Returning to rest

“See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry…” ~Matthew 6:28-31


It started with a meltdown Sunday night the likes of which I have not seen in some time.

Bringing with it the memories, the fears of last summer when autism was smacking me around and breaking my heart.

Then Monday morning, her body was strangely sluggish, her foggy eyes predicting a storm.

That afternoon while I was at work B texted me a picture of her sitting listlessly at the table. She didn’t eat at school. She didn’t eat at home.

Tuesday morning, more lethargy. I sat her down, stooped in front and said her name, said hi. To say she was quiet would be erroneous. She was there in the chair, but she was not there.

Is she postictal? Is she having absence seizures again? Is she sick with a bug? Is she just super sleepy???

We’ve had a sweet period of calm and beautiful growth and development for the past 8 months. This, following years of crisis after crisis – aggressions, drug-resistant seizure activity, (almost daily) fecal smearing, sleeplessness, medication withdrawals, pica, severe lead poisoning. 

2012 has found us settled beneath the shade tree, lemonade glasses in our hands. I’ve relished the time of stability for our family, the chance to enjoy one another instead of trying just to survive the day.

But I am changed. I’m a master of hyper-vigilance, the one eye open even if you swear it’s ok to take a breather.

I admit to waiting in this time of peace. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Standing on tip-toe, looking out the window for the tsunami.

And yet today, she is fine. Back to my brown-eyed, squealing, running, humming, happy girl.

In the backyard I hand her a flower. She closes her eyes and turns her face to the sun. Yes, I think she is just fine. Thank you, Lord.

And tomorrow?

Whether the day brings flowers or questions or storms, can we learn to rest? With both eyes closed?

“Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you.” ~Psalm 116:7


6 thoughts on “Returning to rest

  1. I am so glad you are learning to rest. I know what you mean. I understand the hypervigilence. I have been seeking God lately for help not having what Joyce Meyer calls, “evil forebodings.” Basically when so many things go wrong and are so bad in time we are always expecting the worst. I am dwelling on this verse: “All of the days of the oppressed are wretched, but the cheerful heart has a continual feast” (Proverbs 15:15). I’m believing this for your family, too…

  2. Oh man, it is so stressful when that happens – when they are off, or, you know, just not themselves – and you don’t know what is going on. I hope it truly was nothing and that the period of rest and beautiful development continues. May God be with you and yours xx.

  3. I just found your blog. My son Sam has epilepsy and ESES. He was diagnosed with it 3 years ago (he is 7). We’ve tried almost everything, are currently having a go with the keto diet since January. We’ve seen improvement. I will be thinking of you and Rhea!

  4. I too struggle with waiting for the “other shoe to drop” and drop it will. But your words remind that when it drops and wherever it drops that we are held and kept safe by The One. I thank you for this beautiful reminder. I needed it this week.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s