Today, our son should have completed his first week of school back in our home district, but instead, he is stumbling across the Friday finish line somewhere else. Jude, our 15 year old autistic son, has been living in a state supported living center for the last 2 and a half years due to aggressive and impulsive behaviors. He has made tremendous progress there, so during his last annual review, his team recommended he move to a less restrictive environment. We began making plans for the transition back home, since his data and regular weekend home visits were so positive, but last week, only a few days before his discharge, he had a sudden burst of unbridled aggression that ended in an emergency restraint to keep everyone safe. The living center is a no restraint facility, but the blocking pads were not within reach, so the responding staff had no other choice. Jude had cornered a female DSP for no apparent reason and was doing all that he could to hurt her. With only a table between them, she screamed for help and two male staff came quickly to assist. They tried blocking him but he was laser focused on getting to the woman. One of the males ended up on the floor bear hugging Jude to protect the woman. “Come on man,” he said as he gently patted my son’s chest to calm him. But, Jude was relentless, so the struggle continued. DSP’s who work with my son started showing up in hopes that their familiarity might distract him, but it didn’t instantly. The fight went on and it took Jude several minutes to de-escalate. To my knowledge, no one was hurt, but he was immediately put back on closer supervision due to the sudden change of behavior and the several PICA incidents he’d been having.

Jon and I were taken aback by the sudden attack. He hasn’t acted like this in over a year. We had hoped it was only a one time reaction to a small medication increase of his Abilify (adjusted to address exacerbated OCD behavior), but, more aggressive episodes at school disproved that theory. The first day of school he attempted an elopement which escalated into aggression, thankfully not toward a person, but yesterday, he was sent home after fully escalating into physical aggression toward staff after a DSP tried to stop two PICA attempts-one with a rock and another with a dead bug.

The moment I heard those words, my heart sank. There should be words in our language reserved only for those who experience pain like this. As a mother, it does’t feel fair to try and explain the emotions in my heart from an over used and watered down main stream lexicon. The instilling of maternal love is divine, and the grief she experiences from child loss is equally as un-earthly. There is nothing to which I can adequately compare it, nor should I try. A mother’s bereaved heart stands alone and can only be understood by walking the dreaded path yourself.

Our plan was to pick Jude up last Monday. We made all the arrangements and talked it over with him multiple times. His room was ready. His siblings were eager to welcome him back and all his supports were in place. But then, the unexpected happened and Jon and I were left in a panic. We had been experiencing small aggressive outbursts over the last month, but nothing we felt that we couldn’t handle. I had been documenting everything and taking each one seriously. The mild up tick of behaviors from the last 30 days made me nervous, but moving our son out of the SSLC still seemed like the best decision. Jude so badly wants to be home and we want that too. After we were notified of the event last Thursday, Jon picked up the phone and called the assistant director of the facility, someone we have grown to love and trust, to seek her wisdom. She advised that we put a 30 day hold on Jude’s move to see where these behaviors may be headed. Contrary to what we had thought, once he leaves the SSLC, his spot is not saved in case the transition isn’t successful. We would have to start the months long process all over again and there is no guarantee that the SSLC closest to us would have an opening. This could potentially put Jude even further away from us. It was just too risky, so we pushed pause on the move.

Jude was so relieved to be moving home that I have been plagued with the thought that the delay could be causing all the behaviors. Is he acting out because he just wants to be with us, or would he be acting this way at home too? The sad reality is that the stakes are too high to test the “at home” hypothesis to know for sure. Instead, we are enslaved to erring on the side of caution, which means, for now,

It’s hard to believe that we’re here again, but today as I read in Exodus, I was reminded that the Lord reigns sovereign, even over a mother’s traumatic separation of her child. When Jochebed realized that she could no longer hide Moses from the cruelty of Pharaoh, she sent her daughter Miriam to hide him in a carefully sealed basket among snakes and crocodiles in the bullrushes. Surely, she questioned why God would allow such a traumatic separation between herself and her helpless baby. Surely, she could barely eat, sleep or think straight, worried sick about Moses’ survival without her. Yet, despite all the unanswered questions and emotions in her heart, Jochebed exemplified great courage and entrusted Moses to God. I have read this Bible story a thousand times before, but today, a different connection was made. The similarities of our stories unsurfaced and gave me a deep connection with the Hebrew mother’s grief. Jochebed, a newly discovered friend to me, became like one with whom I would love to share a coffee and box of Kleenex.

Which, if I did get that privilege, I imagine she would say,

I too have placed my son, equally as helpless, into the arms of another. From afar I watch him every day and pray God will protect him in my absence. My heart is strengthened to know that Moses was never in any real danger, but rather living out the prewritten, spell bounding story of his life that would herald the gospel throughout the history of time. The same loving hand that protected a 3 month old baby in the vicious Nile waters, is protecting my son too. Not all of us get to have our babies for 18 years, but not all of us get to see them used to reach so many lives either. The earthly sacrifices some parents are forced to make for an eternal story, will be instantly forgotten when our heavenly day arrives.

We all have to put our children into the bullrushes at some point, but some of us have to painfully early-so early that they can fit into a tiny basket. Regardless of the “when,” this indisputable truth applies to all of us:

Job perfectly states it, “the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” My will has only one part to play in that scripture-not in the giving, nor in the taking away, only in blessing the name of the Lord. It is not up to me when and why God decides to take back those precious things that He so graciously gave me in the first place. But, it is up to me whether or not I continue to bless the name of the Lord. Today, I find myself in the “taking away.” And though it may seem to be the greatest tragedy of my life thus far, I will follow the example of a mother who has earned my watching eye and bravely put my son into the bullrushes. Like Jochebed, I too believe that I will find Yahweh to be the greatest refuge my son will ever need.