But we are.
As parents of a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) we find ourselves desperate. In crisis. At the end of our rope. Confused and near hopeless.
So we stepped out of our comfort zone for the sake of our son, and opened our home to her. And we do need her. And she is a blessing to our family.
When the issues of the heart flow from the mouth, it can be sweet. Or it can be ugly. It can take you completely by surprise. The issues flowing from the heart, might take you into your son's dark closet where you find yourself weeping with him as he spills forth feelings kept bottled inside for way too long and begs to know why and what.
His grief, equal to his anger and rage- we call spewing venom. And the venom, it feels like poison- taking our breath away and paralyzing us with disbelief that those hateful and mean words come out of the same little boy that hours later say "I love you Mommy, I'm sorry" and giggles over Duck Dynasty.
The sacred spaces- where truth pours out because it's been shoved deep down and can't be shoved any further and can't be hidden not even with his Halloween pumpkin; where truth can't be told when begged for because we don't have it. The place where the pain of your child dealing with demons and memories and fears and looking for needs that we might not be able to meet no matter how much we want to and how hard we try- it's a sacred space.
We're just getting started on this journey into the sacred spaces of healing. The road is scary and almost sure to be long and isn't guaranteed to end where we want it to. But we'll keep walking it, because in his dark closet holding my son tonight, I saw a distant light of hope. And hope is everything.
"To console those who mourn in Zion, o give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified."
Happy Thursday y'all!