The Hot Slide

Sometimes I climb the slide, other times I tumble down and bump my head. How about you?

One thing about life -- no one slides without burning their legs a little. Some days I'm singing "Here Comes the Sun" and "Sunshine on My Shoulders Makes Me Happy." 🌞 Other days I loathe the heat.

The heat always makes me move though. I notice it, jump to my feet -- "Ouch!" Then look for a solution.

When my oldest son was diagnosed with a severe disability, I felt the heat. It started with the crying. I had worked with infants for years and never seen one cry as much as mine! Talk about a confidence boost for a brand new mom, still floating through the days in a twilight haze of joy and sleeplessness.

I went to the clinic in the equatorial heat, my baby strapped to me. His father refused to attend the appointment, still in denial. "Nothing is wrong with MY son!" he bellowed when I brought it up. It was a process.

I have seldom in life felt so alone. Heat isn't a strong enough word to describe it.

Unsure of what the future would hold -- do any of us ever really know that? -- I moved to seek out some shade, some shelter from what felt like a raging sandstorm. My eyes and neck burning, I felt that if I didn't shield my baby, he could almost blow away. Nothing moves like a mom on a mission for their child! I poured over research articles, searched for various therapies, and visited schools -- even when he was a baby.

We lived in a culture that saw children like my son as a curse, or worse. I felt the heat in pitying stares and comments that came from friends as well as strangers. In my lonliness I sought out connection with other parents facing similar challenges, many online.

Then people said, "You spend too much time online!"

I was seeking answers, connection, especially hope.

The solution can be to put on your shades and power through, or it can be to go seek shade. Protective instinct told me that I had to get my son out of the blazing heat that seemed to follow us everywhere.

We found a safe place. We found a community of friends that love and support us. We found specialists, teachers, and paras who lift up my son and think he's a blessing and not a curse.

We found our umbrella, and my heart rested in its shade.

Every step of the journey, it seemed there were critics waiting to condemn my every move. But I know something they don't.

I know how my son's joyful laughter echoes in our home.

I know he has learned to be proficient with a talking device. He has the gift of communication, because we found a place where people see him as worthy of having a voice.

I know that on the hard days when I still feel the heat, a friend is close with an umbrella. Now that my own son is older, sometimes I have the privilege of holding an umbrella for others.

Here's what I know that the critics don't: Love moves. Love tries, even when unsure of the outcome. Love holds out hope through the sun-baked dry season, that rains of relief are on the way.

Heat is a catalyst for change. Stand out in the sun too long and it can even kill you. I'm grateful for the furnace days. So cliche, but they made me stronger and I'm happier now because I know what they felt like.

Life has its own version of the furnace for all of us sooner or later. Just don't sit still and roast your rump! Don't burn to a crisp! Make your move, respond to the situation, and see what happens.

Who knows? There might even be ice cream when it's all over.