...so loved.

Some days, guilt tries to suffocate me like a late freeze over a cherry blossom tree. Regrets and hopes race and swirl in my mind like a harsh and aggressive blizzard that no one could have predicted. Yesterday, I felt like I was being consumed by the cold, by the pain, but as I sat there crying harder than I have in months, maybe even years, there was a break in the storm clouds that filled my mind. It felt like God, once again, wrapped my heart in a down blanket as He covered my mind, my being in truth.

Oh, how I need His truth and pray that it would cling to me like my own skin. I cannot tell you what it's like to try, with all that I am, to convey love to an incredibly lovable boy who once could easily accept and process such things, but now, most of the time, feels rejected, unwanted, unloved- even in a room full of people who love him dearly. I fight, everyday, to show my heart to him, as best as I can, and most days I am faced with anger, confusion, and a great deal of dismay.

When you look at Evod, you might think he looks like every other kid you've seen at the playground and therefore is the same, but really that impression couldn't be farther from our reality. My sweet boy is hurting, as anxiety and fears so often overwhelm his beautiful mind. Playing, interacting... existing, simply aren't as effortless as it is for most of us, as they once were for him. His perception, thoughts, and perspective, behaviors and, on many levels, his personality have all been altered. I see him trying to combat between two "realities", battling inside of him, and fight for what is right and true, but in some moments, hours, days it's all just too much for him.

Some nights, while insomnia is like a burglar in my bedroom ripping off my sleep, I lie there and think of all the days that existed between August 8, 2007, the morning Evod was born, and Fall 2012, the season severe seizures began stealing parts of him. It's so easy to re-think every single hour that I had with him, to question so many things I said or didn't say, to wish I had loved differently. In many ways I often feel like I squandered five years with him. But, I didn't, and neither did God. I can't allow myself to get so self absorbed, in pain or regret, that I lose sight of God's purposes in this.

Honestly, I just miss...................................... my boy. Trust me, I realize it must seem so bizarre, and perhaps selfish and melodramatic to miss someone while they are standing right in front of you. But, please understand that just like Alzheimer's can steal parts of someone that we love and  have grown so very accustomed to, close to and fond of- Intractable Epilepsy, Autistic Spectrum Disorder, and Bipolar Disorder can be just as devastating. It's so complex and every hour I can list things that I missed, areas I messed up in, and things I learned the hard way, but I'm thankful to be able to learn with my sweet boy; we, our family, are in this together. I mourn what once was, but I am absolutely grateful that I have the opportunity to get to know, and love, new aspects of my sweet boy. He's here, things might be different, but he's still here.

I am so thankful for the breath that fills my son, for the hope that fills both of us because God is very much near. Regardless of what we feel, all that has or could change (that we desperately wish hadn't), or if we've been blindsided by a  storm, His goodness follows us there - in the middle of the storm, in the deepest valley, in our darkest night. He is near, this I know.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits have been crushed."
-Psalm 34:18