I debated long and hard about whether to post this one or not. I am not one who easily talks openly about matters of faith. It is a deeply personal subject for me and I get very uncomfortable sharing something that I feel is private. I have been a member of the Christian faith for my entire life and attend church weekly. It is a vital part of my life, whether I speak of it or not. But sharing openly about my faith: that's a tough one.
That being said, if am I continue with the theme of what has been helpful, this moment was a pivotal one.
I mentioned in my previous post that I had a profound moment when I was near a nervous break during those early years. I haven't shared this too often because it was a deeply personal moment, and it happened immediately after a moment I'm not terribly proud of. But that's what makes it so profound, and I'm not making this up.
At this point in time, I was frantic to get T to check off more items on those developmental milestones lists. We had five therapy appointments a week with three different therapists coming to our home, all working with him to make progress where he was delayed. I was determined that if I worked with him hard enough during the off hours, put in the time and did it right, I could make the delays go away and everything would be fine. For crying out loud, I was a full time stay at home mom at that point - if anyone could do it, I could. But T was not on the same page. I will never, ever forget the endless hours at our kitchen table, just T & me, trying to engage him, get him to do anything. Nothing. He'd just stare blankly off into the distance. When I'd try to help him hold a crayon or do anything with his hands, they just went limp. I couldn't reach him. So there I was, frantic, and there he was, just placidly sitting at the table, NOT reachable.
After weeks and months of this, I hit the boiling point. I stood up, slammed my chair back from the kitchen table and in doing so, accidentally hit the spindled chair rail behind us. I was yelling at the world, frustrated and frightened beyond where I had ever been. Spindles went everywhere and T was frightened and started to cry. Then, sitting across the kitchen table from me, was Jesus.
I know, I know - I probably just lost some of you. Believe me, I don't fall into the category of Christian that feels they have a deep, personal & intimate relationship with Jesus. (That's a little too cozy & casual a thought for me personally.) But I'm telling you: He was there. The calm, simple and clear message from him was: Suzanne, stop. And I could sense Him smiling but shaking his head at me. Sympathetic, present, loving. And then He was gone.
A bit shaken but much calmer, I put the spindles back (nothing had been broken, luckily). T calmed down, and so did I. I apologized to T for frightening him, and moved forward, knowing I was not alone in this journey ahead of us.
Knowing I am not alone in this journey has been vital as we have passed through challenging times.