Out of the Dark Blue Sky

Sometimes it comes out of the blue like a shooting star in the middle of the vast night sky. Except, this isn't one of those more magical, wondrous moments. Instead, they are moments that often feel like I am free falling off the top of the moon; gaining speed while only losing control.

He's sick, in some abstract ways, and I hate those moments that feel like we are losing even more of him. Psychotic, delusional, and manic episodes can last for minutes, hours or days - or more. And, they have the ability to crush my heart without even laying a finger on it. Oh, how I often wish I could simply reach out my hand to my sweet boy and he would grip it, and I could just pull him back to us - pull him far away from all the internal dangers, fears, anxieties, pain, hallucinations and delusions that torment him. I wish, so badly, that I could go into his mind and battle those things that are invisible to me, for him; on his behalf. Ahh, but I can't. It's a hard thing to take sometimes isn't it - not being able to do the impossible. Though I can't do the impossible, I battle in ways that are absolutely powerful. I am unable to join our son in his broken brain, but I pray to the One who is more than able to do what I cannot.

Some days it's not only hard to see past the destruction that's surrounding us all, and sucking us in, but we also feel mute, like our son cannot hear our love and affections that we are trying our best to verbalize and articulate to his tender, delicate self. It hurts so badly to desperately try to offer and convey love and truth to our first born while it appears as though not a word of it penetrates his ears. But, beyond the hurt and dismay, I believe that the Holy Spirit, like the most timely and efficient postman, hand delivers our love from our lips and hearts straight to Evod's heart and soul. Ah, yes, I believe wholeheartedly that our God can do [is doing] the impossible. Even on days like today, that are hard, heavy and feel so overcast inside of us, I know God is moving in Evodence. And more important than even seeing our love, I know Evod sees his Redeemer's love reflecting like light in the darkness. Oh, let it be known - Mental Illness cannot limit God or vanquish His radiant power and light, in our son or anyone.

Truth. On some of the dark days, I have to purposefully remind myself of it too, as fear tries to not just creep in but smother my family. Juvenile Mental Illness; the symptoms of On-Set Schizophrenia/ Bipolar Disorder I (different than Bipolar II), Anxiety Disorder, etc... are scary. I can't deny it. But, just because something is scary doesn't mean we have to fear it! I know that might sound absurd and impossible, but it's neither of those things. By God's grace I don't have to fear our son's prognosis, symptoms, or future. Absolutely some days and moments seem so incredibly dark and hopeless but, thank God, things aren't always as they seem. Even in the pitch dark there is a light within us; guiding us and illuminating truth; lighting up Hope.

This morning drew so many tears out of me, and so many fears were being stirred in me, but as I sit here to write, surrender, and reflect - God, by His Spirit, is deeply encouraging me. I don't know what tomorrow, or the the next hour, holds. I absolutely cannot do the impossible. But, I wasn't ever meant to know everything or be able to do everything - even rescue my son from Mental Illness. Instead, in this hour and every single one that follows, regardless of how bright our dark, I am desperate for the One who does know everything and is, indeed, able. And, whose love for my sweet boy reaches beyond the stars - even beyond the magical and wondrous shooting ones.

                         In this, He is able. In our son, just as he is, God is able. In the darkness, He is light.

what the darkness that looms whispers about us

Many may never understand. Some might sling ignorant judgments around without a second thought. Others will choose to love blindly and beautifully; unconditionally. Juvenile Mental Illness is like a war persistently and relentlessly raging within the little body and mind stricken by it.  Oh, yes, "it" [everything that mental illness is...and isn't] has more than turned the world my family once knew completely upside down and flooded it with scenarios often too complex and painful to put words to. We grip onto Jesus' truths as it's the only anchor around us; within us. There is nothing that is easy, predictable, or firm on the ground anymore - besides Him.

My sweet boy, is tormented by mental illness and, really, I could never accurately convey to you just what that means or how it affects the rest of us. It's so hard to relay something so painfully abstract. Those well known physical illnesses? Yeah, they aren't alone in how grave and horrific they are. We might not hear about mental illness often, besides in jokes and glorified tragedies on the evening news, but mental illness symptoms, though often invisible, are just as real and agonizing. Oh, how many days and nights I've wished I could somehow join my sweet boy in the nightmare he endures, battles, in his mind. I wish I could cover him... hide him from all that taunts him. I wish I could undo the devastation of the symptoms of both Intractable Epilepsy and Juvenile Mental Illness.

