[Note: This is a Facebook post by renowned activist and author Lisa Joyce Goes, who co-founded Thinking Mom’s Revolution.]
I will be off FB for the holiday weekend. Before I go I have a hard uncomfortable message to deliver.
I know it is hard watching me talk about recovery and restoration when you are in the thick of it and your kid is abusing you and herself or himself and life seems dire and miserable. I hear from many of you. Probably more now, than I did back when we identified the source of Noah’s brain damage back in 2008.
I also know what I have been saying as of late does not mesh with many of you. I know that when you tell me you need help and you run down the litany of verifiable proven medical issues your child suffers and I respond with “tell a different story, stop identifying with this one, give it over to God and start healing your own heart first” you want to throat punch me with a jackhammer.
There is so much unsettled, so much injustice and pain and financial anguish and suffering and it is in the present. NOW. And you flip me the imaginary bird in your mind.
I could have a recovered kid if I had “XYZ” but I don’t have “XYZ” and that is life and I am a realist and this is how it is.
Stop being afraid to be crazy. You already crossed over into that camp the day you read the science that proved your child was vaccine injured and began to pursue healing.
We are all part of a much greater political, societal, financial, spiritual awakening. Our children’s suffering is not in vain. There is so very much more to it, and my friends and I can barely keep up with all the folks wanting information and help.
But we are not the magic bullet either. Oils are not the magic bullet. Clean food is not the magic bullet.
YOUR choosing what is and committing to it with your whole heart and pursuing it in unshakeable faith IS.
I remember lying on the floor in Noah’s room with a bloody nose that came from a spat about food. That food was thrown all over my clothes, the wrist of my sopping wet hoodie was congealing to the shag of his carpeting. I began uttering sounds beyond human sobs–while he laughed hysterically dancing around me, biting himself. I remember thinking it would just be the very very best thing if I had a heart attack on the spot–a really really good one–none of that revivable pansy ass heart attack sh*t–I mean a good solid dead on the spot heart attack.
And, God completely abandoned me then. Just would not let me die. Just left my puffy, bloodied, miserable body there on the ground with my dancing abusive child. My husband in another country. My neurotypical kids hiding under the kitchen table doing their homework.
And then the still small whisper.
It always comes in that moment of absolute despair.
No, there were no angels and trumpets and Noah did not glow with healing light.
“Get up and call Jane.”
“Go read that email Helen sent you. There is something to that.”
“Rest now, there will be time for this in the morning.”
“Eat the arugula and the kale and leave the spinach this time.”
“Give him two doses of the ferments instead of three.”
“Rub frankincense on his big toe.”
“Go play classical music.”
“Get a dog.”
Miracles are sometimes gentle soft promptings. Miracles are most often soft gentle promptings. Miracles…9 times out of 10 are soft gentle promptings.
Miracles are available to EVERYONE. Do not second guess yourself.
One miracle builds upon another. And another and another. And all of a sudden the miracle you have before you is described as “great luck” or “a coincidence.”
Do you want a miracle? IF you do–DEFINE IT CLEARLY. Allow yourself to go there.
OR…do you want to be heard and acknowledged more than you want to be healed because you have been doing this so damn long?
If it is the latter, I am begging you to stop telling the story that is bringing you more of your story. Because it can get so big it will consume you. Trust me.
While I am not a fan of pop-psychology, there is something to Dr. Phil’s “fake it til you make it”.
A year ago, still in the thick of it, Noah was losing his mind on our commute to his school. Traffic was bad, I turned the wrong way, and he was screaming for me to stop the car and turn it around so he could go look at ceiling fans in a restaurant we passed.
I looked him in the eye, and smiled and said, “buddy. You don’t do this anymore. Now hold my hand and let’s say a prayer.”
He looked at me like I was out of my f*(king mind.
And extended his hand…
and I took it. And we prayed. Yes, I have heard the talk.
“You know, I saw them out the other day. He’s better…but…he’s not you know…like normal.”
This is the reasoning of man. Not GOD.
He is not normal. He is exceptional. Do we look at babies fresh out of the womb and say, “Well…I mean…he can’t…you know–walk yet. I don’t think he’s going to make it.” Do we look at people who’ve just had a trauma had have stitches and say, “oh that skin will never come back together.” Growth and recovery take time.
Get quiet in the midst of the pain. Listen to the promptings. Follow your heart. Reason and science are immensely compatible and familiar with the Divine. All connected. All one <3
Happy Gratitude Day
Much love and respect, lj
[Lisa Joyce Goes, via Facebook]