Life.

We didn't even know his name yet, but we knew we loved him. We hadn't yet laid eyes on him, but we deeply adored him. We, nor the doctors, had any way of knowing what we would face five years later, but had Eric and I known we would have fought for him, just the same.

While Evod was still living and growing in my womb, I was encouraged to "terminate pregnancy"/ "abort my fetus"/ murder our son. Ultimately, when we refused, I was being prepared for the possibility of giving birth to a still born. On an early August day, after hours and hours of labor, Evodence was born warm, healthy, and beautiful. We rejoiced, because the life that we had been praying and fighting for was finally in our arms... alive. 

Though, of course, that unique warmth of his newborn-ness is no longer here, his heart continues to be so tender and warm, and he is as beautiful as ever. Healthy? Well, no, he's no longer healthy. Sudden physical and mental illness has changed our son's life. He faces a lot of trials and every day is full of complex, often painful, obstacles; emotionally, behaviorally, cognitively, and physically. I cannot deny that it has been an incredibly difficult time for us, but we absolutely, fully and passionately, embrace our vibrant boy. Life isn't easy for him, or for any of us in his family but, regardless of what the world shouts at us, we aren't giving anything, or anyone, the right to minimize our son's value and purpose behind his precious heartbeat. 

Even while I was on bed rest for 8 months, admitted with a feeding tube, and giving myself "IV's" at home, I couldn't get the facts twisted; inconvenience, complications, deformities, illness (physical or mental) shouldn't be given the power to minimize life, much less end it.... regardless of how the process or idea "termination of pregnancy" was pitched to me. Im saddened by the parallels of the battles our culture faces, both in and outside of the womb. Many, who so arrogantly talk about rights and freedoms, don't seem to think twice about thinking less of life itself. Well, when it comes to someone else's rights, freedoms and life. 

To some our blessing; our beautiful, bright and brave boy, can be looked at as simply a burdensome number to add to our overpopulated, medicaid crutching country. There are those that consider him, and babies/children/adults like him, to merely be a statistic [rather than a human with a heart] and, in their mind, illness not only defines them, but devalues them. What ignorance. What blindness. 

If the doctors somehow knew, that our son, early on in his young life, would be struck with physical and mental illness, would that have been one more reason, in their eyes, to abort him? Honestly, that thought has struck me deeply and left me stuck here with memories of my sweet boy flooding my mind. Memories that I cherish, memories that have changed me and made me better, and yes, so many of those memories are from this past year since my son has been ill.Tears are welling up in my eyes and my heart is overwhelmed, heavy, and racing... my son is not less. His life counts. 

Evodence is not a burden on my shoulders or on the shoulder's of our society... he is a gift, a blessing. Just as when he was in my womb, hiccuping and kicking, and I was amazed at his little life, and found him worthy of this fight... I absolutely still do. I always will. I will never grow weary of proclaiming God's purposes for my son. I will never stop reminding him of his value in my world, in his world - regardless of who tries to minimize it. I will always pray for wisdom to stand up for him, fight for him, and love him loudly. Even with all my love, I will always remind him that my love and advocacy pale to Jesus'. I must say, it will also be my duty to remind him to pray for those who try to bully and ridicule him, because it must be so sad, shallow, and suffocating to have such a perspective on life. Just as we fought, and still fight, for Evodence, we want him to know he's not the only one whose life, before even leaving the so-called safety of the womb, is under attack. We have to be bold, prayerful, and mindful of recycling the love and grace that has been extended to us. 

Life, regardless of its location; inside the womb or outside the womb, is precious in the eyes of the One who caused each heart to begin to beat. Life, regardless of physical or mental health affliction, has purpose in the eyes of the One who called their life into existence. No one, no law, no ignorant remark can change that truth... can change God's love. Before we ever held our son in our arms, God used his life to change ours. Had I aborted [murdered] my son - my life, my world, my being, my family would have less love, less light... less life. 

