Okay, if you don't want to read about my bad mental health day, then fair enough. You've been warned.
Today is oldest son's thirtieth birthday. As most moms, my thoughts have been on the day he was born, and how we went with Gary's dad to dinner in Oriental, NC on the night before Jonathan was born. We lived in New Bern back then, just for a year, and with him overdue, it was my FIL's plan to distract us (my MIL had been out of town). Just reliving it.
And with us cleaning out closets, dressers, and what-have-you, I've run into lots of photos of the kids. Last night I found two in particular of Jonathan, sweet little darling. In one shot, that just pierced my heart, he's got his back to the camera and he's about five or six. It's that little neck. The most vulnerable part of any child. His hands are behind his back, looking out the window, and he's wearing a red sweater and little blue (long-sleeved as he used to say) pants. Young and vulnerable. Before all this nonsense.
Got into bed last night---late----read and turned out the light, then couldn't get to sleep. I was beside myself. Went out back between one-thirty and two and just pleaded with the Lord to take away the pain. I just couldn't bear it anymore. Some days are better than others. Anticipating his birthday was more than enough.
Anyway, no great revelations, but the sweet oblivion of sleep. Escape.
I've never dreaded any of our kids' birthdays. It's always been something to anticipate. We've been together in some sense, even if not physically. Last year I made him a cake, which our son who lived with him took to their apartment. I realize he's grown, and that's not the issue, as you well know. The separation between us and him is huge, and it's all of a spiritual nature. We still keep in touch, though it's pretty surface. But to know I've given birth to a child who's become so decadent is awful. Sometimes, like last night, it's just unbearable. There's no escape, but the desperate need for Grace. For me and him.
I stay in God's face. No embarrassment or hesitation in speaking up for Him. At the end of the day, He's all there is. But I'm so tired of crying.
