Left Behind

Take this cup from me. 

Take this cup from him.

Take this cup from us.

These silent pleads have been strung through my prayers, my days, and my life for the last few months as we continue to walk through a season of transition, uncertainty, and deep loneliness. We are surrounded by faithful family, faithful friends, and a very faithful church community, but the loneliness has still been so heavy. Loneliness because we are unique. Loneliness because Levi is unique. Loneliness because the more he ages, the more he, and we, get left behind.

As Levi approaches his 4th birthday, we are entering, what should have been, a season of firsts: Pre-k programs, school programs, T-ball Saturdays, first trips to the movies, swim lessons, first school friends, and big class birthday parties. As much as these first are enjoyable for kids, they are such precious experiences for parents. These are the things I dreamed about as we planned for children. Camping trips; hearing all about his day at school; cheering him on from the side lines as he celebrates with his pee-wee soccer team. And as his peers and their parents, our friends, dip their toes in these life-changing memories, we stand on the curb and wave good-bye as they drive further into the distance. The getting left behind, and the overwhelming realization that one day we will watch them drive so far away that we will only see the horizon, has left me crippled in loneliness. And the loneliness has left us wondering where we belong, where Levi belongs, as life moves onward. And in these moments, I fall to my knees and beg the Lord to make me desire something else, anything else.

Take this cup.

Take this cup.

Take this cup.


This summer will be 2 years since Levi was first diagnosed with Autism & SPD. Although that day and the weeks to follow were extremely painful, they pale in comparison to the days, weeks and months we have experienced since as we are slowly beginning to truly process the weight and longevity of this new reality. I would never had admitted it in the beginning, but Levi's diagnosis shattered my dreams. The interesting thing about shattered dreams is that they do not just shatter once. Instead, they continue to shatter as time progresses and new aspects of your current reality emerge. I had never considered the reality that everyone else's children would continue to progress in life past ours. I had never considered how different church, and school, and vacations, and friends would look like for Levi and for us as he got older. For a long time, I never considered the possibility that Levi wouldn't "catch up" in time to be in a normal classroom for Kindergarten. I never considered the possibility that Levi might never be able to integrate into a normal classroom. I never considered the behavioral problems. I never considered that one day some people might think my child is dangerous. I never considered the speech regression. I never considered the pain and heartbreak that comes when you lose sight of who your precious child is during particularly bad symptoms days.

 I never considered how much I would question where we belong.

And I never considered the loneliness that would come with each of these continuous shatters.

And surrounded by the pieces of my shattered dreams, in the depths of my unspeakable loneliness, in the fears and uncertainties of the future, and in the exhaustion that accompanies an unending wilderness, I encounter the Lord in ways I never would have.

And that gives every heartache, every regression, every stare, every fear, every uncertainty, every shattered dream, every single gut-wrenching moment eternally worth it.

And I can only pray for the strength and the power that comes from the Lord to remain faithful and steadfast with my feet firmly planted on this hope.

The Lord may not take this cup from me. The Lord will most likely not take this cup from me.

But the faithfulness of His hands upholding mine will never cease.

Side Note: We love Levi so much and we cannot even imagine him without Autism. Although these things are oh-so-hard, we are so grateful that the Lord made him exactly how he is and we are confident that the Lord is going to be glorified through this journey. However, we also believe God wants us to share every side of our journey, including the ones that are hard and full of weaknesses, doubt, and falters.