My friend Laura has a blog titled, "Between the Sacred and Mundane." I remember the first time I read those words being so very moved by them. I had no idea what that phrase meant, but it seemed to have such great meaning. In fact, on my "Life with Autism" blog, I blogged about the title of her blog and what it meant to me in my "Life with Autism."
Recently I read a book titled, "Through the Eyes of a Lion" by Levi Lusko. It too moved me as no book has in a while. I guess because his book was about loss. The loss of his young daughter to heaven, the loss of my son to autism while still here on earth. It wasn't a "feel good" book in the typical sense of the word. It was a real book, of real emotions, of real hurting. A book my reality could relate to.
In reading his book, I have come to better understand the title of my friend's blog title. In his book, he speaks of the "space between promise and fulfillment. Living with your heart set on heaven but your feet still on earth is not easy."
The sacred of heaven.
The mundane of this earth.
No matter how far from actual mundane to us our trials are, they are still simply mundane compared to the sacred of heaven.
I try to keep that in perspective, but this has really solidified that for me. How that space between promise and fulfillment is not just an endless time of trials, of waiting, of wanting. How that space between the sacred and mundane is not without purpose.
He speaks of that space as simply Saturday.
In the time between the brutal death on the cross on Friday...and the glorious resurrection of our Savior on Sunday.... there was Saturday..... A day of "crushing disappointment when promises had been made but were not yet fulfilled." I have been in that place quite often before reading this book and actually having a name for what I would just call, "wth?" It's simply Saturday. The day where Mary was in total dismay at what was done to her son, but who knew the ultimate ending of that very bad awful chapter of the book. To me, Saturday is this time where we have prayed all the prayers we know to pray, but they have yet to be answered. Friday gives us the faith and HOPEISM to pray them because we know Sunday will come when God promises to fulfill them. Answer them. But the waiting........the endless Saturday. If the disappointments of Saturday were an endurance sport, I would be an Olympic Gold Medalist.... If the valor with which Brandon warriors through his Saturday's were recognized, he would be given the Medal of Honor.
The things I most love in Levi's book, are those simple sentences that seem to put our Saturday in perspective.
Things like --
"This is how God rolls. He puts to use what he puts us through."
"Suffering isn't an obstacle to being used by God. It is an opportunity to be used like never before."
He illustrates that with Acts 9:15-16 where he shares "There are two elements we must not miss: (1) Paul would be used powerfully, and (2) Paul would suffer greatly.
Saturday is that in between. Where if we would remain hopeful and steadfast, God promises to give us beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for sorrow, and peace for despair. Where if we choose to forge forward and not retreat, we can turn our mayhem into our Ministry.
In our "Life with Autism" we have suffered greatly. All of us have. But I do see from reading this book how we have also been used powerfully in sharing our HOPEISM, in running this race with peseverance. Perhaps we've not run a very pretty, perfect, or graceful race, but we've never quit. And I think that's what matters most. We are crushed by the "Life with Autism, Seizures, and a side of Trauma" of Friday, we are weary of the disappointments and defeats of Saturday, but above all, we keep running to the roar of the HOPEISM Sunday brings.
I think that's why I was so moved by this picture I chose for this blog.
It represents the darkness of our Saturday.
And the light of Sunday to come.
In this picture is our son. Our twenty-two year old son who has been living with autism since he regressed at two years old. Our twenty-two year old son who has been living with seizures on and off since age nine. Constantly with no significant reprieve since August 2010. In this picture is our son who for sensory reasons needs to be in that familiar chair each time he is made to endure an unfamiliar situation. In this picture is our son who cannot read, write, or speak. Who has more ICD-10 codes than any human should ever have in their entire lifetime. Who is going for yet another dental sedation procedure to have his teeth fixed yet again from yet another fall during yet another seizure. Who at this very time is sitting in that stroller with a fractured in three places collarbone from one of those yet another seizures.
In this picture is a faithful father who has known the loss of a child. Perhaps not to heaven, but to something possibly more hellish. To every day love with the fierceness of a lion the boy he sees, but to know each and every moment of each and every day the boy who could have been. To have to take him to an operating room for a procedure most children can do in a simple dental visit. Taking that walk beside him down the hall of a hospital instead of ever walking with him down the aisle of his wedding.
As I stood there in the hall taking that picture of them going into the operating room, I couldn't help but be in total belief of that all too familiar scene before me. Of all he has gone through, is going through at present, and watching him on his way to endure more.
I don't know if there are words to truly convey the impossible pain of that reality, which is another reason I love Levi's book so much.
This simple statement ---
"The more impossible your pain, the more incredible the power he will bring out of it."
This picture represents that to me. Just knowing all our son in that picture must go through, must feel that we don't know about, and seeing how bravely he endures. How deeply he trusts. Just knowing how many times we've wanted to just quit, but didn't. How many times we've had no choice but to trust, and how many times God has faithfully delivered.
"God always grants incredible power to those called to face impossible pain."
God has always been faithful. That Brandon is even alive, is our greatest testimony in that. There is purpose in his journey whether we understand it or not. If we've learned anything at all in our Saturday, it has been that.
I don't know how long we'll have to continue to muddle our way through this mess, mayhem, and mundane of Saturday --- but I know that it will not last forever.
The Sacred of Sunday will come.
When those small victories and miracles and precious moments of joy we have been blessed by in our Saturday - will pale in comparison to the celebration and healing of Sunday.
Until then --
"Run toward the roar with all your heart until you stand before him face-to-face."
That is what this picture represents to me.
How no matter what we must face, Team Guppy will face it together.
We will run toward the roar.
NDCQ
HOOYAH!