I know, I know. It’s been far too long since our last blog update. So much to tell…I’ll try not to drag this one on too long. ;) I think this one is going to take a different turn than I originally planned due to some recent events. My thoughts seem to be so scattered – let’s see if I can make something coherent out of them.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the fact that it’s been six months since I last wrote and have been feeling the guilt of not letting you know what’s happening in the lives of the Mulder family. I’ve been trying to put together in my head exactly what I want to share with you besides just an update on how the boys are doing. I have to admit that finding the time to just sit down and write is a challenge with our crazy kids and schedules and most nights after we finally get them to sleep we’re exhausted and just want to unwind for a few minutes before heading to bed ourselves to do it all again the next day. However, two recent events have sparked many thoughts about the blessing of children and the time we get to spend with them and that is the path that this entry will follow.
Last week I was having a conversation with a teacher at school and she told me about a middle school-aged girl in our district who is losing her battle with cancer. I don’t know the family or any of the details, but apparently they just found out six months ago that she has cancer, and now hospice has been called in. All I could think of was the pain of losing a child that quickly. Six months. I couldn't imagine because, you see, although my children have a disease that will eventually take their lives, our journey is happening so slowly.
And then there was the text I got on Saturday night. It was the weekend after Thanksgiving and breaks from school are always challenging for us. There is no relaxing when Jarod is home. His mood swings are numerous throughout the day, he is in nearly constant motion and activity and requires perpetual attention from one of us. I was sitting in bed with him (a nightly necessity) helping him get to sleep and selfishly thinking that once he was asleep I could finally have some time to myself. Just as his breathing began to slow and I could tell he was drifting off to sleep, my phone chimed. I looked down to find a text from a cousin in Florida telling me that another cousin’s two-year-old son had drowned that evening. I think I stopped breathing for a moment. I sat there in that dark room, with my own son next to me, warm and breathing, and immediately felt a sense of guilt for ever complaining about one darn thing that we go through. How could I, despite the hardships of parenting special needs children, take for granted the time with them with which I've been blessed?
A child lost in months. A child lost in one day. Vivid reminders that we are guaranteed nothing. Not today. Not tomorrow. And reminders that our children are not our own. They belong to our Heavenly Father and the wonderful thing is that He loves them infinitely more than we could ever hope to. That is unfathomable to me.
So, how are the boys doing? My new answer is “as well as they can be” – and that is the truth. But, you know what? They are alive. They laugh and run and play. They are emotional and defiant and push all of our buttons. They are sweet and shower me with hugs and kisses. They are here with me, and for that I am grateful.
I promise that in the coming weeks I will update again on specifics about Jarod and Caleb, the struggles we've been through and the joys we have experienced. But, for today I want to leave you with a reminder to cherish what you have. I would be remiss to let the opportunity slip away. In this holiday season and the excitement and anticipation of Christmas – don’t forget what’s really important. I can guarantee that it’s not spending oodles of money on gluttonous gift-giving and receiving. It’s not about the perfect party and checking everyone off your list. It’s about love and togetherness. It’s about being truly thankful for what you already have and treasuring the time we have – right now.
In your prayers I would ask that you remember my cousin and her husband and their extended family as they lay to rest a boy who left this earth far too soon.
Fly high, sweet Jake. Light up heaven with that beautiful smile of yours.