The Way of the Giant Sequoia

Last month, my husband and I took a rare trip out west for his 40th birthday and our 15th wedding anniversary coming up this year.  We went to see the Giant Sequoias.  They are awe-inspiring, amazing works of God.  They make you feel infinitely small.  I have never felt more humbled by nature than standing by these gorgeous trees that are up to 40 feet in diameter.

 

The way the Giant Sequoias survive is only by a specific squirrel scattering its seeds, or by fire.

Fire has come back into our lives. 

There is a post I started a few weeks ago about the Year of the Rain.  It got deleted, late at night, after some computer glitches, and I miss the perfection of the first write.  This would be a sequel post if I had that post.  I hope to go back and re-write it, albeit less inspired, less perfect, but that is not where I am today.  I wish I had it written, so you could know we have had good days this year.  Lots of joy.  Days of peace.

Today, I am in the midst of the mixed blessing that is epilepsy.  Last year, I wrote how hard things were.  There are several blog drafts that are unpublished because I think they are probably harder than what people want to actually read about.  Suffice it to say, last year was difficult.  The single joy of last year was the diagnosis of epilepsy.  We had hope!  We had an answer we could actually treat, and might answer several of our questions. 

Nine months later, we are back to battle-weary mode.  We are closing in on maxing out on our first epilepsy drug.  I have loved this drug.  We had about 6 months of improvements on everything.  I really have no desire to change anything, except his body either needs more, or needs a different drug soon.  We have another EEG this Friday.  And I have all the pre-procedure anxiety to prove it.  LJ does horrible with any procedure.  Blood draws are the worst, but EEGs are no walk in the park. 

I keep reminding myself the grace in this, is we have drug options.  We have treatment options, unlike when we dealt with autism and you are just guessing.  However, my son, as usual, has atypical epilepsy in every way.  Things may not be any more straight-forward than it was when we thought he had autism, and the road may be just as rocky.  (I still have a lot of questions with the autism.  I look back, and I don't know that it wasn't epilepsy the whole time.  LJ has absent seizures and his symptoms today look like his symptoms from the last 10 years.  We have no family history of seizures, and you cannot tell he has them, but it affects his executive functioning and processing significantly.  That is probably a whole other post.) 

I have spent the last month searching....searching for ways out of the isolation my child's needs create, ways to connect with other families, ways to connect with other homeschoolers, ways to create a life that is less living in need and more giving....but LJ's needs take a lot out of our family.  So I have been praying and searching and waiting....I think today, God gave me an answer.  

 

LJ's special needs are my fire.  God's refining fire, reminding me of his grace daily and sanctifying me into a better mother, wife, friend, Christ-follower.  God scatters His glory, His seed, by sending me fires.  The National Forest does controlled fires with the Giant Sequoias to help spread their seed.  I enjoyed my 9 months of rain, but it is apparently a time of fire again.  As with the Giant Sequoias, I think new growth will come of this.  I talked with a wonderful, experienced lady this morning about epilepsy and through my own need for one, realized there are no local epilepsy support groups.  God gave me this friend who also has a child with epilepsy about my son's age, and also homeschools, and is willing to do this with me.  This is where God's glory shines...new growth.