After each of my sixteen-year-old son’s pseudo seizures his mind struggled. He became moody and it could take days before he was back to his usual fun loving, responsible self. A psychiatrist placed him on medication because of the mood swings, hoping that the seizures would improve. They did not.
It had been a long trial as weeks turned into months. It was difficult to watch him struggle; to try everything the medical community had available to us and still watch him suffer. He had been to the hospital so many times that we had taken to calling the ambulance the “sparkle bus.” I could sit over him as a seizure lasted minute after minute and watch him as his body shook but he was trapped inside and couldn’t speak or escape. More disturbing than watching him trapped in seizures were the moods that came afterwards. He was brooding and angry. Self-loathing was a prominent theme in his moods. I could not help but think the adversary was tap dancing all over my family, with the bulk of the kicking happening to my son.
Months before his health adventures began, I was standing in my kitchen, looking out over my family in the great room. They were laughing as we usually did. We had always had a happy home that was, by and large, free from anger, raised voices, or deep troubles. My husband and I had fashioned such an atmosphere and relationship with our children purposefully. In that particular moment the sure knowledge that all waters are not calm came to me as an unmistakable prompting from the Holy Ghost. I knew something was going to happen and I knew the moment of time I was watching should be treasured up. So, I treasured it. I looked carefully at my loved ones, memorized the melodic sound of their laughter, and learned by heart the peace their happiness brought to my soul. I used that memory to calm myself many times through my son’s health trials. Some days our family was barely moving mechanically through our routines. Everyone hurt for my son. He was dearly loved by many and we felt that love in abundance, but he still suffered in body and mind.
A particularly bad mood swing hit him after a difficult seizure. He left home without warning. Our ward family was at our house within hours and organized efforts to find him were deployed. It was as though they had brought Heavenly Father’s love right to our hearts. Luckily, my son was found unharmed two cities over, having walked for hours in a daze. He was returned home without much trouble.
The next time he disappeared after recovering from a seizure he left a suicide note. My heart went cold as I read it. I did not call the ward. Beyond the bishop and relief society president, I only called the police. After finishing the phone calls, I sat, staring blankly, and realized I had hit an end of what I could do. There was no difference I could make for my son. I had been learning about true faith through my personal scripture and spiritual study. Elder Boyd K. Packer said to parents, “If you are helpless, He is not. If you are lost, He is not. If you don’t know what to do next, He knows. It would take a miracle, you say? Well, if it takes a miracle, why not.” (Improvement Era, Dec. 1970, p. 107.)
With great faith I told Heavenly Father that I knew this boy was also His son, that he cared about His son, and most importantly that He knew where this son of his was. I told him I knew there were numberless concourses of angels at His command and asked that they could help my son. I thanked Him for all the good years I had had with my son, for all the joy my son had brought to others, and for the many abundant blessings we had seen pouring into our lives as our family endured these trials. I asked Him to save my son but acknowledged that if that was not His will, that I would know where my son was and would be glad that his suffering would be over. I thanked Him for the peace His Plan of Salvation brought into our lives and would bring if my son’s suicide attempt was successful. I knew I would see my son again because we had gained a hope and promise of an eternal family when my husband and I chose to be married and sealed in the temple.
Having prayed with perfect faith, I found that the worry was gone. I truly believed that my Heavenly Father loved, me, my son, my family. I knew He was perfectly aware of what was going on in our house. I knew that He was not stumped even though I was. He was not pacing about Heaven wondering where that boy went, wringing His hands in distress. He knew where my son was. I knew that He knew and my soul, for the first time in months, was restful.
As the night wore on, with police checking in often and reporting their progress in the searching, I comforted my family with a sincerely cheerful countenance. My mother found me in my room and asked why I was not crying or upset like everyone else. I told her about my faithful prayer. I explained that Heavenly Father knew where my boy was, that Heavenly Father loved my boy, that even if I did not understand, these trials were somehow for our good. I told her that I could not worry because worry was not faith and I needed then to operate on faith because I had nothing left but to stand on the promises of God.
Luckily my son was found by police, bloody and wounded but very much alive. It was a while before we discovered the medication was contributing to the pseudo seizures and wild moods. It was weeks before he was himself again, seizure and mood swing free. But that time, the time sliding down from the peak of the trial, moved quickly. I truly feel like the difference was my living from a place of faith. I began to realize that in all my trials I could acknowledge who Heavenly Father was to me, who I was to Him, and I could rest knowing that He was never stumped as I was. I knew the difference between a hand wringing, begging, pleading prayer, and a faithful prayer. I understood how the peace He was bringing to me was not something I could reach out and take, but rather it was a way to rest my heart in trust that no matter what was happening in life He was there and it would work out right in the end so long as I stayed close to Him. Instead of trying to save the world on my own, I worked with the confidence that when I was doing His will, He was working beside me.
Now my son is doing well, and I often pause at the kitchen counter to watch my family laugh. I still treasure it up every single time because I know that although all waters aren’t calm, my Heavenly Father knows how to navigate the tempests.
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