this is the start.

happy labor day!
i hope you are all enjoying the day “off.”
i’m working today, not sure about you.


the start of the new school year
has been kicking my behind.
it truly has.


i thought i would have a teensy bit more time
but it turns out,
now is not the time for that.


in short, L’s class at his new school,
(which by the way, we know God has led us to.
He even brought in a different teacher
than was there last year, who is amazing.
absolutely amazing)
is not prepared for a child with L’s difficulties.



it’s like my sweet friend said that she thinks
her daughter’s teacher is “overwhelmed”
by her daughter’s physical delays.
i. feel. the. exact. same. way.


i honestly can’t believe that i am needing to
teach teachers
and aides
how to properly handle L
in a classroom setting.


surely, surely
he can’t be the first child
they have been with
who cannot walk
at three years old.
but, it seems to be that way.


so instead of feeling
all warm and cozy
about his classroom setting,
as i am with both of the bigs’ classrooms,
i stay there.
with him.
for his two hour and 20 minute day
because he is not safe without someone
right there.
by his side.
all the time.

so for right now,
that someone is me.



i am so grateful that L is my caboose
and that i am able to stay there with him.
and that the bigs are loving school
and are not needing much of me
during those hours.


so i’m tired.
i’m worn out.
i feel like a broken record player
that only plays
“i’m wiped out”
to some annoying tune.


and i’m sad.
i’m sad that it’s not currently safe
for me to leave my special needs boy
in the special education department at a school
for fear that he will get
stepped on,
spit on,
and possibly have a seizure.
because i have protected him
from all of the above
while at school with him.


and i’m sad that my words of concern
to the people who are able to make changes
brush off L’s recent seizure activity
and try to convince me that
the adults in the classroom can take care of him just fine.


when it’s obvious that they can’t.
and he’s the last one
to get his snack or
wash his hands or
get to the playground or
to the art table
because they’ve totally and completely
got their hands full
and helping my little guy walk
is on the bottom of their lists.


we’re working on changing this.
all of this.
but it all takes a lot of time.
and a lot of follow up.
and a lot of standing up for what is right.
and a lot of speaking for your child
who cannot speak.


so we wait.
and we try to be lights
in this darkness.
in this seemingly forgotten area of public education.
where no one seems to be alarmed as i am
as to what i am seeing.
and that only three families
(which includes us)
were at the open house night
for L’s class where twenty-two children go to school each day
(12 in the morning class and 12 in the afternoon class).
three. families. total.


this is just the beginning of a long, long road
and i am praying for His perfect wisdom
for every step of the way.


i am still wiped out.
but i wait.
because i have true hope in Him
who knows our every need
and cares so, so deeply
for every single one of us.
me and you.


He will defend the afflicted among the people
and save the children of the needy;
he will crush the oppressor.
Psalm 72:4


2371. B letting me sleep for ten hours
2372. a quiet morning
2373. little purple flowers outside my window
2374. the slightest breeze
2375. impromptu in-home date night

Scroll to Top