I'm Meltinnnngg......

There are mini-miracles and there are mini-meltdowns. My preference for the former, does not exempt me from the latter. As much as I know and profess that "His mercies are new every morning," "He has a plan for good," and "works all things together for good," I don't always feel it. Yesterday, was one of those days.

Generally speaking, I am not a crier. Quite the opposite, many times I wish I could cry at retreats, memorials, or on cue when it seems appropriately feminine. One of the top #10 hurtful moments of my life was when someone accused me of being "stoic." What does that mean? I'm unfeeling, stubborn, too tough? Ouch.

Yesterday, I was raw and so, tried to hide. My heart felt like an eggshell that cracked at the slightest touch. My eyes warmed from within as tears flowed off and on each time I was alone in my car. My head ached from holding back the flow of pathetic, discouraging thoughts.

Life seemed so broken and sad, sad, sad. Recurrent loss drown me like a tidal wave.

Burgeoning under the surface was the fact that yesterday was the kids' birthday. Despite the fact that that is reason to celebrate, Reid and I ended up alone. Allie's 9th grade class trip to China left Monday night. She turned 15 surrounded by her peers. Her personal milestone was marked in a memorable way since their June 4th itinerary took them to Tiananmen Square on the 20th anniversary of the historic protest. I imagined her day as a swirling vortex of independence, fun, college-prep, global engagement, and new horizons.

Jim is in Australia on business with spotty Skype connection. A common occurrence for him to travel (and no picnic, really) but, part of the barometric pressure building in my tumultuous day. Reid's triennial IEP is next Tuesday which means I am receiving a barrage of assessments and recommendations from 5 different specialists which justify Reid's non-public placement and transition to a functional living track (as opposed to diploma bound). They also quantify his deficits in black and white detail.

These factors created a perfect storm of isolation, comparison, anxiety, and grief. I was untethered and before I knew it, thoughts were unraveling about this kid who only a mother could love (yet I wasn't). The gap between Allie's reality and Reid's existence was widening into a canyon. I was staring brokenness in the face and pining for what should be. She'll be driving and he won't. Three more years and she'll be off to college; he'll be...underfoot.

And then, guilt as I tried to not only keep Reid in his routine but also somehow create a meaningful birthday for him by my depleted self. I arrived at his school 30 minutes after lunch period with the blasted ice cream sandwiches feeling like a failure. (Are there no grocery stores in that neighborhood?)

Reid's case manager chased me down in the parking lot. Honestly, I was hoping for another hour of denial as I slipped out to the car to have my little break down (like Holly Hunter in Broadcast News.) He is awesome at his job and was preparing me for his written report of new goals. Nonetheless, he blew into the now spiraling funnel cloud of my emotions.

With his usual competence, professionalism even care, he recapped the current levels and probable goals for Reid with the summary phrase that he become "socially invisible." That hit hard; I had to evacuate fast.

That phrase irks me. I've heard his boss use it before and as much as I understand the importance and appreciate their hard working achieving it, it breaks my heart to hear it. What they mean to accomplish is have Reid blend in culturally, look like a typical teenager, and extinguish the red flags that give away his disability. I hate it as much as when Jim desperately begs him to "act normal."

Is that what we've come to? What kind of parent wants their children to be invisible? I want my children to distinguish themselves from the crowd; stand up for what they believe; and aspire to greatness! How have we stooped to such mediocrity?! Who made us compromise?

How can I hold these diametrically opposed goals --those of earth and those of heaven-- in some kind of simultaneous, healthy tension?

I used to believe, really believe that Reid would fit in somewhere and that he'd be whole somehow, healed, and that he'd achieve greatness. Am I the only one left with that hope? Can I sustain it alone? Does anyone else even care?

No one called to wish Reid a Happy Birthday until 7pm, when the two of us were already eating at Chevy's and couldn't talk anyway. Then both my credit cards were denied and I had to pay for our stupid dinner with a bad check.

Low, I'm telling you it was a low day. I am glad it's over. This is getting long enough.

Who's been there?

But you will cry out with a heavy heart, And you will wail with a broken spirit. Isaiah 65:13-15


The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:17-19

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 2 Corinthians 4:6-8

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