Why?

From the very beginning, the purpose of this blog was to communicate and interact with other parents who may have experienced similar journeys with their children and to open a dialogue with those who have not.  In order to do this effectively, I have tried to be as brutally honest and open about our life and our experiences as I could be.  I've tried to balance our privacy and my child's dignity with the need to help others who are struggling with experiences we have already survived.  It has been a cathartic experience to share the joy, fear, frustration, and hurt of this journey.  Having a child that is "only mildly special", who tests at the bottom level of average or the top level of below average, always slightly different from those around him, yet normal enough, is a blessing and a curse.  We are grateful for his "mildness" but there is also frustration that comes with this "mildness".  Fighting for services.  Fighting to get people to see how bright and talented he really is.  Fighting people to not count him out and sign him off as not quite normal, but close enough.  Fighting to make others want to help him meet his true potential.  There is also that ever present question.  Why?  Why him?  Why us?  WHY?!?!

That question has probably been my greatest personal struggle through our journey.  Why does this beautiful, smiling, bubbly kid have to work so hard for EVERYTHING?  Why does he have to live trapped in a body that won't let him show everyone who he really is?  Why do I have to stand by and watch him be hurt by other kids who don't understand why he is the way he is?  They don't understand why he gets food all over himself when he eats; why he falls and hurts himself on the playground all the time; why he stutters and drools and can't get the words out; or why he stands too close and stares?  Why does he have to take his anger and frustration out on us when he melts down?  Why can't I learn not to take it personally?  I know it's not about me.  Why do I let it hurt so much? 

For a long time, I didn't have the answers.  I couldn't begin to understand why God would let this happen to us.  Our family was so normal.  We were doing everything "the right way".  It just seemed so unfair.  I was hurt and angry.  At God.  At my husband.  At myself.  And as hard as it is to admit, at my son.  It's a shameful thing to have to admit that but I promised myself I would always be honest with our experiences and our journey. 

Over the years, people would tell me things like "God will never give you more than you can handle."  Yeah, right.  "If God leads you to it, he'll lead you through it."  I wish he would lead me a little faster.  "All things will be answered in God's time." or "God has a plan."  On an intellectual level, I heard and understood what they were saying.  On an emotional level, I just couldn't buy into it.  I have believed in God my whole life.  My faith is a solid part of who I am.  I'm not a Christian because my parents raised me in the church, although that probably didn't hurt.  I'm a Christian because my faith in God has gotten me through some extremely challenging times in my life.  Some of my earliest memories involve me praying and asking God to help me, to protect me, to see me through.  He always has.  Always.  This was the first time in my life that I couldn't see Him clearly.  One challenge has seemed to lead to another, to another, and to another.  There have been definite blessings along the way.  I have no doubt of that.  I just couldn't wrap my head around the "WHY?" of it all. 

Recently, God has started to open my eyes.  He has started to answer some of the "whys".  I teach court committed female juvenile offenders.  I've been doing this job since 1998.  They have always been "my girls".  I truly love them all (even when I want to kick them in the pants).  Last year, I was almost at my breaking point.  It was the closest I have ever been to throwing in the towel and saying "It's too much.  I can't do this anymore."  Our population was probably the most aggressive I have ever worked with at this level of corrections.  They were angry and irrational and physically aggressive to an extreme level.  I felt as if I were babysitting instead of teaching.  I questioned if anyone was learning anything at all.  Unknown to me, God was laying a foundation.  He was putting a plan in place.  Relationships were being built.  I was being prepared.

When we started this new school year and they reviewed the roster with us, I wanted to walk out the door and not turn back.  Our usual population is typically made up of girls who are significantly behind in their credits; tremendously behind in their math and reading levels; and carrying a boat load of personal issues mostly due to abuse and neglect.  This year, we were also going to have a girl with mental retardation and a seizure disorder (who was not a native English language learner).  In addition, we were going to have two autistic girls, one of which we had had previously and was known to be aggressive.  There was also a large number of older girls and girls with psychiatric issues.  Besides teaching, as the lead teacher, it is my responsibility to track their credits; contact their home guidance counselors; and convince everyone that they could/should earn a high school diploma.  The larger our population of older girls, the more my workload increases.  All I could think was how am I going to manage this and my son.  I was feeling very overwhelmed. 

God has a way of providing the answers even when we think they aren't there to be found.  What I didn't know is that my girl with mental retardation would be the sweetest little miss on the planet.  I get to start every work day with a hug.  I get to end every workday with a hug and an "I love you Miss."  She has the EXACT same stuttering/disfluency pattern as my son.  Without my son and his stuttering and speech therapy sessions, I wouldn't have known what to do and what NOT to do to help her work through those challenging blocks.  What I didn't know is that my big angry autistic girl flies into rages because she is overwhelmed and frustrated and doesn't know how to get it out.  If I hadn't had my son, I wouldn't know to watch for the signs that she is getting overstimulated or that her frustration level is building.  I wouldn't know the tricks to help her calm herself down before she reaches an explosion.  What I didn't know is that my other autistic girl wants relationships but is socially inept and doesn't know how to make those connections.  She doesn't know how to read other people's body language.  She doesn't understand that her behavior is having a negative effect on someone else.  Without my son in my life, I wouldn't recognize her struggles or know what to say and do to help coach her through those times. 

What I didn't know, is that God was going to prepare me to be a better teacher by forcing me to be a better mom.  Because of my son, it is in the back of my head, every single day, that that is someone's child.  This was a child that someone gave birth to, had hopes for, had dreams for.  Somewhere in their journey, something went wrong.  But by their journey taking a wrong turn, God brought them to me.   What I didn't know is that He has been preparing me.  In the times when I have felt alone and scared, he was preparing me.  When I thought I couldn't take another day, he was preparing me.  I'm not alone.  He's preparing me still.

If I'm honest, I wouldn't have chosen this path.  I wanted a boring life.  A stable uncomplicated life.  I wanted to teach elementary school, get married, and have two kids.  God had a different plan in mind.  Instead, I fell in love with teaching juvenile offenders.  I got married and had those two children but it hasn't been boring.  Or uncomplicated.  That's okay.  I'm starting to see that there's a plan, even if I don't necessarily like the plan.  I need to have faith and trust that He will bring me through it.  I still hate the clichés but I'm beginning to see that they are true.  (I hate it when that happens.)