gospel, and the resulting promises made possible by the gospel, are true for them as well. The fruit of the Spirit is also present in them. In caring for them and helping them to grow, I would begin there. Help them to see, for example, that they can have self-control rather than be ruled by sinful reactions, because Christ has dominion over sin and over their sin as well (Romans 6:14). It is not easy by any means, but it is completely possible in Christ.

They also have the promise of 1 Corinthians 10:13:

“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability but will provide an escape that you may be able to hold up under it.”

Seeing that all promises are for all believers brings them hope through Christ, even in their situation.

If the individual is feeling alone and believes that this mental illness is a unique trial that the Bible and the gospel do not address, help them to see that it does, and always will, with passages like 1 Peter 4:12:

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.”

Applying Scripture in the Midst of Symptoms

Having faith to press into God means helping them see that this area of affliction is not somehow outside of God, and therefore, they are not alone in their suffering or without the power of God. For example, in meeting with an individual who regularly heard voices and who was diagnosed with schizophrenia, I wanted to build their faith that God’s Word does address even their battle, 2 Corinthians 10:5:

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ…”

When they saw that this scripture applies to them, that those “voices” could be viewed as amplified thoughts in their mind (as loud as voices to them), they began to see that, through Christ’s dominion over sin, as a believer, they can take these very loud and constant thoughts captive as well. This brought faith to trust God and to do the hard work of taking those thoughts captive and not listening to them. Medical help addresses the physical need, and the gospel brings hope for the spiritual need.

Walking With Them as a Pastor

As a pastor, it is important to walk with them and not distance yourself from the person living with mental illness. So many treat the mentally ill as those who have no help within the church. Walk with the family through the seasons of difficulty, hospitalizations, fearful moments, and the unknown. Do not allow them to walk alone; that is what the world is already doing. But remember, in ministering to the mentally ill, these biblical truths often need to be repeated over and over before they become their own.

Subscribe now

My prayer is that more pastors would not step back from these dear ones, but lean in with humility and confidence in the sufficiency of Christ and His Word. As they walk patiently with those facing mental illness and their families, repeating the same gospel truths again and again, they bear witness to a Savior who meets us right in the middle of our suffering. This brief excerpt from “Counsel in Crisis” is shared in the hope that it will encourage more churches to walk with, not away from, those carrying these hidden burdens.

Excerpt adapted and shared from “Counsel in Crisis” by Trey Richardson, shared with permission (and my deepest appreciation). -Deborah

Learn more, watch “What is the Gospel?” by Trey Richardson.

Subscribe now

A “psychedelic moonshot” with a hole in the floor

On April 18, 2026, President Donald Trump signed an executive order to accelerate psychedelic‑based treatments for serious mental illness and ease regulatory barriers.
The White House calls it a bold step to bring “innovative treatments” quickly to people with depression, PTSD, addiction, and suicidality.

Media and policy commentators echo the excitement:

• Time explainer.

• NPR coverage.

• Harvard Petrie‑Flom Q&A.

There is special interest in powerful substances like ibogaine.

On paper, this all sounds compassionate and urgent. In reality, it’s dangerously incomplete, especially for people with schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, and severe bipolar disorder with psychosis. Our loved ones are being swept into the same broad category of “serious mental illness,” while the science for them is either weak or completely absent.

What the science actually says about psychosis and psychedelics

Here is the part no one wants to say out loud: modern psychedelic trials largely exclude people with psychosis-related disorders, precisely because researchers worry these drugs can worsen psychosis or trigger mania.

A few key sources:

• JAMA Psychiatry study on adolescents: psychedelic use was linked to more psychotic and manic symptoms in teens with higher genetic risk for schizophrenia or bipolar I, even without formal diagnoses.

• Neurology Advisor summary highlighting a “complex” and concerning relationship between psychedelics, psychosis, and mania.

• Nature Review finds psychedelic‑induced psychosis in some users and notes that about 13% later developed schizophrenia, suggesting these substances can unmask or accelerate an underlying vulnerability.

So when families like ours are told, “Psychedelics are the future of mental health,” we need to ask: which lives are you willing to gamble with? Because people with psychosis‑related disorders were mostly left out of the trials that generated all this enthusiasm.

The IMD Exclusion: the quiet policy that keeps the net full of holes

Now layer this on top of the Medicaid Institutions for Mental Diseases (IMD) Exclusion, a 1965 rule that blocks federal Medicaid funding for most mental‑health facilities with more than 16 psychiatric beds for adults.

Good primers:

• Mental Health America on the IMD Exclusion.

• NACo brief on modernizing IMD.