Avoiding How Things Appear, Denying How Things Are

I know that I am guilty of being too aware of what really doesn't matter, but why? Why do we allow the eyes of those around us affect us, even the darting gazes coming from complete strangers, totally and completely unattached to us and ignorant to our situation? Suddenly, we find ourselves caring so much about the perspective of those around us that we forget what really matters; what's the heart behind what we, ourselves, are seeing? It's a shame that, at times, I have allowed myself to merely address how something appears, and ultimately sacrifice a moment that could have yielded true fruit; conviction, repentance, forgiveness, grace, and reconciliation etc... Sure, we can aim to train a child to 'behave' perfectly in public, but what's going on in the privacy of their spirit, the depth of their heart or in the isolation of their mind? What, as a mom, am I missing because I am focusing, too much, on how things appear?

Especially now, that we are learning to cope with all the dynamics of having a 'special needs' child and wanting to help him as best we can, it is so important that we purpose to consider more than just how things appear to our eyes, much less to the eyes around us. As parents we have to learn to rid ourselves of the weight and pressures of the eyes staring at us from this harsh and judgmental world. The fact is, I don't want to hide my reality by striving so hard to change how it appears. This is my life, and I am learning as best I can as we go along. You see, I can't help but gleam so much from my sweet, beautiful, bright, and brave boy who exhibits behavior that of a misunderstood "brat"/ out of control child. I want to go deeper than just how things appear; how he is perceived, how my parenting looks, and wondering if my family fits into what society views as acceptable. 

We don't need to be acceptable to this temporary home! I don't want to push my children away, by simply pushing them to appear perfect, and not lovingly and boldly tending to their inward being. Yes, discipline, and natural lessons on cause and effect/consequences, will always be apart of our lives, but how we go about it can either root us in truth or in a shakable facade. There is so much risk in the latter. Really, it becomes a matter of what we are sewing into our children and saying about ourselves; true unity vs. disconnect, honesty vs hypocrisy, skin deep smiles/manners/'good' behavior vs. genuine joy/conviction/ fruit.

I get it, sometimes it's a matter of respect and obedience and our children listening to us regardless of what they want, but that really isn't the focus of what I am trying to convey, right now. You see, I think we all know that it's natural to get a little worked up, frustrated, or even, at times, a little embarrassed if our children "misbehave" in public (or in front of anyone, for that matter), but I don't want those things to get in the way of me truly parenting, rather than merely directing. Who cares who's watching? Who cares what "it" looks like? Who cares how you are perceived? Only we walk in our shoes. Only we know our children better than anyone. And, they [our children] also know us better than anyone. That last sentence is sobering and raw accountability oozes from it (what does my reaction, discipline, response to the eyes around me, say about me?).

It is not my aim to raise well-behaved robots that internally want to rebel. I want to be real with my children, when no one is watching and real with them when every momma's set of eyes are on us. I want my son to know he has my attention; my eyes, my ears, and my heart focused on him... in those complex, painful, confusing, aggressive, passionate moments (episodes), regardless of who is or isn't watching. I want him to know that those eyes simply don't matter because I know him, I know that he isn't a brat, a weirdo, or a freak. Because... I love him, regardless.

Shame on me, if I choose to "appear" a certain way in spite of what my beautiful, but sometimes complicated, reality is. My son is a boy who happens to battle and live with mental illness and, as his parents, we want to be the ones to teach him to boldly resist and care-less about labels that come his way, simply because of the way he appears to the world around him. Regardless of how heavy the pressure of the many eyes that are watching can be, I have to be willing to ignore every single one of them because ultimately.... my children are watching me; my reactions/my pride/ my humility/my expressions/my life. My children's eye, and hearts, matter more...

...in this world. not of it. 

Worn-out? Not Quite.

All day, my eyes have been glazed over and there's been a lump in my throat like a tea kettle, on the stove in the early morning hours, reaching its point of screaming, screeching to let out steam from the bubbling and boiling water within.

I know that God has this. I know that He has my back and my world is in His hands. I can trust that... rest in that. My hope is full and I literally get excited thinking of God's purposes in this. It's just that, right now, in this moment... I want to cry. I want to vent. I want to throw porcelain plates on a concrete slab. I don't feel any shame in articulating my weakness in this; my desperation for Jesus in this. This is real life. My six year old son suffers from physical and mental illnesses, my marriage is being revamped and revived, I have had a migraine for over a month straight, Im trying to "do right by my kids" in this homeschooling gig, and, in the meantime, I'm trying to make sure my two little girls don't slip through the cracks. Im trying, and trust me, I know... there are others who have it worse, much worse.

