What is Your Church Doing to Support You?

This is a question I was asked by my children’s educational psychologist, and a friend we had supported and I still support through his parenting challenges when his wife alienated him from their children, preferring to go live a life of freedom with her drug addict family.

I had a parent intake meeting with the psychologist, in preparation for the third child to have an assessment- this time not because I found any learning disorder, but because the pediatrician had suggested she confirm the severity of her PDA and autism and for me, to convince him that my poor child is heavily under medicated. If she was in a school, she’d be in trouble all day, every day. She even stops a task she is busy with, to go off on a tangent. School with her, lasts three times longer than it should! By the time her ten year old sister comes to learn, my body is already extremely sore.

She had traced up to number five, then suddenly gathered three pencils and held them in order of height. Do NOT ask me why she thought to do that while reaching numbers! So, I took it as an opportunity to teach her comparatives and superlatives, and trappe van vergelyking. In English, “tall, taller, tallest,” and in Afrikaans, lang, langer, langste. Hey, she might as well have a headstart to the topic, right?

Anyway, as you know from my recent post, the psychologist was asking how I’m coping physically, and I told her that I was meant to have stopped teaching last year already. And she asked what support dad gives, what he does with the children to make the burden lighter and how involved he is.

Let’s just say, her answer, and my telling her that he doesn’t respond to her assessment reports I send him but instead sends them to his floozy in Sandton made her angry and worried. “If you die, then what will happen?? You’re the only one who knows the children!” He has no clue who does therapy where, who sees who when. And he refused to learn the vision therapy exercises, so no matter how sick I am, I’m still single parenting it. “Are you sure you’re not feeling suicidal? As a professional, knowing what you’re going through, I have to ask that.” And, “How is your church supporting you?”

I told her the only ‘church’ I have is a friend who lives far away and doesn’t have the luxury of just getting here when I want her. But she’s there. She’s listened, prayed, tried to act in a way that doesn’t encourage certain traits when she’s video calling or visiting… I told her she has wept for me over the years. The children, the spouse. She is my church. Worried about salvation and not about saving self ruined reputations. Caring about me and not protecting abusers. Hating breaking of principle and violation of vows. She is my church.

But she’s far away. And that’s ok. Because I have God. I know He sees me. Sees all my hard work. Knows I’m working, smiling, hugging, teaching, cooking through intense pain, but never losing my temper. He hears my conversations with the children, He watches me as I read His word and apply it to my life every morning. God knows the valleys I’ve traveled and the steep mountains I trudge along. He sees and He will reward it.

People talk about giving someone their flowers while they are alive. My children are the flowers I give to myself. They are proof of the thought, research, hard working, early rising, not sleeping that I go through to be the best Christian mother I can be.

The hugs are acknowledgment that I am loving and safe, gratitude for being an ear and a cuddle giver. They are my reward. A reward borne through great sacrifice. It reminds me of Isaiah’s prophecy of Christ. All the suffered by for an ungrateful world, but, “He shall see the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied!” Before the second coming, was the cross. And THAT satisfied Him because He knew there would be sheaves to harvest when He comes again. We are His reward. We are his crown of joy. We are His flowers if we live by every word and love Him more than life, money, fame or popularity.

What support do I have? None that is like my fired, my church who comes not just to talk, but to make life skewering had. BUT, I see my efforts in the children. The suffering is worth it. Not having anyone to share the highs with is bitter, but I’m thankful there ARE highs! Look at THIS! My girl rehearsed every new thing she learns so she doesn’t forget it. We are doing counting in tens so she did THIS in her spare time.

She is my joy. Her love for learning is unparalleled.

Her brother’s mistakes make us laugh. Mickey, then twin B and then oldest brother all went down with a horrible virus. Extremely sore throats, the usual nasal sinus blockages with noses streaming down, all round yuckiness and watery eyes and a cough for our non speaker. I told Mickey to keep a mask on when he’s near the girls. (I always wear a mask while they girls lose theirs ) but he was on his tablet and was in didn’t have it on but was instead swooping hands to hold it while playing. So I told him to put his mask (elastics) behind his ears.

My boy made us all laugh. His sister couldn’t believe him! She took a mask and copied him with great glee!

That’s what he did.

My ten year old said she, her sister and I should go to a hotel to escape the plague. But then she quickly said, “No way! You’d never survive me stuck in a hotel room! THEY should leave!”🤣

They are my jokesters, my flowers, my affirmation.

They are my reward while I wait for the white robes and crown, for the the healing and the peace that He promises to His long suffering ones.

No. I’m not suicidal. God holds me up and gives me moments of laughter to counteract the seriousness of our situation.

Like a six year know it all who says, “I give up!” when trying to teach her older brother, my telephone number.

Keep moving on even when moving on means accepting that pain is your portion.