Grace and Truth – Hannah’s Story

I walked towards the gate of Sunny’s new school this morning, behind the bars was an enclosed area for children to sit. My eyes found four children in wheelchairs. One little boy dangled bare feet from his chair, while another had his eyes closed and dribbled quietly in the corner of the schoolyard.

I gulped and took a breath; this is now where my boy ‘belongs,’ the revelation taunted me. I shut the gate behind me realising the severity of Sunny’s disability, it is worse than I thought. I heard a conversation in my head replay itself. ‘He can’t go to the local school; it doesn’t accommodate his needs, this school will be a better match.’

I felt my eyes prick with tears and my heart cracked just a little bit more. I cleared my throat and saw a teacher, introduced myself and felt my chin quiver. I could barely speak, “This is Sunny and it’s his first day here.” The warm, smiling face directed us to his classroom. I felt his hand touch mine, as he became scared, a child was walking towards us screaming, another was wearing earphones to block the surrounding noise out.

I tried to still the noise in my head. ‘Hold it together Hannah.’

I slide the glass door open to find his teacher calming more crying children in the classroom. I hung up Sunny’s bag, pulled his diapers out and placed them on his desk and then put his lunch in the fridge. I stood wide-eyed, looking around doing my best to ooze positivity. A short amount of time passes and I know it is inevitable; I must leave for the day.

I found my car, placed the keys in the ignition and turned it on but I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. I break into a silent sob, deep sadness seeping out of me.

Before Sunny was born I thought he’d be ‘normal and healthy.’ The reality is that he has an intellectual disability that amongst other challenges means he can’t have a proper conversation with me; he regularly has very public ‘meltdowns’ and still wears diapers.  More than once I have been out in public with him and barely resisted the urge to yell out  ‘Please stop staring, we are not a circus.’ It is exhausting and isolating and not what I imagined life for my child would be like.

I love him fiercely and so any form of judgement, rejection or even pity, directed towards Sunny wounds me too.  At times it is just much easier to hide or withdraw to protect him or me, or both of us, from that persistent voice that says ‘you don’t belong here.’

There’s nothing quite like it, that feeling of being displaced, of not quite fitting in. I know its not confined to me and my son. Even before I became Sonny’s mum I was familiar with that nagging feeling that can fill the pit of your stomach, ‘you don’t fit here, you’re not what or who we’re looking for.’

Over time I have become quite accomplished at protecting myself from potential rejection. Sometimes deliberately placing a wedge in my relationships, ensuring that there is a safe distance between disappointment and me. As much as I hated the feeling of distance the fear of being truly known was even more terrifying. So the barriers came up; some I couldn’t express or put language to, they were unconscious but others I intentionally cultivated until they became blind spots in my life. They worked as a repellent towards those who attempted to connect, a barb and spike that needled until those who I feared may get too close retreated quietly but quickly.

Being known, seen and loved by another, involves the risk of being hurt. Revealing my heart requires authenticity, and authenticity demands truth, and who in the world can cope with the truth?

Overwhelmed, bewildered and so tired of living this way I sought help, read books and pored over God’s word.

‘And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.’
John 8:32

Who can cope with the truth? God reminded me that He can, He can cope with the truth. Including the truth about my failures, mistakes, fears and insecurities. As I read His word I was reminded that love delights in the truth, grace requires the truth and healthy relationships cannot exist without it.

So the journey towards healing began. I have learned the hard way that it takes great courage to ask God to reveal the blind spots in my life and then let Him deal with them. I realised that before I could really experience God’s freedom I had to accept and own my own story in all its glorious, messy detail and then submit it Him. When I realised the depth of His acceptance the approval of others became far less significant. When I embraced his identity and purpose for my life then the affirmation of others was no longer the foundation of my security or sense of belonging.

Finally I realised that all the scriptures about courage, value, healing and restoration were actually true for me too. God created us for relationship, relationship with Him and relationship with each other. Christianity is built on relationship so why wouldn’t God want our relationships to flourish. He is not afraid of the truth and neither should we be.

I beg you friend, if like me, you have ever felt displaced, misunderstood or rejected I pray that you have the courage of a lion to rise up embrace the truth and grace that God has made available to all of us. Allow God to heal you so that you too are free to experience relationships that are authentic, genuine and satisfying. Relationships that remind you that ‘you do belong here and you are exactly who we are looking for!’

To connect with Hannah or purchase a copy of her new book ‘Ravishing – The untold secrets of a pastor’s wife in desperate need of grace’ visit: HannahBryant.com