I’ve been lacking focus lately when writing. Between health, exercise and child issues I’m more of a rushing torrent than a steady stream and I’m beginning to feel the effects of it. or is it “affects”? I’m a writer without a basic grasp of the language, but let’s just add that to the list of things I’m forgiving myself for this today. 
Today is about bad news. Not horrible news, or anything life changing, but just the plain, simple BAD NEWS.
I think as a mother of any child you have the same basic goals for them. You want them to be healthy and then whatever other characteristics that are important to you the most. You want them to be good people, love others but then comes the “customization” if you will- the things that are important to you. Smart, courageous, giving… you get the idea. I’ve always prayed that I’d have happy kids and they really are. I’ve prayed that they’d love God first, be servants and be intelligent.
How do you base intelligence? I’m struggling with this right now. I just got a stack of papers that inform me of my rights as a special needs child’s mom, his test scores and how NOT ready his is for kindergarten.
Just because I KNOW that my child has special needs doesn’t make this any easier. Every box unchecked is a stabbing pain in my heart. Because I hoped. Yes, I had already knew that I was going to hold him back a year. Yes, I already knew he was behind in a lot of areas and YES, I know that these tests are really, really strict.
It’s like my brain has all this knowledge but it slowly trickles down to my heart until my heart is full and I’m back on my face. Bear will be 5 next month. The tests said he was at a 36 month level and I feel the pain like a ripped open scab all over again. The never quite fully healed wound is infected again and I speak truth out loud to myself all day long. I drown out “it’s not fair!” with “his grace is enough” because it IS and only when I’m crying out in pain to him do I get that peace. I may be fighting all day for it, but it’s THERE if I let myself give my pain back up to him.
And I think whether we admit it or not, that we all have this in our lives. It doesn’t have to be a special needs child- but it’s SOMETHING that we have to give back all the time. Perhaps not all the time, but sometimes all the time. I don’t struggle daily with this. I’m not discouraged or depressed overall, it’s just these little whisps that are in and out quickly, but devastating while they are breathed in. No matter how wonderful our life is- there are rotting parts of us that we can’t fix and can only ignore for some time.
There is no cure in this life. I think sharp pains dull over time and griefs fade, but this life will never be perfect and never was meant to be. I’ve been drawn to depression era hymns these days and nothing quite says it better than this- such seemingly dark words sung with a joyful cheer…
Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away;
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away).
Chorus
I’ll fly away, Oh Glory
I’ll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away).
When the shadows of this life have gone,
I’ll fly away;
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away)
Chorus
Just a few more weary days and then,
I’ll fly away;
To a land where joy shall never end,
I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away)