Real life. There isn't a pause button, much less a rewind button. We can't stop and re-record our new desires, or lessons learned, over past memories or mistakes. Honestly, sometimes that reality equates to a lot of pressure; burdened shoulders, weary hearts. Truth be told, I am weary. But, I am not worn-out. You see, the definition of "worn-out" is: "worn or used until no longer usable or effective". It's because of Jesus; His faithfulness, His generosity, His grace, His strength being made perfect in my weakness, that that definition is not applicable to me. It's not because I am needed, because I am strong, or because "I've got this", but because of who Jesus is. It's because of the One who lives in me, the same power that raised Jesus from the dead inside of me, that I am absolutely [still] usable and effective in my busy and broken world. 

On some days I can feel worn-out and come so close to owning that lie. It's tempting to sit around, paralyzed by the sting of all that is in front of me. Some hours, I can feel so isolated because, after all, who can relate to having a six year old that lives in a world where he feels [believes] that nearly everything and everyone are against him/want to harm him, to the point where fear and anxiety make it difficult for him to function? It's easy to feel alone in this extreme world where suicidal along with other dangerous thoughts, psychosis hallucinations, roaring rages and paranoia disrupt nearly every hour of our lives. It's easy to feel a lot of things - it's also easy to be misled by lies, misguided by expectations, and swept away by comparison. Hmm.... what's new/unique about that last sentence? Absolutely nothing. At the core, our family is dealing with the same issues as every other family. 

It's so tempting to believe that we are alone, that no one understands or relates. It's easy, in our humanness, to feel like we have to climb out of our pits with our own bare hands, to come up with some clever idea to change our circumstance, and to be strong enough for ourselves and everyone around us. When that's our mindset we've got it all wrong; we've been deceived and we run the risk of being full on worn-out. 

The humbling truth is that we were not created to mount up on our own strength, but to cry out to the One who is higher than our lowly place; rest in and rely on the One who will mount us up on wings like an eagle. In our weakness, in our disbelief, in our loneliness and lamenting our God wants us to "yet praise Him" (Psalm 42), not strive, in our own strength, and wear ourselves out... trying to be god of our own world. 

"Do you not know?  Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God,    the Creator of the ends of the Earth. He will not grow tired or weary,  and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary    and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary,    and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord    will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;    they will run and not grow weary,    they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:28-31

Can't Turn Back the Clock, Love Loudly This Hour

Full of toys and Eric Carl decals on the walls, we each took our turn in her office. She asked us deep questions regarding Evod; my pregnancy with him, how we came up with his name, his birth, our first days with him, what our worst fears are in terms of his future, etc... For Eric, the session took less than an hour. For me, it took over two. I know though, just because I had more words to say it doesn't mean I "feel" any more than Eric does. We are in this; as parents, lovers, friends, flawed humans, together. 

We briefly discussed our sessions and quickly discovered that we both started crying at the exact same question, "If you could change anything, what would you change." We both wish that we would have enjoyed more of our time with Evod; when things were easier, when our son wasn't tormented with anxiety and psychosis, when he received our love as easily as we gave it. 

At this time last year, our son was starting Kindergarten. He was bright eyed and so eager, with his curly hair and big grin. As I picture him, in my head, I desperately wish I could go back and hug him tighter, hold him longer and know that I stamped a permanent memory of love and encouragement in his beautiful mind. 

As I shuffle through the memories from one year ago, I had no way of knowing that he was having nocturnal seizures (the would soon escalate in frequency and intensity) and was facing such serious hurdles in his, barely, five year old life. But, soon, it would be evident as he, quite literally, had a mental breakdown within the first three weeks of Kindergarten. His teacher and I were in constant communication as she saw his very serious and rapid decline, and my utter shock, of what was unfolding in front of me. I did not see this coming. How could I? How could I ever have predicted my five year old expressing thoughts of suicide and slowly beginning to slip through my fingers? Im sorry, that's not something I ever saw myself having to omit from the scrapbook of memories collected from Evod's fifth year of life.

