This past 6 months, or so, I have been bombarded with trials and struggles. I have a really hard time with pregnancy, both physically and emotionally. It brings out all of my worst character flaws. With that, comes the realization of how far I need to go in order to overcome my "natural man" self.
But, beyond my internal struggles, I have a few family issues that are continual obstacles to my desire for a peaceful, loving home. Eric, my number 4 child, has recently been officially diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, and Anxiety Disorder. This brings the official count to 2 children with the same dx (Madeleine, the oldest, was diagnosed officially at age 8). Together with Allison, the third child, who has a severe disability (lissencephaly), daily life in our home is anything but peaceful and orderly.
This has allowed me to do some growing, but most of my growing is in the area of realization of how little I have progressed, and how much further I must go to reach my potential in the area of motherhood.
I am in that small club of women who tally up good memory moments, not events or days. However, since they are few and far between, they mean a great deal to me. I think of them as the tender mercies of the Lord- if it were not for these small (but very significant) mercies, I would have given up hope long ago.
One of these events happened yesterday. For a while now, Keith and I have been wondering justhow deep Eric's spirit is buried under his emotional disorders. In the last 6 months he has shown little contrition for his hurtful and damaging behavior towards his family members. Almost as though he has no conscience. It is something that has topped the worry chart in my mind for many months. Yesterday, some things happened that brought me feeling lower than I have in a while- I won't go into details, but I could feel our little family just being pummeled by Satan's power. I was talking out loud to myself (yes, I admit freely to my own insanity), and wondering why Satan was trying so hard to rip my family apart. Eric heard me, and asked me what I meant. I gave him a very brief explanation, and a couple minutes later, I heard him ask me to remind him how to start a prayer. All was quiet for about a minute and a half, and then I heard him asking me how to end a prayer. He came out of my bedroom and told me that he had prayed that Satan would stop trying to hurt our family. To my knowledge, he has never said a prayer on his own before. I know this was the Lord letting me know that yes, my child has a spirit, and a conscience, even if it rarely surfaces.
So, anyway, with one less worry on my mind, I can jump to a much lesser one: how to get Madeleine to go back to school!
I'll save that story for another post.
