Last night I had The Worst dream. Noah was 2 years old, and not speaking. He had been taken away from me, living in a home somewhere and they asked if he knew English, because he didn't speak. He was so little, with baby teeth, and so helpless. They wouldn't give him back to me. I ran up and down the parking lot screaming in the night.
That is what it felt like when he was having seizures. The seizures took him away from me, but I got him back.
I did anything and everything, would have gone to the ends of the earth for Noah until I got him back. I know I dreamed this because of what I am going through now, and because I was thinking about this month being 5 years seizure-free for Noah. There was desperation and there was redemption.
I have been a mess lately, and have set my eyes on failure instead of success. I know better, oh boy do I know better. I know God is bigger, I know I know I know. I just get caught up in the lows of life, the lows of me. And from here, from there, it's hard to see anything else. Even the Greatness of God.
I'm a new yarn, I am a new day, I am a promise, I am a child of God. There is always desperation, and there is always redemption.
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