But, it is our life, and I don't want to keep my lips sealed and shy away from sharing about our very real life; struggles, victories, mistakes, fears, and hopes. I refuse to hide in embarrassment or fear. I refuse to waste time only resisting what God has allowed. I absolutely pray for mercy and hope for a new dawn, but I would be so blind not to see that there is STILL so much to enjoy, love, and learn from what has become of our lives. Yes, my heart breaks nearly every day with the stuff my son thinks, says, does, expresses, and endures but I love him dearly. I will never grow weary of showering him in my love and affection while trusting Jesus to cover him in grace, peace and hope. It's impossible for me to go back in time, but that only propels me to want to love my son (and my husband and daughters) more loudly NOW. This very hour, I want to love more loudly than ever before. I cannot take for granted simple things like time, ability, health... life. 

I sat in the psychiatrist's office, with tears streaming down my cheeks. While answering her questions and looking into her eyes, I couldn't help but nod my head and say, "But God..." He is bringing to life Evodence's name, He is creating depth out of our shallow souls, He is bringing strength and new life to our weary and dry bones. He is our living hope in this. Yes, I have fears but our Hope is greater still... because of Who Jesus is. Sitting there in a secular therapy session, discussing very serious and sad things, my heart was singing. Only God could do that, my friends... only God. 

Our son is starting round two of Kindergarten. This time, homeschool style. And me? It feels like I am starting Kindergarten for moms of special needs children. I have so much I need to learn, so many areas I could do better. At night, though, when I lay my head on my pillow, I simply hope that I loved loudly and pointed my sweet boy (and daughters) to the One who loves so much greater than I do, the One who is perfect in our weakness and who brings true joy that shines in the midst of physical and mental illness. Sure, I never expected our year to unfold as it did, but I also never could have imagined our joy and hope to be overflowing... like rain in the arroyo, in the middle of the dry desert, after a great and sudden downpour of rain. 

"But let all those who take refuge and put their trust in You rejoice; let them ever sing and shout for joy, because You make a covering over them and defend them; let those also who love Your name be joyful in You and be in high spirits."  Psalm 5:11

Resisting the Rain

Resistance and rebellion are so similar, like twin sisters who shared a womb. I confess that  both have, indeed, resided in me. In fact, they have, even in this season where I've realized that this storm is far from being just about our son and his journey with complex physical and mental illness. This storm is about what God wants to do in and through him, but also the rest of our family; my husband, our two daughters... and me. 

It's so easy and, in ways, "natural" for us to resist trials. Living as a Christian, sometimes I think we get too comfortable with the concept of trying to pray away our pain along with our seasons of suffering. Yes, I absolutely, 100%, believe in fasting and prayer as being vital parts of our relationship with Jesus. But, I absolutely, do not want my prayer life to only be riddled with my human minded petitions, but rather also be woven with sincere praise and trust. Please, don't misunderstand me, I cry out to God everyday, as my heart feels broken, but He deserves to be praised IN this storm - not just  when He provides a way OUT of it. I have faith in Jesus, who still heals and calms storms but that doesn't mean that those things should define Him and my relationship with Him. Sometimes He spares us of our suffering, other times He uses our suffering to bring us to a place of repentance, abundance and glory. The Lord is very much able, but we mustn't forget that He is also sovereign. I don't want to face this storm, with my family, only having faith in Jesus' ability, but in His name; His goodness apart from what He does or doesn't do for us. 

Sure, there is a rather large part of me that would love for all of this to go away and for my son's suffering to cease, but if I spend my days pleading for all of this to go away am I truly trusting and resting? Or  would my prayers then reveal that I am resisting a season, that He has allowed to come our way?

