the best medicine

Yesterday was just one of those days...I was in a mood, having trouble trusting God with my future, have trouble trusting God with the hectic day-to-day, and was basically just exhausted - physically, emotionally, spiritually. I spent my commute to my last session of the day crying my eyes out and just crying out to God.

I walked up to the door of the last house still wiping my eyes and composing myself. When I first set up my weekly schedule upon starting this job a year and a half ago, I purposely scheduled this kid as my last one on Friday. I've known him since long before I was a music therapist. Worked with him in a day program all through college, did respite care for him in the months leading up to moving to New York, and was thrilled to agree to drive a few miles out of my regular work area to welcome him onto my music therapy caseload when that time came. So scheduling him at the end of my work week was basically my reward for getting through a bunch of other sessions that at the time were still so new and difficult for me.

My relationship with this kid (we'll call him K) is so unique. When I met him as a 6-year-old, he was so difficult. He can't talk, and at the time had no formal system of communication except for a couple of signs. My first summer working with him consisted of a lot of him biting, kicking, screaming, hitting, etc. and a lot of me restraining him. But over the months and years, I learned him and he learned me. Seems what he needed most was someone to see that he COULD communicate and to help make that happen. He's 13 now, and we have lengthy conversations - me talking and signing and him signing back and making other gestures to help get his point across. We have inside jokes and lots of memories, and he has been so significant in developing ME as a therapist and just as a person who takes the time and energy to FIND someone.

Ok, back to yesterday. I showed up at K's house determined to hold myself together for the next hour. God had greater things in mind. Music therapy has always been super challenging for K - it's really hard for him to focus and sometimes both of us just wish we could go back to the old days of hanging out, dancing, jumping, watching movies. But yesterday it just worked. I wasn't quite as strict about sticking to a schedule, and his very specific goals were still addressed, but with a good deal of just playing surrounding them. He thinks I'm funny, and I think he's funnier, and we ended up cracking each other up. He actually fell backwards on the floor laughing so hard, and I almost joined him. We played our hearts out, sang our hearts out, and he ended up meeting his goals with more success than usual on top of it. I let him play my guitar on his lap (a privilege he literally begs me for on a regular basis) and he was remarkably gentle with it. This then earned him the privilege of dancing at the end. I cleared everything out of his way while I cleaned up, he chose his favorite beat on the piano keyboard, and he went nuts. His mom and I just enjoyed the show for awhile. I then agreed to jump with him (he loves jumping up and down more than any kid I know) if he would promise not to drive his family insane all night after getting so riled up. He pinky-swore, we jumped up and down a few times, then I eventually gathered my things and left.

Nothing in my circumstances changed between 5:15 and 6:15 yesterday evening, but my heart was 20 pounds lighter. Crazy how once in a while, the therapist receives therapy while trying to provide it. Crazy how in the midst of my sadness, God responded to my cry by providing joy in the simplest way. Something in that laughter, in that reckless music-making, in the fruit of 6 years of friendship, was used to refresh a hurting heart.