as one chapter closes, another begins.

if i started this morning’s message outlining the devastating things that have happened in my Life recently, you would probably wonder what kind of super-dope, happy pills the doctor must have given me to get me through yet another dark tunnel of existence. but i’m happy to report that i am non-medicated, both pharmaceutically and recreationally — so the Peace and Hope and Joy you see in me can only be a reflection of Love Divine. and would you just look at those pants.

so my disclaimer is in place: please make no misjudgments about the sobriety of my heart and mind as i pour out this Love-offering to The Maker this morning.

now here goes.

i’ve always been grateful that the kids have been healthy. in fact, it’s been an area of my Life where i have experienced and tried to acknowledge regularly how great my blessings have been. but that changed a couple of months ago when my Son had a mental health breakdown and created an entirely new trajectory for himself and our little family of three.

there are so many sides of the story that i could approach this from — so please bear with me as i get this out. i feel tremendously impressed to share, per usual, because i know that our family is not alone in these struggles. i also know that our stories have power, y’all. power to bring Hope and encouragement and the Promise that we are not alone.

Jakob is eighteen and a half. he is set to graduate from homeschool | highschool at the end of this month. he works a fulltime job, and pays his bills on time, and really enjoys junk food and video games and not doing chores. Jakob has always been a creative introvert — his passion is storytelling. he has a tremendous gift for character development and innovative plot concepts. i could easily see Jakob being a science fiction screenwriter. true story.

but Jakob has always struggled socially. like. always. he was non-verbal as a toddler, well beyond the medical timeline of acceptable milestones. but as his Mom, Living real Life at an unpredictable and unstable and occassionally traumatic clip, i understood my Son’s reservations to connect externally. Jakob and i shared a deep non-verbal language when he was tiny — affection and togetherness and all of the music and dancing. i would rock him each night atop my pregnant belly, singing the adjusted lyrics of “Sweet Baby Jake” to him and his baby Sister who grew inside me, as the Man of our family was off fighting a war that would destroy him. Jakob’s eyes knew every word and every inflection of tone in the singsong rhythm. i never doubted his intelligence or ability to cognate.

but other people voiced their concerns about Jakob’s lack of verbality. as if they could see something in my child that Love had blinded me from seeing. something about a Mother’s Love…

and while i acknowledged that Jakob definitely ticked differently than other little people i had been around or was exposed to, there was a precision and a mathematical dexterity to the way my Son participated in the world around him that refuted any concerns of intellect. it was clear to me from the beginning, that if anything, Jakob was running on a higher bandwidth than most — just perhaps a bit lost in his own genius.

genius is as genius does. regardless of how often it is misunderstood and misinterpreted as something “wrong” or “weird” because it doesn’t fit neatly in the “normal” boxes of cognitive learning and health.

my response to those who questioned Jakob’s ability to process data and Life was always the same: “leave my kid alone. he’s just the way he is supposed to be. let him do as he do.”

his early schooling years were challenging, though. because he was so intellectually unique. the classic classroom structure was a confinement to his imagination. he was ready to bust down the walls of the elementary school as soon as he was enrolled. but i was a divorced, single Mom who had to work whatever job i could hold down to keep a roof over our heads and food in the bellies. so public education had to do. and Jakob was taught how to conform. ish.

but he did come from me, afterall — and conformity is not my strong suit. and so neither is it my children’s.

now mix all of his genius and lack of social conformity together with a few heaping doses of adventure and trauma and abandonment, and you get an incredibly complex human being at an incredibly young age. Jakob has experienced more Life in his eighteen and a half years on the planet than many of my middle-aged counterparts. because of me. rejecting societal norms and radically pursuing The Abundant Life.

and the result? a guy who just doesn’t really fit in anywhere outside of family. especially where other kids are concerned. but i know this story well, y’all. because Jakob reminds me of me. always struggling to find a place to belong even though i know i never have or will. a transient. a creative. a dreamer.

now let’s fast forward to the now. this path of Jakob’s appointed and anointed Life has come to the season of his final, final exams. he has been taught well. he has explored freely. he has been shown how not to do things as well as how to do things. he has walked through countless, damning fires with me, observing powerfully how Grace always keeps the flames from singeing our clothes.

and now. he walks through his own fire. apart from me.

i have only seen my Son four times in the last seven weeks. i’m not ready nor permissed to divulge the full details of our traumatic incident, nor will i maybe ever be — but the radical event that took place in our Home in the middle of march ripped Jakob from me, and me from Jakob. severed. no longer joined. still Mother and Son, of course. and always will be. but gone is the manchild of my womb. he is his very own Man. whether we thought we were ready for this or not.

but as one chapter closes, another begins. Jakob is facing this world with a whole new perspective on Life. he is facing his own imperfections. and the desperate Beauty of Grace. what it looks like to walk in the Truth. even when the Truth makes us cringe.

i, too, face the world with a fresh perspective. that of a Mom who isn’t perfect nor has raised perfect children. i know y’all are shocked.

. . .

i started writing this morning thinking i would go more intricately into the actual events of mid-march. but as i opened my heart to share, i felt more impressed to tell you of the wondrousness of my beloved Son whom Papa chose and chooses still. knit intentionally and fearfully in my physical womb by the same Divine Artist that sculpted each celestial body and whispered every wind into being and paints the sunrise and sunset each coming and going of day… that same capital-G GOD who has walked with me through every fire of my own Life. The God of resurrection Life. Yeshua Ha’Mashiach.

. . .

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Whom i affectionately call “Papa,” promises us Love that never fails. and yet, many moments of our Lives feel like utter and hopeless catastrophe, completely void of anything remotely resembling Love. so how can we believe in this God of Love that promises us Life and Life to the fullest, when He won’t even prevent pain from invading our days? how can we trust a God Who allows such suffering?

the same way that i trust my own earthly Dad to still be there for me when i’ve blown it. the same way i believe in my earthly Mom to always want the best for me even when i’m on the wrong track. the same way i want my Son, Jakob, to accept the promise that my Love for him cannot be shattered by circumstance.

we were Created for relationship, my sweet friend. and the only way to experience the heights of Love, is to likewise dive into the depths of pain.

so keep a sober mind. deal with your pains and traumas with intentionality and Grace. be there for your people. honor your Father and Mother. practice forgiveness all day, every day.

your life isn’t perfect. neither is anyone else’s. we all have hard stuff. so learn how to grow from the manure instead of wallowing in it.

Love you. mean it.