• Short video explaining how IMD gutted treatment capacity:
  

This policy was born in the Kennedy era as part of the push to close large institutions and build community care. The institutions WERE closed. The promised community care never fully appeared. Families like mine have been living in that gap ever since.

A recent study of IMD waivers found that states allowed to use Medicaid for larger psychiatric/residential facilities saw reduced health‑care utilization and fewer incarcerations among people with serious mental illness.

Translation: when states can actually fund robust inpatient and residential care, our loved ones are less likely to end up in jail, homeless, or endlessly cycling through ERs.

Yet instead of fixing this structural failure, we are rushing headfirst into federally boosted psychedelics with no guarantee of a safe place for people to land when things go very wrong.

We have seen this movie before

In the 1960s, President John F. Kennedy promised a compassionate shift from big hospitals to community mental‑health centers. The rhetoric was beautiful; the follow‑through was not. We emptied beds and never fully built the alternatives. The IMD Exclusion locked that mistake into policy.

Trump’s 2026 psychedelic order repeats that pattern. Big language, “innovative” solutions, glowing coverage without hard commitments to:

• end or modernize the IMD Exclusion,

• expand hospital and residential capacity, and

• protect people with psychotic‑related disorders from being experimented on without a safety net.

A Mama Bear’s non‑negotiables

From one Mama Bear to another, here is what we must demand:

1. Fix the safety net first.
   End or fundamentally modernize the IMD Exclusion so that states can build a full continuum of care: hospital beds, long‑term residential care, step‑down programs, and supportive housing.

2. Protect people with psychosis from being the test subjects of our desperation.
   Require disorder‑specific trials before rolling psychedelics out to those with schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, or bipolar I, and treat family history of psychosis as a bright red caution sign.

3. No more shiny new promises without concrete, enforceable protections.
   If a policy accelerates psychedelics but leaves our sons and daughters sleeping under bridges, rotting in jail cells, or waiting months for a 16‑bed unit, it is not reform. It is abandonment with better branding.

The Kennedy era taught us what happens when we empty hospitals and call it compassion. Trump’s psychedelic executive order, built on the same broken foundation and the still‑standing IMD Exclusion, is a dangerous continuation of that story.

Mama Bears, we cannot let history repeat itself on the backs of our children.

If you read my last post, "The Battle You Didn't Know About,” you got the 30,000-foot view: the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, the UNCRPD, has been quietly working to abolish guardianship and involuntary psychiatric treatment for people with serious mental illness.

This agenda nearly became binding US law under the Obama administration, and it's still advancing at the state level. In 2023, disability rights organizations convinced two freshman Arizona senators to pass a bill allowing "supported decision-making" as an alternative to guardianship, including for people with severe mental illness.

That post was about the policy. This one is about the worldview behind it, because until the church understands the worldview, we'll keep getting played.

Here's the Argument That Sounds Compassionate

The anti-guardianship movement (disability rights organizations, UNCRPD advocates, and antipsychiatry activists) makes an argument that is emotionally powerful. It goes roughly like this: “Guardianship is a tool of control. It strips people of their legal rights. It has been misused and abused. People with disabilities deserve autonomy and self-determination. A system that removes someone's right to make decisions about their own life is oppressive. Therefore, we must abolish guardianship.”

That argument lands. It sounds like justice. It sounds like something Christians should be for. Rights. Dignity. Autonomy. Self-determination. Who could be against those things? I want you to sit with that argument for a moment, because we're about to look at what it's actually doing.

The Straw Man You Need to Recognize

There's a logical fallacy called a straw man. It works like this: instead of attacking the real argument, you construct a distorted version of it, weaker, more extreme, easier to destroy, and then you attack that instead. The anti-guardianship movement is doing exactly this. Here's how.

Imagine someone describes guardianship like this: "It's like 100 women living under a misogynistic system that controls every decision they make, their money, their medical care, their housing, not for their benefit, but for the benefit of those in power. This system strips them of dignity and treats them as less than human."

That image is searing. It should make you angry. And I'll be honest with you, there are cases of guardianship abuse. There are predatory guardians. There are horror stories of people who were placed under guardianship unnecessarily, whose rights were violated, whose voices were silenced. Those cases are real, and they are wrong.

But here is what the movement does with those cases: they hold them up as the definition of guardianship itself. They take the worst abuses, real, fixable, addressable problems, and use them to justify abolishing the entire institution. Not reforming it. Not adding oversight. Not creating better legal protections. Abolishing it. That is the straw man. They've replaced the complex, messy reality of guardianship with a cartoon, a pure instrument of oppression, and then they argue against the cartoon. Meanwhile, the actual question of “what happens to the most severely mentally ill person when you remove guardianship entirely?” goes unanswered.

