I was weary for quite some time. I was a heartbroken momma wanting to know how to help my boy. I was impatiently waiting for God to answer my prayers, not wanting to trust what He was doing behind the scenes to prepare us.
Last Sunday evening as I was lying in bed, I prayed we were making the right decision. I mean, I already knew we made the right decision. God clearly revealed it to us. It’s just, sometimes my humanness makes me second-guess things. Through all my humanness, all my weakness, there’s one thing I never second-guess: the peace only He can give. In my moment of questioning, that lovely peace enveloped me and has carried me through this entire week.
Over Christmas break, Luke was diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome. Another diagnosis added to his list. It doesn’t seem right. It definitely isn’t fair. We weren’t surprised by it though. The symptoms described everything we had been noticing.
This year, school became hard. We realized he was spending so much energy trying to suppress his tics that he was unraveling at home. Add that to the energy it takes with his eye disorder and just the normal energy it takes to learn and so on. Plus through all of that, his grades were great. No wonder he was unraveling. On weekends, Luke was worn and anxious thinking about the coming school week. Kids were noticing his tics and were asking him questions. Most were not being mean, but it was pushing him further and further into a shell. He was sad and frustrated at the world. We were trying everything we could and nothing seemed to help him. I was losing my fun-loving bold kid. We had to do something different.
It’s crazy what the love for your family gives you strength to do. Never did I ever think I would homeschool. Yet, here I am. Our first week passed and went great. It felt so natural and right that there is no doubt God’s blessing on all of this. I feel strong and at peace. Thanks to God.
We do have a long road ahead. Luke will be starting a therapy that is known to be the most effective for Tourette’s. Please pray that it is for Luke. I want my boy back.
Driving fast down an old dirt road, I kept glancing in the mirror at my kids in the backseat. Their eyes told me their discomfort was rising. My husband’s tension was evident by his firm grip on the wheel. The low tire pressure alert lit up on the dashboard. We just wanted to get to where we were going. We had too many things to do. We kept going.
Scattered heavy raindrops began to fall from the sky as I played in a nearby tennis court with my friends during our brothers baseball game. Slowly, the sporadic rain turned into a steady rainfall. My friends and I lifted our arms high and tilted our heads back as we allowed the rain to land in our open mouths. I remember the laughter that flowed from us and the glances that bonded us in that moment. Time slowed and we were nothing else but free.
The last year and a half has been rough on me. I haven’t wanted to fully admit it (even to myself) and I especially haven’t felt like discussing it. I don’t want to go into all the particulars that has caused this. Life is life and it isn’t always pleasant. For someone like myself, there is nothing harder than to watch bad things or bad times fall upon people I care about. I’m not saying this to prove I’m a good person, but I’d much rather have bad things happen to myself than to my peeps. That is the good and bad of the gift of mercy. I presume every gift has a weakness and Satan uses that weakness to try to tear us down.
I focused in on the pink ones. Romans 8:28 reminds me of my grandparents, it reminds me of my grandma’s death. Since the verse keeps popping up I have been thinking of her. Pink carnations were her favorite. They’ve been here in my house and yet it slipped my mind until that moment. As if that were not enough, I went to sit on my couch. My phone was in my hand because I was getting ready to clean and was going to put music on. (Who likes to clean without music?) I sat, thought about my grandma, pulled myself together, and then put Pandora on. I began to stand up when the song Homesick came on. It was the song they played at her funeral.
Matthew,
I apologize to anyone who read my post last year…or other similar ones, but things lay heavy on me and what else am I to do? I feel there is more depth this year than last and am wondering next year if it is possible to transcend further into whatever it is you’d call it that I feel post-Christmas.
Through the Stillness 