I’m at the point where I just want it to be Tuesday. I want to go, get it over with – to do it instead of dread it. I’m tired of being sapped of life and joy, breath and motivation. It’s starting to feel like I’ve chosen this misery.
Today was Jonah’s last day of school at Wildwood. Thank you so much, Wildwood. No words can express our appreciation that there is such a wonderful school; Jonah was so lucky to be there for 6 years.
I have so much to be grateful for – there are so many people who care. Yesterday I got a package from a business networking guy I know. Inside was a card from him and a beautiful hand-crocheted twilight-blue stole from volunteers at his church. My hands shook as I read his card and the church’s handmade card and message. Feeling something almost like shame, I clutched the stole and cried into it.
Then, a lady I am in contact with only by phone and e-mail sent me a long letter about how her son has autism too – something I’d never known. The letter was full of encouraging, positive sentiments and suggestions for Bible verses for me to read.
My friend H continues to generously offer her pool, and friend K gave me hope – and e-mails me SNL skits to make me laugh. M encourages me with loving words, and today he also e-mailed me a verse: Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” My aunt texts me messages telling me how much she loves me, to call her anytime, that she is praying for me. New online friends and past acquaintances, family, friends, everyone envelops me in love and light.
Seems like Divinity is yelling at me from all directions: Have faith! Have hope! I’ll take care of everything. There is no denying the push of the divine – it’s all around me. I’m grateful for it. Every morning I wake and cry, my throat so tight I am almost gasping to breathe –and as the day progresses I become calmer. I can smell the rose and blow out the candle, and there are long moments of peace.
The push of the divine is gentle but firm, like a tight hug. I am hugging back, hanging on.
A few more pictures:
happy boo
chillin’ in the pool
water boy
…baby boo,
Mama loves you.
The Never Normal 
Thinking of you…
“The push of the divine is gentle but firm, like a tight hug. I am hugging back, hanging on…” This is such a beautiful, hopeful and positive image.
I suspect that right now there is nothing “easy” here for you Amy… I wish there was, but that is seemingly not your direct or immediate path. Conversely, a path that is difficult, painful, soul-tearing does not exclude hope, joy and beauty… and it is not a betrayal or a failure to be on a path that is other than you expected. Accepting the peace as/where it comes is a positive step…
One step at a time… nothing wrong with that…
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Stay strong Amy. I’m glad you have such a great support system.
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That push of the divine from the center of everyone who loves you includes my center. Love and a warm embrace come to you from Atlantic Highlands.
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Amy,
I came across your blog today after reading this month’s Parent Pages magazine. You are an amazing woman. I have a lump in my throat reading your past blog postings. You are an inspiration. I find myself wishing I was there to help you (or even offer you a hug) during some of your uncomfortable situations in public. I am only a stranger, but am proud of you.
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