Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Blue Streak

I am weary with my moaning;
    every night I flood my bed with tears;
    I drench my couch with my weeping. Psalm 6:6

It's the topic that permeates everything we do.  It's the destination to which my mind wanders and often jumps.

It's the thing that bothers me.  If there's anything that challenges me to the core of my being, this is it.

If there's anything I can rattle on about, this is it.  It seems that I can only get two sentences into a conversation before something autism-mama hops from my heart and falls off my tongue.

If there's a topic I sit to write about and grow weary of hearing the words leave my fingers, this is it.  And yet, it's something I'm compelled to talk about.  Write about.  Share about.  Cry about.  And honestly, I'm sure at times that someone logs onto Facebook and rolls their eyes at another. Autism. Post.

It's that darned autism.  It's autism awareness.  Blue lights.  Puzzle pieces.  Meltdowns.  Stimming.  Hand-flapping.  Screaming.  Routine.  Therapy.  Therapies.  Diagnoses.  On and on and on into oblivion.

But again, here I sit.  Here I sit because while I'm tired of the broken record I am, I'm more tired of the stigma.  The fear of going places.  The knowing that everything could either go fabulously, gloriously well every time we step out to go someplace as simple as a convenience store, or it could end in head-beating, fist-banging, foot-stomping heartbreak.

It's one of those things that I avoid mentioning, because frankly, June Cleaver didn't whine.  A nice mom wouldn't whine.  A nice, caring, loving mom wouldn't complain.

Well, guess what?  June Cleaver didn't wear jeans and t-shirts, either.  She had a teeny, tiny waist, vacuumed in pearls, and certainly never fed her kids those 99 cent pizzas.  Never.

And I'm pretty sure the Beav wasn't autistic.

So where did I get the lie that I should never tire of the repetitive?  Where did I get the idea that it would be sinful to mention that this is hard?  That I'm flat sick to the teeth of watching him struggle to enjoy things that seem so obviously easy to others?

The truth is that June Cleaver... the ones we'd see to be the perfect mom... were apparitions.  There's no such thing.  We are all fallible and prone to exhaustion.  And let's get this straight... exhaustion and fatigue with the way things are going does NOT mean I'm ungrateful for my kids.   You know what it does mean?  I'm human.

Just like David.  Yes, the man after God's own heart himself.  Flip to the sixth Psalm.  Notice that David cried out in frustration.  Exhaustion.  Fatigue.  Just sit down and read through the Psalms and you'll feel David's pain and weariness.

Read on.

After confessing his humanness, his problems, and the overall unfairness of it all, he is given a heart of worship.  A heart of peace and even thankfulness that God understands.

Just this morning, I didn't want to get out of bed.  There's so much to do, and yesterday was another day of cramming things together so that I get the things done that my family needs me to do.  More laundry, more dishes, more cooking, more juggling this and that.  My husband came in for the second time, empathizing that he didn't want to get up this morning either.  All dressed and handsome already, he sat down on his side of the bed, took my hand, and said, "Honey, how about I pray for your day?"

As I told Eric that there was just too much to do and I was just tired, he took my hand and carried my concerns to the Lord with me.

Yes, I'm still tired.  Yes, there is still a ton to do.  But I was, as God promises in Ezekiel,

 (And) I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26

Although there is still physical just-tired-ness, my will to keep pedaling and keep putting our story out there was renewed and refreshed.  And in the renewal of my heart, the tiredness, aches and pains, and other physical wearinesses fade.  

But if I hadn't gone ahead and given voice to the truth... that I was frustrated, tired, and discouraged... if I had not reached out and asked for help... I wouldn't have seen the amazing, God-given encouragements and heart-replacement I needed today.  

So go ahead.  If it's hard, say it's hard.  Call it what it is.  Once you've painted that picture, step back and watch the contrast between the frustration and God's glory.  

Trust me.  It's breathtaking.  

No, it's breath-giving.  

Thanks be to God!

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...