I heard Aaron’s first seizure at 12:38 this morning. The second was at 2:37. As I often say, Aaron would appreciate that I am using the precise time.
Not long after 4:00 I heard him rustling. It wasn’t a seizure. I listened and knew that he was out of bed. He went to the bathroom and then back to his room. I heard his door close.
I got up and went to his room, fairly sure of what I would find. He had changed his pajamas and was getting ready to climb back into bed.
His sheets were wet. Bed wetting seizures are common to Aaron.
I had him sit in his desk chair as I changed his sheets. He watched my every move, as he is not only bent on using precision with his time keeping but is also particular about his bedding being just right.
I was thankful for waterproof mattress pads, and that we keep an extra one on hand. Thankful for extra sheets and blankets, and for our washing machine and dryer.
There sat Aaron. He was flicking his fingers together as he so often does now, more and more. There was some dried blood on the corner of his mouth where he had bitten his tongue during his first seizure.
He kept telling me that his head hurt. He wondered if he would have to go to his day group.
It always breaks my heart to see him like this. Broke my heart, too, as I asked him if he would have slept on wet sheets if I hadn’t come in there. He said yes because he didn’t want to wake us up.
I told him he never ever had to sleep on wet sheets.
I was finally done with his bed. It’s a stretch for Aaron to lay down under different covers than his usual ones.
“I want my Mario blanket,” he said as he looked at his bed all covered in a blanket not his own.
“But it’s wet,” I told him. “Here, I’ll get you another blanket to use.”
I walked out into the hall and opened the linen cabinet. I saw the quilt that we have had for many years and knew that the weight of it would be a comfort to Aaron.
As I carried it to his room and arranged it on his bed, I was thinking about the sweet memories of this quilt. It was a wedding gift to me and Gary, made 44 years ago by the dear ladies at Needham’s Grove Baptist Church in Needham’s Grove, North Carolina. My brother pastored there. The women in the church had gotten to know me while I was in Bible college not far away and would often visit on weekends.
Finally, I was finished with Aaron’s bed. He surveyed it as he stood up from his chair. I smiled as he immediately pulled out some wrinkles in the quilt before he walked around to get back in bed. He snuggled under the covers, and I pulled them up around his face, a soft smile of contentment visible on his lips.
It wasn’t even 30 minutes later that I heard another seizure. As I stood beside his bed, I looked at that special quilt again. Each stitch was sewn by hand…hands of women who loved the Lord and loved to give.
All those years ago, I had no idea what our life would hold. We were dreamy-eyed newlyweds with our whole life before us.
And now, under the quilt that we used to lay under, lay our special Aaron. Never would I have imagined that we would still be caring for our 37-year-old son…that the quilt that covered us now covered Aaron.
I don’t know or understand the reason for any of it.
But I do know my heavenly Father.
And I do know that He has stitched every little piece of my life and of Gary’s life and of Aaron’s life.
God has stitched it in order to create a beautiful work.
Not an easy work. And not the one I would have chosen if He had let me.
But do I trust Him?
And if I do, at what point do I stop trusting?
I either fully trust God, or I don’t.
That means, that even through tears and disappointments and frustrations and exhaustion, I trust the God Who has promised to direct my steps.
Who has promised that “underneath are His everlasting arms.”
I am never lower than His arms that are always under me to hold me up.
And neither are you, my friend, if you know and trust this God Who loves you so much.
Who gave His own Son, Jesus, to die for you.
And Who is meticulously stitching the fabric of your life…of my life…of Aaron’s…into a work of art.
I want to rest under that quilt, handmade by God.