I have read the ” I am Adam’s _________Mother” article and I am shaken to the core. It hits me in a place that I cannot fully describe to many people, it makes me hurt, because on some levels she is describing my oldest son. Some will read this and comment that my son is not capable of such behavior, he would never talk to anyone in those voices or threaten another human being. If you believe that, I invite you to journey with us for a day or two, or talk to our closest neighbors, who he plays with on almost a daily basis.
while I have read the account, I relate, but I also caution us to take what is happening with a grain of salt. To pin this type of madness on a presumed mental illness is dangerous and uneducated–the truth is, it is hearsay. We don’t know the motive, the life he was living, nor the depth of his personal pain. We are too quick to jump at what may seem as easy conclusions because the reality of the situation is too heavy for us to bear. We should not have to bear such horrendous acts, we should not grieve at the senseless killing of children, but more importantly, we should be crying out for the senseless killing of anyone–not just children.
Where is our outrage when gangs are killing in the streets, or hours from where I live the suicide and addiction rates are some of the highest in the nation, with a poverty rate the lowest in the US? Where is our outrage when first and second grade students “quit school” and sit more time in the principal’s office instead of the classroom because most of the male figures in their lives are already in prison and they are just waiting their turn? Where is our outrage when we use words as swords to lash out at each other, demeaning how we live, and love? Where, oh where, is our compassion?
Where is our compassion when we allow people to slander one another in the name of anything because it elevates their own position or opinion? Where is the understanding that we are each as different and unique as each snow flake that falls each winter. I am from the midwest people, and them’s a lot of snow flakes from many many winters. I am as different from you as you are from me and we are as unique as every one of those snowflakes ever made. That baffles my mind to even imagine! I celebrate that difference…hell, I rejoice in it!
My oldest son has a double diagnosis, a double mental illness…and I hope and pray through every day with him. He is not a madman waiting in the wings, he is a little boy with an abundant zest for life, too much intelligence, and a spiritual understanding that astounds me. He can also lose it, big time. He has a diagnosis, but more than that, he has a name and a life that I want to be full of hope and promise and light and love. He has a name and an identity and a sparkling personality which he uses to drive me up the wall quicker than any human being…and I love him for it. He worries me, causes me to fret and stew, to tear my hair out, to walk around with my heart outside my body—and so does his brother–and I love them for who they are. His intelligence will not dictate his actions, his moral character and spiritual grounding ( or lack thereof) will spell out his future. As a parent, I have to pour everything I can into both of them and believe that I, and others that I have trusted to care for them, have instilled the right and proper and strengthening ideals into them. I have to watch them walk out into the big world everyday and relinquish them into someone else’s control….whether that someone is a school, a job, a loved one, or someone aiming to harm them. I have to trust that I have done my job as a parent and that means trusting myself to let them go….and to admit that in the end, they are not really mine. OUCH!!!! That hurts, doesn’t it. My boys are not really mine. They are on loan to me and I am the blessed one charged to their care for this time and this place and in this moment. There will come a time when I am asked to allow them to continue in their journeys, and like every parent, I pray it is never within my lifetime that I am asked to give them up to something bigger than me. They are gifts for this time and this moment, I struggle to remember that, because I want to believe that they are solely mine.
The reality? Yes, I have seen my son wig out…I have seen him beg me to get a gun and kill him, I have been the butt of his threats and his violent anger…and I have held him, cradled him, and sang him to rest time and again. I would do that for anyone. I would do that for anyone because I know that anyone of us could lose it at any moment. That is right…Any one of us could lose it at any time! Think back to stories we hear of babies being shaken and we are shocked when it happens….horrible, yes! Put yourself in the position of that person who has had that child screaming for hours on end, already tired, worn out, and nothing they do helps alleviate the screaming…..Understandable how a person can be pushed to their limits?????
When we put it in perspective it is not hard to imagine a person pushed to the edge…we are one thread away from it. THANKFuLLY, there is compassion, common sense, and love that covers us most of the time. Let’s walk carefully the lines of blame we draw, lest we wrongly paint a whole faction of people who struggle with learning disabilities, mental illness, or any other politically correct label we want to use as violent and deviant. The fact is, we are all violent and deviant in our own ways…..ever flipped someone off who cut in front of you? I have. Ever swore under your breath when you see the cop lights flashing behind you? I have–out loud. Ever said something so awful to someone you love in the heat of hurt, anger, betrayal, and injustice? I have and I have had people do that to me. Ever wanted to hit someone so hard that they did not know what was coming at them? I have and hated myself for it later.
Have you ever had someone apologize for a wrong they had done to you? Has grace come knocking and shown you mercy and forgiveness even when you knew you did nothing to deserve it? How about love? Has someone poured their life into yours, knocking down your barriers and your walls to see the ragged soul you carry and loved you in spite of your messy self? I hope so. I hope you have been loved with a fierceness that takes your breath away and that you can extend that to others. i hope you know what it means to be pursued in a way that makes you feel wanted and needed and important because you are you and no one else. I hope you know what it feels like to pursue someone else in that fashion…I hope that you know yourself as a beautiful and necessary human being deserving to be seen, heard, and loved every day of your life and for eternity.
What happened Friday is beyond tragic and has dominated much of my thinking the last couple of days, but it has also served as motivation. I am beginning to uncover my own areas of outrage at things happening all around me and I see an obligation to stand in the midst of it and be light. I feel a call to cast light into the darkness, reveal the truth, and walk doggedly into it with wisdom and compassion. I hope I am smart enough not to go alone….I pray I am not walking alone.
My son has a couple of mental illnesses….but more than anything, he is my son, the first-born to 2 parents who love him, sacrifice for him daily, and would walk through fire to protect him. He is part of my body, my soul, and my heart walking around out there for the world to see. He is one of 2 of the best things I have ever done….when you see him, love him for me–protect him and keep him safe when I cannot. I am counting on you to be the light just as you can count on me. Can we count on each other?
cindythea
divinewrites 