It's Been Two Years

Between my junior and senior year of college, I started to get sick to my stomach for no apparent reason. Nausea and stomach pain soon became the constant norm, and it was particularly bad in the mornings. I dropped about 15 pounds, ate a lot of Club crackers, and frankly, I was a miserable wreck. We visited multiple doctors, had dozens of tests run, and no one could give me answers. They ended up taking out my gall bladder, but that didn't solve the problem, either. I remember sitting doubled over in pain one day and telling God I didn't care if He made me fat, I just wanted to be better. [Ha - I took that one back.] But I was desperate - for answers and for relief. I was at the point where I was sick all day every day and I just wanted to feel normal again.

Randy, amazing guy that he is, still married me. About 7 months into marriage, we made the decision to go off birth control because it was intensifying the nausea and it was also making me a bit crazy (think buckets of tears every single night, bless the man). And 13 months into marriage, surprise! I will never forget the feeling of seeing those two lines on that pregnancy test. Complete, unadulterated, mind-numbing, heart-racing panic is really the simplest way to describe it. ;) But the shock eventually wore off and we truly were thrilled to become parents. My nausea and stomach pain continued throughout my pregnancy, some days worse than others. I drank a lot of ginger ale. 

But 9 months later when I finally got to meet our sweet Landon with his beautiful dark hair and adorable button nose, I stopped getting sick. I woke up every morning without nausea. The awful stomach pains disappeared. Wouldn't you know it? 

For reasons I don't understand and can't explain, having a baby healed my body.

Landon is four and a half this month. I feel like he was born yesterday and yet it's like I've always known him. He is happy and stubborn and tender and exhausting and amazing. His story is a big part of who I am today.

Our journey really began two years ago this month. August 26th, 2013, a sweltering hot Monday morning in Pensacola. A little after 11:00, the neurologist who'd evaluated Landon several weeks before sat down across from us. "He came back positive for DiGeorge Syndrome," he said, kindly and a bit hesitantly. It's crazy how seven little words can turn your life upside down before you even realize what they actually mean. But I've told you that story.

These two years have not been easy. If I'm being honest, they have been the hardest years of my life. I feel like I've aged in a thousand ways and I have extra wrinkles to prove it. But I've already told you about my dark days, my struggle to be content, my anger against God's plan. I have had a lot of breaking points and felt the very real, lonely burden of special needs parenting. (One day I will write a blog post on the specifics of all that. I've started and stopped a hundred times.)

But if there is one thing I see over and over again in Landon's story, it is the amazing love of God for me. I know that doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense, particularly when you know how I've struggled. But here's the thing. I needed healing - and I didn't even realize it. Truth is, I am a huge control freak. I want my universe in order all the time. I want my house and my children and my circumstances to be exactly as I think they should be. And that control makes me impatient and angry and annoyed and honestly, quite overwhelmed at times. 

So you know what God did? He knocked the bottom out from under me. He took Becca's well-laid plans and destroyed them. He made me realize I have no control over anything, even when I think I do. 

But he didn't do any of that in spite. No, He broke me in order to heal me. In God's gracious, undeserved kindness, He gifted me with a little boy that is healing my wayward, stubborn, controlling heart. He chose to prune me and change me more into His Son's image through giving me Landon. And because He loves me, because He delights to do me good, and because He wants to draw me close to His heart, He is using Landon to make me less dependent on myself and more dependent on Him and His grace. He is opening my eyes to sin I didn't realize I had. I am (slowly) losing my grip on control and learning to cast myself on Him. 

Healing is often painful, slow, and at times, it seems impossible. Particularly when you're Becca and born with the stubbornness of a mule. But the end result? Worth it.

