Anger

     I don’t think I’ve ever really hit anger. I’ve certainly been angry at people along the way; a teacher who walked out of the room chuckling while I was struggling to get my tantrum-ing child out of the building, a superintendent who saw no problem placing a charter high school in the special needs preschool facility, the ob-gyn who didn’t take my autoimmune issues seriously. I’ve just never been angry at the world, at God, at whatever powers gave me this challenge.

     I suppose that sounds pious, but believe me, it’s not. 

     I guess I just don’t feel like I deserve to be angry. (File that under the “it could be so much worse” saying.) I’m almost afraid if I allow myself to get angry perhaps it will in fact get so much worse. I suppose that places me squarely into a category of people who try to fly under the radar for fear of being noticed by some all powerful being who equalizes things when they get out of balance. There’s another part of me who prays to God not to teach me any more lessons, not to send me any more character building experiences, not to give me any more challenges through which I must find the way. It’s not that I don’t need any more of those things, but frankly I’m kind of tired.

Just what do we need, exactly?

     I used to say “God never gives you more than you can handle.” And, in the way that people we spend only the briefest about of time with can sometimes do, an acquaintance profoundly changed my mindset. I was talking with a woman one day who responded to my sentiment about what God gives us by saying, “No, God gives us what we need.”

     What a powerful statement. I still haven’t figured out how that statement applies to me exactly, but I’m on the watch (and receive clues) for it daily.

      My husband and I have a 6 year old with high functioning autism. He is an extraordinary child to say the least. Parenting him has been nothing like I thought parenting would be - in happy ways and in challenging ones as well. 

     Welcome to our journey.