Holding Life with Open Hands

Lately, life with Shia has felt especially unpredictable.

Some nights I’m abruptly awakened because his body is communicating that something is off.

Some mornings he wakes up already dysregulated.

Some nights he goes to bed that way.

Sometimes we leave therapy early because his nervous system simply can’t settle.

Other times, he’ll be happily playing on the floor when, without warning, something shifts.

And because he’s non-speaking, there are moments when I can’t always tell exactly what he’s trying to communicate.

I just know something feels different.

So I listen.

More closely than usual.

Last night, after a long bath, he became a completely different little boy.

Peaceful.

Regulated.

Making all his happy sounds.

He fell asleep with ease.

Then early this morning…

His body told a different story.

So we slowed down again.

We breathed.

We waited.

Eventually, peace returned.

That’s what this season has looked like.

A lot of unknowns.

A lot of pivoting.

A lot of meeting him exactly where he is.

When my boy needs me…

Everything else slows down.

So I do what I know to do.

I become still.

I pray.

I listen for that quiet voice that has guided me for so many years.

Not because I always know what to do…

But because peace is what I have to bring into the room.

Sometimes the greatest gift I can offer my son isn’t another solution.

It’s a calm, steady presence.

Autism has taught me that.

Military life has taught me that too.

Both have taught me how quickly life can change.

How little control we actually have.

And how much peace is found when we stop gripping so tightly.

I’ve come to realize that peace isn’t created by having a predictable life.

It’s created by learning to hold life with open hands.

To trust.

To adapt.

To stay rooted when everything around you keeps changing.

I don’t fully understand what this season is teaching me yet.

But I can feel something shifting.

I’m learning to listen more closely.

To hold more loosely.

To keep showing up for what matters most.

Because peace isn’t the absence of uncertainty.

It’s choosing to remain steady in the middle of it.

And maybe that’s where God has been meeting me all along.

Not after life settles down.

But right here…

In the middle of the unknown.

~~~~~~~

Part of the Breadcrumbs collection by Abby Lewis—true stories that leave room for God to speak.