Let Me Hold Your Hand

Pulling in to the sensory gym to pick Jackson up from his OT appointment today, I saw a mom (assuming she's a mother, could have been an aunt, foster parent, caretaker) I've not seen at therapy before. She was sitting on the concrete steps in the sun with her head bent, resting in her hands. By the time I got my kids ready to go inside, she had already gone in. Upon exiting my car, I could hear her son (again assuming her son) screaming from inside the gym. Then I understood. Everything inside me wanted to go hold her hand and tell her what I desperately want to hear in my moments like that. Since she and her son's therapist were handling the situation, I didn't know if it would help or hurt. I had to get Jackson and get us home for lunch and the rest of our school day. So, I didn't. But, I thought I would share this for those of you who know what this woman was facing today, who know that feeling all too well, desperation and exhaustion mixed with a little shame, suffering through a melt down at the playground, the bounce house, the grocery store, school activity, birthday party etc.

Let me hold your hand and tell you. It's going to be ok. I know you're a good mom because if you didn't care, you wouldn't be here, and you certainly wouldn't be fighting this battle in public. The sting of the daggers thrown at you from dozens of glaring eyes will only hurt for a little while, but if you give up and give in to that voice in your head that just wants it to be over, that might set your child back and undo the painstaking hours of work you've already put into overcoming this obstacle. There is light at the end of the tunnel, and there are many, many parents who know what you're going through. If one of us sees you out in public in a situation like this, we'll be routing for you. You can make it. You will survive it. And, I want you to know, I'll be praying for you and for that precious child of yours. I can tell you from experience. You will reach a day when progress has been made, obstacles have been overturned, and the road ahead made just a little bit smoother. You will learn more about life, love and humanity caring for your amazing child than you could learn from a dozen typical children. He is yours! You are his! You've been called to walk this road together, and God will never call you to something He won't give you the strength to handle WELL. Hang in there, and when you don't think you can make it, grab a hand and hold on tight. You are not alone. Let me hold your hand and tell you. It's going to be ok.

I'll Stand

Jackson and me at his 6th birthday party

About three years ago, with more questions than answers, I found myself overwhelmed with worry and fear. Jackson's diagnosis was still so confusing. What is autism? Pervasive Developmental Disorder - Not Otherwise Specified, is this English? What is the autism spectrum? What does this mean for him? What does this mean for our family? What does the future hold? Can I handle this? Speech, occupational, social, or ABA therapy; public, private or home school? How do I know what's right for him?

One morning, in an attempt to calm my spirit while I tackled the chaos I knew I could handle, my kitchen, I turned on some music and set to work. My youngest was sleeping. My oldest was at school, and Jackson was playing with his blocks in the next room. The Stand by Hillsong United came on, and I was overcome. In one of those precious moments where the presence of God in my life was tangible, I stood, hands raised, head bowed, tears flowing, unable to sing. The words echoed in my heart.

"You stood before my failures.
Carried the Cross for my shame.
My sin weighed upon Your shoulders.
My soul now to stand.

"What could I say.
What could I do,
But offer this heart, O God, completely to you."

  Then I heard this tiny voice beside me, hands raised, head bowed, singing what I couldn't.

"I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned
In awe of the One who gave it all.
I'll stand my soul, Lord, to you surrendered.
All I am is Yours."

I immediately crumpled to the floor. I don't think I've ever hugged him tighter. He patted my back and went back to playing, but in that moment, He and God gave me something I couldn't live without, a vision. One I have seen and heard in every set back we've faced. "All I am is Yours."

We found out this week that Jackson cannot continue at the private/home school program he's been attending this year. They say he isn't engaging and participating like he should, and they don't think he will be able to handle first grade at their school. I've been surprised at the level of pain this decision has brought me. I burst into tears at Target. (Yes. I know. Poor stocking person didn't know what to do.) I've lost sleep and struggled to function properly with this constant ache in my gut. Why? There was a point when I surrendered all my dreams for Jackson to the vision God gave me that day. "All I am is Yours." He belongs to God, and his diagnosis is a special calling on his life, a purpose that only he can fill, a work of God. I think this set back has brought more pain than it should because, little by little, I had begun to take back those dreams. He's been doing so well for so long, I started thinking the worst was behind us, that everything was going to go according to plan after all. Once again, I'm overwhelmed with questions. Some new, some old, all without answers. And, once again, God has brought to mind that vision.

This morning, I had my iPhone on shuffle while I attempted to tackle the events of the day, The Stand came on again. The image of Jackson's little hands raised and head bowed, the sound of his tiny voice singing the words in 3 year old delayed speech, this vision reminded me who he belongs to and in whose hands his future lies. One more emotional outburst, then peace.

I don't know if I can handle what lies ahead, but I know God can. One more time, I'll surrender my heart to Him and let Him lead the way. "All I am is Yours." So, I'll stand.