Thirty years later and the guilt eats at me. Whenever my son's suffering
increases I begin battling the same questions...The ones I've asked myself year after endless year.
"Why didn't I pray more?
Why didn't I hear God when I prayed about the vaccines?
Why Britton?
Where is God?
Why didn't God stop me?
Why doesn't He heal him?
Are we being punished?
Does God even love us anymore?
I decided to be transparent about the progression of blame. Because we all do it. We blame ourselves and when that overwhelms, we blame the greed of whoever is next in line (Big Pharm is always a valid choice at my house.) If that doesn't help, we go straight to the top and blame the King of the World. At least that's my progression. You might have a heart white as snow, but me...not so much.
I want to make the choices that are best for my son. But... I fail, again and again. I remind myself that it's most important that I make the choices that are best for my soul. Cause when I get to the end of this life, I pray to have made the choices that God would have me make. That's my goal...my out there, pie in the sky...goal.
"Please God help me make the right choices!" Every day, I ask...
I expect we all pray a similar prayer on a regular basis. Whether it's about autism, seizures, or whatever is happening in your life. Maybe it's about raising a rebellious teenager, or keeping your marriage together, or stressing because there's no way to retire? Taking care of an elderly parent? Maybe it's all of it?
A few Sundays ago, Britton asked me to type during church, and here is what he encouraged me with.