Undo the devastation. Psychosis, depression, anxiety, paranoia, aggression and the like are legit symptoms that have filled and changed the rooms in our home, and in our beings. They are completely and utterly ugly - but they do not define our son. Our sweet boy is not ugly, weird, or a freak. He is sick with [mental] illness(es), secondary to severe Intractable Epilepsy and other abnormalities on his brain. This isn't his fault, and I cannot deny that some days I fear other's ignorance and hatred for things they simply do not understand.

I can't lie, it feels like mental illness has done a drive by robbery; leaving us stunned, violated, and trying to do an assessment of what's left of us. I still ache for what once was as I never got to properly say "goodbye". I never could have imagined what it's like to stay up with my son, night after night, because visual and audible hallucinations fill and frighten his little world. I don't think I somehow could have prepared myself for those moments he's unable to recognize our voices or our faces as his parents or to watch him frantically smacking the blankets and his body because "spiders are everywhere". Until you've experienced, first or second hand, psychosis disorders - you can't fully "get it". Trust me, I know. I never could have imagined this. I never could have grasped that such things existed in "normal families". You see, this isn't mere imagination gone wild or night terrors keeping him awake. This is sickness, in ways... at its worst. This isn't something I can make stop. Oh, how I wish I could.

I can't make it stop, but I know God is able. Yes, God and His Word can comfort and even heal our son completely. But let me just say this - we might be talking about mental illness here, and many consider it to be purely spiritual in nature, neglecting to acknowledge the legitimacy of brain/mental illnesses and labeling them as "lack of faith", "selfishness", or "sinful" without even taking a closer look into the reality of the situation. And, that's just foolish. I do believe that there is a spiritual side to everything, but there is also a physical - even when it comes to mental illness. You know, what makes our brain so different than our gut and heart or even our blood and lungs when it comes to illnesses? It's so easy to quickly clump disorders of the brain into its own freakishly strange and ultimately misunderstood category. It's easy to forget that God can heal our every headache, aunt who is dying of cancer, or the neighbor who has lupus - but He doesn't heal in every instance that we faithfully cry out for Him to. Yes, God can, but that doesn't mean that He will when we say He should - regardless of the type of illness we are facing. And, you know what? Just because God hasn't healed Evod of these sadly taboo illnesses, doesn't say anything negative about him; his life, his faith, his journey, his hope, his spirituality. And, neither does it say anything negative about others who battle, not only mental illness, but the stigmas around it. 

Our son, just barely seven years young, sometimes finds it hard to want to be here... on this earth, anymore. I can't explain that. It's so searing, literally torturous for my heart to take in. In those sobering moments when I hear him utter such things, I am quickly thrust into remembering just how terrifying and truly threatening mental illness can be. I cannot say it enough... this is real. And, Evod isn't the only child facing all that he is. Children suffering and battling like Evod might be hard to spot, because they often look so "normal". So, as I am writing this I am praying that these vulnerable details would be used to shed light on this painful subject and spur us on to walk in love, grace, and compassion - regardless of the behaviors, symptoms, secrets we see or don't see in those around us.

When we find out that someone is mentally ill, or has sadly committed suicide after battling various forms of mental illnesses, we tend to quickly allow those things to define them; their life, their legacy. And, forget about them, as being a fellow human. Yes, this is terrifyingly real, and even scary at times, but our sweet boy is very much still here in the midst of it all. His tender heart and creative mind absolutely still exist. He, the beautiful, bright, and brave boy that God created, should never be forgotten or minimized under any label. I am not embarrassed of Evod's illnesses, none of them, but this truth will always stand; they [his illnesses] do not define him. God does.

When it comes to each of our lives and our deaths - we all have mysteries, sins, illnesses, stories that desperately need God's grace and mercy. That truth ties us all together, even with the ones who seem so different and far away from us, the ones who suffer in the often elusive, invisible, complex, piercingly painful, shocking, isolating ways of mental illness.

We all have parts of our lives, our stories, that are dreadful and likely a bit of darkness looms around them. And if those parts of us could speak they would more than whisper our pure need for Jesus. The darkness, regardless of the shade, reveals the truth that we all have more in common than the hearts beating inside of our chests. The truth is, not one of us is better or less in need of grace and mercy than the other in spite of the details that seem to polarize us on this earth.


