The past few months have been difficult for guest blogger Rebekah Benimoff. She’s here to explain what kept her from giving up when hope for her son with special needs was nearly gone.

Choosing to Draw Near When Crushed by Special Needs

Tonight was spent searching.

Searching back over ramblings from this medically-intense journey, rereading lessons learned along the way. Stories from past seasons jog memories, and rather than linger, I kick against the goads. Another diagnosis has been added, and I am already stretched thin. I know that each new diagnosis must be grieved, worked through. But I’d rather be where I was, in a place of schedules and simpler uncertainties. I’ve come so far, still I have much to learn and live out.

Again I am caught in a crossfire of medical chaos. Unanticipated? Not really. Unaccepted? For sure.

Drawing Near to God Who Sustains Breath When Crushed by Special Needs

No parent wants to watch a child suffer. A mother’s heart is pierced by her child’s pain. Pieces of me cleaved and torn again, old fears resurfacing along the way. For years I’ve spent my days carefully guarding a sometimes fragile life–a multitude of moments seeking to accept that it is God who sustains breath while I am stretched to find balance in the roles of caregiver, teacher, nurturer. A new label has me asking Have I done this well? Not perfectly, for my flaws are gaping still, but well?

Some days, yes. Other days I am a mess and must simply trust in God to fill in the gaps in my mothering.

Drawing Near to the God of New Beginnings and Special Needs

Years ago, I wrote of new beginnings:

I am finding that faithfulness is a choice. It does not happen by chance. I have been stretched; this choosing has not “come naturally”. It has taken a great deal of effort to concentrate on keeping the commitment, especially when I have little energy left. Sometimes I have to grit my teeth and push myself to step into Him. I am finding that as I shake off the slumber, even when I am dead tired, my soul is alive in Him. I am learning to make a conscious effort step away from the things that He is calling me out of, and instead make the choice to advance into Him. To go deeper still.

I am struggling to return to the habit of exercise. In past seasons I’ve found release and much relief in movement. Yet now I am tired, worn- physically as well as emotionally. Again I find I must fight off lethargy, shake out of the bleariness of soul and body. I do not want to get up.

Drawing Near to the God of Simplicity and Special Needs

I want to recover. I want to find respite in old comforts, take my mind off the fears and the stresses, and simply enjoy shopping or indulging in a delicious delicacy. I’ve been fighting this battle for so long, and I just want a little luxuriating along the way. In my heart of hearts I know ribbons and treats are passing pleasures which offer only temporary contentment. Still, I find myself climbing up to the altar while looking for a ram caught in the thicket; I want a way out. I want simplicity to return to this jagged life–I want wellness and wholeness and relief from the struggles that consume my schedule and my energy.

As my lack of control comes to light, fear rises.
I am propelled forward, each step permeated by a numb distress.
I press on, uncertain of the outcome.
Prayerful in one moment, resisting in another.
Longing to be cradled, yet too worn to climb into a tangible embrace.

Drawing Near to the God Who Is With Me and My Son with Special Needs

I know God is with me, yet struggle to hear the soothing Voice–a whisper threading through sadness and yet another loss. Unknowns are daunting, new treatments bring uncertainty. Again I have a choice: Will I struggle through alone, or allow Love to draw near?

Years ago, I reconciled to this: It is very important be obedient so that I can be drawn deeper into Him. So I get up and propel myself into my prayer closet… On the floor, kneeling before the space heater, draped in a Snuggie, the Lord and I meet.

Now, in this season, I have another opportunity to surrender and draw near. I am so tired. I don’t know how to get to the place where I am no longer afraid to lose my son.

Again it is time to fight for wellness, to propel myself into the only true, safe place–God’s heart, holding me in the midst of pain, sorrow, even grief and fear. I grasp the truth that He is the gift in the suffering. I cannot know the future, nor can I control the present. Yet I do know the only One who is Comforter and provider for me- and my precious son as well.

How Do You Draw Near When Crushed by Special Needs?

Have you ever felt like Rebekah? Do you feel like her today? Right now? How can you draw near to God in this dark time? What do you need to make it happen? Leave a comment if you wish.

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