Who Gets Sacrificed

I need to tell you about my son. He has schizophrenia. Not "hears voices sometimes." Not "has some quirky thoughts." I mean the kind of schizophrenia where, during acute psychosis, he has no idea he is sick. He believes, with absolute certainty, that he is fine, that the rest of us are the problem. He cannot assess danger to himself. He cannot make informed decisions about treatment. The illness itself destroys the capacity for insight.

There is a clinical term for this: it’s called anosognosia. It affects roughly 50% of people with schizophrenia and around 40% of people with bipolar disorder. It is not denial. It is not stubbornness. It is neurological. The illness damages the very part of the brain that would recognize the illness.

When my son is in that state, he cannot engage in "supported decision-making." He cannot be reasoned with, because the reasoning part of the process is exactly what the disease has impaired. And in that state, without guardianship, without the legal tools to get him into treatment, he is at serious risk of ending up homeless, incarcerated, exploited, or dead.

Those are not hypotheticals. Those are the outcomes we see every day for people with SMI who cycle through jails, emergency rooms, and streets because there is no mechanism to compel treatment. The anti-guardianship movement knows this person exists. And they have made a choice: “This person must be sacrificed on the altar of autonomy.”

That sounds harsh. Let me show you it's accurate.

The CRPD Committee's General Comment No.1 explicitly calls for ending substitute decisionmaking, which includes guardianship, for all people with disabilities, including psychosocial disabilities (that's the UN's term for mental health conditions).Their guidelines on Article 14 call for ending involuntary psychiatric detention, even for someone who is a danger to themselves or others. No exceptions for acute psychosis. No carve-out for the person who has lost insight. The framework says that everyone has the right to make their own decisions, full stop.

They know what this means for people in acute psychosis. They've decided the ideology matters more.

Reforming vs. Abolishing: The Question That Exposes the Ideology

Here's the thing: if your concern is genuinely about abuse in the guardianship system, the logical response is reform. Better oversight. Required court reviews. Stronger legal advocates for the person under guardianship. More transparency. Accountability for predatory guardians.

I would sign up for all of that immediately. That's a reasonable conversation. But the movement isn't asking for reform. It's asking for abolition. And when you push past the rhetoric about rights and dignity and ask them directly, "What happens to the person with schizophrenia in acute psychosis who refuses all treatment and has no insight into their illness? “ they give you an ideological non-answer: "We trust people to make their own decisions. Coercion is never acceptable."

That answer only makes sense if you believe that everyone, in every state of illness, retains the capacity for rational self-determination. But that belief is not a medical fact. It is a philosophical commitment. It is a worldview. And it is a worldview that has decided, ahead of time, that no illness, no severity, no level of impairment can ever justify another person making a decision on your behalf, even to save your life.

The real agenda isn't protecting the most vulnerable. It's protecting the ideology.

Why the Church Needs to Pay Attention

This worldview will show up in your congregation in a sympathetic form. Someone is going to bring you information about "disability rights" and "supported decision-making," and it's going to sound like justice work. It's going to sound like the kind of thing the church should be doing. And Christians can be uniquely susceptible to this framing, because we are called to stand with the marginalized. We do believe in human dignity. We do care about systems that oppress the vulnerable. So when an advocacy group wraps its agenda in the language of dignity and rights, the instinct is to get on board.

But the question I'm asking you to sit with is this: Who is most vulnerable here?

The answer is not the abstract collective of "disabled people" invoked by disability rights organizations. The most vulnerable person in this conversation is the one who cannot speak for himself, the one in acute psychosis who doesn't know he's sick, who is stumbling toward a freeway or a cliff or a jail cell, and whose only protection is the legal guardianship structure that gives his mother the authority to get him into treatment.

That is the person the movement is willing to sacrifice. Not accidentally. Deliberately. Because the ideology demands it.

What Scripture Says About This

The foundation of P82 Project Restoration, the nonprofit I run to serve individuals with SMI and their families, is Psalm 82:3-4. I want you to read these verses slowly.

“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”

This is God speaking to the rulers and judges of Israel, the people with power and authority, and telling them: your job is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Not to protect an ideology about protection. Not to protect the dignity of an abstract concept. To protect actual people who are actually vulnerable.

Jesus didn't soften this. He made it concrete: "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."(Matthew 25:40)

My son, in acute psychosis, unable to make decisions, unable to recognize his own illness, at risk of dying because an ideology has decided his "autonomy" matters more than his survival, is one of the least of these in our church. He is the one Jesus is talking about.

The church is not called to protect an ideology of autonomy. The church is called to protect people. Real, specific, suffering people who cannot protect themselves.

