Eloped! Part 2

Much like Speed 2, this is an unfortunate sequel. My son Caleb, who has been diagnosed with autism, eloped again. As a seasoned opportunist, he waited until we were on vacation, in a house without all the safety locks we had installed from the last hair-raising experience. 

We all know necessity is the mother of invention, so I am writing this blog from inside a barricade. A forest of chairs blocks one exit, a couch has been strategically placed in front of another, and an ironing board blocks the sliding glass door from opening. There are stop signs that say, mostly in futility, “Caleb, Stop! Get Mommy, Get Daddy!”

We were cleaning the kitchen and living room on our way to bed when we noticed the terrifying, thunderous silence created when Caleb has either 1.Gotten into mischief or 2. Left the building. Having learned as a mother to eliminate the most dangerous possibility first, I pulled on my canvas shoes and ran out the door. I found Caleb on the front porch carrying his scooter down the steps, with my cell phone and two of his Pete the Cat books—apparently planning to scooter away into the night, free from the oppression of loving parents, to start a new life at the ripe old age of 6. When I caught up to him, he decided to drop his spoils and take off running into the pitch black of night.

The picturesque vacation scene we had enjoyed earlier that day swinging lazily in a hammock became my worst nightmare as we ran blindly across a yard riddled with tall grass, trees, stumps, uneven terrain and large rocks. He ignored my stern voice calling after him as I chased the faint outline of his figure. I was praying I wouldn’t trip and give him time to run further while simultaneously registering that he has excellent eyesight. Thankfully he stopped at the swing in the backyard, right before reaching the tall grass lining the property where I would have lost sight of him completely.

I realized when I approached him that I had grabbed my cell phone. It had been in my hand the whole time and I didn’t even realize it. I turned on the flashlight and my son was immediately illuminated along with a swarm of cluster flies that looked like they had flown their way out of a Phish song.

This time, the hysterics came after we found him and he was safe inside. Instead of berating myself for being upset, I let myself feel every emotion. Shields were down, gloves were off, the little guy in my brain in charge of filtering my thoughts was asleep with his legs resting on his desk and a bit of drool moving toward his chin. All the hard work I had been doing stuffing my parental fears since the beginning of the pandemic came undone. Fears I didn’t know I had came tumbling out in the messiest possible way. I have a biracial child with autism who is working through inappropriate behaviors in a world where people seem to be judging first and asking questions later. I have no clue how to appropriately discipline a child who impulsively leaves his home with no fear of getting lost and who actually runs from you when you call his name. This mama bear could not keep it together any longer. I was pacing and hyperventilating and screaming into a towel at one point. I had completely lost control of my emotions.

Instead of God pressing a button and the trapdoor swallowing me with a big GAME OVER plastered across the scene—it was okay. I would even go as far as saying God used it for good because my son did something completely unexpected. My son, who has never reacted to us being upset, came over to me with a tear in his eye, put his hand over my mouth, and quietly said “all done.” 

I am not someone who trusts easily. This has been a huge obstacle in my faith walk. So this was a pivotal point for me that only could have come from God changing my mind and heart. Instead of parking in the worried thought that I had scarred Caleb for life, I celebrated this HUGE sign of progress. I found myself turning from my worry instead of feeding it. To my surprise, this had the effect of uncovering the peace that God had already given me. I saw that in the midst of the storm I was still standing on that surfboard of faith I described in my previous blog. The panic stopped as abruptly as it started. This wave had shaken me but not knocked me down and I was able to stand on what I knew to be true. I knew God was with us. I knew He was with Caleb when he went outside, when we noticed immediately he was gone, and when I went off the cliff emotionally. He was the one that calmed me down and He was the one who comforted me.

As soon as I turned my focus to God, He began to use this experience to press deep into my heart more facets of His character. What I read in the bible about His Omnipresence actually became real to me. The evidence of His Presence in this trial came pouring in from all different angles and spaces in time.

He used Caleb to paint a backdrop of thankfulness and praise before and after the incident. The only song my son has allowed us to play in the car for months is Do it Again by Elevation Worship. My husband told me as we were driving the day before the incident that God uses it to remind him of how He has already worked in Caleb’s life and answered our prayers. The day after, we were back in the car again listening to this same song, now with another example of how God has intervened and taken care of us, and with a promise that He will do it again.

He used a friend to remind me of the power of prayer and how we cannot put Him in a box. When I reached out to her asking for prayer the day after the elopement, she told me she had a dream a few weeks ago that Caleb ran away and that she found him. She wrote that she also remembered telling him she would help him find mommy and daddy and she explained to him how I felt when he ran away. (This of course lined up with Caleb showing his first sign of recognizing I was upset.) She had been praying for us before we even went through the experience, which to me is evidence of God going before us and preparing a way for us. He is present with us outside of the boundary of time.

That night I sat holding Caleb, praying, and thanking God. I remembered why I named my son Caleb Joshua. It was after the two spies that saw the giants, but believed God was bigger. God helped me find a name that would help me remember, even as I yell it in the darkness, that in the midst of unsettling experiences, I have hope as a light from God that defies circumstances. Johnson writes “The key to either great purpose or great destruction lies in where we choose to sustain our focus.” (Strengthen Yourself in the Lord pg. 39). When I am tempted to worry about the great escapes that may happen tomorrow, I can choose instead to focus on a God who exists outside of time, Who has already gone before me, and Who is preparing me for my next trial. I can choose to turn my back on the gravitational pull of doubt and believe that God is worthy of my trust.

In his book, Johnson also writes about how God has already given us the tools we need as Christians to face all circumstances. I already have tools from God for when calamity strikes that He builds up day by day as I spend time getting to know Him. I have access to them, yet so often don’t use them until the last minute, much like the flashlight on my phone that I carried as I chased Caleb in the dark and only turned on once I found him. It is my daily choices that influence the trajectory of my faith and its strength under fire—a thankful heart and praising Him consistently, praying, reading the Bible—all these things help build up my understanding of Who God is and that is what I bring into battle with me.

“And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:2-4)

Lord, I thank You that I do not even have to ask You for peace. You have already given it to me through Your Son. Help me to guard it and my time with You so I can lean on You more fully in all that I face. Thank You for promising to finish the good work You are doing in me, which includes making me a better mother each day, increasingly prepared for the curveballs of parenting a child with special needs. Thank You for watching over my son and for the example I have in my husband and friends who faithfully send up prayers to You and who raise their shields around me in life’s battles. In your Son’s precious name I pray. Amen.