Last night my husband told me today is his dad's birthday. I looked at the date, looked at him, and said, "Yes. Yes it is. Do you remember what we were doing one year ago?" He stared at me, and asked several crazy questions. One year ago his dad was watching three of our kids (on his birthday, Lord bless him!) so we could take Titus in for his three hour diagnostic appointment. "That was ONLY a YEAR ago?!?" was his reply. Yes, one year. One crazy, overwhelming, growing-curve, scary, blessed year ago. In the last year, we've found clothes he will wear, gotten through the tedious paperwork for medicaid and waiver's, started school, gotten through a summer, and found some food he will actually eat. We also pack a wagon in the truck now, because his legs are too weak to walk far. My guy is the one on the ground at school, because the line is too much for him. My guy is the big four-year-old in diapers, because the concept of going to the bathroom is too much for him. My guy yells, screams, and grunts to help his body work properly. And those are just the tip of the iceberg. But, my guy is loved, cherished, and has no idea what the Lord has done in my life because of him.
You see, this year the Lord brought me to my knees in a new and very unexpected way. Not more than a year ago, I was strong. I could handle everything. It might be a little bit tough sometimes, but I "had" it. I never asked for help. I never let my emotions get the better of me. Ever. In college, I started building a wall around my emotions to protect myself from being vulnerable. I was not going to be hurt for crying or being imperfect (Hah! What a joke! I was hurt all the time!). The Lord revealed that my unwillingness to be vulnerable was ugly pride, and this pride was destroying my relationships, our kids, and our marriage. I kept people at arms length, took every sin my kids did as a personal affront, and refused to trust my ever faithful, dedicated and loving husband. All of a sudden, I realized my desperation. I needed help, I needed others, and I was finally willing to ask. I knew I was alienating my older two, and I asked for help. The Lord graciously provided a few ladies to confront my sin, offer solid parenting books to read, and to be Titus 2 women in my life. The Lord did similar, amazing, and miraculous work in our marriage, as He humbled us and gracefully worked in our lives.
The grace in all of this began with Titus. When you are a parent of a special needs child, your pride goes out the window, as they throw it out for you. As they are yelling and screaming in a store because their body has been overwhelmed by stimuli, there are three ways to react. 1. RUN!!!!
2. Look that uninformed, holier-than-thou commenting woman RIGHT in the eye and let her know how you feel, how hard this life is, and how you just need to buy stinking milk..and she SURE didn't ask if she could help! -or- 3. Let the Lord be your vindicator, your helper, your peace. I cannot tell you how many times I've cried to the Lord or Richard and asked why no one ever offers to help. Why do people just stare at me or scold the kids? Why hasn't anyone, ever, just asked if there was a way they could do something...anything? Even if they can DO nothing, would it hurt to ask?? And then came MY test. I watched someone very close to me this past weekend. Her child was a mess. Screaming, yelling, hitting, and being an all-out sinner. Several around her were "encouraging" her child to behave. Then, I looked at her, and I saw ME. She was tired. She had tried all she knew, and had obviously failed. It took me several tries to get her attention (by this point she was desperately trying to block out the voices), and asked if I could help. What can I do? I think she just about cried in relief, instead of frustration...and then she took my offer. The Lord did something amazing in my heart during those moments. He gave me a glimpse at the heart of my friend, and let me see her hurt. Frankly, it was shocking and painful. My friend, with one child, felt the same hurt I feel, and no one had helped her either. How many times have I been the one to "help" scold the child? How many times have I looked past the "least of these" thinking a few words could solve the problem? How prideful am I? Where is my willingness to offer the grace I have so pleaded for? Perhaps I will be a little more aware now.
Being a parent of special needs children is not easy. There is heartache like I could never have imagined. There are fears about some of the smallest things. Walking out the door is literally taking his life in my hands. (We have a walkway and then a parking lot for 40 cars...most of whom think we live at Indy...and he runs the second the door is opened if I don't hold him.) There are also finite views of God's love and grace I could never have seen without him. My love for Titus is fierce and unconditional. There is nothing he can do to make me love him less or love him more. Whether he is kicking and screaming or hugging me so tight I can let go and he doesn't move, I love him. How much greater, deeper, wider, and purer is God's love for us! There are joys over the simplest victory-hearing "yes" instead of "NO!" is a big little from recently. God does delight in each victory we have, and gives aide to obtain the victory! (How cool is that?!?) There is nothing "romantic" about my life. Hopefully, though, His grace is evident through us, in me, and during each moment (especially the ugly).
