It was only a matter of time with all the evening outbursts and midnight parties. In fact she’d snapped the wooden frame of her bed several times over the years, and we always managed to repair it. But this last time when I found her sitting atop many broken pieces and splinters, I said, Peace out, homie. The End. You’re Done. (To the bed. Not the child.)
While I was at work our youth pastor kindly came over and moved the parts to the basement for me. A couple days later three friends arrived to determine if the bed was as I said: irreparable.
Side note: Since Brandon deployed last summer the men from our church have taken care of the girls and I so well. From the house to the car to the snow to opening jars of pickles – they have stood in the gap for us. We are so blessed!
The men loaded the bed pieces onto a truck and went on their way.
I began browsing special needs furniture stores online for the toughest bed I could find.
The next day Steve called to say they’d rebuilt the bed… they’d also built a new railing for her… and when could they bring it by?
And I laughed incredulously and thought of God’s intention to heal all the broken things in me. No matter the shattered pieces, there is never irreparable with Him. Only Him. Sometimes He knocks it down, only to build it up stronger.
And if that bed can be re-built and I can be re-made, there is great hope, a happy ending to the story.
One day He will heal and bind all that ails. If not here and now, one day.
I know one glorious day we will be disability-free, pain-free, sin-and-sadness-free. My friend L wrote: ‘I cried when I imagined Rhema, who doesn’t necessarily respond when you call her name, rising up at Jesus’ voice calling her. I pictured her hearing him and responding, unhindered by autism. Autism and epilepsy will be non-factors.’ She’ll lift her head and dance upon gold-paved streets. She will open her mouth and sing praises to her Lord forever.
*Updated with pictures: