Adolescence, epilepsy, and the onset of bullying: Willy’s got a short fuse. I understand this. I appreciate this. But, at the same time, it’s getting frustrating. My lovely, empathetic, wonderful little boy has become something of an explosion-waiting-to-happen. Anything can become a match that lights his fuse, and his fuse is short indeed. TriggerBOOM! With very little time lapse.
Recently, for class, I relived that Friday when Willy had his grand mal seizure. Though I didn’t intend it, my teacher came away with the impression that my story showed how much I wanted to take my son’s pain unto myself.
I know I can’t.
I have a mug that I use as a penholder (because the coffee would get cold before I could finish if I used it as a mug):
“During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.”
The lines are from the poem “Footprints” (of disputed origin), which my mom knows I love, which is why she bought me the mug.
As much as I want to take these hardships from my son and let him once again find his full-time joy, I can’t. I know I can’t.
And I know, though my son has a lovely faith in the Lord, that even He won’t simply take away these hardships—any more than he “takes away” my own.
We just have to follow where the footprints lead and support each other as we find our way through the hardships of our lives, even when it feels like we’re walking quite alone in this world.