Trusting

Lisa-Jo's words tore me up today. I remember a similar encounter.

At my mother's house. Well before the diagnosis. Mom and sister secretly knowing, me only beginning to realize.

Henry acted out, lashed out, angry at me. I don't remember why. I only recall spanking too hard - from frustration, bewilderment, anger, and a deep sense of inadequacy - and hating myself for it a second later. I took him outside, though I don't remember why or how. Sobbing, I sat on Mom's chair by the pool, cradling his body to my chest, him sobbing too.

"God, help me."

"God, help me. I don't know what to do."

I didn't have the graceful words of Lisa-Jo that day, only a long, desperate hug to convey the depth of my love for him. Some days that is still all I have, and I pray it is enough.

Other days I bubble with love, radiate patience. Still other days I don't even need patience, so perfect is this child. I pray it is enough. I pray God fills in the gap when my knowledge fails, when every book in the universe is wrong. And I trust His Word that He does.