On Mistakes

This past weekend was the IF:Gathering, and I was able to watch with 39 friends and strangers at my church.  There were several good speakers, and a few moments that simply electrified me.  I want to talk about one of those moments, which happened when Rebecca Lyons interviewed Larissa and Katherine.  Larissa's husband suffered a traumatic brain injury before they were married, and Katherine had a stroke as a young wife and mother at age 26.  Their stories are exceptional and if you missed this special weekend, you should seriously consider finding a rewatch near you or downloading the weekend when it becomes available.

It lifted my spirits so much to see two women representing different aspects of disability on the stage at IF.  They were honest and gut-wrenching and challenging, and I wished I was there in person to hug them both for sharing themselves with hundreds of thousands of people.  The most poignant moment for me was when Rebecca asked them what had been their darkest moment in facing the new reality of life after disability.  Katherine shared a moment when she lay in the hospital, partially paralyzed and unable to speak, when she thought, God, did you make a mistake?

Do you ever have that feeling when another person says something that cuts straight to the core of who you are and what you've lived through, that you feel almost strapped to your seat, unable to move?  That's how I felt in that moment.  Because I remembered the day (or, more likely, days) when I asked that very same question.  When I looked at my very young son, recently diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Disorder, and I wondered if God had actually meant to give that child to me.  It wasn't what I was expecting as a mother, but mostly I wondered if God realized how inadequate I was for the task.

I want to share with you one of my deepest beliefs, one that has been forged in the dark nights and long days, that came from my lowest moments and from my son's unexpected life.

God doesn't make mistakes.

It was easy to see why my mind would go there.  Nine years ago, traits like compassion and grace and selflessness were basically non-existent in my life.  I heard an expression that said "If you vote Republican when you are young, then you don't have a heart."  I proudly shared that, and went out to vote for George W. Bush.  (The saying continues "If you vote Democrat when you're old, then you don't have a brain."  If the choice was between having a heart and having a brain, then I chose brain.) I had goals and ambitions for myself, none of which involved other people, something that my husband pointed out to me while we were still dating.  I was unapologetic about all of it.

Then one day I peed on a stick and two lines popped up immediately, leaving no doubt that my life was going to change.  I had a hard time realizing how much.  The little life grew inside me and before he was even born, he had taken charge.  I ate hamburgers slathered in mayonnaise and apple after apple.  I ate kale.  Kale, people.  Long gone were the breakfasts of Snickers and Dr. Pepper, the late nights talking with friends, the size 6 jeans.  And when he came out and I held him in my arms, I knew I would do whatever it took to give him a good life.  I just had no idea how hard it would be to accomplish that.

So yeah, I questioned why God in His infinite wisdom wouldn't put this child in the home of a trained speech therapist or intervention specialist.  Or, at the very least, someone less selfish and cold-blooded.  Having a son on the autism spectrum wrecked me in the best possible way.  It's easy to see it now, when so many years have passed and I have changed so much.  It's easy to see what God was thinking when he lovingly and tenderly created a little life inside my body.  He wanted to help me become a better person, a better mom.

Tonight, the thoughts are swirling, as I think of my mom friends who face similar diagnoses and challenges.  And maybe it's because a lady from my Bible study died this week, but there doesn't seem to be a better time to tell each of you...

God doesn't make mistakes.

The child you are holding, or watching over, or struggling to get into bed, the child who is challenging every idea you ever had about motherhood or life or just everything...He is not a mistake.  And you are not parenting him by mistake.  You are both exactly where you are supposed to be, exactly how you are supposed to be.  There is a God in heaven who created each and every one of us and He wants you to give everything you have to this life.  He wants you to grow in the challenges and revel in the joys and be surprised and broken and restored.  He wants you to live.

He doesn't make mistakes, but we certainly do.  I don't know who originated this saying, but I heard it from Master Oogway in the movie Kung Fu Panda (I'm a mother of boys, after all).  "Yesterday is history.  Tomorrow is a mystery.  Today is a gift.  That's why it's called the present."  And what a mistake it would be to waste your gift.  To spend your gift thinking about what is history, or speculating about what is a mystery.  What about today?  Don't think about what you got wrong in the past or what scary unknowns wait in the future!  Focus on today.

What do you need to learn today?  What can you do today to keep your family going?  What services do you need to investigate?  What is happening today, right now, that you will never get to experience again?  For me, it was hearing my son, the one with all the delays and the expressive communication difficulties calling my parents' dog to come sit in his lap, then giggling in delight when the dog licked his face.  It was disgusting but it was also huge.  It was something he couldn't do even six months ago, something I thought was impossible when he was 3 years old and crawling under tables during his assessments.  Today, when I showed his younger brother a gift I got for him to give his teacher tomorrow during the Valentine's party, he asked if he could take a gift to his teacher too.  I was surprised not just by his words, but that I had been so short-sighted that I didn't pick up two gifts.  (Apparently I have a ways to go in that whole "gracious, think of others" thing.)  Today, at bedtime, he asked me to come sleep in his bed.  I cuddled for a few minutes before excusing myself to my bigger, more comfortable bed.

What if I compared my life to other people I know?  What if I'd let that diagnosis dictate who my child was?  What if I'd resisted the changes developing in me?  What if it was fifty years ago and his doctors had advised me to leave him in a home and focus on my "normal" children? (Side note: I have two other kids, and none of them are normal.)  I would have missed the gifts that today held for me.

Friends (and strangers, if there are any of you reading this) DON'T MISS IT.  Don't miss the challenges of living your life.  Don't miss the trials and the changes they'll bring about in you.  Don't miss the joy to be found on the other side.