Friday, July 15, 2011


1 comment:
Sometimes it hits like a freight train. I cannot keep my child safe. His own brain is his enemy, and I don't have the remote or the instructions.

So I'm sitting in the sunroom with a thousand pounds on my chest while he sleeps, moments after his brain attacked him with violence. And it's not about me, I know, but when the crisis is over and all the adrenalin fades, I'm left with myself. And my helplessness.

And I know God loves him, and me. I know he is a miracle of God every day of his life. I just wish God was more programmable, or something.

There's not language for this hurt.

1 comment:

Jess here: if Blogger gives you problems, just click "Anonymous" and sign your name. Roll with the punches, folks...

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