Guardianship, when it's functioning correctly, is not oppression. It is love structured into law. It is a family saying: we will not let you die on the street. We will not let the illness have the final word. It is imperfect because humans are imperfect. Reform it where it needs reform. But do not abolish it on the altar of a worldview that has already decided who is expendable.

The church needs to be smarter than this movement's rhetoric. And the stakes for our most vulnerable neighbors could not be higher.

Subscribe now

Deborah Geesling is the founder of P82 ProjectRestoration, a gospel-centered nonprofit serving individuals with serious mental illness and their families. She writes about faith, mental illness, and advocacy at Mama Bear Diaries.

Since not many people are affected by serious mental illness, it had almost gone unnoticed. I reached out to Michael Farris, a lawyer with Parental Rights Org. & sent him documentation of this awful agenda. He successfully educated lawmakers to oppose supporting this treaty for this reason and more.

Has this agenda gone away? Far from it. I asked “Grok” about it, and here was the response:

Me: Does the UNCRPD have an agenda to remove guardianship and involuntary treatment for the severely mentally ill?

Grok (X’s version of AI): “Yes, the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD, often abbreviated as CRPD), particularly through the interpretations of its monitoring body—the Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities—promotes the replacement (effectively the abolition in practice) of guardianship systems and involuntary treatment for people with psychosocial disabilities, including those described as severely mentally ill.

The UNCRPD does not use the term “severely mentally ill” directly, but it applies to persons with psychosocial disabilities (mental health-related impairments) and intellectual disabilities. The Convention’s text and the Committee’s authoritative interpretations (especially General Comment No. 1 on Article 12) frame traditional guardianship and involuntary psychiatric interventions as discriminatory and incompatible with human rights standards.

Key Provisions and Interpretations

Article 12 (Equal recognition before the law): This is the core article addressing legal capacity and guardianship. It states that persons with disabilities must enjoy legal capacity on an equal basis with others and requires states to provide support (supported decision-making) rather than substitute others’ decisions for theirs.The CRPD Committee interprets this as requiring states to:

Abolish regimes of substituted decision-making (e.g., guardianship, conservatorship, or interdiction) that deprive people of legal capacity based on disability or impairment.

Replace them with supported decision-making systems that respect the person’s rights, will, and preferences.

Eliminate any deprivation of legal capacity tied to mental impairment.

In repeated concluding observations on state reports, the Committee urges countries to repeal guardianship laws, end substitute decision-making, and introduce supported alternatives. This applies to psychosocial disabilities, where guardianship often enables forced treatment or institutionalization.

Article 14 (Liberty and security of person): This prohibits deprivation of liberty based on the existence of a disability. The Committee has stated that involuntary detention or forced institutionalization of persons with psychosocial disabilities is prohibited, even if justified by perceived risk, need for care, or dangerousness tied to impairment. Forced treatment is seen as violating this, along with prohibitions on discrimination (Article 5), torture/inhuman treatment (Article 15), and the right to health (Article 25, which requires services on the basis of free and informed consent).

The Committee’s General Comment No. 1 (2014) on Article 12 and guidelines on Article 14 explicitly call for ending substitute decision-making and coercion in mental health contexts, describing them as discriminatory. This has driven reforms in some countries toward supported decision-making and away from guardianship/involuntary treatment.

Counterpoints and Debates

Some scholars, clinicians, and governments argue that completely abolishing guardianship and involuntary options could harm people with severe impairments (e.g., those lacking decision-making capacity during acute psychosis) by denying life-saving treatment or protection from harm to self/others. They contend the CRPD allows safeguards but not blanket abolition. However, the authoritative CRPD Committee interpretation rejects this, insisting that support must always prioritize the person’s will and preferences, and coercion based on disability is impermissible.

The UNCRPD does not have an explicit “agenda” in the conspiratorial sense, but its framework and the Committee’s guidance represent a deliberate shift toward non-coercive, rights-based approaches in disability and mental health policy, aiming to end practices seen as discriminatory legacies of earlier systems.

In summary, while the Convention’s text is rights-focused rather than overtly abolitionist, the prevailing interpretation by its oversight body is that states should phase out guardianship and involuntary treatment for those with severe mental illnesses/psychosocial disabilities in favor of support that upholds autonomy. Many ratifying countries face pressure to align accordingly.”

In 2023, Disability Rights Organizations convinced two freshman Arizona Senators to pass a bill that allowed for “Supported Decision Making” as an option for the severely mentally ill and other individuals with disabilities in place of guardianship. If you think that the agenda died with the failure to pass the UNCRPD, think again.

