We'll always have weeds

In the early days of spring, we experienced the full range of our own emotions and every possible reaction from the few people who knew what was going on. We had fabulous days and terrible days. (Remember when my shoe met a wall?) We had tests, meetings, and therapy sessions. We met incredible people. We read. We talked. We read some more. We discovered for ourselves what was truth and fiction about autism. We heard Henry didn't seem autistic. We heard Henry did seem autistic. We laughed. We cried. It was, in a word, intense.

However, one thing stayed the same -- the gorgeous weather. Henry and I spent much time outdoors, especially in the mornings and early evenings after his afternoon nap. It was a constant to all our days. Often I would sit in the grass and pull weeds as he jumped in mud puddles, pushed trains through the dirt, and followed critters around the yard. I happen to love grabbing weeds by the roots and yanking them with all my might. I love the brute force of it, and I love the clean patch of grass left behind. Even when life is just peachy, it's one of my best forms of therapy.

One evening, after a rough afternoon, I sat pulling weeds and watching Henry jump off the mounds of mulch around the trees. ("Big jump, Mama!") In that moment, a thought came to me that has stayed with me in all the days since: There will always be this. There will always be life's simple pleasures. Goodness knows there will always be weeds to pluck. There will always be sunshine after even the heaviest rain. There will always be this love that wells up inside me and forms a ball in my throat when I look at Henry. I will always be his mom. He will always be my son.

Some moments in life never leave us. I can still feel the sunshine on my back, feel the grass tickling my legs, and see Henry jumping off the mulch. I can still remember the stillness I felt when the Holy Spirit impressed those words upon me. When life gets hard again, and it certainly will, I know I will remember those words, and my soul will be quieted by the truth of it. There will always be this.