You know when you have a secret, a really, really good one? You can't tell anybody, and no one would really get how excited you are about it, anyway, because it's particular to you. That's how I feel. Landon is my secret. I'm amazed and overwhelmed and a bit giddy that I get to be his mommy. That doesn't mean I walk around on Cloud Nine all day. Ask my best friends and they'll tell you quite a different story, usually spelled out in "I'M GOING CRAZY. HELP ME" texts. But in spite of the struggles, the heartache, the anxieties, and the fears, my heart is bursting with love for this amazing boy full of personality and humor and a whole lotta crazy. Landon is not DiGeorge Syndrome and he never will be. He is Landon and he was perfectly created by a wise God. And he is perfect for me. 

When I held Landon for the first time four and a half years ago, I never thought he was somehow the key to bringing healing to my sick body. But more than that, I had no idea God would use Him to begin a journey of healing my soul.

And none of this could be true without the beautiful, wonderful Cross of Jesus and the inexplicable, boundless love of God that sent us His beloved Son.

Our pastor closed with these words from Romans 8 a couple months ago, and I haven't been able to get them out of my mind (emphasis mine):

If God is for us, who can ever be against us? Since He did not spare even His own Son but gave Him up for us all, won't He also give us everything else? 

Can anything ever separate us from Christ's love? Does it mean He no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death?

No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God's love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God's love.

No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

God is weaving a tapestry that I still cannot see completely. But He has let me take a peek at its beauty. And while I am amazed by His work in the shape of Landon, I am truly in awe of the Artist.

It's Been A Year

[if you are viewing this on a mobile device, click the link at the bottom to play "My Hope." it has special meaning to me in regards to our sweet Landon.]

One year ago today, Randy and I sat across from a pediatric neurologist and our world turned upside down in a matter of seconds: "What's concerning is Landon's genetic testing," he told us. "He came back positive for DiGeorge Syndrome..."

I will never forget the feeling that gripped my heart in that moment. I wanted to scream, "No! NO! You're wrong! There's been a horrible mistake! Don't you see him running around the room? He's FINE!" But I couldn't breathe. I felt cold, sick, and so very, very scared.

I wrote a post the next week. It was still all very fresh and it was hard, but I was okay. God was in control and we were going to be fine. And now, a year later, I could tell you I've faithfully held to all those truths I posted about. I've never once doubted God's wise plan in giving us Landon. I've responded to every struggle with perfect trust in the sovereign purposes of God. I'm always patient with Landon's delays (because I'm totally a patient person to begin with, you know). I never worry about his future because I know God is in control of it. There is no place for anxiety and fear in my picture-perfect life. In fact, I'm pretty much full of joy all the time!

But that would be lying.

The truth is, I have been angry. So angry. I have, in essence, shaken my fist at heaven and told God He made a terrible mistake. Sure, okay, every person is "fearfully and wonderfully made," genes missing and all. But my kid shouldn't have to suffer because of that. Not mine. 

He's mine, God. 

I have felt completely incompetent as a "special needs mom" - okay, a mom in general. I've complained to Randy on a weekly basis. I've lain awake countless nights worrying, desperately trying to grasp at things I can control. If I just follow this plan, he will be okay. More flashcards will help, right? Maybe organic food. And no sugar. Like, ever. If I just put him in the most intensive therapy and the best schools, he will catch up. It will all be okay. I have lost patience more times than I care to remember. I've yelled at my kids because I've felt like I was losing control of my life in a big way. I have curled up in a ball on the floor and cried angry, bitter tears, wondering if God left us a long time ago. Or was He ever with us? This must all must be some sort of sick, senseless joke.

You think that's ugly, friends? It is. Sin is ugly.

But I'm not here to talk about my sin. I'm here to tell you about my Jesus. Every time I have run from Him, every time I have shaken my fist at Him, every time I have complained about His plan, every time I have felt myself spiraling out of control - He has not let go of me. In fact, He has pursued me. Instead of leaving me in a puddle of sin, self-pity, and sorrow, He has tenderly, lovingly picked me up and turned my heart back to Truth, back to the Gospel, back to the Cross where Jesus already erased my sin - my anger, my bitterness, my fear, my faithless heart. When you realize Jesus has taken care of everything through His death and resurrection, you realize there really is nothing to fear.