With so many legal barriers stacked up against this group of vulnerable adults, please be aware of this effort. The anti-psychiatry agenda is real and not going away any time soon.

Today wasn’t that kind of day. He didn’t want my help and you can see he purchased two different brands of the same flavored sports drink and did the same thing with frozen pizza. He never buys snacks, so the Cheetos were new. And I’m guessing the watermelon was his way of adding some nutrition. There’s no rhyme or reason to it in my estimation, but to him, this makes perfect sense.

I’ve learned that when he has days like this, it’s a snapshot of the kind of chaos that’s happening in his mind. Without medication even these choices wouldn’t be happening. So I am grateful for that. I’m also grateful he does add premade salads occasionally.

He’s often encouraged by caring staff to go shopping with them instead of me, but he still insists on this routine. The emphasis in our mental health system on recovery and independence has done a great disservice to this population in that we haven’t incentivized the development of appropriate, long term occupational intervention.

Even so, patience and prayer go a long way. God hasn’t left me without resources to love and support him. And I’m still growing in understanding how to make sense of how he makes sense the world.

For nearly ten years, our organization has adopted the group home where my son lives for Christmas. It started simply enough. Someone donated brand-new Adidas sweatshirts to the men in his first residential home. A few days after Christmas, an older gentleman who rarely lifted his eyes when I greeted him came bursting through the living room and said, with pure excitement, “Ma’am, thank you! I’ve never received a Christmas present before.”

That settled it for me. I wasn’t going to bring my son home for Christmas while the other residents went without. Thanks to the generosity of many, we’ve since been able to adopt another home right down the street for women as well.

I’ll never quite understand how some of the organizations that run these homes, those with community awards and prominent connections, don’t make more of an effort to recruit churches or businesses to adopt them at Christmas time. It can be done with minimal work, and it matters more than most people realize.

Back to the topic at hand. Over the years, I’ve learned a few things about choosing gifts for people with serious mental illness. And even with that experience, I still second-guess myself every December, until I’m reminded, once again, that the simpler the gift, the more it’s appreciated and enjoyed.

So here are a few recommendations.

General rule of thumb (especially for schizophrenia):

• Simple (not cognitively demanding)

• Predictable (no surprises, loud sounds, flashing lights)

• Soothing (sensory-safe)

• Personal but not intrusive

• Allowed by group home rules (no cords, sharps, lighters, glass, meds, etc.)

Comfort items:

• Soft beanie or knit hat

• Warm, cozy socks (grip socks are great for indoors)

• Fleece throw blanket (small/lap size if space is limited)

• Weighted lap pad (lighter than a blanket, very grounding)

• Soft hoodie or zip-up sweatshirt (if allowed)

• Sweaters

Engagement:

• Adult coloring book (simple patterns, not intricate)

• Colored pencils or crayons (if permitted)

• Word search or large-print puzzle book

• Short story book or devotional (very short entries)

• Photo book of family/pets

• Calendar with significant dates marked (birthdays, visits)

• Clean and straightforward joke books

Music:

• Small radio

• Headphones

Everyday Dignity Items (Often Overlooked):

• Nice soap or body wash with a body sponge

• Deodorant

• Face wipes

• New toothbrush and toothpaste

• Shaving cream/aftershave (if applicable)

• Cosmetic bags

Clothing (Ask for Sizes Ahead of Time):

• Shirts

• Pants

• Sweatpants

• Pajamas

• Underwear

• Socks

• Shoes

• Jackets

Fun Snacks:

• Favorite candy or chocolate

• Snack packs (granola bars, crackers, nuts if safe)

• Hot cocoa packets

• Tea bags (herbal or decaf)

• Reusable mug (plastic, not ceramic if restricted)

Relational:

• Handwritten note or card (simple, encouraging)

• Printed photos in a frame

• Coupon for a visit, walk, or shared activity

• Prayer card or short Scripture

• Make a meal for the residents during the holidays or for Christmas Eve

• Bring homemade cookies or cinnamon rolls for breakfast on Christmas morning

• Sing Christmas carols with friends from church

• If they don’t have a Christmas tree or decorations, buy a simple, lighted tree and ornaments for them. (Be sensitive to the ability to engage without over-stressing. If they’re in a group home, the staff may need to do this with them.)

• Purchase a Christmas wreath with a hanger for the front door.

• If you really want to go all out, hang up Christmas lights for them!

Faith-Centered:

• Pocket Bible or Gospel of John (large print if helpful)

• Short daily devotional (very brief readings)

• Scripture cards (short verses, not dense theology)

• Small wooden cross or smooth stone with a verse

• Prayer card from you (handwritten matters)

Gift Cards:

• Walmart

• Movie tickets

• Symphony (go with them!)

