Today has allowed me to stop and breathe deep. As our trip draws closer I cannot help but feel what those who have children waiting for a heart transplant or a life-saving surgery must surely feel. Not that I am comparing Cade's disorder to a life-threatening illness. But I think all of us who have a child with special needs have a common bond -- we are kindred spirits, I think. We all wait anxiously for the next thing that will help...a new medication, a new doctor with a new diagnosis, a new therapy...whatever it takes to get us closer to normalcy.
I dread the many meltdowns, screaming, and tears that I know will come during this intensive therapy. I am already steeling myself for the guttural sobs that I can feel coming up from deep within me...when I watch my little boy suffer for something that I know will only make him so much better. I am bracing myself for the exhaustion and utter disagreement that will come as he tries to relax and cope after the intense tasks that will be asked of him.
I know that God will sustain me, sustain all of us, during this time of intensity. I know that He will be there through every meltdown, every tear, and every feeling of helplessness that will come. God has already brought us so far in this journey...and although I am anxious about what is to come I am also excited to get to the other side. Because I know that without all of the pain there cannot be progress - there cannot be healing - and I know that will all be worth it in the end.
So today I just sit back and smile and I listen to the sweet sounds of my boys playing with Dad - "normal"sounds on this 4th of July - and look forward to our dark-thirty glow stick parade. And I soak up the peace and sustenance that God is providing me to prepare for this journey.
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