Mother’s Day will be here soon. It’s a day of joy and celebration, but for moms of kids with special needs, it is often bittersweet. Our joy in our children’s progress is often tinged with lost dreams and small worries. Guest blogger Stephanie Ballard puts our feelings into words into a poem about memories of time spent with her young son conquering obstacles at the playground and how raising a child with special needs can draw mothers closer to God.

As winter’s hand faded away from the landscape, I found myself relishing the fresh afternoon sunshine while watching my son climb up the play structure at our local park. He is nearly 10, and he often struggles to find the strength in his weak hands to climb the ladder successfully. I watch other kids half his size climb the same ladder with ease, and for a moment, I am sad for him.

”Watch me, Mommy,” he yells when he reaches the top, and I smile in his direction with pride. I can appreciate these normal childhood moments, as his heart condition is a constant concern, and his energy level isn’t always that of a regular child. I remember when we brought him to this park for the first time. He was nearly 3, and I followed him around the play structure nervously, worrying that he might fall and get hurt. Since the time he was an infant, fragile, blue and weak…I have been a worried mother.

”Let him go,” my husband suggested that day so many years ago, “Let him be a kid.” And as the years passed by, I did grow more comfortable watching him venture out independently. But the worried mother will always remain. I find acceptance in this, while trying to retain a healthy balance.

I wonder sometimes if God watches us, as if we were  little children on a playground. We venture out into the world and strive to stand on our own 2 feet, while the trials of life attempt to vehemently knock us down. It is indeed these trials that strive to rob us of the essential things we need to move through life successfully. The virtues like faith, hope, and endurance can be difficult to maintain in times of uncertainty. I wonder if God is carefully keeping tabs from the sidelines, murmuring words of wisdom and encouragement. Perhaps he knows at some point we will fall, but he also knows that we will get back up with a renewed confidence and hope. I watched my son Braeden struggle and fall many times in the last nine and half years, not only on the playground, but in life. A new diagnosis, a surgery, an unexplained illness: these were all trials that made us stumble and falter. With time and reflection, (and a lot of prayer) we are still standing today. He is always there.

Playground

Running on the playground
My son took quite a fall.
He pulled himself up carefully
And then began to call…
Mommy…Mommy…Mommy
I’m hurt…I’m hurt…I’m hurt…
I run to him, he’s on the ground
His face covered in dirt.
I find him with his hands outstretched
His eyes are filled with tears,
I scoop him up and hug him as
I try to soothe his fears.

“It’s okay,” I tell him
(As mothers tend to do)
Now let’s go get you cleaned up
And get a Bandaid too.
I do not reprimand him
For leaving Mommy’s sight
I simply hold him in my arms
And whisper…”It’s all right.”

And then the thought occurred to me
That God must feel this way
When his own child is hurting
He whispers, “You okay”?
In a world where things do go wrong
In a world of struggle and hurt
I sometimes find…I’m on the ground
All covered up in dirt.
“But I can get up by myself,”
I say with just a sigh
“I’m strong enough to stand myself.”
I will not even cry.
And so I brush off all the dust
And stand, to my great boast
Why must we fall to realize
What really matters most?

And so I watch each step with care.
Can I avoid a fall?
But living life so carefully
Is not living at all.
I do not have the answers
(I may not understand)
But this I know for certain
He’s there to take my hand.
The playground of life lies before me
At times it’s hard to see
That open arms are waiting
To love and comfort me.
If I should fall tomorrow,
If I should fall today,
The one who holds eternity
He still says, “You okay”?

What Have You Learned?

Oops, I forgot to issue a tissue warning with Stephanie’s poem. Does it make you think of lessons you’ve learned while raising a child with special needs? Please share them in the comment box, or share your Mother’s Day plans. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you!

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