Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Just a boy

Today is the most colorful of days.

Trees that threatened to lose hold of their most brilliant leaves last night with the wind and rain held out; and we are the victors of their spoils.  Everything, all of a sudden, popped out, screamed to be seen--tired of being taken for granted.  That's what we do, you know. We take the seasons for granted.  One minute we are longing for a certain one, and the next, for it to end.  We barely have a moment within to notice the beauty, value the changes, anticipate the growth.

While driving home after meeting with a dear friend I haven't seen in months, I was made aware of the golds, oranges, fiery reds, all seemingly in Technicolor today.  Maybe that's because catching up with my friend reminded me I needed to be distracted by what was already in front of me.

We talked about the days and weeks that had transpired.  We talked about our sons (and godsons), our husbands, our homes, our schools, our ups and downs.  We talked about adventure, upcoming trips, and trips gone by.  We laughed, made too much noise, and tried not to cry (easier said than done).  We covered lots of chapters in this life-story.  And when it was time to toss our coffee and tea cups away, we said goodbye for now, never tossing away the ability to pick up where we left off.

After talking with my friend, hearing her "chapters," it was a reassuring breath of fresh air.  She knows me, and she knows Isaac.  She doesn't pretend to have answers, and I don't pretend to need them.  Because there are times when I wonder if I am the only one.  I get scared that my difficult days are harder than the rest.  I am panicky when the understanding I have worked so hard to gain of Isaac's challenges seems to lose its potency.  In just a month and a 1/2 of 2nd grade, it seems like we have fallen behind in some ways. Attitudes, behaviors, all seems so foreign.  

That we can strive and work and reach to understand, love our children completely is both what drives a parent, and what drains them.  We dread when we feel like a part of our child is expiring, while we are exhausting every resource.  It's not a matter of if; it's a matter of when.

But that's the part about seasons that we take for granted, isn't it? Change is inevitable.

Isaac will have seasons of struggle, just as you and I.  He will have seasons of growth, physically, mentally, spiritually.  That will not change just because he has an IEP.  He will have seasons where, on the surface, it seems nothing is perfecting itself. It's about appreciating--no, sometimes just surviving--when things seem to freeze. But, below, out of my sight, things are alive and well and when they burst to the surface, will need tending.  

I was reminded today to take the season for what it's worth--value seen, or unseen.  I won't stop believing with all hope and courage that it will not last forever, all the while embracing the changes as colors crying out to be noticed and loved.  I just need to look and appreciate--respond with hope.

After all, Isaac is just a boy, yet, he is more brilliant and beautiful than all the trees in their autumn splendor.

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