Sometimes life is full of really bad things.
Sometimes your dad spirals into dementia, your neighbor “granny” dies, and your child is diagnosed with autism, all in the span of a year, or a month.
Sometimes any grass seems greener, because you really feel you HAVE NO GRASS. Just a lot of dirty dirt.
Sometimes life is cruel.
God is always good. And he is always kind.
I refuse to allow my circumstances to become the lens through which I see my God. Instead, I will be steadfast in choosing to see my circumstances through the lens of God’s kindness. I choose to believe that he is always being kind to me, even when life looks kind of rotten.
That second sentence up there is a glimpse of my past year. In March of 2017, my dad underwent minor surgery, and the anesthesia accelerated his dementia. A year later we are just now starting to get it settled down a little bit. And in March of this year, my dear neighbor was in a car accident, which ultimately resulted in her death on April 30th. There are no words to express the depth of this loss to our family. Our Granny was one of a kind.
And then there was today. Today I heard the answer that I never wanted to hear, but always knew in my heart I would hear some day: Autism. When no one else saw it in Sophie, I did. As heartbreaking as it was to ask, I knew I had to. And over the last six weeks, her team has worked feverishly to evaluate her through many different assessments for the Autism Spectrum Disorder.
So, today I sat in a room and listened to her team recount her many difficulties and deficits. It was oppressive to hear. It was heartbreaking. And at the end of the meeting, I sat and listened to our school psychologist explain to me that Sophie does meet the criteria and definitions of Autism. After six long — but so incredibly short — years, we have our diagnosis, the diagnosis I never wanted.
I really don’t even know how to process any of this. Mostly my busy life and my busy children don’t allow me a lot of time for quiet contemplation to process. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, fixing this meal, cleaning up that mess, drying those tears. It’s what we do as moms. And somehow we’ll find our way with our Sophie girl. I will keep believing, keep trusting, keep praying, and watching for God to move in her sweet life. His favor clearly rests on her, and I firmly believe he has a good plan for her life.
As friends surrounded me with encouragement today as I shared this news, one friend’s words broke down all the resistance I have been feeling to this day. “You were made for her,” she said. “You were made for her.” Truly God knew from the beginning of time that there would be me, and that there would be Sophie, and he crafted us for each other. To me, this makes no sense right now. But I know she is right.
Today there have been lots of tears. This last month there have been lots of tears. This past year there have been lots of tears. But tears are not a place to stay. I don’t want to always see my life through my tears. Even as I observe these losses, these griefs, even in the sadness and the tears, I’m trusting that God is infinitely kind to me and to those I love.