Allowed this season... this rough, heart wrenching, painful, confusing, tear-filled, mourning, desperate season? Exactly. In this moment, when my life seems to be turned upside down, can I really say that I trust God, with my whole heart, and then want to [strive to] "fix" everything around me to my liking or to fit my view of what I think is best for my family? When it comes to suffering [among other things], perhaps we need to remember what side of Heaven we are on. We still live in a place where, regardless of who we are, resistance can suddenly turn to rebellion as sin tries to hide in us [destroy us]- under a mask of Christian talk, Sunday church quotes on FB, and false humility leaking out through our words... and sometimes even into our prayers. Oh yes, we are on this side of Heaven where God lovingly uses suffering so that grace, refinement, and redemption can flourish in us and, in return, show us Who truly reigns. 

Can any "good" possibly come from all of this suffering? Why would God allow such a painful trial?

Romans 5:1-5 "Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,  through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.  Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings,because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

Can we face suffering and tribulation and yet still have peace as we rest in Jesus? But, if we rest  and have peace, does that mean that we have given up on hope, healing, and prayer?

John 16:33 "These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

Can a season of suffering result from sin? Absolutely, but does that mean that all suffering is due to sin? 

John 9:1-5 "As He went along, He saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked Him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind.'"

"'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,'" said Jesus, '"But this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, He must do the work of Him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.'"

I am a Christian, I am a "good" person, why must I suffer? It's not about how "good" we are, it's about God's glory!

1 Peter 4:12-13 "Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."

"God wouldn't bring this upon my family, He wouldn't lead us here! This MUST be from satan." When those are nearly the only thoughts that fill our mind and take over our prayers, I think we have to reevaluate what our view of GOD, the great I AM, is.

Deuteronomy 8:2-3 "Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the desert these forty years, to humble you and to test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands. He humbled you... to teach you that man does not live by bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord."

God is good and has a purpose... even in this? 

Psam 66:8-12 "Praise our God, O peoples, let the sound of his praise be heard; he has preserved our lives and kept our feet from slipping. For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance."

Purpose to Pursue

Time seems to pass so much quicker these days, as if someone has made a hole in the hour glass keeping track of the minutes, hours, and days. If I am honest, I will say that managing my time, and all that fills it, isn't easy. I try to prioritize, but suddenly the scale seems to be somewhat tipped on one side. 

Favoritism certainly isn't the culprit, but I have found myself forced to face the fact that, in the middle of learning to parent (and help) our beautiful special needs son and tending to our sweet baby girl (among other things, of course), my marriage and my mild mannered and loving middle child are slowly slipping through the cracks. Naturally, I have been trying so hard to learn all I can about Intractable Epilepsy, Bipolar Disorder, Psychosis Disorder, Anxiety Disorder and Asperger's,  that I [unnaturally] left too little time for playing dollies, dress up and princess time with my treasure hunting, adventure seeking, creative girl. 

It's amazing to me that even if we aren't intentional about doing something, it can indeed happen - if we aren't intent about not letting it happen. I have tried to be mindful of how Avnielle is coping in the midst of all of these major life changes, but that isn't enough. I have to purpose to seek her out; create time for her and I to just be silly/play/rest together, find out how she's processing her brother being ill, spend time with her in her room with her toys and her wonderful imagination. I know that God has chosen Avnielle to be Evod's little sister, Liella's big sister, and our middle daughter. She has been such a gift through all of this; so patient, compassionate, fun, funny, cuddly,understanding and so very graceful. I need to make sure she knows that I know, and so cherish, those things (and more) about her. 

Ahh... and, my husband. I couldn't have hand picked a better Papa for our children. He loves each of them in ways I never knew of, or experienced (as a child). I admire him, respect him, and learn so much from him but does he know that I feel that way? He works hard for us, sometimes seven days a week - between two jobs, and I am so grateful for all that we have. Again, does he know that I am grateful? I love his smiles, kisses, and long hugs. Especially now, his affection means so much to me. Do I humbly let him know that his affections help me cope and smile from the inside, even if perhaps you can't always see the smile on the outside?

Now is not the time to assume; in fact, a marriage [and parenthood] isn't the place to assume, but rather affirm. Too many marriages die in the midst of a crises (Yes, I have come to realize that our family is right smack dab in the middle of crisis.). I will not standby and watch as my marriage becomes a part of a statistic. I refuse to live under the umbrella of denial and assumptions, blocking the sunlight from exposing areas of sin, pain, neglect, and ignorance. Seeing such things might seem like an inconvenience right now, in light of all we are facing, but it's necessary. It's vital. 

