Teaching Him

Please, God.  Please don’t make me do this!  Surely there is some other way.  Surely there is a solution I haven’t thought of yet.  You know me!  You know I am weak and exhausted and ill-equipped for this path.  You know I have cancer, for heaven’s sake!  God, you know I can’t do this!

And yet, despite my tear-filled tantrum, despite my reminding God of all the things He already knows, this is precisely what He is asking me to do.  He is asking me to teach my son.  At home.  We tried sending him to school where he might be able to receive the special education that he needs.  But that was not the answer.  We tried hiring a private teacher at home where his fragile health will be protected.  But that was not the answer either.  

No, I know in the depths of my heart that there is no other option for his education.  For this season, anyway, God is calling me to this task.  He is calling me to rely on, not the experts or the professionals or the “multitudes.” There is certainly a time and a place and season for those resources. But for this season, He wants me to rely on the Holy One of Israel.  He wants me to seek help from Him as I walk this path.  (Isaiah 31:1)

And the path, for me, is daunting. Since the day I met him nearly ten years ago, I have poured myself wholeheartedly into protecting him and keeping him healthy.  I have researched his complicated physical conditions and have found the very best specialists who can help him to thrive.  And it has been such a tremendous joy to see him thrive!  Every day, his vibrant personality and zeal for life simply amazes me! The fact that he is alive simply amazes me!

But his learning difficulties? His neuro-developmental disabilities? Those are way beyond me.  They defy my ability to understand.  How can I possibly teach him to read, much less to comprehend and apply what he is reading?  How can I help him memorize math facts when numbers make no sense to him? But even more frightening than the academics is the life-skills that are so essential for him to learn.  How can I possibly teach him everything he needs to know to live a productive and independent life some day?  The very thought of it overwhelms and almost paralyzes me.

Caring for foster children is, by very definition, temporary.  It is loving and giving and serving and nurturing and healing for a finite period of time. And then when the child leaves, it means battling the fear for the future, and choosing to believe that God will continue to provide everything that child needs in someone else’s home.  In a place you cannot see.

But adoption is another story altogether.  It may mean committing to loving and giving and serving and nurturing and healing, not just for 18 years, but possibly for the rest of your life.  It means battling the fear for the future, and choosing to believe that God will continue to provide everything that child needs in your own home.  In a place you can see.

I do know, however, that the God who is calling me to this difficult path is not a tyrant, asking me to do something I don’t want to do because He is cruel.  No, He is a God who longs to be gracious to me, who is full of compassion for me.  (Isaiah 30:18)  He is writing my son’s story according to His plan, and somehow, inexplicably, He want to use an ordinary person like me to accomplish it.

On those days when I am so incredibly discouraged, and when it seems as if all my striving and all my best efforts are futile and pointless.  When I cannot see a single purpose in all of it, and I just want to give up, He is my source of strength.  (Isaiah 28:6)  He is not asking me to try harder or do better.  It is when I am quiet, when I trust Him, that I find strength to press on. (Isaiah 30:15)

For all those times I am so bone-weary that I cannot take another step.  When getting out of bed in the morning and putting one foot in front of the other, when hanging on to hope even when I can’t really see hope, He is my resting place.  He says, Let the weary rest.  (Isaiah 28:12)

When God asked me to take this path for which I am ill-equipped and not gifted and not at all prepared, and when my heart is filled with fear, not knowing what the future holds for my struggling son, the Lord is a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation.  When I rely on Him, fully and completely surrendered to His good and perfect purposes, I will never be stricken with panic.  (Isaiah 28:16)

When I seriously don’t know what is best for my child, when I am faced with significant decisions and I have no idea which way to turn, He promises to instruct me.  He is the One who teaches me the right way.  (Isaiah 28:26)  There is not some secret wisdom that I just need to try harder to find. Whether I turn to the right or to the left, He is with me, whispering into my heart, This is the way, walk in it.  (Isaiah 30:20-21)

When I look at my own deficiencies and question – again! – God, are you sure you chose the right person for this task?  He reminds me that all this is from the Lord Almighty, whose plan is wonderful, whose wisdom is magnificent.  (Isaiah 28:29)

When I get frustrated and impatient – and let’s be honest, repeating the same things hundreds of times in hundreds of different and creative ways, and still he fails to grasp it, how can I not get frustrated and impatient?! – what I am really doing is questioning the Creator, wondering if He made a mistake.  Implying that He didn’t know what He was doing when He formed me with all of my limitations, or even worse, implying that He didn’t know what He was doing when He formed my precious child with all of his limitations.  Would I really do that?  How dare I?  (Isaiah 29:16) 

As I walk this long and difficult path, I may not see the fruit of my labor.  There may never be miraculous results.  My son may never be able to live a productive and independent life. But God is not asking me to produce results.  He is asking me to be faithful.  He is asking me to obey.  He is asking me to sow the seeds in the ground, day after day after day, trusting Him to send the rain.  (Isaiah 30:23)  The fruit of my obedience may never be visible, but the fruit of my obedience will be peace.  Its effect will be quietness and confidence that may never be produced in any other way. That I may never experience by taking any other path.  (Isaiah 32:16-17)

Ultimately, I know that the God who is calling me to this challenging path is the same God who is reminding me that it is not even about me.  It is not about what I can see or what I cannot do.  It is about what He can do.  I know that someday, when I look back on this hard season, I will be astounded with wonder upon wonder at all that He accomplished!  (Isaiah 29:14) 

And in that future day, the Lord Almighty will be a glorious crown, a beautiful wreath for me, His child. Not that He will give me a crown, but He, Himself will be my crown.  Almighty God will be my greatest prize.  My sweetest gift. (Isaiah 28:5)

As I continue down this path, may I teach my son well.  May I love  my son well.  May I patiently teach him to read and write and memorize math facts.  But more importantly, may I teach him the very same things that the Lord is teaching me.  To walk in obedience.  To cry out to the Lord, who is full of grace and compassion.  Ultimately, may I teach him to believe.

The Lord longs to be gracious to you;  

therefore He will rise up to show you compassion.  

Blessed are all who wait for Him! . . 

How gracious He will be when you cry for help! 

As soon as He hears, He will answer you. 

(Isaiah 30:18-19)