I'm not talking about physical growing pains, although I do seem to have mastered the growing in size. Let's face it, I will never be a size 10 again. Moving on.
I'm talking about growing pains in my heart, and in my spirit. In my acceptance of what is.
I keep telling myself I have accepted, but I have not.
What is, isn't what I want it to be.
I fight it.
I try to ignore the ugly truth of it.
But, it still is.
The phone calls started weeks ago. I knew they would, but I was in denial until the numbers grew---two- three a week, five a week, one a day, two a day. At least my boys are sharing, neither really hogging the center of these discussions. Calls from school teachers. Calls from the principal. Calls from the asst- principal. Calls about the bus. Calls about the classroom. Calls about the playground. Calls from their case manager.
561-8165 on my caller id freaks me out. just sayin!
And that doesn't include calls from daycare. Calls from OT. Calls from the transportation dept. Calls from the therapist.
I wanted to believe since this is a new year, it's a clean slate. That we will succeed.
Maybe my kids don't really have special needs.
I mean, there are kids in obvious special needs situations. You see them at first glance, and know. But my kids, they look normal if you will.
After 45 minutes of a recent lunch hour spent hearing the problems during the school day, I hung up the phone exhausted and discouraged. I am so thankful for her optimism, and her willingness to do all she can. And I know she is making a difference. She thinks he is great and she tells him so. He needs that. But she is one person of the many in his day. I tell her the honeymoon is over. She says she won't let it be. I say, my real son is showing up. He has held it together as long as he can. The newness of the school year, the teachers, the new friends, is over. I am worried that without the newly requested Occupational Therapy at home, in the therapist's office and incorporating the new strategies at school, he will continue the downward spiral. She is worried about making him dependent on "crutches".
When is more better than none?
Rex and I joked with my sister, and our bestest friends about how long we'd get into the year before we found ourselves in this place. I guess we have our answer. We still joke- humor softens the sting of reality.
He is angry. He is scared. He is broken.
My boys need structure. The slightest change sends them in a tail spin. We live in chaos.
Chaos often created by them. The mis-queues of their hurt are confusing for us. I do not yet read them correctly.
I keep hearing her say she is afraid of giving him crutches, so I've been thinking about that. I, more than anyone want my sons to succeed. More than good grades, success in fitting in with peers. To be able to transition without fail. To know what, and when words and behaviors are appropriate.
Which, by the way, is not telling a first grader she is sexy. sigh.
I want them to accept life's disappointments. To accept life's joyful surprises. To accept life's mundane over and over and overs.
I don't like the decisions we are being asked to make. I don't like the lack of effort from other people to understand. I don't like the fact that my children have needs, different than what I know. We say it, but I don't want to believe it. I want their actions to mirror the appearance of their physical bodies- that all is well.
They are not all well.
They are broken.
Each with their breaks in different places, for different reasons- but they are broken.
Aren't crutches for the aid in the healing of broken, wounded bodies. A broken leg that continues to bear weight won't properly heal. You might be able to walk, but the pain felt, not seen will follow you always. So when our bodies break, we take up crutches and do not assume that the 6 weeks or so of dependence will lead to a lifetime of need. The crutches do their job until healing is complete, and then they are discarded.
I can no longer ask my children to bear weight on their broken hearts, souls and spirits. I will not let pride stop me from putting their needs first. I am growing.
I will give them crutches. The teachers may resist. The church may resist. Their friends and families may resist. I understand, they resist because they do not fully see or feel what I see. They see cute, engaging, funny little boys. They do not feel the breaks of their tiny hearts beating chest to chest with mine. They do not see the tears fall from their faces onto ours. They do not hear their fears
My boys need healing. I don't know how long the healing will take. I would never have imagined their broken places wouldn't be whole by now. But instead of healing, we keep finding more cracks, more breaks in their secret places.
I wish I had answers. I wish I knew what lies ahead. I wish I were stronger and the growing pains didn't scare me?
I keep finding myself flat on my tear stained face begging God for answers. Why? Why did two precious boys have to begin in such a hurtful place. Why isn't our love enough? Will it ever be enough?
I beg for wisdom. I beg for rest. I beg for the promise that their healing will come quick.
And, while I beg and cry and ask God why, I know that the answers may not come. We may have to wait. We may need crutches forever. I fear their healing may not be whole this side of heaven. And what if it isn't?
Will I love God anyway?
Is He still good.... ALL the time?
Please don't feel sorry for me. I'm growing.
I'm growing in my faith. I'm growing in my trust. I'm growing in the resolve of my God Daddy who has my boy's broken hearts in the palm of His hands. Is God's Grace- Mercy-Love enough if they are never whole?
Yes! It is enough, and I will still love Him. I will love Him and I will thank Him for the brokenness.
Not perfectly, but in my weakness He is strong.
Psalm 18: 1-3
I WILL love You, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised.
Psalm 42: 1 & 11
As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God. Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance and my God.
Psalm 92: 1-2
It is good to give thanks to the Lord, and to sing praises to Your name, O Most High; to declare Your loving kindness in the morning, and Your faithfulness every night.
a hug from Teri, at just the right time
little boy giggles- oh the joy!
a son- almost man passing getting his license
the sound of fall rain pounding on my windows
a strong bear hug from my teenage son, followed by the because 'i'm happy"
brothers and sisters in Christ, praying together on a LAX bound flight
the testimonies of Bruce & Sammy Frye
the good bye kiss that made my head spin, really
the stranger who put my bag in overhead, so I could stop having to look up
the red and green checkerboard God created over Oklahoma
waking up to the Arizona mountaintops peaking through a white cloud carpet - I can never get enough of the view from above the clouds
my husband spending his entire day today fielding phone calls and making decisions
sunlight on tired sock feet
I'm growing, and it is okay with me.
What 'ya thankful for?