Understood
“Doesn’t therapy suck?!”
Matt and I laughed at the unapologetic honesty.
“Yes!” We said in unison. All four of us laughed at being understood and connected by hardship and heartache. We didn’t have to explain how years and years of doing the same therapies over and over was draining and soul sucking, like a dripping tap that you cannot tune out or fix. We did not have to explain how exhausting years and years of work can be. We did not have to explain how deeply grateful we were for therapists who commit their lives to helping family like ours, therapists who know when they meet you that they may very well know you for the rest of your life. We did not have to explain the bizarre combination of being deeply grateful and deeply exhausted by our children’s therapy.
What a rare and a sweet gift we are given when we connect with another heart you who fully understands. This was our first in Finley’s 5 years of life…Matt and I had just been given a lifeline.
These were new friends. There was an instant heart connection. They live far away and we barely see them but when we do it is like we just saw one another yesterday. These dear people had adopted a boy with Autism and spend just as many hours at therapy as we did with Finley.
The husband has CF. When we first met them we were amazed at the physical challenge they face everyday. Our mouths fell open when we found out they were involved with foster care and had adopted a son with special needs. We were challenged and inspired. Despite physical daily challenges, these dear people were welcoming the broken and displaced into their home.
We had shared with them how I was burned out. We shared about the depression and suicidal thoughts. We shared our isolation and deep loneliness. We knew we were safe and they understood all that we were walking through. We shared how some dear friends were setting up a fundraiser in a fee months to raise money for caregiving. We shared our pain and our gratitude, our heartache and our relief.
Later that day they wanted to talk.
“We don’t want you to have to wait to start getting help. We are going to write you a check for the amount of money it would take to cover three months of caregiving.”
We both instantly started crying. I was ugly crying. Our hearts laid bare. Shock and thankfulness mingled together in our hearts. Fatherly arms of grace wrapped around us in that unforgettable moment. God was providing again in ways we could never have predicted from people we had just met, people who had more on their plate than we did, people who could have easily dismissed our need in the face of their own giant, real and daily need. They knew God’s provision is bigger. Extravagant Generosity shouting above the noise of deep pain “you are known, and seen and welcomed as you are.”
“God sets the lonely in families.” Psalm 68:6a
