Did you hear that sound? That's the sound of a door slamming shut. BANG.
I am devastated by this development. I thought, finally, here was something that might help my son feel OK in his own body for the first time. I can't imagine how it must feel for him, where the gentlest touch can be excruciating, and background noises are impossible to filter. His body is his enemy; frustration and anger bubble up uncontrollably. He is constantly searching for ways to temper the never-ending barrage of sensory input, but most, if not all, of his self-coping mechanisms are socially unacceptable or even harmful. I've tried to help him...Lord knows, I've tried my best...but in this case, my best is sorely lacking. I just don't know how to help him. I thought OT was an answer to my prayers. I allowed myself to hope, to believe, to dream of a normalized future for my boy. But now, with no guarantee of success, and a $200 per hour price tag, occupational therapy is out of reach.
So yeah, I've been crying a lot.
Have you heard that saying, when God closes a door, He opens a window? Several years ago, when my husband found out his company was closing its doors and he would be out of a job, I started praying that God would provide a new job for him. When it became obvious that Hubby would receive multiple job offers, I started praying that if God had a preference as to which job he took, that God would make it obvious.
Just like that, one offer was rescinded, and taking another offer would have required a major pay cut. Another company couldn't give us an answer as quickly as they had promised. Couldn't get much more obvious than that. Slam! Slam! Slam! More doors closing. I know Hubby was disappointed, and I was, too, because I think we would have loved living there, but I was secretly thrilled by such a complete and decisive answer to prayer. And so we made our way to the upper Midwest.
When those doors slammed shut all those years ago, there was already an open window, just waiting for us to climb through.
This time, there is no window. This time, it's a lot harder to believe that there will be a window. I thought I had faith before, but that's not exactly true.
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1 (TNIV)
Of course I believed that God would provide an open window, an alternate solution, when that solution was already on the table, out in the open.
But now, with God's help, I have faith, truly and completely, even though it's hard to see past the solid, reverberating door blocking the way in front of me, that in God's perfect timing, a window will open. I am certain of it. I have to be.