"...when his lamp shone upon my head, and by his light I walked through darkness..." - Job 29:3 

 "He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy." - Colossians 1:17-18

"Life will be brighter than noonday, and darkness will become like morning." - Job 11:17

Like Rubies Adorning the Dry Winter Branches

It's like at the end of Winter when the seemingly dry branches are covered with tiny bright green specks; little signs of new life. What a gift to my eyes, even if just a glimmer of progress or a glimpse of beautiful things to come. Just the same, as new vibrant leaves are starting to form on early Spring branches after a long, cold Winter, I see God moving inside of our beautiful son. 

Mental Illness does not have the power to minimize our boy; his God given value, gifts, and life, in any way. And, neither can it reduce God's love and purpose in him. It is so true that I am honored to be Evod's mama through this, regardless of how excruciating our days can be, and it is a gift straight from God's heart to mine to allow me to see gems in the darkness.

Gems in the darkness? Yes, indeed. Some hours, even days.... days upon days sometimes, can seem and feel so very dark. There's no, foreseeable, way out. There's nothing I can do to make any of this better- to make my sweet boy better,  make the days easier for my girls, or to relieve the pressure on my husband's heart. But, so often, when my own heart feels like it's beating outside of my chest on the cold floor in front of me, because it needed to escape, I see it... a gem in the darkness. A glimpse of new life; fruit, evidence, work of God in my sweet boy. It might seem so small, or even unnoticeable to some people, but to me it's nothing short of a gem glistening in the dark - reflecting the light of the Son.

Often times in our emotional, physical, and spiritual brokenness God does wonders in us; refining, strengthening, and sanctifying us. Mental Illness might be mysterious but it's no different than any other type of brokenness or illness that our frail human bodies endure. It might be foolishly placed in the "taboo" category, but how humans might view such things, certainly does not limit God's power and refining love exposed mightily through them.

Psychosis (audible and visual hallucinations), suicidal ideation, great degrees of anxiety, manic/violent/aggressive episodes, rapid/unpredictable/intense mood swings, depression, etc... are all things that a lot of people seem to have a hard time acknowledging, accepting, understanding, verbalizing, or hearing about. I admit those things are nothing short of being mysterious, complex, sometimes scary, and hard to relate to (unless/until you've experienced it or witnessed it first hand), but I refuse to pretend as though those symptoms (yes, that's what they are) are any less in need of exposure, awareness, compassion, and prayer than any other, more "acceptable", illness. I refuse to turn away and pretend that this is not our precious boy's reality (and each of ours in this family).

Rather than hiding away or being silent about real issues, I believe that Evod is most blessed when our words, and our actions, convey to him that we love him, as he is, and that we trust God's plans for his life even if illness, of any kind, is apart of that life. If we ignore or deny mental illness for what it is, then we are choosing to reject and isolate our son. We won't do that. We won't because we love our son and we trust God's sovereignty, love and faithfulness in this... and in Evod.

Every day, I pray for eyes to see what He wants me to see; in those moments that might seem like the opposite of beautiful but there is indeed raw beauty to be had, in those hours that I feel like I am at a complete loss but really I am gaining so much as God is seeing us through in spite of Evod's illness and my weakness, those instances when suddenly I see his genuine smile for the first time in awhile or the sparkle in his eye that seemed to dim for too long, those nights when I can watch my sweet boy sleep and pray for him and trust that his Creator is indeed moving in and loving on him.

Oh, like the tiny fragrant blossoms that adorn branches in early Spring like rubies, regardless of the harsh Winter that seemed to linger too long, God continues to bless us with gems made of precious hope. God is near and He is our gem that adorns our every day, even when my human eyes, hands, and heart are blinded by the sting of this long night. My heart is grateful for such joyful truth... 

"Even there Your hand will lead me,

 And Your right hand will lay hold of me.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,

And the light around me will be night,”

Even the darkness is not dark to You,

And the night is as bright as the day.

Darkness and light are alike to You.

For You formed my inward parts;

You wove me in my mother’s womb...

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Wonderful are Your works,

 And my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from You,

When I was made in secret,

And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;

And in Your book were all written

The days that were ordained for me,

When as yet there was not one of them.

How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand.

When I awake, I am still with You."

-Psalm 139:10-18

(In the picture above, I am 6 months pregnant with Evod.)