• Chickfila

• In N Out Burger

• Coffee shops

• Other favorite restaurants or stores

Simple gifts, chosen with care, are often the most meaningful ones. Don’t overthink it. If you have ideas of your own, I’d love to hear them. Just share them in the comments and have yourself a very Merry Christmas.

Subscribe now

These events happened many years ago, in the earliest part of our discovery of our son’s illness, a time I now understand as the prodromal phase of schizophrenia. I am tempted to leave it all there, suspended in the haze of forgetfulness. But I think it’s time to write. To remember.

Maybe putting this down will help someone else. Perhaps it will simply help me as I retrace the steps and see the thread of God’s mercy woven through the middle of the mess.

There are no neat diagrams for serious mental illness. No tidy lists that can contain the swirling symptoms and strange behaviors. It is a process of discovery, of stumbling forward in the dark with just enough light for the next step.

So I’ll share what we’ve learned, our different story.

This is the story of our son’s illness. It is also the story of our other boys, our marriage, our pastors, the people who met us in shoe stores, hospital corridors, courtrooms, state offices, and, most importantly, our God.

And through it all runs a thread I never expected: how I, a mom who could barely breathe under its weight, slowly became an advocate. Not because I was brave, but because God kept reminding me through His Word who Jesus is and the love He has for my family and me, for others, a love that kings, priests, and prophets waited centuries to see.

“I will bear the indignation of the LORD because I have sinned against him, until he pleads my cause and executes judgment for me. He will bring me out to the light; I shall look upon his vindication.”
— Micah 7:9

There were four hundred silent years between these words from Micah and the arrival of that vindication in a manger stall.

Little did I know that I was about to walk through some silent years myself. God seemed like a blazing star in the sky, a trillion miles away; I could faintly tell that he was there until I learned to see him more brilliantly through the telescope of scripture. But unlike Micah, I was on the other side of that manger. And I was about to embark on a journey with the One who came, one marked by humbling sanctification and surprising growth.

Jesus certainly cared about my son’s well-being, and we had a long fight ahead of us; there’s no doubt about that. But this isn’t only a story about battling an illness. It’s also the story of a mother who needed rescuing, too. Advent reminds me of that: Jesus didn’t just come for the brokenness in my son’s mind, but for the brokenness in my own heart. And that is where this journey truly begins.

Subscribe now

I am grateful for my son’s community living home. Some caring individuals work there and do their best. But I have to stay involved, and I’m not well-liked behind the scenes with the provider for this reason.

Last night, my husband & I brought leftovers from a Christmas party at our church to the men. It was late, and my son and another resident emerged sleepy-headed. The gratitude on their faces was precious, not only for the food but also for our mere presence. Even as we apologised for waking them up, one of the men smiled as if a natural thing like us stopping by for a moment was akin to giving him a million dollars.

The staff person, who was ending her shift soon after, would leave the men alone for the night until morning. She sat behind a desk, wearing a mask, neither introducing herself nor looking up.

I share this, compelled to give a glimpse of what aches in my heart week after week for this community. I know we live in a fallen world that will never be perfect this side of heaven, but while we are here, Christians, what sort of love and kindness can we bring to those who are overlooked in our communities? How can we reach these dear image bearers with compassion and a more dignified picture of humanity?

The government will never be able to do this. We will be chasing improvement forever. But the church has just the sort of care to bring. How can we begin? Check out our SMI primer for the church; it’s a good place to start thinking about these things.

Now available to download for free.

Speaking of how the church can serve, a beautiful podcast episode dropped yesterday featuring our pastor of more than 33 years. I was in tears as I heard him share his pastoral wisdom with such gentleness and truth, so characteristic of his life and ministry. The reason my husband and I began our work is directly tied to the care we’ve received from Pastor Trey and our church.

In this episode, “Mental Health, Prayer, and God’s Word,” he speaks about moving from fear to stepping out in faith: loving and caring for people with complex diagnoses with confidence and hope rooted in Scripture. I promise you, this is one investment of your time you won’t regret. Then go and share it far and wide with those who are interested in ministry to the seriously mentally ill.

Subscribe now

For me, it’s not difficult to be grateful. My husband survived several heart attacks and bypass surgery. God gave him the strength to overcome his battle with cigarettes. I never thought I would see this day, and I’m still in awe, frozen in my tracks by this mercy. Apart from Jesus, our marriage has been the greatest gift and comfort, one that far outweighs every storm we’ve walked through. I know many don’t have this kind of companion in suffering, and that awareness humbles me deeply. It brings a sobering clarity that this is a grace, pure and undeserved.

