Some days I grow weary from the same-ness.
From teaching the same lessons. From working on the same goals. From hearing the same mistakes.
Every day feels the same. Like Habakkuk, I want to cry out “O Lord, how long … ?” (1:2).
My son is six-years-old and I’m still changing his diapers, still lining up trains, still watching Blue’s Clues every evening after dinner. In most ways, he’s just like he was three years ago when we got his autism diagnosis. I often think, “How long?”
