“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.” — C.S.Lewis
Transition, a fancy way of saying change, strikes fear into the heart of every special needs mother. Transitions or change is hard, especially if we didn’t expect them or if they are (what we perceive as) a change for the worst. Even good change can be hard: a new medication with hopeful results, a new fresh school year, or your children graduating from high school.
As moms to children with disabilities, we’re used to transitions.
Our entire lives have changed from what we thought motherhood would look like compared to what it actually is. In the time between my son being prenatally diagnosed and his birth, I did all I could to control the transition from mom to special needs mom and all that would come with those first few weeks. I planned. I prepared. I prayed.
Not all went according to plan.
When life doesn’t go according to our plans, we begin to question God’s love for us. Truthfully, I still wrestle with: Why did God say no to my prayers for my son not to have a Chiari crisis? — If you don’t know the story, you can read more about it here in the article I wrote for KHCB.
This years theme for Rising Above’s conference By the Brook is Beloved, how we are unconditionally loved by God (timely). Sandy Ramsey-Trayvick made the point that sometimes we mistakenly think that God’s love for us only looks like shielding us from the hard things that are coming in our lives, but Jesus told us we would have trouble in this world (John 16:33, also the theme verse for the Take Heart podcast). This is a lie that I have believed.
We must remember that God’s love for us looks like his presence with us in those hard things. It’s a result of Him giving us Himself: His power, His peace, and His comfort—it’s Him.
Can we prepare ourselves for transitions?
Sometimes we can, sometimes we can’t. I certainly tried in between our son’s diagnosis and his birth. We certainly need to hold the preparation loosely instead of in a tight grip of control.
When we try to control every aspect of our child’s life, we lose the ability to see God’s provision because we are so busy providing for ourselves.
God may not prevent the hard thing from coming, but sometimes, he shows his love by preparing us for what is to come.
A lot of times, we don’t notice that until after the fact, though. We may look back and realize we read an article, a book, or had a conversation with someone who helped to prepare us for what was to come. We may have studied some scripture that reminds us of God’s love for us. I think this is when we need to stop and notice, reflect, and look for the ways God has lovingly been with us the whole time.
Impossible questions
Through the years, I’ve often had people ask me if I would change what has happened to us. It’s a tricky question because, on one hand, if I say no, that means I want my son to suffer, and that’s definitely not the case. On the other hand, if I say yes, would our family be the same?
Thankfully, I don’t get to decide.
But I do know this beyond a shadow of a doubt — I wouldn’t know God in the way I know him or have experienced his comfort, his power, his healing, and his presence if not for the hard things I’ve gone through. I know my sinful heart, and I was fine living a life sprinkling God here and there before Toby.
After the transition of becoming a special needs mom, I have learned (not that I always do it well,) that I need to drink from his living water and allow him access to all parts of my heart and life.
How about you?
Are you struggling to reconcile a good God with your difficult situation?
Maybe you wish he had shielded you from something difficult. Ask him to draw near. If this is especially difficult, may I recommend a resource on lament? It’s called Dark Clouds Deep Mercy by Mark Vroegep, and it’s helping me to learn to cry out to God in those tricky transitions.
Carrie M. Holt 
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