Trading What I Knew For All Things New

It's like bidding farewell to a beloved season as the next approaches sooner than promised by the calendar or weather man. Like when the leaves changed colors too rapidly; from green to brown on the ground, and the vibrant hues of oranges and reds didn't last long enough and we are left with bare branches for miles and miles. Maybe the last of the snow melted before we created all the memories in it that we had anticipated; sledding, snow angels and snow ball fights, or the lilac blossoms' fragrant beauty was cut short by the harsh wind that cuts like prematurely wielded pruning scissors. Whatever the sudden switch up of seasons might be, we often just feel gypped. Why? Why can't our favorite season just last forever.... 

I have typed the words "mental illness" so much that parts of me have become numb to the letters that make up those words, while there are still parts of me in shock that I am even having to type them at all. This.... this wasn't in the calendar. This wasn't a part of the plan. Well, not my plan, anyway. 

My how I miss yesterday. By "yesterday" I mean, that last season of our lives where Intractable Epilepsy and Mental Illness didn't seem to daily rob my son and daughters, of the childhood I had envisioned and anticipated for them. This, none of it, incorporates naturally into my "to do" lists, calendars, plans. Mental Illness doesn't cooperate with my schedule, my wants, my hobbies, or my dreams. Seeing my eldest daughter with her knees to her chest, hands over her ears, and tears in her eyes because she just wants it all to be over, hearing my youngest  daughter (outside of the womb) scream because she is frightened, hearing/seeing/feeling my son seemingly coming unraveled in front of my own eyes, then  [at other just as sobering moments] trying to articulate what it's like to be him; live inside of his suffering and struggles- yeah, none of that fits into what I thought their lives were supposed to be. 

Today was hard. For a moment, Eric and I were at odds, at a loss, as sometimes this is just simply too painful, too confusing... too much. Once again my heart was crushed because it was absolutely impossible for me to make it all stop; make it all better for everyone. In the middle of Evod's episode I wanted to scream so incredibly loud. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to run out of my front door. I wanted to be out of this house and saturated by sunlight and fresh air. I wanted to breath. I wanted to snap my fingers and suddenly [peacefully] be with my family rolling down green hills, hiking in the mountain, having a water balloon fight, or even a picnic full of gluten and snacks I never buy. But I was here with my being, after a year and a half of this, still stunned by it all. My life felt so out of control, as it does every single day, and everything in me was resisting it. I just wanted yesterday back. 

But, alas... this is the new canvas that our lives are being painted upon by the hands of an Artist who happens to be our King, who is also our sovereign Lord. Parts of me wants to scream and resist and remove the words "mental illness" from my vocabulary. But, what good would that do? After all, to me, genuine hope and faith, and the supposed "power of positive thinking" are two very different things. I cannot ignore this and trust God at the same time. All of this, unless God chooses or until we are in Heaven, is not going away. Yes, I feel like God is wrecking my life. How dare He, right? Wrong. He gives and takes away... as He pleases; for His purposes, for His glory. Even in my utter brokenness, I am genuinely comforted by that. This life, as it is, has purpose and glory can come, and I pray IS coming, from these ashes like the grandest of all rainbows, earthly wonders, or songs whispered from our hearts. 

As God is wrecking the life that we once knew, I cannot lie or deny that my human hands sometimes cling to yesterday so tightly, and my heart pleads for God to let this cup pass from my son [my family]. But, even when I am blinded by my own tears, I am blessedly reassured by His faithfulness. I am continually reminded not just by what my eyes see, but what they often can't see, that He is near and making all things new, according to His plans. His beautiful plan. 

"He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." -Colossians 1:17

In

all

seasons

...

A Sister's Prayer

Nearly every night before bed Eric, all the kids, and I sit down on the couch or snuggle in one of the beds. We ask them what their least favorite part of the day was, their favorite part, something they learned, we talk a bit about what they had to say, then they choose someone to pray for. It helps us to stay connected, be real, and keep communications open. Before we could even start that routine the other night, Evod crashed on the couch. He had an especially rough day of violent, aggressive episodes and that always takes a lot out of him; emotionally and physically. 

When it came time for Avni to choose someone to pray for, she chose her brother. Her sweet little voice nearly whispered this prayer, "Dear Jesus, thank you for making Evod. Thank you that he is my brother. Please take his sickness and anger away. Please take his hitting away. Amen."

