Month: September 2019

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Army

Thanks to my sister Sarah for writing this wonderful piece. When she told me about her “army” over the weekend, I couldn’t help but think of everyone in mine, including each one of you! Whether you’re a fellow special needs mom, a life long friend, a prayer warrior for Gage and our family, or one of his many awesome therapists, teachers, etc., please know how grateful I am to have you in our lives, and in my army. You are the hands and feet of Jesus…THANK YOU!

Have you ever listened to a song over and over and the lyrics just hit you at your core? But then one day you hear the exact same song and another line stands out in a way you never noticed before…?

The song for me today is Rescue by Lauren Daigle. I’ve been listening to it for months now. There are lines I’ve felt are speaking directly to me and I needed to hear them. (Plus, let’s be honest, Lauren Daigle is an AMAZING artist and her songs are a gift to the ears!)

And then there was last week. Exact same song. Listened to it probably a hundred times. Yet that day, it seemed like the only line I could hear was:

“I will send out an army to find you
In the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you”

Army. An ARMY. God will send an army. For me. 

And instantly the faces start flashing through my mind. The army He has sent.

The past several years have been tough for me. Some in ways certain people know. Others still kept just between God and I, for now. He’s been working in my life in ways I never imagined. Often through the incredible people He places in my path. I know I wouldn’t have picked the circumstances that have brought me to where I am today. Without them, would I have let my guard down to really lean on those closest to me and let them help pick me back up? Without these circumstances, would I have even met some of the truly wonderful human beings who’ve filled my life with more love and joy than I knew possible? Without this time of brokenness, would I have been open to the relationships which blessed me so much and helped me heal? Would I even recognize and appreciate this ARMY?

I know I am never promised a life free of struggles from here on out. I also know I am not hidden from God and there has never been a moment I was forgotten. He sent an army to help rescue me and I am so grateful. I’ve been trying to share this epiphany (I haven’t even told each one personally yet and need to keep at it!). As you may have guessed, Hannah’s is one of the faces that flashed before me when I considered the army He sent to find me. My sweet sister suggested this might be a good blog post, so here you go.

How about you? Have you thanked those in the army He used to help find you? Maybe you’re still in the “middle of the darkest night,” or “middle of the hardest fight.” Remember He hears you. Even the “whisper underneath your breath.” He will send out an army to find you. He will rescue you. It’s true.

Thank you, God, for the struggle. For the blessing. For the army. And thank you, ARMY (you know who you are), for pointing me back to Him.

Rescue by Lauren Daigle

You are not hidden
There’s never been a moment
You were forgotten
You are not hopeless
Though you have been broken
Your innocence stolen

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS
Your SOS

I will send out an army
To find you in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you

There is no distance
That cannot be covered
Over and over
You’re not defenseless
I’ll be your shelter
I’ll be your armor

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army
To find You in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching
To reach you in the middle of the hardest fight
It’s true, I will rescue you

I hear the whisper underneath your breath
I hear you whisper you have nothing left

I will send out an army

To find you in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching
To reach you in the middle of the hardest fight
It’s true, I will rescue you

Oh, I will rescue you

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Rate Your Pain

I made my first visit to a chiropractor this week. I’ve been experiencing pain in my hip for long enough now (read months and months) that I decided to give it a whirl to see if an adjustment might help. At the initial visit they are very thorough and ask all kinds of questions. In talking about pain in one area, but being asked about several others, I was reminded of back and wrist pain I’ve experienced too. I’m sure a certain amount is just wear and tear on my aging body (is it just me, or do your thirties feel WAAYYY different than your twenties??) but I suspect some of my issues relate to lots of repetitive lifting and carrying, of Gage and Caleb, a wheelchair, equipment, etc.
Anyway, after leaving the chiropractor’s office I felt like the Q&A part of the visit was awkward, or more specifically that I was awkward, mostly because I wasn’t good at articulating and defining all the ways my body aches. Not only was I expected to identify the location of my pain, but also rate its intensity and categorize the nature of it from a laundry list of choices.  Some questions left me with a puzzled look, and I have to wonder if they thought, “does this woman even know her own body?”
But here’s the thing. I’m not used to rating my pain. My default is to ignore it, pretend it’s not there. If I don’t think about it or focus on it, it won’t hurt as bad. I don’t say that to come off as tough. I will fully own up to the fact that I can be a major wimp. I’m sure Evan wouldn’t argue, based on my frequent requests for back rubs. But in a formal setting and to strangers, it was weird to not only define, but to thoroughly describe pain, when I’m actively trying not to think about it the rest of the time.
What I realized is that I do that with so much more than my physical aches and pains. Don’t we all? It’s easier to say we’re fine or doing ok than to admit we’re scared and sad or sometimes feel like we’re spiraling. It’s hard to give words to our emotional pain, because we practice ignoring it too. One of the hardest parts for me is that when I’m hurting, I don’t know how to make it better. At least with my sore hip, I can take a couple ibuprofen and count on some degree of relief, even if it’s temporary.
Sometimes the choice to ignore or hide pain isn’t even a conscious one. It’s like it’s so engrained in me that I’ll float along with an intoxicating level of denial without even realizing it. The grief always catches up to me at some point, when other distractions have cleared and my quieter mind makes room for the pain to speak up and be heard. Be felt. By then, it can almost seem inappropriate. Like I’m responding too late to something that I should have already moved past. Or like at that point, I’m just wallowing.
But I’ve learned there’s no right way to grieve, or to feel. We’re humans and complex and imperfect. My feelings are valid, even if they stay hidden for long enough to seem like a delayed reaction. Oddly enough, one thing that does seem to help when I’m hurting is finding a way to articulate the pain. Putting it into words, even if it’s hard or awkward, helps me process it, whether it’s a journal entry, blog post, or honest conversation with a trusted friend.
As isolating as some parts of our special needs parenting journey can be, I know I’m not alone, and that’s a huge help too. I feel the prayers of support from friends and cherish the family who make a point to ask how I’m doing. And I know my Heavenly Father doesn’t ignore my pain, but collects all my tears and one day will wipe them all away.