I wrote this while sitting in a doctor’s office last Thursday. I was tired. And frustrated. As a result, this post is very real. My hope in posting it, however, is not to complain, but that it may encourage some who can relate.  Thanks for reading and understanding. (And for the record… things have gone much better since).  : )

I know that all of life has the good and the bad. Mostly, I like to focus on the good.  After all, those of us with special needs siblings know that there is plenty of medical/behavioral/social/whatever drama that we certainly don’t need to add to it.

But then there are the days (or weeks… or months…) when life overwhelms the good. When you are sick of the doctors and the tantrums and the fact that you can’t even have a notebook all to yourself.

So here I am. Sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, recovering from the hour of screaming and hitting it took to get here, so Alyssa can get an EEG.  Sitting here, not wanting to find the good or be positive or even write a blog post at all.  Just wanting a week with no tantrums, no doctor appointments, no interruptions during work, no cleaning up messes that aren’t mine, no wandering through the house trying to find the notebook I bought and hid–but was apparently found nonetheless.  This is me… sitting here, being tired, and frustrated, and real. (If you have wondered why I haven’t written any blog posts for awhile–these are just a few of the reasons).

It’s not a bad doctor’s office, really. The walls are a warm, neutral color, the chairs are comfy, and they have free cappuccinos. That last point is a bit of a saving grace right now.  The TV show playing in the corner is making me laugh… some gourmet chef is making salmon and lentils and who knows what else. Makes me wonder what it might be like to cook a meal without worrying about allergies or having to keep the fridge locked every second so Alyssa doesn’t devour everything in it the minute you turn your back.

Yes, I am reduced to envying people without refrigerator locks.  It is THAT kind of day.

The kind of day when the small things have piled up so high and for so long, that they have become a BIG THING. And the big things… well, they are bigger and scarier and more overwhelming than usual and they reflect bigness and scary-ness and overwhelming-ness back into all those small things. It’s a bit of a vicious cycle.

So here I am. Hoping the doctors will give us a quick fix to the worsening tantrums and the new type of seizure. Wishing for a day when the movies stay on the shelf and the pens in the drawer and there are NOT millions of pieces of shredded paper to pick up every hour of every day. And maybe, just maybe, a day when the fridge doesn’t always have to be locked and notebooks stay neat and clean where I left them.

It’s the little things. And the big things. And I pray it all resolves soon. Yet I know certain truths… this too shall pass. There is grace for each day. New mercies in the morning.

In the midst of it all, I realize that the big things have become so big that they make the small things seem like mountains too. Yet I realize that I can choose–to leave the big things to God along with the small things.  I can take comfort in the song that says “I know there’ll be days/When this life brings me pain/But if that’s what it takes to praise You/Jesus, bring the rain.” 

I can choose grace.

I can choose to tuck her into bed, even when I’m still hurt by her tantrum. Or speak kindness instead of frustration over the 14th mess of the day. Or give a hug or hold her hand, though I’d rather have my own space. And maybe not worry too much if notebooks go missing.

It’s the small things. And maybe, eventually, the small things can equal big grace… even through the rain.