Wednesday, February 1, 2012

{finding solace in the manger}

I have started this entry over and over again, trying to accurately describe something that happened in early December. I just can't get it right, so I'll say this.

I had a pretty awful experience leaving Avram with someone else. To be fair to them, they were overwhelmed, and unsure what to do with a non-walking-but-still-very-mobile-and-large little boy in a room full of kids of all ages.

When I came back to get him, he had been stuck in a corner in a walker (which he has never used) all by himself.

It's taken me awhile to write about it because, to be honest, it's just felt too raw. I knew they were busy, I knew it was chaotic, I knew they had too many kids and not enough people. But it still ripped my heart out.

All I could think about, could ask myself, when I saw him there, sitting in the corner by himself was if this was just a preview of what is to come. What happens when I send him off to school someday, when I can't be with him all the time? Is there going to be someone to be patient with him, to take the time to work with him? Is someone going to look out for him, to understand him? Will there be someone on his side? Or will he be stuck in a corner because he's different, because it takes him longer to do what other kids do?

I dumped all this on a couple dear friends, and one of them graciously reminded me that two thousand years ago there was a young mom, with a son. A young mom stuck in a manger in a tiny corner of the world, with a baby she knew was different. She had to wonder: What will the world do to him? What happens when I can't protect him anymore? Will anyone understand him, will anyone be on his side?

In Luke it says that Mary kept all these things and buried them deep in her heart. The angels, the shepherds, the wise men. Somehow she had to know that as different as her son was, that these things were signs of comfort, signs of good things to come, signs of promise.

So instead of dwelling on all the "what if's," I am trying to keep all these things and bury them deep in my heart. The smiles, the therapy milestones, the babbles, the almost-first-steps.

These are signs of comfort,
signs of good things that will outweigh the bad,
signs of promise.


Kim from South Dakota said...

So powerful! Thank you for sharing and God Bless that beautiful baby.

Tiffany Prater said...

Possibility is always something to hope for, what if people love him, and see what you see and more, what if things go better than we ever expect. well with God things however difficult work out for our best. "i know the plans i have for you says the lord..."
on a side note i love reading what you have to say....i see a book in your future.

Anonymous said...

Dear Cassie, Our hearts are saddened as we read how your precious one was sett aside. We know we are to speak up for those who can't speak for themselves.
I am a special needs assistant in a public elementary school system, and my heart breaks when I see them hurting and I also rejoice at theri little milestones. I read this to my mother, and after going through many things with our Tonia we will be praying Jehovah Tsebaioth ( the Lord of Hosts) will send out his mighty holly angels on behalf of your precious Avram. Our prayer will be that the Lord will strategically place people in his path that will care and watch over him, giving him favor. We were told that Tonia my sister would not live past her teenage years and although she dosen't look like it she is now 45 and God has sustained her one day at a time. Since this is so dear to our hearts we wanted you to know that we too especially care about what Avram and you are going through. Nancy Graber and Monica Swink