Friday, April 26, 2013

Miracles in Time

Even miracles take a little time.  
~Fairy Godmother, from the movie Cinderella

You got slowly out of the van, as usual.  With Miss K's sweet assistance, you put on your Toy Story backpack.  I told you, "I love you, Ryan!"

With your back turned, you said, "I love you."

Then you did something else I thought I might never see or hear.

You defied your diagnosis again in so many ways with just two words and two actions.

You looked me in the eye, waving, and said, "Bye-bye, Mom!"

Proud, swelling with love and adoration, I waved and said, "Bye-bye, baby.  Have a great day!"

It didn't take long for all that love and adoration and pride to spill over.  Wiping the tears, I can't help but think of the way we started.  There was the first day ever of summer school.  It was the week after Richie was born that I cobbled together what I could of a special, memorable first day of school for my precious oldest.  You were little.  SO little.

To say that I wasn't ready is an understatement.  To say I wasn't ready for you to not care that I left is a gross understatement.  As my still very post-op body hobbled away with tiny Richie in the stroller, I tried to convince myself that we were doing the right thing.  

After all, you had no discernible speech.  You weren't gesturing, even.  At just past three... and I mean a week past three... your communication skills were limited to screaming, crying, and laughing.  You might have had three words, or that's what I said.  Looking back, I think I just couldn't bear to admit you didn't have any.  

But now, to refuse to admit these things is to rob you of the amazing progress we have seen.  

Oh, we're not through.  Your challenges still warrant about three different kinds of therapy... more if we could afford it.  If we had time for it.  If it were offered where we are, even.  

Although we're feeling our way through this every day, although we feel like we have no idea what we're doing, we see progress.  It's not immediate.  It's not going to be.  But it is a miracle, none the less.  

Raising you... living with you... helping you seek the best life you can have... has taught us that miracles do happen.  They happen all the time!  The tragedy is that we dismiss them when they're not immediate.  

The fact that you looked me in the eye is a miracle.  

The fact that you tell us in words that you love us is a miracle.  

The fact that you can understand the social nuance of waving is a miracle. 

Your smiling eyes, my dear son, are a miracle.  

Just as I reminded you this morning, sweet guy, you are going to have a great day.  Mommy and Daddy thank God for you every day.  Most days we do the best we can, we go through the routines and courses of the day, still thankful but just not noticing.  

Other days?  

Well son, on some days we look where we started and we just have to rejoice and praise the Lord for all he has granted.  And we pray you will do the same.  

Thanks be to God for Ryan and all that he's been sent to show us.

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