Have you ever had something in your life that you just tolerate, accommodate for, and get a long with? You know it’s there but you keep moving forward, because what choice do you really have? Then when you really stop to look at it, it instantly breaks your heart into a million little pieces?

Tonight, my heart is shattered on the floor. I’m trying to find the courage to sweep the pieces up so I can offer them to God. I know He is able to restore. I know He is able to rebuild. I know He will get the glory. That gives me hope. And tonight I am still sad.

Tomorrow my son turns 18. It’s one of those milestone moments parents prepare themselves for from the time their child is born. It’s that sending off moment. It’s time to let him stand on his own and be accountable for his actions. It’s a time of hoping you’ve done everything you can and prepared them to eventually fly the nest. Whether you’re ready as a parent of not, this is the time. It’s time for my son to have wings and fly.

But that’s not where he is. And the realization that he may never be is hard. More than hard. It’s heart shattering.

I remember holding him as a baby and praying over him. I recall the dreams I had for him. Dreams I still have for him. And I have to let some of those go.

My Jacob has a form of autism. He’s not severely impacted. But it impacts him. Everyday. We make accommodations through out the day so we can get through each day. He has serious learning disabilities. He reads and writes at about a second grade level. Including phonetic spelling of most words. There are other medical factors complicating all of this.

At 18, he’s not able to make his own decisions. I still need to be able to advocate for him. So I’m in the middle of putting many things in place to protect his legal rights, educational rights, and have access to medical decisions. It’s dealing with attorneys, school officials, advocacy groups, state agencies, and social security. It’s what needs to be done. It’s overwhelming to do on my own.

And tomorrow we will celebrate together that he is officially 18. We will celebrate that he is starting his senior year of high
school next week. We will celebrate how his faith is growing. We will celebrate his silliness and the million ways he makes me laugh. We will celebrate all of the stories that he tells me. We will celebrate his quirkiness and uniqueness. We will celebrate this long journey full of ups and downs that we’ve been on. We will celebrate his growth and success.
We will celebrate now and this moment we have.

And tonight, my heart is in a million pieces.