You see, Landon's story isn't about him, or me, or Randy... it's about our God. When we are faithless, He remains faithful (2 Timothy 2:15). My lack of trust in His goodness does not change the fact that He is good (Psalm 107:1). He doesn't love me more on Friday because I did a better job at trusting Him then. His love is perfect, unchanging, never-failing -- because when He looks at me, He sees nothing but the righteousness of Jesus. His wise and kind hands gifted Landon to us three and a half years ago, and it is those same hands that will give us grace in both the good times and the hard times. 

It is these truths about God's character that make Landon's story worth telling. 

And Landon isn't punishment. Oh no, friends. He is the most amazingly beautiful gift God has ever entrusted us with. I told my mom recently I wish everyone could have a little Landon to get a taste of how incredibly sweet it is to be his parents. Randy and I spend so much time laughing at his crazy, hilarious, little self. [I also totally cry at his stubbornness, but that's par for the course with parenting, I think.] Having a special needs child has been hard for our marriage in many ways, but at the same time, it has been so, so good for us - it has drawn us closer than anything else we've experienced. I am so grateful for a husband who reminds me of Truth, even when I know his heart is weary, too. [I am also grateful for a husband who brings me Dunkin Donuts when I've had a rough day. He knows my love language.]

Landon is doing so great. His articulation has improved drastically in the last month, and it is SO fun to to watch. I think the biggest thing I've noticed is that he's actually motivated now - I mean, still totally stubborn, but he actually wants to try versus stubbornly saying "no." I almost wonder if the little stinker could do it all along but refused... Just so much like... his father. ;-) He still has a long way to go, but as my sweet mama reminded me, "Bec, you can't compare Landon to other kids his age... you have to compare him to himself." And he's come so, so far in the last year! I am so very proud of him and thankful for answered prayers. God has great things in store for that boy.

Landon loves The Jesus Storybook Bible, and I was reading one of the stories about David's psalms to him the other night. I love the paraphrase of Psalm 23. I never want Landon to doubt our love for him, but more than that, I want him to know that when he entrusts his soul to the Good Shepherd, no matter what struggles he faces, he will never, ever be alone. I am thankful we are never too old to outgrow these truths.

God is my Shepherd

And I am his little lamb.

He feeds me.

He guides me.

He looks after me.

I have everything I need.

Inside my heart is very quiet.

As quiet as lying still in soft green grass.

In a meadow.

By a little stream.

Even when I walk through

the dark, scary, lonely places

I won't be afraid.

Because my Shepherd knows where I am.

He is here with me.

He keeps me safe.

He rescues me.

He makes me strong

and brave.

He is getting wonderful things ready for me

Especially for me

Everything I ever dreamed of.

He fills my heart so full of happiness.

I can't hold it all inside.

Wherever I go I know

God's Never Stopping

Never Giving Up

Unbreaking

Always and Forever Love 

Will go, too.

 "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." (James 1:17 )

When I Complain about Good Things

Last week, Landon started therapy. I was sitting in the waiting room waiting for his therapist to come out, and a mama walked by with her daughter. Something was very obviously wrong; she was probably 11 or 12, her speech was unintelligible, and she couldn't walk without support or help. The therapist came out to take her back to therapy. As they walked in to the rehab center, I heard the girl's mom talking proudly about the progress her daughter was making - she'd been trying to take a few steps unassisted.

WOW. Just... wow.

I complain about Landon's progress being slow. I complain a lot. 

[If you don't believe me, ask my sweet, incredibly patient husband.]

Yes, this is hard, especially because I'm his mama. No, I am not downplaying it.

But when I heard that mom's excitement and pride over her daughter's progress, progress that certainly puts her far, far behind any other child her age, I realized something.

