Yesterday I uttered two words I have never said side by side in the same sentence: “Good IEP.” In all my years as a special needs mother, those two words are about as unlikely a duo as, “happy hemorrhoid” or “joyful jogging.” But there it was. My response to my husband’s query about our 20-year-old’s annual IEP review.
“It was good,” I repeated, still amazed these words had managed to come out of my mouth. The momentous announcement lacked only a heavenly chorus and maybe a celestial sign to adequately mark the occasion.
This, however, was a far cry from the way I felt only two weeks earlier on an anniversary bike trip gone terribly wrong. We had planned three (yes, three) whole nights away from our precious family to celebrate our 24th year of marriage. But by our second day, my husband and I found ourselves stranded at the end of a 9-hour grueling, uphill, against-the-wind marathon only to find ourselves (once at our B&B) fielding the angry, raging phone calls of our embattled teens until midnight.
Instead of finding peace in our long-anticipated retreat, we found stress, tears, and bottoms so sore we couldn’t sit on a sofa cushion without wincing. Worst of all, we wondered how we could extinguish the emotional fires that had erupted like Mount Vesuvius hundreds of miles away. It was a disaster.
Feasts. Famines. Ups. Downs.
In this roller coaster life, I try to live one day at a time. I have learned not to look too far ahead because invariably there will be heart-stopping dead-drops, loop-de-loops and disorienting twists and turns. And while some days are dreadful, somedays, like yesterday, are so very good.
But one thing never changes, “…each day He carries us in his arms.” (Ps. 68:19)
When I read Psalm 68 this week, these words almost leapt off the page. Whether we can sense him or not, God carries us through IEP meetings, good and bad, through times of respite and times of head-splitting headache and heartache.
And David, as we all know, was no stranger to life’s headaches and heartaches. David pens in Psalms 68 about his troubles, saying, “Rise up, O God, and scatter your enemies,” (v.1) followed by a list off suggestions (just in case God could use some good ideas). But he doesn’t end there. He remembers to remember how God has carried him in times past.
I look back at how far our son has come after 14 years of IEP meetings and see the progress he and God have made, together. I look back and see waters God parted and how he honored our faltering steps of faith to walk where it didn’t always make sense or turn out as we expected. And it gives me hope for today. We are being carried.
And so are you.
Question: Looking back, where do you see the times God has carried you and your family? Whether feast or famine today, remember that the One who was able before, is the same One who is able to carry you now.
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