I don't know how I do it either...

“I don’t know how you do it” they say. They all say. It’s a simple statement. One that betrays a host of emotions, and one that I have come to loathe on the inside. Oh, I smile, of course, and assure them that I also have “no idea how I do it”. It’s true. I don’t. But I kind of do.

The simple fact that I have read on a thousand blogs is that “you do what your child needs”. And “you would do it too, if you had to.” And that is true, you would. But it goes much deeper than that.

For us, for my husband and I, it has been an exercise in faith. We have seen God move in miraculous ways this past year. He has provided for us, and for our son in tangible ways. This included an unplanned, but intensely successful move across the country that resulted in good jobs, better medical care for our son, and proximity to family that I never dared to dream was possible just a few short months prior. We couldn’t have planned that, let alone orchestrated it. But God could. And He did.

And I have come to decipher the simple phrase, the knee-jerk compliment as something else. “I don’t know how you do it.” I hear you say what you’re thinking. “I don’t think I could do it. I’m glad I don’t have to do it. I can’t believe you haven’t folded. I would have folded. No one would blame you if you folded right now. Or last week. Or last year.”

It’s a short and deep tribute to survival, and a fabulous compliment. And so, instead of my normal responses which included nodding, mumbling “me either” or “it’s not me, it’s God”, I will add another response. It will include a simple “thank you”. Thank you for recognizing that I could have folded, and that I did not. It’s a pat on the back, and I appreciate it.

I do not plan to fold (who does?), but it's nice to know that if I do, you won't judge me.