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The sweetest thing—watching him clutch his one-dollar coin tightly, proudly showing it to everyone who walked past. Happily wandering around the garden center, saying hi to each animal statue he saw, helping to choose the perfect pots, and slipping a few extra things into the trolley. Later that day after I helped him with his shoes, the softest “thank you, Mama.”

Such sweet joy.

This week though also had its challenges. We went to a café for lunch, only for Oscar and me to end up sitting in the car while the others continued their meal—the noise inside had simply become too much for him. And then, of course, the morning he was ready to start his day at 2:30 a.m.

Raising a child with a disability brings the almost-breaking-you days. Moments where joy and frustration can collide within minutes. More often than not, you find yourself holding both the hard and the beautiful at the same time.

It is hard, and it is beautiful.

It is frustrating at times and hilarious at others.

It is exhausting, yet deeply rewarding.

That is the contradiction of life. Pain and joy. Hard and good. Often, they exist simultaneously. And to live authentically is to recognize and embrace both.

There is space here for broken hallelujahs with God—for those moments when it’s hard, but we still know He is good. When our hearts ache, but we can be certain of His love. The books of Psalms, Ecclesiastes, and Lamentations remind us of this.

And maybe, as we carry both the hard and the good, we find God standing with us, wading through the raging waters with us, walking with us through the fire.

Grace always weaves its way through the wreckage and the wounds. It is found in knowing that God is near to the brokenhearted, close to those whose spirits are crushed. As Psalm 73:28 says:

“But as for me, the nearness of God is my good.”

Even when the storm rages on, we can rest in the assurance that He is with us.

God is good.