Every now and again I encounter someone that tells me that I am a saint. On this past Saturday, as Nate and I were about to leave the pool after our hour of swimming, the lifeguard politely told me that I was a saint. I knew that he was saying this because he sees me there every Saturday, at about 7am with my son, who has special needs.
Through the years, there have been other occasions when people have said the same or like it, when they see Nate and I in a store, restaurant, or somewhere else. I have heard those words and other things, such “You are a good mother”, “You are wonderful”, “You are strong”, and more.
These titles and comment are said to me, because they see me doing what they think is an impossible task, caring for a child, now adult, with special needs. It’s a job that I don’t feel that deserves any accolades, as it is something I am required to do because Nate is my son.
I must admit that hearing someone say that I am a saint, feels a little uncomfortable. When I hear this, I give a warm and friendly smile, then decline the title. I try to make every effort, to humbly let them know that my service to my son, is nothing, but my Lord. I definitely do not want to take God’s glory for what He has instilled within me. He has given me the strength, guidance, patience (when I take it), direction, and more. I know it is only the Lord that has given me what I need to care for my child. He is the only one that could possibly work through me, especially when the years of raising Nate was filled with difficulties along the way. I could not have possibly done it on my own strength. Not at all!
So, if or when you see me with my child, know that the only way that I am standing where I am, caring for him, is not due to any work of my own. It is the work of the true and living God that dwells within me.