The thing about anniversaries is that they always come back. They are big looming beasts to these littles who, although cognitively they can not articulate or understand them, react nonetheless. It’s May. One whole year since they transitioned here, to their fourth and final home. The feelings are big and the behaviors are scary.
One, the younger, is doing quite well actually. He is learning to play well with the other children and does so often without supervision. Hugs are kisses are enjoyed, even sought after. Snuggle time with mom is special for both of us. He is beginning to feel safe and loved.
Not surprisingly, it is the older son that is struggling. Hugs and kisses are scary things…hard to trust. Too much and he is sent spiraling out of control leaving us both confused and wary. The screaming will start and we will be cleaning up pee again. It would be easy to compare the two and label one good and one bad. It would be easy to give up, to cover my wounds and raw nerves and leave him, withdrawing the affection that he is so frightened of, so unsure how to respond to…
It would be easy to answer fear’s call and protect myself.
But that’s not love.
So right now, I am acknowledging my need for a break. He is in his bed, safe. I am upstairs breathing in God’s grace, caring for myself. Perhaps I will knit all little, perhaps I will get the hoop spinning but whatever I do I will celebrate me and I will celebrate who God is in all of this.
Then in a bit, I will get him from his bed and I will enter his pain again for as long as I can handle. I will acknowledge it and I will help him find words to take away the fear of it and I will pray. I will speak truth over him….
You are loved. You are wanted. You are valuable. God has not forgotten.
“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.” Is 49:15-16