I do not take joy like I should in how Landon is growing, changing, thriving.

I complain that he's not articulating well...

                        ...instead of rejoicing that he's able to communicate with us at all.

I complain that he's too hyper...

                       ...instead of rejoicing that he's active, alert, and full of so. much. happiness.

I complain that he's too clumsy...

                       ...instead of rejoicing that he can walk and run and move.

I complain that he's not caught up to his peers...

                      ...instead of rejoicing that he is just who God created him to be.

I have so much to be thankful for.

So, so much.

                                                    
{Stay tuned... later this week, I'm going to be sharing more about essential oils and how a skeptic (that's me) turned into a believer!}

Update on Landon

Back when I was the perfect parent - you know, before I had kids - I had a lot of fabulous ideas about how this whole thing would go. And they really were fabulous. Candy would not be kept in the house. Keeping children quiet while shopping or eating out would never include bribing. I would make all my baby food from scratch. Sleep props simply wouldn't be allowed. I would be patient, calm, and handle all parenting issues with quiet grace (after all, my mama did, and wasn't I so much like her?). And when I saw special needs kids, I always knew God would only give me "normal" children. After all, He only gives those types of kids to parents who can handle them.

I am convinced that God has a sense of humor.

Not only do I keep candy (hidden) in my house, I stash M&M's in my purse - for bribes. Yup. I do not have time to make baby food. I make sure I have a fully charged cell phone before entering a restaurant with a child. Sleep props - pacifiers, sleep machines, blackout curtains - yes, please. Give me more. I've learned that I'm nothing like my mama and a whole lot like this thing called Impatience. That's a bummer. And, funny enough, God gave me a child with a bunch of special needs.

I wanted to give an update on our little Landon after my last post. We've had a lot of doctor's appointments since I blogged last, so things were a bit chaotic for a while. Side note: I am so thankful for my friend Kierra and my grandma here in Pensacola who sacrificed their time (and energy) to watch Colton while I took Landon to his appointments. Randy has been busy with flight school, and there's no way I could have done it without their help!

I wish I could fully express my thankfulness to each one of you who has reached out to us during what was a very dark time. Randy and I are so, so grateful for all your love, support, and prayer for Landon and for our little family. I read through your comments, messages, and texts, and I cried. How good God is to give us a community of believers to surround us in trials.

So, our little Lando (so dubbed by his Uncle Ricky). He's still the same happy ball of energy he always has been! Still gelling Colton's hair with Desitin, brushing his own hair with mascara, and consuming an entire tube of Elmo toothpaste in one mischievous sitting. It gets a whole lot worse than that, but I'll leave it there. Many of you have asked about Landon's specific symptoms. The range of complications with the 22q deletion/DiGeorge Syndrome is huge, and we feel extremely blessed that Landon is only mildly affected so far. What we know of at this point is that he has low muscle tone and a speech delay/articulation problems. And if you've read the list of possible symptoms - that's pretty amazing. [He did have feeding problems as a baby because of his palate/low tone, and he got a lot of upper respiratory infections as a baby, but those have resolved as he's gotten older.]

His low muscle tone is very mild - it makes him really clumsy, but he's come a long way in occupational and physical therapy, so we are thankful for that. I will forever remember (and love) his drunken little run. His speech is also affected by the low tone, but his speech pathologist also thinks it may be a bit of motor planning/lack of awareness and his high, narrow palate. At this point, there's nothing we can really do for any of those things except lots of therapy. He had his annual evaluation in speech a few weeks ago, and his therapist was blown away by how much he comprehended (they have a standardized test). So far, he is cognitively where he should be. We were so encouraged by that! I'm so grateful for Landon's therapists. They have worked so hard with him, pushed him, cared for him, loved him. I'm pretty sure I'd go nutty working with kids all day. But wait, I do. And I am nutty. Never mind.