The truth is, stress and worry can cause us to shy away from the very things that can help us to thrive in the midst of a storm/trial/crisis; confession, repentance, forgiveness, affirmation. Life doesn't stand still,just so that we can tend to the part of our lives that is in crisis, and temptation doesn't resist the opportunities that lie within. Satan seeks to steal, kill and destroy. And, nope, he doesn't put those "goals" aside either... ever. 

Ahh... and then there's God. Even in this storm, I know God loves us. He has been so faithful to give us rest and hope- even when sleep is far from us, even when circumstance seems grim. He has continually shown us how near He is, even when our eyes cannot see. Through His creation, He speaks such love to us, even if our ears don't hear a word. God purposefully pursues us! I want to purpose to pursue my Lord, my husband, and each of my children. I thank God for opening my eyes to see, the tipping scale in my life, before I unknowingly allowed it to put a wedge between my husband and I. My children and I. My God and I. 

{Don't assume. Affirm.}

When Clouds Cover the Moon

When the curtains of the night sky have been drawn and the sun isn't in sight, we still know it's up there; beyond the doubt that darkness sometimes brings. Even when I can't see love, even when I can't hear it, it's there. I know it is. I know my son loves me, regardless of  his words that shout of disdain for his surroundings and  his comments that are drenched in distrust.

Every day is a battlefield for truth beyond what a broken mind  is telling my son [due to severe Intractable Epilepsy resulting in Bipolar Disorder, Asperger's and On-Set Schizophrenia tendencies]. Few things hurt more than when he questions our love for him, our pure and overwhelming affections. When a rage or intense thoughts of rejection flood his mind, I desperately try to encourage him to trust. With my heart spilling into my voice and my eyes locked on his, I tell him, "You can trust me, my sweet boy." I am learning that more times than not I have to forget about the behavior, let go of the jagged edged words, pay no attention to the eyes looking on and sometimes judging ignorantly, and gaze directly into his eyes and never give up on affirming my love. I can't grow weary of  talking my boy through the moments that are threatening joy, peace, and even life.

Nine months ago I was a no-nonsense-make-no-excuse-zero-tolerance kind of mom. Fits, talking back, disobedience were all immediately handled and really weren't a big part of our lives. Today, rages, physical aggression, and defiance are fully on the table and, more than ever, I have to swallow my pride, humble my heart, and walk in grace. What matters to me now is gaining my son's trust every hour that it is in question. That certainly doesn't mean that we wait on him and foot and dismiss him from every and all consequence, but our priorities, as a family, have definitely changed. Learning the complex balance of consequence and grace is so trying, especially in a situation when bizarre, "bad" behaviors are merely symptoms of [serious] illness. We continually pray for discernment, wisdom and clarity as we buckle ourselves in on the roller coaster, that is our life.

So many moments in my day are just too big for me. I feel like they could swallow me whole and leave no trace of me, but everyday I am reminded that it is okay for me to be real and even boast in my weakness, because God is always strong - even in broken and inadequate vessels. I have to remember and envision simple truths in my mind, like even though we can't see the wind we can feel it swirl around us and witness it move dry, Autumn leaves across the ground and into the sky. Just the same I know God is moving in my son, in spite of what we can or can't see, despite what is dry and cracked. Communication and trust are pressing. Honestly, when aren't they pressing in life? Though our situation feels so unique and often times can seem isolating we have to trust and communicate just the same - with Jesus, I mean. Doing those vital things with Him will continue to teach us to do them with our boy. 

Just as Evod learned, when he was two and a half, that even when the clouds cover the moon, it's [the moon] still in the sky- the same goes for God; His love, His grace, His strength, His hope. Evod questions love, friendship, good intentions and purpose... in life, but I know God is moving in and through him in spite of doubt, fear, and [literal] brokenness. Stronger than the wind, bigger than the sun and moon, His love is for us; our eyes don't have to see it. It's there.

Evod, Our Dove.

