Voices

A friend recently posted a video for Casting Crowns' "I Know You're There". Our Erin LOVES this song. The little one has a very big voice that is incongruous with her age and size. (It shows when she sings this particular song rather than the high-pitched sing-song we typically hear out her during play.) The song is an anthem of faith, and this morning it speaks to me, a bit of scripture out of Luke whispers to my heart, and a pair of other moms with "special" kids confirm what I think I am hearing. All these voices speak to the continual grief and hope of trying to train and teach a special needs child toward autonomy.
I made the statement this morning without really thinking (So, what's new, right?) that, "Our children are not extensions of ourselves, but they are entirely separate individuals." That seems like such an obvious reality; yet, when one has nurtured a life, there is an inextricable link. It is easy to make that sort of declaration, but far harder to genuinely recognize the autonomy of our children. It is further complicated when the child in question shows himself or herself incapable of meeting responsibility that needs to be accepted to gain greater freedom and independence from Mom and Dad.
Last weekend we had multiple less-than-admirable incidents with our son. I was horrified to hear he stole from our hosts Sunday night, lied about it, was disrespectful to the sitters who were charged with his care, and followed all of that up by running after a group of little preschool girls with a pair of scissors. (The scenario is just wrong on so many levels.) I admit I was mortified first, but not one person looked at me with condemnation as the rotten parent of this out-of-control child. I was concerned with the risk to and fear of the little girls, and frustrated that Evan showed such a lack of sense and restraint. I wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere, and let Don deal with this round. So I did. I was just past my ability to know what to do or say after a series of maddening issues throughout the weekend.
So this week we study God's provision. Literally, God will provide our physical needs for food, clothing, shelter, and medical care (!). Our God is bigger than our physical needs. He meets the needs of the heart and soul. He hears our sad, angry, bereft, broken inner-most being crying out for relief. He hears the voice that cannot speak, and the words I do not utter. I am thankful that I am not in physical want, but I am down-on-the-floor awed that needs I refuse even to recognize because they feel shameful ("What kind of a mother...") and cannot put into words are met.