I too see and appreciate the tender mercies yet have not made peace with what might lie ahead as we live with ARSACS, a different form of Muscular Dystrophy than Mitchell’s family endured.
I am not simply grieving what has been lost already, but what is yet to come. Maybe, this video will help others to understand why I am so resistant to moving forward. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that everyday following December 26, 2013, has been and will be the best of times for our family, in spite of what physical skill may be surrendered to ARSACS on any given day.
Please, take a minute and watch this short video by clicking on the link below highlighted in red.
WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT, AS THEY SURELY WILL
So, I try to live in the present. Sometimes life demands that I look further down the road, and sometimes I’m unable to prevent my mind from floating forward to the new eventualities, but I desperately try to control my thoughts, to avoid “kicking at the pricks” as Christ informed Paul he was doing on the road to Damascus.
Please try to understand that my hope lies in eternal things and avoid trying to help me have hope for things of this world. I’m not trying to be negative, I’m just grieving what’s been lost while simultaneously grieving what’s yet to come. It’s known as Anticipatory Grief.
I know there are not a lot of people who have walked in my shoes and have no idea what it’s like to live in a continuous grief cycle and therefore, don’t have any concept of how I think. I know that experience is the most effective way to develop empathy but before you try to remind me of my blessings please imagine living with my everyday reality.
I didn’t lose a son and two daughters and begin picking up the pieces to move into a hopeful future. I live with the knowledge that I will always be picking up broken pieces and there is no way to repair the pieces that have been falling since MD entered our lives.
Happiness may be fleeting and driven by circumstances, but joy and happiness are not equivalent. Joy is the light of the Holy Spirit’s indwelling. Unless we are consciously trying to hide it, joy seeps to the surface. It’s intangible – a silent, more subtle and substantial quality than happiness which flaunts it’s presence in spontaneous and short-lived smiles, laughter and excitement. Joy lingers, in fact it resides, within even the most wounded heart because it is the fruit of the Spirit.
Do not jump to the conclusion that families who cope with special needs, life-threatening or progressive disease live without joy and are unaware of their blessings. You might be surprised to hear them voice their deep gratitude over the smallest of accomplishments and simplest of kindnesses.
Living with great needs has a way of opening your eyes to the smallest of blessings, but it doesn’t anesthetize the painful realities of life. It’s like a downpour abating just long enough to load your daughter into the car and her wheelchair into the trunk. You are grateful, thrilled even, that you aren’t soaking wet even knowing you will still have to place the daughter of your heart back into that wheelchair when you arrive at your destination. You also know the rain might not abate when you arrive and you may still end up soaking wet. In spite of that you are still thankful that you stayed dry for the time being.
I want others to understand that none of this is easy, there are no simple answers, and I will not always be able to tie up my messy life and emotions with a Biblical bow that makes everyone, myself included, feel better.
If you haven’t already; watch the video, read Mitchell’s father’s Facebook posts. You will find a godly man who, two plus years later continues to deal with sorrow. He’s also aware there will be more darkness to navigate down the road. He ties things up with a Biblical bow better than I do; so you will appreciate his lessons and feel comfortable hearing them too. He has much of worth to share.
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