A Touch of Peace

Written by Tanya Merced

All Contents copyrighted 2006

I am knitted inside my mother’s womb in secret and    

they await my arrival.

The day has come and I am born to a world I am not familiar with.

Who are the faces before me?

Why do they hold me so tight?

Each and every touch upon my body feels like sandpaper.

My cries are not familiar to them and they stare at me with confusion.

Why don’t they just leave me alone in this isolated place where I feel safe?

Why do they constantly hold my face in their hands and make me repeat

strange words over and over?

Sounds that surround me and murmurings I quite don’t understand.

I look past my mother and father’s face, because I can see every strand in their eyes.

Why don’t they just leave me alone in this isolated place where I feel safe?

Why do they constantly hold my face in their hands and make me

repeat strange words over and over?

My mother kneels and cradles me in her arms.

She looks towards the heavens and cries out to God.

Lord I thank you were the words that came forth from my mother’s quivering lips.

That day I looked at my mother’s face and called her mom.

Today the voices in my head no longer matter.

Although each touch still feels like sand upon my flesh.

I no longer push it away, but welcome it.

The more they embrace my uniqueness I become whole.

Perseverance and determination have been embedded within my soul.

Heaven must have known the obstacles that I would face, but sent them both with love and grace.

If you look beyond the label the world has given me, you will see that I am wonderfully made in God’s image.

“Seeing then that we have a great high priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God; let us hold fast our profession.  For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.  Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need”. Hebrews 4: 14-16

Prayer:  Lord I thank you that you have unveiled the truth of your Word.  That we your children can come boldly unto you and you hear our prayers.  Thank you that by your stripes we are healed.  Thank you Lord for taking your time to knit us in our mother’s womb, we are wonderfully and perfectly made in your image and likeness.  Amen.

In 1995 when my son Andrew was 2 years old my husband and I were changed forever.  Andrew was referred to the center, because social skills were poor, his comprehension and expressive language reportedly did not improve.  Andrew was diagnosed with severe to moderate language delays; however, he was not labeled with autism at the time.  I started to read books about speech and language delays and noticed that under the heading of autism were characteristics that my son was displaying.  I really didn’t know much about autism and needed to find out more.  I started calling different organizations and started contacting parents of children with disabilities.  A member of the Association for Help of Retarded Children recommended a book called “Let Me Hear Your Voice,” by Catherine Maurice.  After reading the book I was convinced that Andrew had autism.  My husband and I went to the doctor and asked for a neurological evaluation.  Andrew was diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder.

 

We were overwhelmed with grief.  It was as though our son had died and we had to bury all our dreams and hopes of our son ever having a “normal” life.  My husband and I started to drift away from each other and blaming each other for what happened to my son.  My husband would go to bars with his friends to escape.  I soon learned that this was not just a social gathering, but a habit that soon became a destructive disease.  My husband was in pain and the only way he knew how to deal with his pain was to drink.  I myself became numb and insensitive to his needs.  I was so frustrated and angry all the time.  I found everyday was a dreadful day.  I felt ashamed and isolated from my family and friends.  I became saddened and jealous of friends and family members with children.  I felt so alone and helpless.  My marriage was falling apart and I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew that I wanted to have happiness and joy.  In 1995 I met a Christian named Johan who changed my life.  We were college classmates who had many ideas in common and we were both studying to be teachers.  One day she invited me to go with her to a local church.  I made so many excuses about why I shouldn’t attend.  I saw something in Johan that I wanted, but could not quite put my finger on it.  She spoke with confidence and with knowledge way beyond her years and always had a smile upon her face.  I started crying in my room and called out to this Jesus she spoke about.  The afternoon Jesus entered my heart and I have never been the same.

In 1988 I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  It was a strange and the most confusing time of my life.  I was closer to the Lord than ever before.  I was happy and had lots of hope.  Many hours I spent working, cleaning, praying, teaching, and attending youth services, etc.  I wasn’t tired.  I had always had problems sleeping and always was very emotional as a teen.  Then one day during a prayer service in my apartment I started to hallucinate.  I saw demons surrounding me and felt all kinds of things on me.  No one knew what was happening, however, they knew something just wasn’t right. I was admitting into the psychiatric ward and was given lithium and treated for schizophrenia.  I was confused and felt abandoned by the Lord; however, I believed that there was a purpose for all of this.  I did not continue the medications or the follow up with doctors, because I did not like the feeling of the medications.  I was slow and always sleepy.  I was able to stay without medications for two years.  I had no manic episodes, but this did not last.  I had another manic episode and again was admitted to a psychiatric ward, but this time the label was not schizophrenia it was bipolar.  I use to feel ashamed of my illness and felt very discouraged about being a Christian with a mental illness; however, Jesus is still working on that area in me.  I believe that accepting my illness is the easy part; living with it is the hardest.

It was 2001 when the thought of suicide seemed the only way out.  I felt that life wasn’t worth living anymore.  My problems seem too big for me to handle.  I truly felt that no one cared or understood me.  I felt despair and all my thoughts strayed away from the truth.  My husband did not know what to do, but he knew the only one that could help me was Jesus.  Although he prayed and asked others to intercede on my behalf he too felt helpless.  I was so confused and ashamed of feeling so helpless.  I did not know that the enemy of lies was behind my depression and wanted to rob my soul.  However, the Lord had marked me and the enemy could not claim me as his own.  I believe the Lord heard the cries of those who were praying for me and the window of my heart opened.  I read the Word and learned the truth.  I sought medical help and went to church.  The Lord renewed my mind and my soul and I have never contemplated suicide again.