On being forged into a warrior mom

If I could summarize our journey from Hell to HOPEISM, it would be in my faith, which I call HOPEISM. It has been my weapon of choice to get me through each battle I have had to fight in my mission to win our war called life with autism and seizures. Vaccine injury to be more specific. It would also be in committing to heart, soul, & mind the words and motto's from Forged, NDCQ, the Lone Survivor, and Levi Lusko in his book, "Through the Eyes of a Lion." I will be forever grateful to the inspiration, encouragement, and mental fortitude found through all of them collectively. Because of that, I am not allowing this tragedy of vaccine injury that has come into our lives to be an obstacle to being used by God. I am instead turning it into an opportunity to be used like never before!


This blog is dedicated to Brandon. His life has been forged by difficulty, obstacles, & all too often because of seizures - pain, blood, broken teeth, & broken bones. Yet through all that he has shown such fortitude. The bravery, strength, & resilience of a true warrior. He taught me that having strength through adversity means that even if you lose every battle, like the Lone Survivor, you never quit fighting until you win the war. That in the words of "NDCQ," you keep "dreaming," keep "daring," & keep "doing." As Team Guppy has yet to be able to escape vaccine injury, we have no choice but to as Levi Lusko writes, "Run toward the Roar." God has indeed given us such incredible power in enduring such impossible pain.

Some days the HOPEISM in that simply takes my breath away.

July 23, 2010

The magic of the moon at midnight...



I was restless the other night. 
Tired, but could not sleep.  So I went upstairs to the movie room and laid down on the couch.  Irritated because I knew that whether I had a good nights sleep or not, Brandon would still wake up the same time, for the same routine. An exhausting routine.  So, I lay there with my eyes closed, grumbling about another night of insomnia....

From where I was laying across the couch, I could see the window.  

I opened my eyes, and the picture above is what I saw.
You probably cannot see it as clearly as I did, but on the window is condensation from the cool air inside, and the stifling humidity outside.  The moon shining through the window illuminated each drop in a soft glow...
A heavenly glow. It was a breathtaking sight to lay there and behold.

So calm.

So peaceful.

So magical.

I just laid there motionless as if to not make a ripple in the moment.

Then I started thinking about things truly worth grumbling about. 
Things truly worth staying up for.
People truly worth praying all night for.

My son with autism is getting the medical help he needs to the best of my financial ability.  There is a mom somewhere up at this very moment, confused, bewildered, tormented, by symptoms, behaviors, and pain that she has no clue what to do about.

My son with autism is sleeping peacefully down the hall.  There is a mom somewhere up at this very moment, at her wits end with her child who has not slept in days.

My son with autism is safe in his room down the hall.  There is a mom somewhere who has had to put her son with autism  in a state school or institution; and at this very moment doesn't even know he is being abused, neglected, perhaps murdered.

It was sad to lay there thinking of all those things and more.  But empowering in the way that by sharing them with my God in the stillness of a moonlit night -- by lifting up each situation I know of, each family who I know is struggling, made me feel not so alone in my prayers.  Not so helpless because I cannot help everyone. 

Not so bothered by the interruption of insomnia.

In the book "Interrupted" that I've been reading -- it compels us to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God and for God.  To listen when he calls, do what he asks, be who he created us to be.

Sometimes that interruption comes in the middle of a sleepless night.
Reminding us that there are things greater than ourselves out there. 
Situations much more complicated than ours.

Not to make us feel helpless, but to draw us closer to the one who has the power to help.
The power to change the circumstances or to change the person going through the circumstances.
The power to comfort the innocent who must endure.

Pehaps that was the meaning behind the magic of the moon shining through my window at midnight.

God simply reminding me with a solemn soft smile that he is there...

That I am called to 'wake-up' and care.

God comforting me in that in any injustice that I cannot do anything about, no one is ever forgotten or forsaken.

Nothing happens that he doesn't notice.

That for anyone anywhere in this world who feels they're walking in the darkest of nights, --- we are never walking alone.

And especially for me - that for all the insecurities, hurts, fears, injustices, questions unanswered in my life with autism, his tears the condensation sliding down the window simply saying I am here...

I know...


The last thing I remember that night, is praying for my son who will soon be gone from my home, laying in a new bed somewhere far from the reach of my healing hug.

That if he is ever hurt, homesick, or feels helpless and can't sleep... 

To be comforted by the magic of the moon at midnight...

Which really isn't magic at all.

It's simply talking to God....

The God who will always hear our call.

~

Psalm 145:18
The LORD is near to all who call on him....

1 comment:

mama4x said...

I too struggled with sleeplessness during my "time in the fire" but I found that using that time for prayer or writing was the best thing to avoid complaining and other sinful mind trails.