And yet, this morning as I opened my Bible, asking the Holy Spirit to help me engage, I quietly prayed for more assurance of His love. Ashamed, in a way, that my doubts were uncovered: “Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know me, Philip (errr…Deborah)?” —John 14:9.

As I glanced at my reading plan, I saw ahead that glorious section from the New Testament: 1 Peter 1:1–9. Through tears, I reread it, and this part struck me anew:

“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him.”

I thought back to one of the darkest seasons of crisis with our son, who has schizophrenia. Those days when there seemed to be no end in sight, and circumstances grew worse at every turn. I remember a moment when I was expressing my love to God and thought, “How can this be? How can my love for You be growing when everything around me is falling apart?”

Because God was testing the genuineness of my faith, a faith He had given me, one I hadn’t earned and, frankly, had often opposed. Yet He was merciful to me in that fire, because this is what matters: a faith more precious than gold. And this morning, in response to my faint prayer, He gently reminded me of that mercy again. The testing of our faith is a gift. Fire reveals what’s hidden, what’s real, and what is not.

There were other trials this year, strained relationships with older children, and medication adjustments for Seth. Each one revealing my need for ongoing sanctification and growth. Each one revealing something more about Jesus’ love and assurance of his gift of faith. I’m reminded that the mercy He has shown to me isn’t meant to be stored away, but extended to others, especially those closest to me.

I’m also thinking back to a conversation I had with a stranger at my parents’ dear church up in the mountains a few weeks ago. He encouraged me to focus on the ways God meets my son and meets us in the trials. There’s a never-ending torrent of distasteful experiences within the brokenness of our systems and within the disease of schizophrenia itself. But there is also a unique way in which God meets those who trust Him in the hard things.

So, a subtle plot twist is coming in my writing and podcasts in the months ahead. The ugly and hard things are real. But so is God’s mercy to meet us in them all.

I’ll end this Autumn’s musing with a favorite poem that carried me through my husband’s surgery and recovery. It helped me find the words to pray when I didn’t know how. May it help you, too, this tender November.

Subscribe now

We’re diving into serious mental illness and violence, a topic that makes most people uncomfortable and politicians talk in circles. Meanwhile, families are living this reality every day, caring for loved ones who are sick, frightened, and often left with nowhere to go.

Yes, violence can happen. But not because people with serious mental illness are “evil” or “monsters.” It happens when psychosis takes over and treatment isn’t available. We’ve made it almost impossible for families to get help, and the result is heartbreaking for everyone involved.

This episode isn’t about blame, it’s about understanding. The Church, in particular, has an incredible opportunity to bring light into this darkness. Not by fixing everything, but by seeing these families, praying with them, and reminding a weary world that every life still matters to God.

Subscribe now

Linkage:

The Fatal Stabbing Iryna Zarutska

Speaking of rescues and heroes and whatnot, I’m thrilled to introduce you to Clint Richardson, author of “Captain No Eyes and the Protector of the Innocent.” Now, you might be wondering why an advocate for the seriously mentally ill is teaming up with a children’s book hero. (At least I hope you’re wondering!) There’s a reason I interviewed Clint and invited him to join us at the Expo, and the story behind his book is equally compelling.

You’ll have to watch or listen to find out more. So download this session, sit back tonight or while you’re out and about, and discover why Captain No Eyes is exactly the kind of hero we need right now.

Closing Thoughts

If you’ve been around here a while, you know this is what we Mama Bears do: we see the ones everyone else overlooks, and we don’t look away. Whether it’s a person in a storybook or a loved one battling a serious mental illness, love compels us to protect, to speak up, and to keep showing up.

And our motivation isn’t just compassion, it’s the gospel. We move toward the broken because Jesus first moved toward us. He saw us when we were lost and loved us when we couldn’t see Him. That’s the heartbeat behind everything we do here at Mama Bear Diaries.

So if you know someone who needs a reminder to keep seeing the invisible, share this episode with them (and purchase Clint’s book). You never know how far a little light and a brave hero can reach.

Subscribe now

In this episode of The Mama Bear Diaries, I share what those conversations revealed and why it’s time for the Church to move toward this hidden suffering. We’re bringing truth, hope, and a little courage to step closer.

If you’re in the Phoenix area, come out to the Disability Expo on Saturday, October 18. We’ll have a table there and I’ll be speaking in the breakout sessions. Sign up here.

And stay tuned, you’ll also meet children’s author Clint Richardson, creator of Captain No Eyes: The Protector of the Innocent. He’s the kind of hero we need right now, brave enough to speak up for the weak.

