behavior

when you read the title of this post, what you think immediately says a lot about you.
if you are in the world of autism in any way, you conjure a very different picture in your mind than that of anyone else who may think of a small child throwing a temper tantrum or someone who imagines their strange uncle and how he behaves at family gatherings.

lena cried last week. and screamed.  for quite a while.  she occasionally cries and she occasionally screams, but this cry & scream combo is different.  it can't be described and if you hear it or experience it you will be quite alarmed.  it lasted about 15 minutes, which may not seem like a long time but when a non-verbal 9 year old girl screams and cries for 15 minutes, the seconds drag on one at a time... each 900 of them, slower than molasses.

in that moment, we were all a bit shell-shocked.
although, we shouldn't be.
there were times only a few years ago, where this went on for hours.  it was our normal.  she has worked hard at coping with all the things in this world that are overwhelming and now...now, it is not our normal.   it is not multiple days a week for long stints of time.  it is one weekday afternoon for about 15 minutes.
and while i am consumed with deeper gratitude than you can imagine at how her behaviors have shifted and i'm filled with pride, as only a mother can be, at the mountains that lena climbs each and every day to go through things that seem unrecognizable to the untrained eye...i am also just a bit sad.  once i can work through the automatic physical response of how it makes the blood pressure spike to hear screaming & crying like that...i am just sad.
i am not sad for her, not how the world would be sad for her.  folks look at her and they pity her or even worse, they pity me.  this pity is another topic that i could probably write a book on.  she is strong and wonderful and smart and capable and does not need your pity and i, as her mother, definitely do not need your pity either.  whose joy is greater than mine?
i am filled with sadness because this daughter of mine brings to the surface over and over again, the reality that i shove aside in most other aspects of my life.

i am not in control of all this. 

i can not make this better. 

we are the figurative band-aids for our kids, aren't we?  as parents, we think we can do things in our kids' lives and we can and mostly it is so so good.  when anders runs to me with a skinned knee, i clean it, put the ointment and bandaid on it.  i wipe his tears and hug him for as long as he allows me before he goes on to keep doing the same exact thing again that hurt him in the first place.  and all of this is so sweet and dear and tender and i would never ever stop doing it or say i shouldn't in any way. i love them, i love taking care of them and it is what i love about mothering... it is in those moments that i want my kids to have a glimpse of the tenderness and goodness and care of the Father.  yet in the midst of all this good we can quite possibly start to form a subtle sneaky veil over our mom eyes. this veil is made with the sense that we hold the key to everything for our kids.  as if we are the answer to their everything in life.
this is a lot of pressure we can put on ourselves and at the same time, if we are honest and if it's working out for the moment, it kind of feels good.  it kind of makes us feel important.  and needed. and valuable.

lena lowers the veil.  

with her, there is no option for band-aid or wiping a tear.  wiping the tears usually makes it escalate even further and a lot of my natural motherly instincts have to be altered for her good.  i say the veil is lowered with lena, because it really is a veil lowering, an opening of the eyes to see clearly the way things arew.  and with hazel and with anders the truth is no different, but with typically developing kiddos the veil of control can stay up as long as i want it to.  believe me, i leave it there.
but with lena, i can't hold it up.  there is zero pretending or convincing myself that i am her everything.

i am not her healer or her redeemer.  my value and worth as a mother or human, can in no way be wrapped up in this child.  look at just the single screaming tantrum on a wednesday afternoon for a moment...i can not make that better and there is no acting as if i can.  if you were there, you would see.  i am not the sustainer of her emotions and i am not the One who holds her life.
and here is the message i preach to my parenting heart over and over and over...being their mom and being their God are not synonomous.  it is not a matter of giving God control, that is not what needs to happen because He already has it.  it is about freedom to see clearly His face and provision ...it is about letting go of the feeling like i am gonna make all of life for my kids in a broken and sinful world, better.  i do not make things better.  there are no band-aids for some heartaches and there are no band-aids for lena screams.  there is only presence and reflection.  i can give my presence and i can reflect the perfect love of their Creator to them.
if i hold myself up in the good times, then i can just as easily tear myself down with blame in the hard times.  if my kids are doing great, it's not because of how great of a parent i am.  if my kids are struggling, i am not to blame.
this is easy to type out on a screen and harder to live out in all the daily rhythms of life.

i am not in control.  i am not their everything. i am not a band-aid.  i am not their all.  i can not stop lena from screaming.
but there is One that knows every hair on their head and Whose thoughts of these little ones outnumber the grains of sand...and He has always held them, He has always loved them and alway will and i am this reflector, i am the one pointing them always to Him.