I cover him.

At times, the gap in his communication skills becomes very apparent. His frustration shows up in ways I don’t always understand. And when I am all tried out and don’t know what else to do, I pull his body against my own, I wrap my arms around his tiny ones and squeeze him tightly,
And I cover him.

Sometimes transitions are harder for him than they are for my other children. What seems like a simple request to me, feels monumental for him. Sometimes I forget he’s navigating a world that is so often not accommodating to him and I raise my voice. But when I remember to pause, I kneel down, look him in the eye,
And I cover him.

This does not come naturally to me. My instinct is to reprimand or punish when he doesn’t behave the way I think he should. Sometimes, consequences are necessary. But more often than not, I think he needs more patience and understanding to do the next hard thing. Don’t we all?

These moments with him remind me of how much I also need grace at my worst. Because I know when I am at my lowest, my greatest desire, my most desperate need, is to know that I am still wholly loved just as I am.
So, I cover him.

And when I cover him, more often than not, his insides soften, and so do mine.

When I cover him, He somehow covers me, too.

Jillian Benfield is the author of the free ebook, 5 Spiritual Comforts for Special Needs Parents. She invites you to follow her writings on Facebook and Instagram.