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.