Desperate

It was Monday. Brian was at work and Jacob was at his grandparents.
At home, it was just me and my girl.

She's been communicating a "want" lately. What she wants is a cookie. And she says it very clearly.

"Coo-kie."

It's pretty dang hard to not give the girl a cookie when she verbalizes perfectly that she wants one. So, she's been eating a cookie (or two) with every meal.

Okay, so sometimes, it isn't so much that it's with her meal as it is her meal.  She's getting pretty finicky and we're doing the best we can.  Don't judge.

For some reason, I convinced myself that my girl was getting spoiled.  So, I picked Monday evening, while I was alone with no back-up support, to fight the battle of dinner.  I made oatmeal and she was, by golly, gonna eat it.

Things didn't go as planned.

She didn't want oatmeal.  She wanted a cookie.  She wanted to wheel herself to the pantry.  And when I locked her wheelchair and kept locking it every time she unlocked it, she got upset.  Very upset.

Before it was over, I had her in my lap and we were both sobbing.  Now, as Brian would have pointed out to me if he had been there, I was not wise to get her out of her chair.  But, I was feeling guilty that I had fought a battle that probably shouldn't have been fought at all, and when I finally gave up on the oatmeal, she was distraught. 

So, I had to hold her.  And that meant that I also had to endure being head-butted in the mouth and clawed to pieces by her razor-sharp pinching.  Hence, the sobbing.

And, I fell apart.

Through my tears, I yelled at God.  Literally.  I looked up to the heavens and I screamed, "WHERE ARE YOU?"

And I was just getting started.

"I DON'T FEEL YOU HERE.  WHAT LESSON ARE YOU TEACHING ME THROUGH THIS?  WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT SO SHE IS NOT ABLE TO COMMUNICATE?  WHY WOULD YOU MAKE HER AUTISTIC?  HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT BRINGING YOU GLORY WHEN MY CHEEK IS BRUISED AND I'M BLEEDING?  I DON'T UNDERSTAND!  WHAT GOOD COULD YOU MAKE OF THIS?  YOU PROMISED TO BE WITH ME!  BUT, YOU'RE NOT HERE!"

Whew.  I let Him have it. 

And, all the while, I was completely and utterly desperate for Him.

Olivia calmed down, and so did I, eventually.  I dried my tears, washed my face, got my girl, put her back in her chair, and she actually ate most of her oatmeal.  She was no longer in the grip of autistic anxiety.  I was no longer trying to make her push through her pain and frustration to find calm.  I should know by now that it doesn't work that way for her.

I don't know The Word like I should.  I hardly ever go to church, especially now that Olivia is older.  I believe in God and most days, I have faith.  Faith in His plan, in His ways.  Faith that He loves me and is with me.  But, I felt so alone Monday night.  And in times like that, when my faith isn't strong, I am so lost.

I'm finding myself aching to know Him more. I want to stop dipping my toes in the water to see if it's the right temperature.  I want to dive in.  I need to dive in.

I shared my Monday night meltdown with a friend at work on Tuesday.  I cried again, reliving the doubt.  Then, on Wednesday, this friend shared with me a daily devotional she had opened in her email that morning.  She said, "It's for you."

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) The apostle Paul suggests a new insight into suffering: Not only are we comforted in our trials, but they can equip us to comfort others. Has God taught you to comfort others? Blessings on your day.

Has He taught me to comfort others?  Am I trusting Him to comfort me?  Am I letting Him equip me?  Am I trusting Him with Olivia's life? 

Comfort me, Lord.  I'm desperate for You.