This wasn’t a planned blog post nor is it the one I have been working on this week (yet, upon writing it, I’ve discovered it is a nice lead-in for my next piece).  It is a hastily-written kind that I am hesitant to share because there is always a fear someone will think I am feeling sorry for myself or seeking pity … and that isn’t the point.  Compassion is helpful, as well as, kindness,  perhaps a bit of understanding … but not pity nor condemnation.

Just some thoughts …

Two of my children left yesterday morning for a short vacation to the beach.  In the culture in which we live, this is typical and normal, but for my children, this is anything but normal.

They’ve not been on a vacation since they were babies.

They, along with some members of my family and their Dad, are finally going to experience a vacation.  I planned this for them and I am so pleased that it has worked out.

The reasons why they have not been on a vacation and the reasons why my oldest son and I are staying home, are not relevant to this post.

If it could be different … we would all go.

And my heart wouldn’t know this sadness of being left behind.

I actually started this post yesterday morning before they left and planned to finish it once they were gone, but I did not anticipate the sadness that would grip me when I saw my van pulling out of the driveway with my children inside.

People often tell me how strong I am and I always look at them in puzzlement because I don’t ever feel strong … I just know how to distance myself from emotions in order to keep up with the demands of my life.  This isn’t always the healthiest of options, but given all the realities of my life, it often has been my only option.

I wasn’t strong yesterday.  Oh, my kids only saw the Mom who sent them off with hugs, smiles, and so much love … but as soon as I reentered my empty home, I started to shake and the tears flowed.

I couldn’t finish writing the thoughts I intended to share.

I will do that now.

The day before my younger childrens’ trip, I had to make the 50+ minute trip to pick my oldest son up from school.  When I sent him in the morning, he didn’t seem to be feeling quite well, but since he couldn’t tell me and wanted to go to school, I went ahead and sent him.  It is actually quite rare for him to be ill so it was hard to gauge what he might be feeling.  I sent an email to his staff informing them and asking that if he appeared miserable and ill, to please call me so I could bring him back home.  That call came around 11:30.  There were no overt signs of illness that would require him to come home, but he was clearly not feeling well at all.  So, I made the two hour round trip and brought him home.

It was during that drive that it really began to hit me that my younger children were leaving for the beach the next day but, not just any beach … my favorite beach.  I have spent quite a bit of time in at Cape May, NJ and adore it’s peaceful, quaint atmosphere.  It is a sanctuary from years gone by.

As I was telling my children about it and the different aspects I wanted them to experience, I tried to remember when I was last there … I think it was when my oldest was a toddler, before autism completely stole him away.  So, I guess it has been around 16 years.

All of these years, I’ve been hoping for a day that I could go back.

A sadness began to fill me as I helped my children gather their clean laundry and begin to pack.  I felt selfish feeling sad but it was a deep emotion.

I am a ‘still waters run deep’ kind of person and these depths of emotions are the kind I don’t have time to deal with.

I began what is typical for my counter-attack for sadness.  I reminded myself to be thankful that my children were getting to have this experience and I truthfully have been quite thankful.  I then began to pray and think about the possibility of Ty someday maturing to the point of being able to take a vacation with his family and being willing to sleep away from home.  Or perhaps the day would come that he would be in an environment where he would be content and well-cared for and then I could go on a vacation myself, knowing he would be okay.

Someday, I told myself … maybe someday.

Hope like this is a fragile thing.

That someday may never come …

Which opens the door to a different kind of hope …

One that is grounded in faith.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
Hebrews 11:1

 

As I fixated on the beach and the possibilities of somehow finding a way to fix what is broken, I was suddenly reminded of something of greater value …

I have been spending time lately reading and pondering on Hebrews 11 … commonly referred to as the ‘faith chapter’.  My focus has been on certain specific verses … ones that someone pointed me towards a couple of weeks ago as I struggled with the nature of certain realities in my life.  Specifically verses 13-16 …

“All these died in faith, without receiving the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.  For those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a country of their own. And indeed if they had been thinking of that country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return.  But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for He has prepared a city for them.”

As well as, verses 39-40 …

“And all these, having gained approval through their faith, did not receive what was promised, because God had provided something better for us, so that apart from us they would not be made perfect.”

 

My earthly hope is always for me to have my children together … to live life together … go places together.  The reality is generally the opposite, which always weighs heavily on me.   The sadness that I often feel is a natural part of living in a sin-cursed, broken world.

But … faith reminds me that someday, in heaven, all that is broken will be restored.

There won’t be autism.

There won’t be broken relationships.

And someday, I will be in the glory of the Father with all three children by my side.

Never to be separated again.

Together to worship, serve, and glorify the Almighty God who redeemed and restored us to Himself.

It is okay for me to know sadness in this present life because I know that God has promised something better than a vacation to my favorite beach.

He has promised me eternity.

This is my hope.

A hope that is grounded in faith.

Something I cannot see …

but something that God is growing in me through the difficulties of this life.

There is a greater someday coming.

I can’t wait.

“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”
Romans 5:1-5