“Bud, do you need to have a venting session?”

“What is that?”

“ A venting session is where you get to say anything and everything you need to. I won’t say a word. I will just listen and probably tell you I have felt the same and maybe pray at the end. How does that sound?” 

He went quiet as he contemplated my offer. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Moments before Jones had asked to have some time with me on our porch. The temperature was that perfect blend of cool and warm. The porch was beckoning for some lounging and a cup of hot chocolate. 

I was torn. Finley had just pooped. She needed her diaper changed and I needed to get in her stander. I was slacking on her 2-3 hours of standing time that day and desperately needed to play catch up. Standing is directly related to helping her hips stay healthy, a common problem for kiddos with her severity of cerebral palsy. The stander constantly mocks me, reminding me of what I have not done or what I need to do. 

“Jones, I would love to. I need about 20 min to get Finley’s diaper changed and then get her gear on so I can put her in the stander.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “Ok, Mama.” 

A few moments passed and I needed a third hand. 

“Hey Jones, go get me a diaper and some wipes, please.” 

He was shooting hoops on his basketball hoop hooked on the back door in our kitchen. No response…

“Jones?”

“I heard. I’m going.” He could not hide the sadness in his voice. My heart sank. 

“Thanks, bud.”

He ran to the stairs. I heard a crash. 

“Jones?!”

“I’m FINE. I just fell up the STAIRS!” He was mad. But not about falling. It’s rarely about the fall. Anger is the only non vulnerable emotion. There is always something waiting to be discovered under the anger, like a cry for compassion or validation or understanding. An aching and broken heart can almost always be found beneath the rubble of anger. I knew this all to well from my own dealings with anger. 

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, went his angry, fast feet back down our 100 year old staircase. 

“Here you go.” He tossed me the diaper, spun on his heel and flew back up the stairs. I could hear him weeping before he slammed his door. 

“What wrong with Jones?” A concerned  Paisley asked. 

“He is sad mad. He needs a minute to himself. I will go check on him soon.” 

I finished getting Finley changed and in her stander, silently praying for wisdom for the conversation I was about to have with our big hearted, oldest boy. 

“Help me, Jesus.” I whispered as I reached for his doorknob. He was still crying, head buried in his pillow. I put my hand on his back to let him know I was there. He kept crying. Slowly, his tears went silent. 

Bud, do you need to have a venting session?” 

“What is that?”

“ A venting session is where you get to say anything and everything you need to say. I won’t say a word. I will listen and probably tell you I feel the same and maybe pray at the end…How does that sound?” 

He went quiet as he contemplated my offer. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“K, I’ll go make us some hot chocolate. I’ll meet you out there in a couple minutes.”

“Ok, Mama. Thanks.”

A few moments later the warm sunshine and cool breeze greeted me as I carried out some cozy mugs to the porch. Jones was waiting on the loveseat under a blanket. I sat down next to him and pulled him close. 

“Tell me what you are thinking and feeling.” 

“I feel really angry at…Cerebral Palsy.” 

Silence. 

“Tell me more about that.” 

“I am mad because of cerebral palsy I still have to go get you diapers. Finley is five and she should be using a toilet. Because of cerebral palsy I always have to wait for things like standers and kid walks and feedings and everything. It should not be this way and it makes me so mad.” He broke and the tears poured out. He folded himself in half, putting his head in my lap. I cried with him. I had said and thought those same things countless times over the past 5 years. My sweet 11 year old was facing thoughts and feelings that I had only begun to face when I was 33. Now at 37 I had just begun to find peace despite my broken heart. How do I help him, God. I silently pleaded as he cried and cried. 

“Jones, I know exactly how you feel. I have said all those same things to Daddy and to God.” 

A peaceful calm slowly came over him. “Mmm. That helped. I feel better.” 

I pulled him in for a hug. “Can I pray for you?” 

“That would be great.” 

I prayed. We talked for awhile, enjoying the quiet and the stillness of spring seeping onto the sunlit porch. 

Matt came home as we sat. He joined us on the porch loveseat and we snuggled Jones in between the two of us. Jones shared with Matt what had happened and Matt deeply sympathized. Jones was calm and peaceful. “Thanks, guys.” He whispered. Nothing had changed. It everything had changed.

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Phil 4:7