When Hope is a Hug

My first day of Christmas vacation starts with a quick run to drop off my child at school. I suppose there is nothing more wonderful than dropping a child off and knowing he is safe and I won’t need to worry about him for a few hours. Not that I know how that feels.

I pull on my lycra and go jogging. I don’t feel like it. I don’t particularly want to. And it is hard. But the joy of running with Jesus is bliss! I love listening to His words and praying. This time of sweet communion has become so precious to me that even when my hamstrings ache and I can’t catch my breath coming up a hill–I rejoice. I am alive! And life is beautiful because I jog the path with my Savior.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

Jesus – Luke 4:18-19

I am not surprised when the phone rings and it is the principal from my son’s school. Nor am I surprised to hear he has been suspended. Again. And on the very last day of the school year too. But this has been our routine since school began in August. My son’s mental health issues are growing worse. I don’t have perfect answers. So I ask God for help. Then, because I have an appointment, I ask my older son to pick him up.

When I get in the car to run out, my tire is low on air. I pull out the (75 lb+) air compressor and fill it. Then I fill the tire. I call the tire shop and they say to bring it by after my visit to the chiropractor. I drive in silence–trying to deal with the heavy burden of anger the principal has just handed to me. It is like a bomb with a sizzling fuse.

I am thankful for my chiropractor. My friend, Dr. Amy is a gifted healer and has done so much to help me and my son. We talk about the difficulties of raising a child with behavioral challenges. We discussed the careless words and judgmental nature of people who don’t understand. Everybody wants to offer a solution and they grow frustrated when your child isn’t neat and tidy–like at the end of a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie. Sometimes, they walk away from the relationship with us. I understand. I wish I could walk away too.

It feels harsh to write that. But when I leave the office and discover my completely flat tire will not allow me to drive anywhere else, I have to call my older son to bring the air compressor to the chiropractor’s office. In the background my younger son is screaming and carrying on and refusing to ride along (he should not be left home unsupervised!). So I tell him a lie to make him get in the car. It is the only thing I can think of in the moment.

They arrive and I open the trunk of my son’s car to see the blessed air compressor. I fawn over it until I accidentally hit a lever and the air starts to pour out. I hop and holler and push every mechanism to stop the flow of air when shockingly–it does! Then, I start to cry.

“Don’t cry, Mom!” my older son says. “That’s not going to help.”

But I feel like the air compressor in that moment. I need a valve to release the pressure. And I think tears may be nature’s safety mechanism.

There is just enough air to inflate the flat tire and hopefully just enough time to deliver me to the tire shop a few miles away. Except, my younger son refuses to get in the car with me and runs away. I stand there with my bomb and its shorter-than-ever-fuse wondering what I’m going to do when I catch the child. Thankfully, my older son corralls him and takes him home so I can drive to the shop before the tire goes flat again. He is used to the routine, but it’s still difficult. I wish I didn’t have to ask him to do these things.

I am so glad when the tire shop fixes the tire for free (it’s under warranty!). They tell me the valve stem was bad and give me a list of other repairs for which they will gladly take my money). But I don’t mind their sales tactics today. Flat tires are easy. Mentally broken children are what is really hard.

I drive home and pray. “Lord, please help me not to smack my little brat–I mean son–or throttle him–or stuff him in the closet and poke him with sharp sticks.” Then I take a deep breath and try again. “But seriously Lord, please help me be patient with him. I need just a little more grace to deal with this situation. My emotional gas tank is on empty.”

This is how it is with a behaviorally challenged child. His behavior shines a spotlight on my own wicked heart.

I arrive home and try to have a rational conversation with my child–but he cannot have one at that moment. So I simply tell him how he will be disciplined and he flips out. Suddenly, the rational child who is so quick with a hug and an, “I love you more than the moon, Mom!” is screaming and hopping around like a Mexican jumping bean. I let him go. But things escalate because he wants to prove a point about how cruel I am (no devices for a whole week?!). But the prayers work. God gives me the strength to not lose my temper–even though the tears are close. After a while he puts his coat on and goes outside. He digs around in the mud for a while to relieve the pressure on his own frazzled brain. So I stand by the window and watch him–praying–and feeling very small.

Eventually he calms down. I think I want to call somebody who will sympathize–but I don’t know anyone who won’t tell me what I should be doing differently and I’m tired. So I sit down and read the Bible instead. I pray some more. I thank God because He is always good and kind, and because He loves me, He helps me. And the hope I have in Him feels like a hug.

Today, if you are in the trenches with a serious situation that is taking it out on you and you just don’t know what to do or where to go–may I suggest Jesus?

I recently listened to a helpful sermon by John Piper called, “The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness.” At the end of the sermon he said God is not allowing the hard things in life to happen to us because He is angry with us. He loves us and sends supernatural help when we need it most. I know that is true. How else could I explain the perfect peace I feel now after the day I’ve had?

Take heart, dear suffering friend! You are not forsaken or abandoned. You are protected and held! Hope in Him is a hug!