The Death of Me

THIS:

 is going to drive me to some seriously heavy drinking! 

It’s already started again with Dwight.  If you’ve read the stories from last year, you know what I’m talking about.  Remember track?  Remember how he’d get the time wrong and I would sit in the parking lot with three kids waiting for what seemed like an eternity for him to come out?  I didn’t blog the half of it!  Those miscommunications happened way too often! 

And yesterday when he didn’t come home the usual time, I started to wonder if his bus was late.  Then I got a phone call on my cell.  I didn’t recognize the number, so I ignored it.  Then they called again.  I decided to check my voicemail.  As I was checking my messages, this same person called again, so I answered it.

“ummm…Mom?  Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble…”  It was Dwight.  I couldn’t hear a word he was saying so I put him on speaker.  It was even harder to hear him on speaker.  His voice was amplified but he still didn’t make sense.  So I tried to switch back, only my voice mail started beeping in on the other line (don’t know why it does that!) and when I tried to take him off speaker, I accidentally hung up on him.  So, I waited for him to call back.  Only he didn’t. 

Fortunately, I have a brain and figured that he needed a ride home.  So I started to get the kids rounded up and ready – change diapers, wake up the baby and put her in her car seat, get shoes on, grab the diaper bag…might as well grab Scott’s shirts and pants that need to be dry cleaned and stop by on the way home…

And then I called that unfamiliar number just to be sure.  It was some other guy.  “I THINK Dwight needs a ride home.”  He said.

“You think?”  I asked. 

“Yeah, I think.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

So I loaded the three girls up and headed towards the high school.  The closer I got to the school, the angrier I got.  I’d tried calling Dwight’s cell, but he didn’t answer that.  What is the point?  Do you know how many times we’ve had to say, “Dwight, take your cell phone with you!” 

I pull up to the school, trying to convince myself that I need to be calm about this, even though we’ve gone through this a hundred times and he still does not get it.  And then it hit me, we are going to go through this a hundred more times…and then a hundred more.  This little voice in my head said, “You are going to spend the rest of your life dealing with these situations with Dwight, so you might as well Accept it!” 

And I realized that voice in my head was telling me the truth.  Dwight is always going to pull these little annoying stunts, and it’s not his fault.  And of course, when he got in the car, I found out why he missed his bus.  He tried to attend a multi-cultural club meeting, only he got the wrong day.  It’s the SECOND Wednesday of every month.  He didn’t bother to check which Wednesday it was when he decided to stay after school. 

“and Dwight???”  I asked, “How did you expect to get home after the meeting?  You certainly didn’t tell me you were staying after school was out.  There are no buses to take you home after the meeting.  So how did you expect to get home?” 

“Oh…well, I forgot to tell you about it last night.” 

So I guess he just decided to wing it!  And the cell phone?  He “forgot it.”

So this morning, when he was pounding on the door violently, I rolled out of bed and groaned.  I looked at the clock and it was 6:44.  I knew already that he missed his bus, even though I told him yesterday on the way home from school that he probably needed to leave earlier since he had to run to catch it that morning.

“The bus must have come really early!”  He insisted.  “I left at the same time I did yesterday!”

(Forget that no other kids were left stranded at the end of the street!).

So even though I knew the bus already made it’s appearance, I told him to go wait just in case the bus didn’t come yet.  I wasn’t ready to deal with him.  I then went back to my room to brush my hair and wake up the baby (GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!).  I buckled her up, and then I got Madison dressed, trying to keep her quiet while the other kids tried to get back to sleep.  I grabbed the baby, who was snuggled into her car seat, the diaper bag, my cup of coffee, and Madison and headed out the door.  After buckling them in, I headed to the end of the street.

“Thank you!”  Dwight started.

“I don’t feel like talking!”  I warned.

And then I started talking…or, ummmmm…yelling. 

“Where is your cell?”  (I decided to only bring it when I need it).

“Why didn’t you leave earlier like I told you to?”

“If you left on time, where are all the other kids who were abandoned by the bus?”

And I went on and on and on…nagging, complaining, chewing him out.  I pulled up in front of the school right at 7:15 which is when his first class started.  Truthfully, I was somewhat glad he wasn’t going to make it to his class on time.  “Maybe he’ll learn his lesson,” I thought.

But as the day wore on, it hit me.  When we had friends over last weekend, a friend was talking about our daughter, Kelly, saying, “She’s going to be the death of you!”  But this morning, those words were ringing in my head, only I was thinking about Dwight.  And that’s when God spoke to my heart.

He created me to serve.  I am a servant, and when the opportunity arises for me to be there for my oldest son, what do I do?  I gripe and complain.  “He’s going to be the death of you…”  It rang in my heart, and again, I knew the voice was speaking truth.  Only this kind of death is the sort of death I know I should welcome, because this death we are talking about is the death of my flesh. 

All day long, I was upset about the fact that he didn’t follow my advice and leave early enough to catch his bus.  When I got home this afternoon, I found a message on my answering machine…”Ummmmmmm…Mom?  This is Dwight.  I forgot my lunch in the fridge, and I was wondering…well, I was wondering if you could come bring it by school today because I left it at home…” 

It started again…the anger, the frustration…this IS WHY HE HAS A CHECKLIST!  I looked at the clock.  No doubt, lunch time was over, it was after 1:00.

But deep inside, I also had to laugh.  The last 24 hours with Dwight have just been crazy!  Does he really think I’m going to load up the three girls to bring his lunchbox to school when he can just buy lunch?   What are the odds???

By this evening, I was in tears.  Yes I was frustrated, but there was more to the tears I cried as I spoke to my husband.  “It’s not his fault.”  I said.  “He basically has special needs.  It’s just always going to be this way.”  I guess the last 24 hours have forced me to really accept this fact as I thought about how he must feel.  This has to be just as frustrating for him as it is for me!  I need to stop yelling and complaining when he needs extra help. 

So as much as I hate those words, they keep playing over and over in my head.  Dwight will be the death of me, but it’s a good death.  My flesh, my frustration, my resentment – it needs to die, so that I can be a better mom to this boy who is trying so hard to grow into a man.  I love him so much, and I know that if I truly do love him, I do need to lay down my life so that I can be there for him.  He needs me, and I should be thankful that God chose me to be the one to be there for him…even if it’s when he needs a ride home, or to school, or if he needs me to bring him his lunch.  Love suffers long, and is kind…

I’ll probably be suffering a long, long time, but if I can manage to do it with kindness, then I know that God has truly done His work in me.  So let Dwight be the death of me, because in that death, a new life will bloom, and I will be a better person, a better servant because of it.  I’m beginning to think that Dwight is one of the best things that ever happened to me.