and leaving him there day after day while he begged to come home.
When the oceans rise and thunders roar....
The prayers of so many of you have sustained us since February 5 when this new storm began for us. I've heard people say it my whole life, but Rex and I have truly experienced what it feels like to be covered in prayers-especially in the days since he was readmitted.
His second admission- expected to be a short three day stay turned into 13- so we were thrilled when we found out that instead of being transferred to the state hospital for a long-term stay, he was coming home. And we knew that prayers were answered. And by now, the memories of the days leading up to the hospital were fading. I missed him and desperately just wanted him back home. Even in our exhaustion, we brought him home with a false sense of energy and a new resilience that things will be better. NOW!
And we believed, even when they were warning us on the way out the door that the road is long and may not lead where we want it to, we believe we can do this!
And knowing I was going in to bring him home, I still hated walking into that room.
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| coming home 030514 |
And the pictures that show real happiness and joy hide the equal amount of pain because storm is flat hard. And there is no magic pill. Or quick answers. There is no easy way.
I will soar with you above the storms.....
If I am learning nothing else, I am learning I.am. not.
I am not strong, no matter how many of you tell me I am.
I am not together- have you seen me lately.
My love may not be enough. Right now it is not even acceptable to him.
He is not thankful for me. Yet.
I can.not.do.this.
We've been battling since Thursday. Stand-off after stand-off, hour after hour. It's Sunday evening and after all day of me being prisoner at home to stand guard for my son- the screaming has finally stopped. The I hates, and the I wants, and the I wont's. The 40+ walks with him back up the steps to his room, where I asked him to stay every trip but he refuses. The thrown toys and strewn clothes. The broken mirrors.
And my failed attempts to stay a step ahead of him and not react or show emotion.
Don't yell. Don't give him too much information. Don't warn just give natural consequences. Stay calm. They say.
All this while he is screaming venom and anger and cannot seem to pull it back. This little giant who moves from screaming "get.your.hands.off.of.me" when I go to hug him, to calmly in the middle of his rage, plead- "Mommy, please don't send me back to the hospital."
How does a mom balance unconditional love - the kind that he can trust will always be there no matter what- with the anger and frustration welling up inside to overflowing when she is afraid to admit she is wondering if she can do this another day.
And I'm sure that I can't. And my husband, who I loved first and longest looks at me and we wonder where we are and if we'll survive this. And we cling to each other and cry. Because we know that with all the offers of help, there is really nothing to be done. And we remember that this all started with obedience to God to love the orphans and parent whomever He brought to us. Remembering we were called to this and feeling like we've been left to drown in the calling.
You are King over the flood.....
I've been through a lot of valleys and trials-as each of you have. But, it has taken my son's struggle to really empty me of myself completely. With each stand-off I've realized what I thought was ridding my heart of pride and self-sufficiency was a lie I told myself.
But when you really feel like life is swallowing you whole, it takes past your knees. It takes you, and me flat on my face in the floor crying out to God. There is no more pride in myself. Self-sufficiency has long fled. I am not.
Like the mirror with the note from the mom who loves to the son who can't- life is broken.
And there is only one thing I can do, because when I am not, He IS!
I will be still and know you are God!
Happy Monday y'all!