Life and death, and all that's in between, has the ability to cause tears to sometimes cease, while smiles take their place on our faces and the salt water sits, pressed against our eyes, on standby waiting for the next time they are called to stream down our cheeks. Sometimes, tears fall until puddles nearly surround us. Our hearts can feel so full and sometimes so broken it's a miracle that the organ, itself, still works... in moments like these. 

My Tia Lina, my best friend, passed away while I was pregnant with Evod. After she died, I hurt so badly that I could hardly feel any emotion at all and yet I was so grateful for the life growing inside of me; the irony and beauty of death and life. My Uncle sent out thank you cards (for those who sent flowers and such to her celebration ceremony) and on the front was a dove. And that is when I spelled "dove" backwards; "E-V-O-D", and right away Eric and I both liked the name, 'Evod', for our son. Initially his name was going to be short and I liked, loved, it being linked to my Tia. 

Then, as my pregnancy progressed things got more and more grim and the doctors continued to encourage me to terminate my pregnancy. Willingly ending our baby's heartbeat wasn't an option for Eric and I, even though our situation wasn't  easy. Thankfully, even though (every time) we had an ultra sound they prepared us for the possibilities; for the worst, Evod always appeared healthy and was doing so well (against all odds, against all medical logic). So, the Lord led Eric and I, separately, to name our sweet unborn son, 'Evodence', because even before breathing in air or saying his first word, he was already evidence of our Lord's goodness, mercy, and sovereignty (his name is pronounced like the word, "evidence" and carries its same meaning). 

As I was facing giving birth for the first time, the doctors prepared me for the possibility of giving birth to a still born baby. The thought was unbearable, but I surrendered my fear and clung to hope as best as I could. When the time came, I labored naturally, feeling the full extent of every long lived contraction, praying that the pain would bear fruit of a living baby. God literally gave me a song to sing when the pain of giving birth, combined with the agonizing possibility of not being able to hold my sweet son with a heart beating inside of him, got to be too much. Many hours later, Evod was born... I waited for the cries. They came! They placed him in my arms and I held him close to my chest, our heartbeats collided as they did, just mere moments before, from the inside of me. Even then, just seconds, minutes old, he would look so deeply into my eyes and brought such a unique and powerful joy to my heart. 

Now, nearly six years later, we are facing quite the storm together and God is reminding us of why He led us to name our boy, "Evod", then "Evodence". A dove represents peace and hope, we have hope in our living God and His peace dwells inside of us in spite of all the uncertainty and pain. And, our son is continuing to be living evidence of all that he was while he was still living, growing, and being woven inside of me. His very name brings us hope and what a gift that is! Our God is seeing us through and even when the sky is dark, and fog surrounds us, we can still see evidence of God's goodness, His love and hope all around us, like beaming sun rays shining through the storm clouds above. 

Bi-Polar Disorder, Intractable Epilepsy, Autism Spectrum Disorder, On-Set Schizophrenia, Anxiety Disorder, and all that overflows from such things, don't have the ability to rid us of hope. Hope still lives here.

 Always will. Love is alive.

Amen.

He sat there, surrounded by people who love him dearly, as he grabbed the sand and let it sift through his fingers whispering, "I'm invisible. I'm invisible." He was unaware that I was watching and listening, I walked over to sit by him, but he quickly got up and ran. 

Lord, You are our invisible Guest in every room and wherever we are You are there. I ask that You, in your invisibleness, would meet Evod as he feels so unseen. Father, I see him, please touch his mind and heart and help him to feel and trust... that I see him. Most importantly, let him know that You do. May the confusion and lies be sifted out like the sand in his hand, and be replaced with TRUTH. I thank You, for holding his fragile heart. So often I wish I could do more, be different, do better for him [for my family] in this terribly painful storm. Thank You, for filling in all those gaps. Thank You, for being all that I am not and helping me... just be, as I surrender. Thank You, for loving Evod like only the Creator of the sun, moon, stars, and my boy, could. May that love penetrate his heart, spirit, and mind more and more each day... each hour. 