Eric and I looked up at each other; our hearts sunk and swelled both at the same time. We try to talk to Avnielle as much as possible about Evod; his sicknesses, his blessings, his hardships, and his gifts. She hears, sees, and endures a lot and I refuse to let her slip through the cracks as her little world has been rocked, just like the rest of us in this family. I took this opportunity to probe a bit more, to see how Avni was doing and processing everything around her. We talked about Evod being sick and that, though it's hard to understand, he doesn't mean what he's saying or doing, while in an episode. What he's saying isn't true, I know it's hard and I have to remind myself of that  as well, I told her. It is true that he is sick, but I reminded her that it still never okay for him to hit her or hurt her; physically or verbally. We want to assure her that we are here for her too, that we also haven't forgotten her either. 

She kind of interrupted me and, with her head hanging down, she said, "But... he wasn't always sick..... he wasn't always angry." Again, so many various emotions flooded my "mama heart". I, first off, was thankful that she remembered Evod before he was sick. Honestly, sometimes that is hard, but I don't want to let go of those memories. They help me to grow in compassion, grace, understanding and remember none of this is Evod's fault. If he had control - things wouldn't be like this. He loves us. He does.

I asked, "Avni, you remember when Evod wasn't sick?" She said, "Yes, before seizures and anger and hitting... he had long curly hair." Instantly, so many memories and pictures flooded my mind. I hugged her tight and said, "He sure did." I told her, "We have to remember, Avni. We have to pray for Evod and remember. We are so blessed that God chose him to be your brother, our son. And, we have to remember that Evod has the same kind heart and spirit. He loves us....we have to remember."

Honestly, right now, I have tears streaming down my face. I still miss parts of my boy. I miss him, so easily, trusting us; trusting our love and affections. I long for his old hugs. I yearn for his days to be "easy" again. Not so much for my sake, but for his own... for his sisters'. I know he's tired too. I want him to love life; his life, our life together.

Oh, this life. Sometimes it's so easy to get our gaze stuck on it. With tears still in my eyes, I am being reminded of eternity. This sting isn't forever. I pray that the ache that my sweet boy feels, the emotional/psychological/physical turmoil and challenges that he faces cause him to yearn for Jesus more and more. I pray that it continues to be used to grow compassion, empathy, and grace deep inside of him. I do, still, pray for this all to go away, but if it doesn't, if while on this earth, it never does, I trust  and cling to Jesus; His purposes, strength, grace, sovereignty, and love, in this... in our Evodence.

I know that just like the dark soil hidden inside the earth, compacted around roots that are connected to trunks and stems that lead to the beautiful, vibrant, blooms of Spring; Evod's ache isn't in vain. God is near to our son, even in this. I can't always see, but I trust. I hope. I remember.

I remember, cherish, and love Evod before this storm.

I remember, cherish, and love Evod in it, and always. 

I remember and love God before this confusing chaos and unrelenting roller coaster.

I remember and love God now... in it.

He is the same; yesterday, today, and always;

Able. 

Strong.

Near.

Faithful.
Unwavering. 

I remember. 

i am not a rescuer.

She's a stranger to me, but I am well acquainted with her pain. This mom was being interviewed on CNN, and ironically she's from Albuquerque. Her five year old son is suicidal - he suffers from mental illness. With tears in her eyes she expressed how helpless she feels, scared that her son will take his life while she is sleeping at night. Her last sentence in the clip was, "There needs to be more awareness."

I never thought that I would be able to relate to a mom articulating such words; words that we would never naturally put together 'child' and 'suicidal'. For us, it started off with us being scared because of the severity of Evod's seizures, especially the nocturnal episodes, as nocturnal seizures are the most fatal. We put a camera in his room to watch him as carefully as we could. We were desperate to protect our boy. My eyes rarely left that screen. Even if I heard a yawn or saw his arms stretch, I would bolt down the hallway to his room. I would lay beside him, stare at him, pray for him, hope for him, cry for him. I would wish that I could take the seizures, head on, face to face, and fight for my son; his beautiful little life. Alas, that's not the nature of this fight.

