Hurting, Helpless, but Not Hopeless

Yesterday, as I watched my oldest child head off to the first day of his senior year, his beautiful sister in the passenger seat, I couldn't help but remember them as they always remain in my memory, chubby and cute, curly hair all atangle, dropping their tricycles as they see my car come around the corner and taking off as fast as their little feet could take them to hug me as soon as I stepped out of the car.

 A few minutes later, My wife and I  had to remain parked in the junior high parking lot for a few extra moments to dry the tears that had surprised us as we had watched my youngest child disappear into the throng of adolescent children shaking off summer and heading back to school. And as we lingered, I longed. ...I longed to tell each of his teachers that he was not just one of many....That he was special.  I wanted to tell them about praying over a child covered in tubes and beyond our grasp beneath a glass dome.  I wanted to tell them about waiting outside surgical rooms, my arms literally aching to hold him.  I wanted to tell them about his brother shaking with rage, his little 10 year old fists clenched, asking if it were okay to hit someone for calling his brother a hurtful name, his sister crying with the anger which true fear can bring towards a loved one after she couldn't find him in the neighborhood only to discover upon his return that he had went to his friends house...I wanted them to understand that he's special.  But instead we drove away...

I wish I could write that as we drove away, I felt a peace wash over me...But I didn't.  Instead,  I have felt an anxiety that I have not experienced in quite awhile.  My mind continues to return to his classrooms, the hallways.  Is he walking with kids or is he alone?  Is he having fun or is the newness of it all causing him distress?  I want only for him to experience the best that this life has to offer; friendships, excitement, and fun...

When my oldest child was around 7 or 8, his sister 4, and Caden around 2 years old, we went to visit my brothers new house in Portland which was under construction at that time.  As he showed us around the 2nd story, I became aware that Caden was not with us.  We rushed through the house and found him next to an unfinished open window.  The terror I felt as I rushed to grab him and looked out the window and the 30 foot drop has never left me.  It brought back all the memories and emotions that I felt as they had wheeled him away from his mother and I so many times; hopeful, hurting, helpless.  And I suppose I determined at that time that I would always protect him, always keep him from harm.  But I know that I cannot, and that leaves me feeling hurting and helpless, but not hopeless.

I love my children.  I love my strong and talented eldest son with the desire to protect those he loves.  I love his heart, so strong in its convictions, contained within a strong and fit body .  I love his desire to excel.  I love his musical gifts which he wields so humbly,  his wonderful sense of humor.  I love my daughter, her mind so sharp and amazing.  I love her determination to be the best; not at someone else s expense but because she simply knows no other way.  I love her commitment to her faith, her total lack of compromise in her convictions.  I love her fierce loyalty to her family and friends. And I love my youngest.  I love his sense of joy, his love for people and loyalty to friends.  I love his laugh, his inability to see the bad in people, only the good.  I love how everyone is just a friend he hasn't met yet.  I am in awe of his physical toughness, his body a testament to no jump left untried, no speed too fast.....I love my children so much that its hard to release them to other people who might not know just how amazing they are, how special they are, who don't love them like I do...But that is where I find my hope.

I have been repeating within my head, my heart , my soul, the truth that I cling to, that despite how much I love my children, regardless of how much you love yours....He loves them more.  It is nearly impossible to conceive how such a thing could be true, but I know that it is.  And that is where I look today to find my peace, on that one irrefutable and immutable truth.  His heart broke with ours as our son was was taken away, the doors swinging behind the doctors.  He was there with us in the waiting rooms as our hearts groaned...He was there on every chair and paced step.  He was there as our tears fell on the tiled floors.  He was there, loving my child even more that I do..

Today, I still feel helpless, my heart still hurts, but I have hope, and I know that peace will soon follow, because of the truth being whispered within my very being....He loves them more.