
Monday, my dad slipped on the ice at our house and broke four ribs. Tuesday evening, my husband and I were winding down in the hot tub after a long day, and when we got out, we couldn’t find Grayson – our fifteen-year-old autistic son. As we were searching the house and property, our daughter called. Her voice sounded hot and quivery. Are you missing anything?! Because the police found Grayson wandering around the Walmart parking lot – barefoot and in his robe. He stowed away in my trunk, and now he’s pretending he doesn’t know me, and he’s saying he’s a homeless boy. I’m so embarrassed. Mom, what if that lady didn’t call? What if I never knew he was there and left him behind? (silent sniffles)
For once (Hallelujah!), Grayson didn’t run from the police, and they didn’t chase him. The two officers were so amazingly wonderful and let our daughter assume the lead role. My husband and I jumped in our car and drove to Walmart, reasoning with Grayson over speaker phone the whole way. Eventually, I was able to talk him down, and he peaceably walked back to my daughter’s car to wait for our arrival. The situation was resolved easily enough without traumatizing restraint, arrest, or catastrophe.
Yesterday, I got another call from the local police over a matter still ongoing and too personal to share. It left me reeling and struggling to breathe. That one will take a bit longer to get over. The issue was turned over to the Sheriff and Child Protective Services, and I found myself once again staring at my phone all day, waiting for “the call.”
All that in three days.
Now it’s 4:30 a.m. on Thursday, and I’m sitting down to work on my memoirs for the first time this week. I’ve lost three days of writing and only have a short one today due to a brainstorming meeting at Grayson’s school. Thoughts swirl in my head alongside the chaos, making it impossible to hear the quiet voice inside. How am I supposed to write about the previous mess of my life while still currently living in its midst? Self-doubt swoops in and consumes my motivation. What were you thinking? Who do you think you are? You can’t write a book. It’s impossible. You suck. This is too much.
I have no good answers today, and I lack the energy to engage. Maybe it’s true, I say to myself, but quitting is not an option.
I write a quick blog to clear my mind, then open my memoir to plod ahead. Maybe it won’t be any good, maybe I’ll never get published. But I’ll certainly never know unless I try…
There by the grace of God, go I.
Hey, our lives sound very similar. I’m a wife, mom to some kids with “bonus features”, author in my “spare time”, always looking for the ever elusive “dull moment” others seem to experience. We’ve had enough interaction with law enforcement that I’ve been tempted to invite them to family holidays. We should sit down and have a cuppa tea together. God bless you though the struggle.
-Annalisa
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Hi Annalisa – I know your mom and have heard briefly of your struggles. Would love to connect, but I might need to opt for coffee😉😂
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Oh I know who you are. Just saw your picture. I’ve seen you off and over the years when I have visited your church. We can BYOB (bring your own beverage). It’s hard to find people who understand the love and the pain and the struggle and the joys over the tiniest things. We really should try to meet up.
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just friended you on fb. let’s chat!
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While you are geographically far, you are not far from my heart and prayers. So thankful for the response on Grayson. Continuing to pray in other areas. Love y’all!!
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I’m so sorry to ask but who is this? Would love to connect to your comment. Thank you so much for your kind words! Message me on fb to keep it private if you’d like.
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Elise Grete 😉
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ahh…so good to hear from you. hope you all are well!
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Love you all. Just keep writing, it is a sweet breath of a blessing, always.
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