Landon got a full cardio workup soon after we got the diagnosis, and everything was completely normal. I asked the cardiologist what the chances were for Landon to develop heart issues, and he said zero. Praise God for that! We also saw the neurosurgeon because of Landon's abnormalities that showed up on his brain MRI, but turns out they weren't so "abnormal." They are basically a normal variation, something that anyone could have - most of us just don't have brain scans. We also took Landon to the ENT to check for a submucous cleft palate and something called VPI (just google it if you're interested - I'll just confuse you more if I try to explain it). He has neither.

We met with a geneticist (via Skype - how cool is that!) from the University of Florida, and he was great. We asked him why Landon's case was so mild, and his answer: we just don't know. He said that's something they are still trying to figure out - why some people are so intensely affected, and others - you'd never really know. From what they understand, it seems that there is something protecting the genes from being completely altered and affected. But we know it's not just "something" - it was God. He could have let Landon have the full range of defects/disabilities, but He chose to preserve him. That was yet another gracious reminder of His goodness to us.

The geneticist told us some things we already knew from researching - things I almost wish I didn't know.  Most (read: 99%) of them have learning difficulties/disabilities when they begin school. Obviously, every person is going to be affected differently, but school tends to be hard and just gets harder the older they get and the more abstract the concepts. They can struggle socially. There are a lot of psychiatric issues that people affected with the 22q deletion can have - ranging from ADHD to depression and anxiety to schizophrenia. These are the things that scare me the most. I have absolutely no way of knowing how Landon will be affected, and yes, I know - that's probably better. But every day, I wonder if he will have good friends. Make it in a normal classroom. Be able to go to college. Have a job he loves. Live a normal life.

There are days I feel strong, hopeful, confident that Landon's future is bright. Those days, I believe that this little boy I love so desperately will move mountains with his sweet heart and joyful spirit. And there are days when I simply feel broken, hopeless, confused. It is those moments that I just want to be a soccer mom, caught up in mommy wars, my biggest concern what school he'll go to or if he has the right soccer uniform. I will admit I've had more of those days lately. It's hard watching Landon get older - as he gets closer to 3, the more obvious his speech issues become, and the further they set him apart from his peers.

And, in so many ways, I feel lonelier now than I've ever felt. Sure, I have a support group on Facebook for DiGeorge kids, and I can go Googling and find other moms with special needs kids, but mostly, I see these perfect children all around me, in my Facebook feed, in church nursery, running through the grocery store, saying cute, hilarious things. That is hard. Harder than I can express.

I would love to be able to believe that Landon won't struggle with school or social acceptance or psychological issues. I hope he'll be able to do something he loves, fulfill his dreams, have great friends. But that, of course, is not what truly matters. What I long for more than anything is that Landon will come to see His need for a Savior. I pray constantly that God will use our little Landon to make His name great; that his weaknesses will push him closer to God and make him love others in a big way.

Over the past several months, I have cried so many times to the Lord. "Why? Why me? Why us? Why our little Landon? Couldn't You have chosen someone else?" Of course, I know He could have. But the fact is - He didn't. And since I know He is working all things out for our good and the glory of His name, I have to believe He chose the best path for us. I read an excerpt from a sermon by Dr. Wilson Benton recently, and I would share all of it if I had the time to type it all up, but I must get sleep while my children sleep. ;)

"You are one person living at one place, at one point in time and even if God chose to explain to you how all of the pieces of his giant puzzle are fitting together in a manner consistent with his own righteous and holy and gracious nature, so that he may faithfully fulfill his promise in your life and work everything that happens to you for your good, you couldn't understand it. But you can believe that God is loving enough, and powerful enough, and wise enough, and gracious enough, and faithful enough to you to do what he says when he promises to work everything for your good.

