He won’t talk about it.
He says he can’t see it.
But it’s there. And it’s crushing him. And it’s crushing us.
And our spirits are groaning under the weight of his pain.
And we know God is good. And we know this is a story of redemption. And we’re glad to walk it.
But sometimes, the feelings are stealth and deadly. And sometimes they suck the life right out of him. And sometimes we don’t even know they’re here until it’s too late. He’s drawn away. He’s tied up inside of himself and he doesn’t know how to get around it yet. And we’re still learning how to help him.
And our hearts break. And he cries. He sobs and he cries and none of us suspected all this hurt was building.
Unitl… it’s here. Heavy and grey. And it’s 7am and we’re holding our son in his room. And he’s angry and crying and cannot say why. And we’re outloud thanks praying, full of hope, that this will pass. Soon.
Sometimes it’s really easy to forget that our son still has a lot of hurt to face. We get comfortable with the laughter and the self-control and the really good days.
This is a story of redemption. This is a story of redemption. We don’t know why, but we know it’s for good. This IS a story of redemption.