Thursday, February 21, 2008

A Prayerful Extended Metaphor

My son is the wind, sometimes a gentle breeze, sometimes a hurricane force to be reckoned with. When he smiles, a cool flutter awakens my heart.
Every burst of laughter brings a waft of sweet smelling lilacs; a sensual burst of gratitude that refreshes my soul. His happiness surrounds me like a warm summer zephyr.

Happiness though fleeting, elusive, as the desert wind that blows across the sand dunes of an arid landscape. No matter the strength of velocity, he cannot seem to contain it. It blows right through him, stinging his eyes, burning his flesh, and filling his senses with clouded thoughts.

Bipolar is the flurry that my son lives in, a typhoon of racing thoughts, a cyclone of impulsivity and obsessions.

He lives in a tempest of trials.

When he suffers, a whirlpool of gravity storms my heart. Like the wind chill of winter, the weight of his pain numbs my soul, squelching all hope. Caught in the tides of a jet stream, his moods are pulled in every direction and he becomes like the force of a Santa Ana firestorm. And when the straight line winds of life come his way, he disappears into a seclusion of turbulent uncertainty.

When he is gone, I can still feel him.

Oh that I could be his windmill.

That I could weaken the speed of his storm, that my arms could lift him and bend the flow of turbulence as it propels him further into despair. Though a windmill I can never be, I can lift my every breath to the Light who warms every soul.

May God's light shine directly on my son, may his life be the warm air that rises up as he is protected from the cold air that moves beneath. May God's blessed Holy Spirit blow over my son and protect him from the erosion of heart and soul.

May he be strong and powerful, gentle and steady. May his life sway but never break. May his heart be filled with the wafting fragrance after a spring rain. May he remember the echoes of lessons-learned while in the valleys and soar like the wind atop each summit he reaches.

With the force of a windstorm, I lift up this mother's prayer: Dear Lord, change the course of the winds of his life, calm each storm that threatens. Quiet the raging winds of despair and soothe his aching soul. May these prayer-filled gales reach you, our Jehovah Gira, for this is important Lord; important as the air that I breathe. Protect him Father for is our son.

10 comments:

Penless Thoughts said...

This brought tears to my eyes because I know of what you write living with a bi-polar son.
Susan

Dawn said...

Beautiful, my dear friend! This is not only beautifully said and heartfelt, but it would definitely merit an A in any writing class!

I have been meaning to ask you how Curt was doing, but hoped that no news was good news!

Linda said...

This is so powerful, so beautiful, so heart-achingly tender Diane. Oh that we might make life easier for our precious children. I find I must remind myself that they are His children too, and He loves them perfectly.
I join my heart with yours in prayer for your son - and for mine.

Nadine said...

Simply beautiful and real. I pray for your son and that your story would encourage others.

Sharon Lynne said...

"May his life sway but never break."

I will pray this for your son.

I hear your heart.

-------------------
This road of mental disability is so long and full of troubles...

But God walks with us.

I wonder if he cries with us.

His way is right. His ways are perfect. Over and over again we release our sons to him.

groovyoldlady said...

He's in my prayers too...

Lisa said...

I don't even know how to properly express how I feel after reading your post, but I'll try.

You (even more so than normal, which is saying something) capture the essence of what it's like being around (loving) someone who is bi-polar and also express beautifully what I could imagine someone with this disease really experiences.

Then you share your feelings and frustrations in prayer so that there is no confusion what is most important to you.

It is a blessing to be able to express your thoughts in such a way.

I have a brother who was diagnosed with it a few years ago. (as I think I've mentioned).

Has your son read this? If not, I'd show it to him sometime--when the timing is right.

Beautiful!

karenp said...

Diane, I think I held my breath the whole time while reading this beautiful, heart-felt, heart-wrenching prayer. Praying for Curt, and for you. Hugs across the miles!

Joyce said...

Praying for you and for your son. Sounds so much like my daughter. Blessings.

Karen said...

Praying for your son...and all the prodigals out there...

Your prayer was beautiful....