"I threw in the towel. God threw it back and said, 'Wipe your face. You're almost there.'"
A friend posted this on her FB page today. It has no byline so I can't give credit where credit is due. I loved it because this has been so true in my life. So many times I've said, "I can't do this anymore." But after a chat with Jesus I'm ready for another day. Nothing really changes other than the reminder that I'm not alone and my God is in the business of carrying burdens that are just too big for us here on earth.
This was one of those weeks. It wasn't anything major, just all the minor things, the usual things: Parenting a child with special needs and trauma behaviors, along with working 2 part time jobs and the full time job of mommy-hood and holding down a home, and having a baby in the house again.
Our youngest has a mask exemption in his IEP but a few weeks ago he was segregated in the classroom for not wearing a mask. He came home crying, "I had to sit on a carpet all by myself, Mommy. I told them to call you but they wouldn't call you." His heart was breaking and mine along with his. And then, as we tried to get to the bottom of it, to hear from the school exactly what their segregation policy was/is so we could make the best educational decision for him, the school nurse called, "He has a fever and a headache. That makes him a level 2-er so he needs to stay home for 10 days now." We thanked God for at least one blanket, assumed-positive-until-proven-healthy school policy. Since the fever and headache lasted only 24 hours, he had the time of his life. Until the school finally, after a week, informed us that he would no longer be segregated in the classroom. Thank you, Mr. Solicitor, I presume? We told him he'd be returning to school. He told us he didn't want to go. We told him he's going. He said he's not...
He's going, but not happily. Every morning is a battle, every evening is a nightmare. He can't keep it together after barely, and not very successfully, keeping it together at school. He's not listening, not keeping up, not doing his work, not speaking kindly to teachers, not this, and not that. It came to a head Friday morning and I threw in the towel.
It was a good cry as cries go. I guess. I'm not very good at emotions. Never have been. But this one kept coming. All day long. And then the Good Doctor threw away my unfinished chai. Never throw away my unfinished chai because I always finish my chai. It threatened to undo me. Until this little eight year old, who can hear emotions that he can't see, innocently said, "I hope you don't cry over your chai."
He was right.
"Wipe your face. You're almost there." As a wise mentor of my husband's recently told me while holding the baby and giving me a break at church, "This isn't an easy life you and John have chosen. Let me help for this moment."
I love our community. God has chosen each and every one to carry a part of the burden with us. And on the toughest days, He picks up the heaviest side of the load, throws the towel back in my face and says, "You're almost there."
One step closer to home. One step closer to the day when there will be no more crying, no more tears, no more babies needing homes and substitute arms, no more chai dumped down the drain.
