I stood in the middle of a cornfield with my daughter, surrounded by brown cornstalks towering over our heads and the dry, dusty earth beneath us. Footprints from other maze adventurers marked the beaten path. Our group of family members that we started with was now out of sight. I instinctively knew to keep my daughter’s slow pace. In their excitement, the others did not notice we had fallen behind.
My daughter with special needs ventured into the corn maze willingly—we thought it would be great "fall fun". Now she wanted out immediately, and there was no changing her mind. My daughter was overwhelmed by the loss of our group and the unfamiliar surroundings and dropped to the ground. On that hot fall, Southern Illinois day, my daughter’s plop caused dust particles to gently float around us. The dust was just another annoyance for me in this strange environment.
I panicked for a moment. I was alone in a corn maze with my daughter, armed with my poor sense of direction to lead us out. Technically, I was not alone because there was a constant parade of gleeful people exploring the paths. They did not know us, so there was no way they could help our situation. A thousand thoughts flooded my mind. I was stressed because I did not know how to help my own daughter.
Part of me wanted to run through the dried-out corn, blazing my own trail to secure our freedom. The rational part of me decided the quickest way out was to retrace our steps back to the entrance. It took some coaxing to get my daughter to stand up and walk out of the maze with me. Once she is that upset, it is hard to get her moving, so I was thankful she did. Slowly, we embarked on our journey to the maze entrance. Once we made it out to the clearing, I took a deep, dusty breath and tried to relax my body after the stressful episode.
The corn maze was a delight for many families that day. Even my son had an enjoyable time as he sped through the maze without a care in the world. My daughter and I were miserable. We were supposed to be having fun, but she felt overwhelmed. Everyone around us seemed to carry on while I had to figure out how to best help my daughter by myself— it would be a few years before I would be brave enough to try a corn maze again.
Throughout my life, I have been in several maze situations with my sweet daughter. There have been times when we have been 'lost' together. We were stuck in a situation, and there was no clear way to escape. It may have been a challenging behavior that I did not understand nor know how to resolve. In those moments, we often both feel upset but for different reasons. I can clearly articulate how I feel, but my daughter cannot.
Those challenging times bring about a gratefulness for my relationship with God.
I need reassurance that I am not alone when it feels like I am taking on the brunt of the problems. When no one can help me, I can ask God for wisdom and guidance. I know deep down that God is with me, but in the midst of a battle, it can be hard to remember.
I may feel stuck in a maze, but God knows exactly where I am.
He is cheering me on, encouraging me to keep going and reminding me to breathe deep. He is also with my daughter batting away the dust flying everywhere and calming her spirit. We both need God. The corn maze is the best reminder of this fact.
Evana is a wife and mother of two children. She enjoys serving in her church’s special-needs ministry. Evana is also a pediatric speech-language pathologist and serves children with autism, feeding disorders, and other developmental delays. You can connect with Evana on Twitter, Facebook, and her blog, A Special Purposed Life. You can also read more about her family’s story in her book, Badges of Motherhood: One Mother’s Story about Family, Down syndrome, Hospitals, and Faith.
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