What is the greatest tragedy this world has ever seen? What is the worst crime that has ever been committed? What is the most horrible thing that has ever happened in the history of mankind? Was it not the crucifixion of the only good, righteous, perfect man that ever lived? Of course. Did God bring anything good out of that evil event? What a foolish question for me to ask. Out of the worst thing that ever happened in the world, God brought the greatest triumph ever known in this world - your salvation and my salvation, the deliverance of all his people. Our holy, righteous God used that awful, evil, horrible, terrible thing, the crucifixion of his own Son, to bring forth the greatest good this world has ever known."

We would appreciate your prayers for our little guy in three areas:

- Progress in speech, particularly articulation.
- Increase in his attention span (apparently this is pretty common with DiGeorge kids)
- Ease of transitioning as we make several moves over the next year.

I still have no idea about this parenting thing. No, really. Randy and I laugh at ourselves all the time. "Remember that one time we said that would never happen...? Oops." I don't think that God gave me a special needs child because He knows I can handle it. I believe He gave Landon to me because He knows I can't. I am completely aware of my helplessness on so many levels. So here I am, making a miserable mess of this parenting thing, daily dependent on His sweet grace and tender mercies.

And isn't that the very best place to be?

Landon: a New Chapter

I'm sitting outside, watching my little Landon pour water into buckets and run around saying hey to the cars who drive by. I never imagined I'd be in Pensacola at this point in my life. Well, let's back up. I never imagined myself married to a man in the military, much less a pilot! I also never imagined having a surprise baby less than two years into marriage. I never imagined how much I could love something so small and frustrating and amazing. And I never imagined that one day he'd be diagnosed with a genetic disorder.

I've done a lot of thinking, processing, and filtering before writing this post. I'm not writing this to make you feel sorry for us. In fact, I want just the opposite! But I do want to share this new journey we're on because I want Jesus' name to be made great. Life is not about us. It's about Jesus and the Gospel. And that transforms how we look at... well, everything.

I guess I'll just start way back when we first got our sweet little Landon. I've mentioned before that he wouldn't latch on to nurse for several weeks after he was born. I figured I was doing something wrong, and we just worked through it until he got the hang of it a couple months later. Little did I know that was only the beginning! Landon has something called "low muscle tone" or, if you want me to get medical, hypotonia. It's still a bit confusing to me, but I found an example that explains it a whole lot better than I could.

So, when Landon was trying to figure out how to nurse, his muscles were having an incredibly hard time coordinating to latch on and suck. But since he overcame the nursing issues relatively fast, we didn't really think much of it. (He also has a high, narrow palate, which can also make nursing tricky, but no one ever noticed it.) 

Landon reached all his milestones on time except for walking - he was 15 months when he finally walked independently. His low muscle tone is extremely mild, so not a single pediatrician ever noticed it (and we've been to plenty with our military moves). A physical therapist of my mom's was actually the first one to mention it when she saw him once. At that point, though, he was still young and making progress, so I didn't think much of it.

But most noticeable of all was (and is!) Landon's speech delay. He started saying dada around 9 months, and then added a few other words by the time he was 15 months. His pediatrician thought we should wait a few more months until he needed to be evaluated by a speech therapist. 18 months rolled around, and we still weren't seeing much more than a few more word approximations. Always lots of babbling, but nothing clear. He started speech therapy for a few months, but we decided to take him out and give him some more time since there are plenty of kids with speech delays who finally catch up around 2 or 2.5. But when he turned 2, and things still weren't progressing, I decided to put him back in therapy. We saw small improvements over the last several months, particularly after getting tubes put in his ears, but nothing huge. At this point, he says about six words clearly: hey, mama, daddy, baby, bye-bye, and bomb (don't ask - we didn't teach him that one). He has over a hundred word "approximations" (um... like "dur" for drink), but no one understands them except for Randy and me, and usually that's only because of context... and the fact that we're with him 24/7. So when I read about mamas who are super excited that their baby said "love you," I want to cry - I'm just wanting Landon to say one word, any word, clearly!

