Recently, I was disappointed.
I thought something was going to be the answer to all of my problems. Turns out, it wasn't.
It's hard to struggle while watching others succeed. It's hard to bear financial burdens when others seem to have plenty. It's devastating to want for all your heart to provide resources for your children that you think they need and you just can't.
The cost is too high.
I must confess, I am sick of this phrase. I feel like this has been my mantra for two years.
But here we are, here we live. If life is grace and God is sovereign, then this is best.
I wish it felt best or looked best, but I guess that is what faith is all about.
I was disappointed because I put my faith in the wrong place.
My faith, my hope, does not belong in my own abilities or strengths or location or special school or tutors or therapy or the next book or homeschool or even my husband.
My hope is in the Lord.
Tonight, Forrest Gump came on television. Interesting timing. My husband and I watched as this man who most people would have considered mentally challenged led an extraordinary life.
My son could do that. My son could have an extraordinary life.
Or maybe he's living it right now and I am too caught up in my own emotional turmoil and other people's expectations to realize it.
(ouch.)
Romans 10:11 For the scripture saith, Whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Running is easy.
No, I'm not kidding.
That's exactly what I was thinking yesterday afternoon, setting out on my run, the Mississippi sun directly above me in a somewhat balmy forty-something degrees. It's just one foot after another.
One foot after another.
Much easier than my morning.
I ambitiously decided that my son and I would have school at Chick-fil-A. It's hard to start back, I reasoned. This would make school more fun.
The good news? We ate well, breakfast and lunch.
The bad news? Teaching multiples on a white board at a fast food restaurant to a child who gets distracted both within and without is a tough sell. We did not have a good time in school.
I have been homeschooling my son all of his life. We did not discover that he was autistic until he was ten. He has Asperger's, which is high-functioning on the spectrum. He also was diagnosed with ADHD, math and language disabilities, handwriting disabilities, compromised motor skills, hearing loss and more. I think I had stopped listening to the doctor who evaluated him by the end of the list. It was too overwhelming. All I knew is that he was struggling to read and maintain focus. All of my homeschooling mom friends said those traits were typical for boys and not to worry.
Now, I am allowed to worry.
But you know what? My son is a great boy. He is compassionate and caring. Everyday he thanks God for his family. He is patient with me, even when I get emotional during school (like yesterday). He is a genius at Legos and fantastic at all racing video games. He loves people. He sees people. Every time I lose him in Wal-Mart, he is sitting on a bench talking to an elderly gentleman who is waiting on his wife to get her month's supply of toilet paper and cat food. And those men always say the same thing: "You have quite a son there. He's a good boy."
Yes, but will "good" be able to get a job? Get married? Have a family, a life? Will he know deep inside his value, his preciousness as a child of God? Or will he believe the "experts" who told me four years ago that it would be a miracle for him to graduate high school?
The future is a bit murky. However, running teaches me.
One foot in front of the other.
That's the only way to do it.
One step of faith at a time.
No, I'm not kidding.
That's exactly what I was thinking yesterday afternoon, setting out on my run, the Mississippi sun directly above me in a somewhat balmy forty-something degrees. It's just one foot after another.
One foot after another.
Much easier than my morning.
I ambitiously decided that my son and I would have school at Chick-fil-A. It's hard to start back, I reasoned. This would make school more fun.
The good news? We ate well, breakfast and lunch.
The bad news? Teaching multiples on a white board at a fast food restaurant to a child who gets distracted both within and without is a tough sell. We did not have a good time in school.
I have been homeschooling my son all of his life. We did not discover that he was autistic until he was ten. He has Asperger's, which is high-functioning on the spectrum. He also was diagnosed with ADHD, math and language disabilities, handwriting disabilities, compromised motor skills, hearing loss and more. I think I had stopped listening to the doctor who evaluated him by the end of the list. It was too overwhelming. All I knew is that he was struggling to read and maintain focus. All of my homeschooling mom friends said those traits were typical for boys and not to worry.
Now, I am allowed to worry.
But you know what? My son is a great boy. He is compassionate and caring. Everyday he thanks God for his family. He is patient with me, even when I get emotional during school (like yesterday). He is a genius at Legos and fantastic at all racing video games. He loves people. He sees people. Every time I lose him in Wal-Mart, he is sitting on a bench talking to an elderly gentleman who is waiting on his wife to get her month's supply of toilet paper and cat food. And those men always say the same thing: "You have quite a son there. He's a good boy."
Yes, but will "good" be able to get a job? Get married? Have a family, a life? Will he know deep inside his value, his preciousness as a child of God? Or will he believe the "experts" who told me four years ago that it would be a miracle for him to graduate high school?
The future is a bit murky. However, running teaches me.
One foot in front of the other.
That's the only way to do it.
One step of faith at a time.
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