the least of my brethren

I found an amazing blog tonight after a very troubling, draining day with my son (thanks for the link, Sandi).

When someone of faith suffers deeply, and for a long season, I find it miraculous that afterwards their words and teaching have an impact similar to that of Jesus.  Suddenly, they are gifted with authority, truth, vision.  When Jesus spoke to a crowd, the crowd instinctively knew that such teachings were not of man.  Man is too shortsighted, without hands-on suffering, to produce anything in the jaw-dropping category.

Raising a disabled child, or being the sibling of one, produces depth.  The bottomless-pit kind of depth.  Reading this post, in particular, will illustrate that for you.  Makes me certain that God allows disabilities to add depth to our me-focused world--to the lives of those who suffer directly, and less so, to those who experience the suffering second-hand, through writings or other expressive art.

Not a single one of us would choose such a hard life!  We don't have the capacity to choose suffering.  It's hard enough to avoid eating a third cookie...or an eighth.  That sums up our strength sometimes, eh?

I cannot compare any disability in my home to that experienced by the blog author, Greg, above.  My son has a multi-faceted relationship with all of us.  That capability is a gift not enjoyed by many of the disabled, making their disability excruciating for their parents and siblings.

I deal with the following behaviors on a regular basis:

- extreme difficulty waiting
- easily angered
- difficulty calming oneself
- low frustration threshold
- invades space
- talks excessively without attention to social cues
- extreme self focus
- insatiable desire for attention
- driven as if by motor

All of these behaviors make a person far less likable.  When an obviously disabled person behaves erratically, we instinctively know why.  But what about when a seemingly normal person does the same?  We get angry.  Disgusted.  We want to teach that person a thing or two, by golly.  Who do they think they are, anyway?

There are times, like today, when I look at my son and think, how could he be so hateful--so hellbent on making everyone miserable?  Doesn't he see what he's doing to us?  Does he have no remorse?

The truth is, I don't know the answers to the above questions.  I can't get inside his brain and understand.  And he doesn't know either.  His "differences" baffle him--often making him feel like a bad seed.

I know that many prisoners have ADHD.  Usually if they end up in prison they also have oppositional defiant disorder--or even worse, conduct disorder--as a comorbid condition.  In 65% of cases ADHD doesn't travel alone.  In my son's case, it exists with general anxiety (elevators, explosions, being left alone, fires, strange smells, toxic chemicals, possibly-contaminated food, car accident, perceived harm/danger when none exists).

My pediatrician tells me that as my son gets older, aggressive behaviors will increase.  That terrifies me.  We already notice an increase in name-calling and other beginning-bully tendencies, directed toward his brother.  Thankfully, they are good friends at this point.  If these behaviors increase, though, Paul--who is rather passive--will begin to prefer his sisters as companions, which will only make Peter jealous and more dangerous.

Strength.  I need it.  The landscape will change, unless God intervenes.

Somehow, I need to grow from looking at my son and wondering, how could you, to looking at Jesus and saying, how could you?  

I know the answer to that.  We live in a fallen world.  Pain and suffering and death exist.   Some people are chosen to carry more pain, to bring glory to God.  Sounds cut and dry, doesn't it?

The point of my looking at Jesus with this question, instead of at my son, is to remind me that this isn't my son's fault.  He didn't choose it.

I have to let go of my angry responses, stay calm inside, and focus on teaching my son coping strategies, lest he be viewed as an angry, self-absorbed jerk.  He is so much more than that!  I clearly see that "so much more".  But the world won't be looking so hard.

I'm 80% certain my husband has this (different form, more forgetful), so two people here need my strength and understanding.  Medication is of little use in altering daily reality.

But there is something that alters daily reality.

on-my-knees humility, coupled with grace

I must clothe myself in these, so God doesn't look at me, and say, how could you?  


Matthew 25:40
... Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.