It happens in an instant. Unexpected. I know things are unsettled, but I do not know what it is that I say or do that triggers outbursts, meltdowns, arguments, emergence of the strong will.
Suddenly I am face to face with rebellion and anger, and I must swallow mine in order to love, train and teach.
And God’s Word rings in my ears…“let NOTHING unwholesome proceed out of your mouth… only that which edifies…for the need of the moment…so it will give grace…”
How do I do this?
It was a year or two ago that our worship leader, Mike, approached Brian just before the second service we were attending at church.“Brian! Ian wants to play the drums, and I say ‘let’s let him’! Would you bring him up on stage for the last song after the sermon so he can play?” Brian willingly agreed.
Ian. That dear boy who loved unreservedly and enjoyed life fully. That boy who hugged anyone and made friends with everyone he saw. That boy who loved to tickle and laugh and say “tamales” for Sunday School answers just to laugh some more. That boy who was a boy scout full of adventure. That boy with Down Syndrome. That boy who truly LIVED.
For Today, February 8, 2012…A glimpse into my day, just an ordinary day.
Outside my window…sprinkles of snow falling and then melting away.
I am thinking…about how the boys will be home very soon and we can all curl up next to the wood stove together with popcorn and hot chocolate and maybe even a movie.
I am thankful for…a fridge full of food, heavy blankets on chilly days, crackling fires, red curls, phone calls, unexpected lunch with my Brian, just living LIFE.
Recently, I had someone ask me how I am doing and where we are going from here with my follow-ups, and I realize I didn’t write about the results of my recent scans… will you forgive how late this is? So many of you have been praying, and I never want you to think your love and prayers aren’t important to me.
At the end of the day my exhaustion and pain often overwhelm, and it is rare for me to find time to write anymore. I hate this feeling. My words seem stolen from me, and the catharsis they once were is gone. It is one more thing the struggle of life has taken from me, and I ache with the longing for words to come.
The night before last I had a dream.
I was playing soccer with Bri and the kids. This wasn’t some backyard soccer game; it was a real game on real turf against real pros. We were all in professional uniforms, and we knew what we were doing. However, we couldn’t keep up with the other team. After all, Bella against David Beckham? Unless she can distract him with her cuteness, she’s getting nowhere.
Anyway, we played and we tried and we fell and we were bloodied and bruised. All of us.