Anyway, a pediatrician at church mentioned that he most likely needed to be in occupational and physical therapy for the low muscle tone, so we started those within the next few weeks. He has some mild fine and gross motor delays, but nothing that his therapists think can't be overcome. I asked his PT if she thought I should take him to the neurologist just to see if he would be able to find a cause of the low muscle tone. She said they may never be able to find a cause, but sure, why not. His pediatrician, who is great, didn't think we needed to see neuro at this point, but I went with my mommy gut and made the appointment. 

We got in to see the pediatric neurologist pretty quickly. He asked a lot of questions, did a lot of poking and prodding, then ordered a bunch of tests to rule out things. He was very positive and said Landon appeared to be developing appropriately, but he wanted to make sure nothing else was going on. Landon had an MRI a couple of days later, and when we got the results, I thought we'd finally gotten an answer! Without getting too technical, Landon has some mild developmental abnormality in his cerebellar area. Explained the low muscle tone. I read a lot about it, but knew I'd have to wait until the neurologist could explain it all to us. Randy was able to get off work to be with us for the follow-up appointment. 

I was pretty nervous going in to the appointment, just because I always get nervous before those types of things, but I figured we'd get a quick explanation and be done with it. The neurologist came in and explained his cerebellar issue and said that Landon would need to see a neurosurgeon for some extra fluid that showed up, but nothing was particularly worrisome. He then looked down at the paperwork in front of him and said, "But what's more concerning is his genetic testing." I felt sick. Somewhere, deep in my mommy gut, I'd known something wasn't right. 

The neurologist went on to explain that Landon had a deletion on his 22nd chromosome, otherwise known as DiGeorge syndrome. I'd actually read about it when I was doing research on Landon's delays, but I didn't think much of it because I figured we'd be seeing some other major problems with a chromosomal disorder. All I remembered reading about, though, was really awful and severe. The neurologist didn't really know much about it, but he referred us over to several specialists and left. Quite honestly, I don't know a lot of what he said because within a few seconds, my world had turned upside down. I was sick, scared, and completely overwhelmed. I wanted so badly for all of it to be a bad dream so I could wake up and look at my sweet, perfect little boy and say that he was normal.

Randy and I drove home quietly while Landon giggled and chattered in the back seat. When we got home, I read to him and put him down for a nap like I always do. Randy went in to kiss him before he went to sleep. I went out to the living room and cleaned up food that Landon had spilled on the carpet. And then I cried. I cried for my little boy, for our family, for the future. I cried until I didn't think I could cry any more, and then I cried some more. And then Randy came out to the living room and we cried out to Jesus together. 

I struggle so much with unknowns. I struggle with giving up control over so many things, but especially my children. I struggle with simply trusting God. 

And I don't know what the future holds for Landon. I don't know whether he will develop normally or if he will end up having severe mental deficits. I don't know if he will develop heart problems and need surgery. I don't know if he will ever speak clearly. I don't know why God kept the ultrasound techs and doctors from seeing his brain abnormalities when he was in the womb. I don't know why God allowed us to find this out in the middle of Randy's flight training. And I don't know why God chose me to be Landon's mommy.

But here is what I do know. My little Landon is fearfully and wonderfully made. When God was forming him in the womb, He shaped him just how he was supposed to be. Those missing genes? Not a mistake. He didn't form Landon and then sit back and wring His hands and wonder how it would all work out. No; He is a perfect Creator and never falters in His purposes for a second. 

I know my God is sovereign, good, kind, wise, and faithful. He is on His throne, in control of every single event and detail in our lives. We have been overwhelmed with His grace this past week. He has lovingly sustained us and given us the peace to know that He cares for Landon, even more than we do (which is hard for me to imagine!). Our trust in God's unchanging character enables us to look at this overwhelming situation and be at rest. 

