An interesting thing happened today. Normalcy. For the past few days I couldn’t see past this new mountain to see the horizon. I used to live in the mountains in Austria and every once and a while I would need to escape to breathe, I would get claustrophobic if I couldn’t see the horizon. That is how I felt this week, like I was trapped, couldn’t breathe and I began to panic. Today, I woke up and I found normalcy. What a beautiful thing ‘normal’ is. I looked around my house with dishes everywhere, toys from one end of the room to the other, the boys on the floor wrestling, the coffee waiting for me and I had to acknowledge, nothing has changed. Josh is the same kid he was a few days ago, and we will get the help we need. A doctor might not ‘have this’ but God does. He is the best neurologist and speech pathologist in the world. He ‘has this’.
As I watched Joshua this morning I saw him do something that every little boy for at least the last three or four generations have been doing. He tied a red blanket around his neck and claimed his new name… ‘Superman!’. I was not been allowed to call him anything but ‘Superman!’… and I found that I wanted nothing better than to call him that. He is MY superman… both my guys are.
No, nothing here has really changed at all. He is still the warm, sweet, smart, and funny little guy he’s always been, he still beats on his brother and tries my patience. He still says I am his best friend, and last night when I told him I loved him he said ‘love back’. God who had a plan on before Monday, still has a plan. The therapy we needed before this week, we still need.
The only thing that has really changed, is that now we are in a better place to find that therapy. As a child suffering delays due to brain injury he is now classified differently and we have hope, hope for a treatment that works, hope for a shorter wait list in therapy. The rest? God has it. I just need to keep reminding myself of that. Every time I look up and see that mountain I need to ask God to lift me up so that I can see a horizon and breathe again.
I have received so many words of encouragement from so many of you. It means so much to me, and it’s carried me while I digested this information and had my pity party. Thank you.