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.