I have an epileptic dog. It’s not exactly what I would have chosen, but it’s what I got. Recently, his seizures became more worrisome so, with the counsel of my vet, I decided to medicate him. The first morning, about two hours after starting the medication, Jet seemed incredibly unsteady; he missed the corner when following me and ran headlong into the wall. Thinking this strange behavior may be due to the new meds, I called my vet but he was out of the office. So, I did what all modern humans do when we are panic stricken and need answers NOW. I exclaimed, “Siri, why is my dog acting drunk?” Siri calmly informed me that “Some dogs struggle with ataxia after starting treatment for seizures. The term ataxia describes a lack of muscle control or coordination of voluntary movements. Ataxia can produce a sense of unsteadiness or weakness. Symptoms of ataxia include poor coordination, a tendency to stumble, and difficulty with fine motor tasks, such as eating, writing or buttoning a shirt.” Though I hadn’t witnessed Jet trying to write his name or button his clothing, he had nearly overturned an end table and had slammed his head into the side of my desk. Jet continued to struggle a bit with this foreign unsteadiness as days went by, but soon, his body became accustomed to this stabilizing medicine and his normal bouncy—and balanced—gait returned. Why do I tell you this story about my unbalanced pup? Because I think it will help you have grace with yourself–and find grace all around you– when your child goes abroad. Let me explain…
When my son and daughter-in-law flew across the ocean just one year after their marriage, they were excited for the new adventure that awaited them. I was also excited, in a way, but the anxiety of the new arrangement seemed to outweigh the joy. When this same child went to church camp as a grade schooler, I felt a similar sense of the unknown: Will he be able to sleep in a strange bed? Will he get homesick? Will he remember to change his underwear? I dutifully attended the parent meeting, signed the forms, and read and reread the paperwork assuring me that he would be well supervised. Because I had some knowledge of his accommodations, his schedule, and assurance of his safety, I could relax and trust God to take care of him on his week away. But, when this former camper became an adult and decided to make his home in a new land, I was stuck with a dream of how I thought life might be and a pang of grief because it was different. There was no parent meeting, no paperwork, and no assurance of supervision or safety. I prayed and tried to release him fully to God’s care, but my lack of knowledge about where he was going and what he was doing made me feel wobbly. At first this wobbliness manifested itself in busyness and lack of communication; I filled my life with other activities so I could re-balance my emotional scale. Because of this busyness, I neglected to set a regular time of communication with my Go-er and felt even more disconnected from him.
I decided to put my feelings of helplessness in a separate emotional “box” that I only took out when I had time to ruminate. As the days wore on, I chided myself for my depression and willed myself to “snap out of it!” This drill-sergeant-like self talk, however, did nothing for my balance and I continued to listlessly participate in my unfamiliar life. Then, many months after his departure, as I was walking my aforementioned dog in the woods behind our house, I smelled the crisp fall air and heard the birds serenading me. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to God! Clarity crept into my soul; I was unhappy with my new life because I was ungrateful. I was ungrateful that my son was far away. I was ungrateful that our family times looked different now. I was ungrateful because I had no control. I had neglected to thank God for his provisions, and this neglect had stolen my joy. With this realization (and the grace of God), homeostasis began to return. I wasn’t instantly happy about my “different than imagined” life, but I knew how to right myself when the unsteadiness started to creep in. I started to look for blessings in my life and the life of my kids. I scheduled a regular Zoom call with them where we talked and filled each other in on everyday happenings. I chose to see their calling as an honor rather than a burden (my child was chosen by the Creator of the Universe!) I began to look for the good…and see it!
My new way of life had produced a sense of unsteadiness—an emotional ataxia if you will—but the treatment that gave my stability was gratefulness. Though I still have a tendency to stumble during special days or big family events, it’s time in God’s Word, walks in the woods, and remembering to look for the good in every single day that have helped me to keep my balance. This way of life is not exactly what I would have chosen, but it’s what I got. I’m going to make the best of it. So, if you are struggling with the transition Mama, or if you feel weak because of the lack of control, Dad, you aren’t alone. And you aren’t broken. You’re just a little worn by the wobbliness of it all. The grief is real but so is the good. Gratefulness will make the journey more joyful. Start counting your blessings today.
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Parents of Goers 