May 13: A Stick, My Son, Fears and Prayers

"That's a fine spider and I'm going to capture it," said Avery.  He took the cover off the candy box.  Then he picked up a stick.  "I'm going to knock that ol' spider into this box," he said.

Avery's a pretty typical little boy.  He likes spiders and frogs.  He's jealous of his sister.  And he leaves mayhem and disaster in his wake.  In his attempt to capture Charlotte, he accidentally smashes a rotten goose egg, filling the entire barn with a horrible stink.


My son is Avery times ten thousand.  This afternoon, he got into trouble on the playground.  He decided to kill a tree.  He bent it over until it snapped, and then he wouldn't go back to his classroom.  Sat out in the hallway instead.  The playground aide said it was like my son didn't even hear her.  He was "just gone."

Of course, having a history with mental illness, I immediately jump to the conclusion that my son is suffering from bipolar or schizophrenia or dissociative personality disorder (whatever that is).  My radar for those kinds of things is super-sensitive.  Overly sensitive, probably.  Chances are, my son is just a normal boy, full of the devil sometimes.

I just wish he wouldn't be so . . . destructive and uncontrollable sometimes.  One therapist has called him a "strong-willed" child.  I think that term is a little too delicate.  My son is a Herculean-willed child.  And he's putting us through the twelve labors, if you know what I mean.

So, my prayer intention this week is for my son.

Dear God,

I know You never give me any problem that is impossible.  Life is a series of problems.  If we don't have problems, we're not really living.  I'm just asking for guidance and help with my son.  Help me understand how to help him.  Still my fears and give me peace.  And still my son's wild mind.

I'm afraid my son is beyond my help, but I know he's never beyond Your help.  So please send him Your love and guidance.

Your loving child,

Saint Marty

My son fighting the tree