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.

December 2, 2010

The Gift of Timelessness

It's no secret to those who know me well, that I'm a "Hallmark Channel" gal.  More specifically, a "Little House on the Prairie" gal.

There's a scene in one of the episodes where Charles & Caroline had just lost a baby boy.  Caroline was in a strange town where they had taken their son to get better help, and it was there where he died.  She stood staring out the window at the busy street down below and simply said, "Where is everyone in such a hurry to get to..."

Her son had just died and she could not imagine anything else in that moment.

Time for her, simply stood still.

Being no stranger to travesties with my own son who has epilepsy, I often find myself  thinking of that line in that episode.

Something Life with Autism brings to me, is an appreciation of timelessness.

In Brandon's world, there is no time.

There's never not enough of it, never too much of it.  He doesn't even know what time is, and is therefore, never stressed by it.

He never has too much to do where he would need more of it, and he's never been bored and wished he had less of it.

He simply lives each moment, as that moment.

Once that moment is gone, no regrets if he made a mistake or lived it wrong.

Never thinking about moments yet to come, nor the worries or stress of what those moments might, or might not, bring.

His world is a timeless world - and the kind of world I try to live in as much as possible.

Where all that matters is this moment right here, right now.

Where all that matters is if you are truly living in this one moment that you are guaranteed.

Each seizure my son has, reminds me of that.

Today he had one and fell backwards down our wood stairs, landing head first on the tile floor.

He survived that praise the Lord, but it once again reminded me how timeless time is.  In the moments that followed that incident, it didn't matter what time it was, what appointment I was missing, what I could or couldn't now get done.

It didn't matter if that put Christmas behind - or at least my self-imposed thinking of what schedule should be kept in the warp-speed pace that Christmas has become.

Nothing mattered except each moment that I could sit with or lay beside my son, simply being thankful for each breath he took.

Christmas -- the stuff of it could have come and gone and I wouldn't have cared or really missed it.

Because Christmas -- the spirit of it, was being lived right there and right then in the simplicity of a moment.

Of each moment filled with thoughts and things that truly mattered.

Surprisingly not one of those thoughts or things included gifts still to get or parties to plan or attend.

Much like the simplicity of the moment on that Christmas long ago when all Mary and Joseph could do, was sit with the newborn Savior-King and keep him warm and safe.

Not complaining about or regretting the hardship of getting there, not worrying about the hardships that would face them in the days ahead.

Just simply savoring that timeless moment of Christ's birth...

That's the kind of timelessness that my son celebrates each day.

And the kind that I vow to this Christmas.

As I look out my window each day wondering where all the people are in such a hurry to go, I'll be thankful that because of my son, I'm not going to be one of them...



By MichelleMGuppy@yahoo.com

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

beautiful