Last week, I found myself at a table with two other parents like myself, who have children with special educational needs. We were talking about how something so small–a smile, a kiss, the meeting of eyes–can take on immense importance when it is a rarity.
While we were sitting there, one of my friends got a text from her son that read, “Mom, I just finished my freshman year of college. I can’t believe it.” She read those words aloud, and began to tear up.
“I can’t believe it, either.” She said. “I think of all the years that people told us he would never read. I think of all of the years of speech therapy, of fighting for learning plans, of all the teachers who helped him along the way. And now my baby has finished his first year of college.”
I am holding this conversation close to my heart, nestling it there to remind myself of what is possible.
There are so many days that my head hits the pillow and I can scarcely recall what I have done. There are days I wake up with my stomach in a knot because I feel bruised by all that life demands of me. And there are days I want to hold cupped on my palms, like a small bird, just to keep them safe, pristine and preserved.
Our lives are made up of days like these, and peppered with beautiful gemlike moments of realization and epiphany.
How many of us recognize in each day the effect we have on others, the energy we, in our uniqueness, bring into this world? And do we have to wait for others to tell us, or can we be our own mirrors?
Honest Spirituality. 