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.