I know that Jesus will never, ever leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. I know the path ahead is a long one with many hurdles. But Jesus is with us, guiding our every step, aware of everything ahead. When our hearts are overwhelmed, we can cling to Him!

I know that this is another opportunity for me to cling to the truth of the Gospel. If God gave up His Son to redeem me from all my sin and secure an eternity in heaven with Him, how will He not, along with Him, give me all things (Romans 8:32)? All things does not mean that Landon lives a "normal" life or ends up with no medical issues; it means that a God who willingly gave up His only begotten Son will give us all things that work for our good and His glory. 

Strange as this may sound, I feel privileged that God has sent us this trial. Not because it's an easy one. But because it shows just how much our God loves us and how serious He is about our growth in grace. He doesn't send trials to push us further away from Him. He sends trials so that through them, He can weed out sin, draw us closer to Himself, and grow our faith in Him. I have told God so many times since receiving the news that I just can't do it. And I can't. I never will be able to. But Jesus is bigger and stronger than all my fears and doubts and insecurities, and He will give grace for every struggle.

The night we got the news, I held Landon tight as he slept. And I knew he was the same little boy I'd hugged good morning. He was the same crazy, sweet little boy I've been falling in love with for the last two years. He has so many strengths, and a diagnosis doesn't take them away. I love that he loves people and says hi to random strangers. I love that he has an insatiable curiosity for the world around him, even when that leads to drinking canola oil and toilet water. I love his enthusiasm for all of life. I love that he is so amazingly happy the majority of the time [to this day, he has actually never thrown a tantrum... knock on wood!]. I love his funny little drunken sailor run. I love his snuggles and hugs and kisses. I love that he still sleeps 14-15 hours a day. I love his over-the-top love for his little brother. I love that he has taught me so much about life and love and pain and joy and heartache and patience and grace. I love that God, in His inexpressible kindness, gave Landon to me.

A few weeks ago, when we just began figuring out there was more to his delays than we'd initially realized, the words to an old hymn came to my mind, and they have been there since.

Whate’er my God ordains is right,

His holy will abideth;

I will be still whate’er He doth,

And follow where He guideth.

He is my God,

Though dark my road,

He holds me that I shall not fall,

Wherefore to Him I leave it all.

Whate’er my God ordains is right,

He never will deceive me;

He leads me by the proper path,

I know He will not leave me,

And take content

What He hath sent;

His hand can turn my griefs away,

And patiently I wait His day.

Whate’er my God ordains is right,

His loving thought attends me;

No poison’d draught the cup can be

That my Physician sends me,

But medicine due

For God is true,

And on that changeless truth I build,

And all my heart with hope is fill’d.

Whate’er my God ordains is right,

Though now this cup in drinking

May bitter seem to my faint heart,

I take it all unshrinking;

Tears pass away

With dawn of day,

Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,

And pain and sorrow shall depart.

Whate’er my God ordains is right,

Here shall my stand be taken;

Though sorrow, need, or death be mine,

Yet am I not forsaken,

My Father’s care

Is round me there,

He holds me that I shall not fall,

And so to Him I leave it all.

The Summer of the Cold

No, I'm not talking about the weather. A heat index of 108 degrees tells me otherwise.

What I am speaking of is the ridiculous virus Landon and I have shared this summer. We got it from Randy in June (yes, he was sick, and I still kissed him!). Typical symptoms... cough, cold, sore throat, etc. What is not normal is that it lasted for a month. Finally, this past Monday, my little guy was pretty much back to normal. But guess what he woke up with on Thursday morning? Yup. Another cold. Courtesy of my sweet family this time. ;)

He's normally a great sleeper - goes down between 7/7:30 and gets up between 7/7:30 the next morning... but not when he's sick. Any of you mommies find anything that particularly helps? Other than the typical remedies.. saline drops, humidifier, etc.

I've gotta say, though, for the most part, he's still pretty happy. Definitely not my temperament when I'm feeling icky. Kudos to you, son!