Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Desperate

Dear Ones:

I don't think this will be a favorite post of mine. I am in a desperate place. Parenting children with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome has always been hard. We have fought and fought for our girls. Multiple and weekly therapies for the last 8 years. Deciding to homeschool when they were drowning at school. Countless hours of prayer. Research and reading until your eyes and heart want to explode. Up until last week my fight felt determined and this week it feels despondent. Over the past year one daughter in particular has been acting out destructively. It is to the point now where she requires constant supervision and still somehow she will finds the one second your back is turned to destroy something. It has gone from occasionally to daily and even several times a day.

I have felt attacked but thought I am not going down. Not now and not from this. But I am feeling drained and hopeless. I am so tempted to check out and surrender. It doesn't feel like anything I try or pray about makes any difference whatsoever.

A good friend of mine had a good description of how this feels. It's like this is my job. To be the absolute best mother I can be. To make a difference in their lives. In all the lives of my people. But her destructive behaviors are like my performance review and it feels like glaring hopeless failure. I'm tired and exhausted and desperate for a shred of hope. I am on this FAS island and there is no sound or sight of rescue.

We are waiting on a referral to see a behavior specialist and then it is a long wait to even be seen. Please pray we will get in sooner rather than later.

I need prayer. I need some Aaron and Hur's in my life to hold my arms up. I need to see clouds of hope forming in the sky. I need to hear the whispers of God come close to me. Honestly right now I don't see or hear anything but depressing discouragement. I hate waking up at night because my mind will betray me and it will look for hope and find none. Then it's wake up and do it all over again.

This doesn't feel like me. I usually am scrappy and I find the hope to be found. But I feel like I have gone down. I want to stay there if it means the attacks will stop. But they don't. Then I am just face down in the dust.

I am sorry to be like this. I am ashamed to even be here. Please pray Jesus will lift my dusty tear stained face off the ground. Please pray he will help me get my fight back. Please pray he will send his rain. At the very least a cloud for me to focus on.
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