Before we could wrap our brains and hearts around how physically ill our son suddenly became, we started seeing serious signs of mental illness, due to trauma to his brain as a result of having 30-50 seizures a day). Our son, at age five wanted to die, wanted to never be seen again, wanted to disappear. One day, his eyes seemed so distant and he was pretending to write in a notebook. I sat beside him on his bed, knowing something was wrong and asked him what he was writing. At first, he said, "I'm writing good things." I just sat and looked at him, then he said, "I want to disappear. Go away, and never come back." He continued to candidly share some very dark thoughts that were racing through his mind, thoughts that were terrorizing him. Honestly, in that moment  (and since) they were terrorizing me too, but I had to be aware of my reaction. I had to be strong, he had to know that I could handle what he was courageously sharing with me. He, like the bright boy that he is, was trying to cope and express himself in a little notebook. He couldn't even write yet, they were mere scribbles, and yet his scribbles wrote such agony on my heart; quite legibly.

We were thrust in this new, chaotic, terribly painful world of mental illness. The week of his sixth birthday he ultimately had to be committed into a pediatric mental institution, for his own protection. When those doctors and nurses looked at me, I am certain they saw a gutted heart bleeding on the floor. Well, that's how I felt anyway.

How could I protect my son now? I couldn't watch him on the camera. I couldn't sleep next to him. I couldn't run down the hallway just to make sure he was still breathing. I couldn't hold him and at least pretend that I could protect him. We were only able to visit once a day, two times on the weekend. When we would visit him, we would have to be searched and wanded by security and sign in a log book. Evod was the youngest child there, but he wasn't the only one. And, yet, there was never a line of parents, or loved ones, waiting to go visit their children. In fact, there had been days and days between visits for many of them. I'm not claiming to know the reasons for the lack of visits for these children, but I am claiming that it saddened me. I wished that I could transform into someone special coming to visit each of them. Of course, once we were there, we could hardly even look in their direction as to not cause a stir. Ugh... I just wanted to hug and hold each of them. I wanted to rescue each of the children in that psych unit... including my son. I couldn't.

I am not a rescuer. I am a mom with a broken heart and with the ache that lingers in me a fire is stirring! I want to bring awareness to Juvenile Mental Illness. These children face extreme anxiety, paranoia, psychosis (audible and visual hallucinations), they have tormenting suicidal and homicidal thoughts.... they also have hearts. Just like a child who suffers from Cancer, that child doesn't want to be sick, and face the horrible symptoms of the illness, or be in a fight for his/her life. Children with mental illness - didn't choose to be sick. They didn't choose to have the symptoms, of mental illness, that haunt them and often isolate them.

I may not be able to protect and rescue as I wish I could, but I have a purpose in this. It is not by accident or mistake that we are where we are. It's not a mistake that I have walked, bright eyed and heavy hearted, into a pediatric psych unit or that my ears have heard the horrors, first hand, of mental illness. I think a part of my purpose, is my weakness in a world of such mystery and often invisible pain. I cannot walk into a room full of parents who have children with mental illness, strong and confident in myself or my parenting skills, but I can share the strength and hope that has been given to me, in these... the weakest, most broken days of my life. I am continually reminded that I am unable to be all that my child needs, and that's okay. Even in this, I wasn't created to be anyone's all in all, not even my mentally ill son's. I am not a rescuer. That's simply not under the duties, gifts, and responsibilities of "mama"... and I can't force it to be. I am mama, I am not God.

I know I've said it before; our six year old son look totally and completely "normal". When people look at him at church/ playgrounds/ stores no one would ever guess that he suffers the way(s) that he does. The fact that my son doesn't often look "ill" has humbled me... all of this has humbled me to the ground. Look, regardless of what we think we know about parenting, rearing children, being a Christian, being a human - we just never know what's going on under the skin that someone is walking in. From this mama's heart, who has limited control in this chaotic world of mine, I ask... may we purpose to err on the side of grace, compassion, and love?

After I watched the mom's CNN interview, on YouTube, I read the comments below it. One of them read, "shudve aborted the lil tard ". We cannot be surprised that there are people out there that view ill children this way, but we can purpose to love more loudly to make up for the abundance of hate and void of love that exists in such hurtful voices.

I am not a rescuer, but I am a mama... and I pray that I love well, and loudly.

Spreading awareness for Juvenile Mental Illness; may we first be aware that everyone has a heart, may we live and love accordingly.

Please join me in praying for the mom, and family, in the CNN interview, all the children currently committed to a pediatric mental institution, and the families living their lives around us that are, maybe even secretly, affected my mental illness.