I wrote the blog, When Plans Change, a few days ago. (You can read it here.) I wrote about sitting on the plateau of the track feeling the bump of change since hearing about the news of the closing of the company, from whom my autistic son receives services, on Monday. For days I wondered when the train would bolt down the track.

Well, yesterday it happened. I received the official phone call confirming the termination of services effective in August. In the previous blog I shared that finding new services meant waiting lists. Anywhere from months to a year. These kiddos don’t have that kind of time. In fact, this kind of life-altering change is devastating enough to cause a relapse in behaviors and progress. Some kiddos can’t even attend school without support.

I headed down over the track faster than my brain and heart could process. Panic is what I felt. I began calling the handful on my contact list. I remember one specific phone call, praying as I heard the rings on the other line. Please, let this be the one. During the myriad of phone calls, my son’s therapist called me and I just broke. Tears ran down my face as we talked through it.

It felt so crushingly familiar. My mind recognized the feeling from years ago, as if I had stepped into the past. Trying to get him seen, trying to get help, the number of phone calls surpassing the fingers on my hands. It’s incredibly overwhelming and daunting and I quickly wished I would’ve sought a case manager when the suggestion was presented a year ago. While on the phone with his therapist, another call beeped in. It was one of the companies with whom I left a message.

She was kind, as my voice broke while explaining the situation. She knew the situation as word of it has spread quickly. “It’s okay. This situation is so saddening.” she comforted. She asked some questions about my son and our current services. I’ll never forget her response, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but we can accept your transfer. This never happens. It’s weird, or maybe blessing is a better word.” YES, BLESSING. Immediately, I knew Who was responsible. She wanted to schedule an intake appointment for the following week but since we’ll be away, “Well, are you able to come in later today?” Two hours later our intake was complete.

I have no words. Totally amazed at God’s hand in this. It has His Name written all over it. I thanked her more than once. If I would’ve thanked her as deeply as I felt I would’ve cried. But really, God’s the one who needs the most thanks. He knew the path we’d take, the phone calls, the people, the time…He knew the train track all along.

All praise belongs to my Lord.

It’s bittersweet though. Sweet that my son will have continued support (though a little rocky until all is on a consistent basis again). But bitter knowing I’m going to have to break the news to him and my other two boys. Heartbreaking that another one of his best friends will no longer be a near-daily participant in his life. It’s impossible not to build friendships with the support staff when you spend so much time with them. These beloved people come into our life…into our home…and make an impact. But to see the role of that relationship change is incredibly difficult and saddening, especially for the kiddos who are already extremely sensitive. Unfortunately, it’s a part of life. All I can do is be there for him as we walk through it together.

Until my son hears the news, followed by the transition to new people, we are on another plateau of the track. Waiting and praying.

When faced with bad news or circumstances, I’ve responded in two different ways. In the first way, I simply didn’t accept it. I proudly demanded its unfairness. I allowed anger, fear, worry and dread to overtake me. I acted out of haste. I hurt those around me, as I wallowed in my misery. I argued with God. I made myself physically sick.

And then I’ve handled things in a second way. I was still and knew that He is God (Psalm 46:10). I accepted the news—though not overjoyed by it—as part of God’s plan. Knowing that God already knew the path, the outcome and our needs, but trusting that His will was perfect. His timing was perfect. His plan was perfect. Being still is a quiet trusting, knowing God’s got it under control. The path to which He’s leading is far better and greater than we could imagine. This time I prayed and waited on God’s direction.

The second way isn’t easy, but there is peace that isn’t found in the first way. There is a deeper relationship with God in the second that cannot be had in the first. And I find that the waiting period is sometimes shorter when we trust Him at the first notice of trial. And ultimately God’s desire for us is the second way, to be still and know that He’s got it.

God will make a way when there seems to be no way. —Don Moen