“Your babies are always welcome in our home.”
I told a friend this recently. I was blessed to take her kids for a few hours so she could get some rest. I was happy to do it. I’ve actually always wanted to be THAT mom in the neighborhood. The one that when the other moms are missing their kids they’d call because all the kids in the neighborhood would be at her house. I love that. A big, messy, happy-kid house. I haven’t given up on that dream, but it’s put on hold for awhile. Our neighborhood isn’t conducive to the concept and Daniel needs friends who understand. He has a few now, thanks to our wonderful church. It has truly been a blessing to us.
I know how being alone feels. I was isolated and lonely. I missed friends that I worked with. I missed having adults to talk to. I tried mom’s groups but it was too complicated. It’s hard to understand unless you have a child with Autism or know someone who does. I would get on Autism forums and read the litany of complaints from moms just like me. Finally, it struck me that we are isolated because we isolate ourselves. No one knows about what we go through because we don’t tell our hard stories. Our heartbreaking stories. The stories that come near to breaking us. I decided that those stories needed to be told.
Social media is fine for lovely pictures of happy times. I take those. I cherish those times, but it’s also important to tell the other times. Not so happy times. Meltdown stories. Aggression stories. People are not going to understand until we tell them. We have to open our life and our heart. Risk judgement and condemnation. I’ve thrown caution to the winds. I tell my stories. I take the risk. The response has been overwhelmingly positive. Lots of people pray for us. It gets us through the worst times.
In return people open up to me. They tell me their stories. Their bad times. The exhaustion. The pain. The loneliness. They know I can understand. I know how bad things can be for us moms. I get it. I understand. I’ve had meltdowns of my own. I’ve been so exhausted that all I could do was cry. I’ve been, literally, on my knees, praying for a miracle. I cried to God that I couldn’t do it. He responded that I could. I didn’t have a choice, so I did. Now, I reap the blessings of helping others. I’ve run the race of endurance. I still endure our bad days. I still wait for our miracle. I still pray.
The God who invented you knows all about you. He loves you no matter what. Others can love you too. But you have to let them in. Open your life to them. Open your heart to them. If they reject you, then you can be just like Jesus and shake their dust off your feet as you move on. But you’ll never know until you try. You will never know people’s reaction to your story unless you share.
Be bold. Be courageous. Open your heart.
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/23307937@N04/3452584355″>heart of a tree</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>