He was so eager to be their friend, but they... they saw something different and had no time, or desire, to play with him. Not to play, but to tease and gang up - they had time for that. My boy was so naive, at first, and was laughing "happily", but me? I had a roaring lion inside of me and I wanted to say a thing or two to those boys. However, our situation is so incredibly delicate and so I intervened as gently as I could. Once my sweet boy's manic episode settled a bit, he realized those boys were bullies. Immediately, he said, "Oh, I know! If I give them my cookie THEN they will be my friends." My heart sunk, and I looked into his eyes and tried talking him through that lie. For the next hour, I watched my son spiral in manic episodes and pain.  I continued trying to corral him close to me, affirming my affections towards him, but I knew... Later that night, once Evod's mind stopped reeling and the mania gave him a break and the dust started to settle in his mind - aggression rapidly increased in him, he was back to overwhelmingly feeling alone and questioning his desire to breath on this earth anymore. 

Father, I ask you... I need you to cover my son's mind in truth. Shower his scattered, exaggerated, painful, isolating thoughts in your love. Illuminate truth among all other textures, let it echo beyond all the other noise. Just as you calmed the seas and walked on the water, I pray that you would calm the choppy waters in his mind... walk and enter those troubled thoughts. I pray that though so much in his life is gray to him, and confusion, insecurities, and painful textures torment him, I pray that he would cling to You as his Anchor in this storm. I pray that my boy would find his confidence in You... his greatest Companion in You... his peace in You. Though I know Heaven would bring my boy the comfort he so desperately longs for, please... I cry out to you to please give him the courage and desire to want to stay with us... as I live to try to protect him as best as I can. This ache.... this ache in me goes to the deepest parts of me, when I hear my sweet boy say that he doesn't want to be here anymore. Jesus.... revive him. Let his eyes see life when he sees the clouds, trees, his family, when he feels the breeze or the rain of his face. Fill his dreams with hope of a new day... of joy in the morning. 

He never said a mean word to me or towards me or raised a hand, before the seizures began and Bipolar Disorder, Asperger's, and others followed. Now, Im getting good at not taking it personal. I know that [deep down] he doesn't want to hurt me, but manic and aggressive episodes,  and responses to the many triggers that taunt him make it difficult to not let out, or give into,... rages. Though it's painful, it helps for me to remember Evod, how he used to be. Remembering that he was such a gentle, patient, flexible and generous boy helps me to have compassion and patience with all that aggression, rages, and violence that peppers our days. And, to SO appreciate and praise the gentle, flexible, and patient moments, when they come. He doesn't know why this has happened to him, why he suddenly questions love, affirmation, and life, why he has a hard time leaving the safety of our home (or his room), why suddenly all these textures make it so hard from him to enjoy the simple things, much less the big ones. He's a five year old with such a kind, beautiful, tender and... broken heart. We have broken hearts together. 

Jesus, you have been convicting me of my lack of gentleness and patience for some time now, and faithfully refining and growing those things in me. I could not say "thank you" enough to you. Thank you for changing me and preparing me for this, the most painful season of my life. Please, continue to be all that we need to endure and climb on top of this mountain, with my boy (and our family). Father, when pain rages in him, and he can't help but let that rage out, please continue to settle my heart and mind. Please continue to help me to respond to him with love, grace, and direction. Help us to guide him. Please, set his beautiful mind on things above and I pray that the Word, hidden in his beautiful heart, would minister to him... beyond emotion, beyond pain, beyond lies, beyond textures, beyond medication, beyond anything of this earth... minister and renew his inward being. Thank You for being our Lighthouse when moments are too dark to see right in front of us. I ask for You to heal Evod, to bring his mind to peace. As his mama, I ask You to rescue him from this terrible pain and confusion  - set all the lies straight, let TRUTH regulate! Father, I believe... I know, that you are able. I ask you for this miracle, for mercy, but Lord I trust you regardless of how You choose to answer these prayers. 

           God offers Mercy. Purpose. Hope. Joy. Peace. Grace IN the storm, not always instead of the storm.

"As He went along, He saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked Him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind.'"

"'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,'" said Jesus, '"But this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, He must do the work of Him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.'"

- John 9:1-5

Lord, I cannot claim to understand why this has happened, but I do pray that Your might, love,radiance, strength,  and grace would [always] be seen in Evod's life... in our lives.