Living in a Kaleidoscope: 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.