Peace

I imagined them in a circle - surrounding me and looking down at me. Each person glared at me with a scowl. Some pointed their fingers. I felt the pain in my side as one of them kicked me. “You are a pathetic son.” “Look at the mess you’ve made.” “You are an incompetent parent.” You are a terrible Christian.” “You are a failure.” The feelings were overwhelming. Then I pictured Jesus in a white robe, taking my hand and helping me up. “I love you, son - no matter what - I’m proud of you.” Maybe the therapy and EMDR was working. At least I could take the thoughts captive. I could counter the negative emotions. I could at least temporarily silence the voices. 

My son had just returned from camp. I had just gotten home from work and my son hugged me as he stepped out of the van, a beaming smile across his face. He was happy and he actually missed us. He couldn’t stop talking about the fun he had had. This year, he was surrounded by friends. He liked his counselor. He loved the water slide. He had a blast flying off the blob into the lake. Shockingly, he even liked the food! We had been praying and God had answered our prayers. But less than 24 hours later, things were already returning to normal. He was a different kid at home. Maybe because he felt safe around us. At least that’s what the therapist told us. I hated the way he talked to my wife. The way he treated his sister. His constant discontentment. He was always asking for more. “Take me out to eat.” “Buy me a new game.” “Why can’t I be on social media like all my friends?” “It’s not fair.” “You should sign up for this.” “You should buy this.” “You should get this.” "Why don't we have this?"

Someday, I hoped God would use my son’s intensity and persistence for good. But on Saturday, I couldn’t handle it. I missed my son while he was at camp, but I didn’t miss the stress. My shoulders, my back, everything inside me had tensed up. I was prepping for the sucker punch. We all felt it. My wife and daughter were on edge as well. The tension continued throughout the weekend. Sunday morning, the anxiety lingered. I couldn’t even sing at church. I just sat down and tried to hide the tears. My seven-year-old daughter gently leaned her head against my shoulder and held my hand. “Even when I don’t feel it, You’re working,” the worship leader sang. I sure hoped so. God, when would this end? Were things ever going to get better? Why couldn’t every day be like Friday night? For a second, my son was content and he was thankful to be home. These were the moments I wished I could freeze in time. I just couldn’t stomach going back to the way things were. I couldn’t forget how things went last year.

I suppose God is still teaching me - and whether I like it or not, He is using my son. My son is moody, but so am I. My son is almost always discontent. He wants more apps, more fast food and more freedom. Often, I just want peace and quiet. I want to write songs again. Once in a while, I'd like to have a creative inner dialog which isn’t interrupted. I want to have grown up conversations and grown up time with my wife. I feel like my son is constantly hi jacking my emotions and my thoughts. Even while I’m writing this, I can hear him upstairs complaining about shutting down his computer during a thunderstorm…and he just sent me an app request…and now I hear yelling. Day in, day out - this is how it goes. I’ve gotten better at managing my focus and emotions, but there are times when I let my son control me. As I do, I crack the door and before I know it, that same circle of negative voices are dictating my joy and self worth. Then I think of God’s love and patience with me. All my mistakes. All my wanderings. All the discontentment. All the selfishness. How I wish I could have the same patience and love for my son. I know I can’t change him. The only thing I can control is my perspective and attitude. My son is a hurting ADHD eleven-year-old looking for love. I’m not sure that he understands why he feels the way he does and why he does the things he does. There are times when I feel like I don’t have the strength or wisdom to be his dad. All I can do is be there when he needs me and wants me in his life. Everything in between is a fight. In the end, I just need to pray more and believe more.

There are days when I close my eyes and picture a different future world. My son is a mature adult. He’s kind to his wife and those around him. He loves his parents and his sister. He puts others first. Most importantly, he loves Jesus. He’s happy. He’s content. Then I come back to the (almost) present and imagine my son at camp, surrounded by friends and at peace. Maybe this is in fact “the true Josh.” I only hope we’ll see more of him as he grows more confident in God’s love. I’m praying I’ll grow in that confidence as well. Like the song, I know that God is still working. Even when I don’t see it…and even when I don’t feel it, God is indeed working.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9