Subscribe now

October 04, 2012

ADVOCATE

For the past few months I have been buried in filings of paperwork, returning to court because I missed something in my prep work, talking with people about my son's medical history, etc., etc. I guess you would call this advocating.

We could not afford a lawyer, so the brunt of the work fell to me. I may as well have been doing this blind folded. And as you can imagine, I often struggled with anxiety about making sure I had all of my t's crossed and i's dotted. There's alot on the line when you are petitioning for guardianship.

Yet, at the height of my heart's flutterings and flailings...God met me. When I saw that I was beginning to feel like this was all up to me, He reminded me. He is my advocate. And those gospel whisperings blew across my soul yet again.

How do I miss them? It takes me so long to see sometimes. What a privilege to be able to advocate for my son. To toil and grieve over him...because I love him. And this, this is a beautiful snap shot of my Father's love for me. Because Christ is my advocate. And He awakens my soul's eyes to this comfort, this assurance in the depth of the trial. He reveals Himself to me. My hero. My advocate.

And by the way, I was granted guardianship of my son today :o). Afterwards, I took him to Jamba Juice and it was as if nothing had changed between us. We were right down the street from a library I used to take him to as a boy. Shafts of memories like that pierce my heart from time to time, and I gently rubbed his short hair as he lay his head on the sunlit table on the patio as we drank our juice. I would much rather have been celebrating a college graduation with him, or better yet...his wedding, anything other than legal guardianship today.

But there we were. This is what God has ordained. And what God ordains is always right, and always good. He loves my son more than my husband or I could ever attempt to love him. And He alone is the perfect advocate.

Subscribe

Let’s go back to the beginning.

1751: America’s first hospital was championed by Benjamin Franklin, “to care for the sick-poor & insane” wandering the streets in Philadelphia. He later said securing support for it gave him more pleasure than any of his political maneuvers.

Meet Dorothea Dix (1802-1887). She spent decades pushing for humane treatment of the mentally ill, helping to establish or expand more than 30 hospitals. She fiercely opposed abuse like caging, neglect & cruel restraints.

In the 1950’s everything began to shift.

The 1st antipsychotic medication, Thorazine, offered a way to manage symptoms of schizophrenia. For the 1st time, treatment seemed possible outside of asylums. It also fueled the belief that hospitals could be closed quickly.

1963: President John F Kennedy signed the Community Mental Health Act. It promised to replace psychiatric institutions with a network of community-based centers. But only half were built & most were never adequately funded.

1965: Then came a quiet but devastating rule buried in Medicaid law, the IMD Exclusion. It barred federal funding for psychiatric hospitals with more than 16 beds for adults 21-64 years of age. Intended to promote community care, it instead left the sickest with no place to go.

1971: Wyatt v. Stickney. This case established the “right to treatment,” requiring hospitals to provide humane conditions & enough staff. A victory for patients, but one that also drove costs higher, pushing more states to close beds.

1975: O’Connor v. Donaldson. The Supreme Court ruled that a person who is not dangerous & can survive safely in freedom cannot be confined. Combined with later rulings, “dangerousness” became the narrow on-ramp for involuntary treatment, leaving families powerless until a crisis.

1980: President Jimmy Carter signed the Mental Health Systems Act, designed to strengthen community centers.

1981: Under President Reagan, it was repealed. Funding shifted to block grants, which states often diverted elsewhere. The safety net tore further.

1999: Olmstead v. L.C. The Supreme Court ruled that unjustified institutionalization violates the ADA. While affirming rights, it accelerated deinstitutionalization without building adequate alternatives for those most in need.

2002: President George W Bush created the New Freedom Commission on Mental Health. It promised transformation, but millions were invested in anti-stigma campaigns. Meanwhile, people with the most serious mental illness remained untreated.

2008: The Mental Health Parity & Addiction Equity Act. It requires insurers to treat mental health care the same as physical care. Enforcement, however, was weak. Medicaid’s IMD barrier stayed firmly in place.

2010: The Affordable Care Act expanded insurance coverage for mental health. But again, the sickest fell through the cracks. The IMD Exclusion continued to block hospital care.

2000s: Today, jails & ERs have become our default psychiatric facilities. Homelessness surged & families are left with no tools until a crisis erupts. Tragedies like Iryna Zarutska’s death are the predictable result of this history.

What needs to change?

• End the IMD Exclusion so Medicaid can fund hospital care.

• Expand step-down and long-term housing & treatment options.

• Give families tools before “dangerousness” is reached.

Until the IMD Exclusion ends, we will keep recycling people with serious mental illness through ERs, jails & streets until tragedy strikes again.

And it will.

It’s time to fix it.

Subscribe now