This week after I picked her up from school, as we were approaching the library, she asked to stop. I don't normally pick her up, so stopping at the library on the way home from school was kind of a fun deviation from our usual. Knowing she's been making so much progress lately with reading, I picked up some early/easy reading books.
When we sat down together to read them after we got home, she wasn't sure about the ones I'd picked out, "Hey! Who put these in my pile, I didn't pick these ones out!". But we opened the first one up, and it was so fun to see her quickly realize she knew some of the words. I watched her rattle off the sight words she knew, and then listened as she under-her-breath sounded out the others. She'd figure out the word and exclaim it loudly!
We got through the whole book, with me only helping a little (you don't realize how many words in English don't follow the "rules" until you're trying to teach someone to read!) and the look on her face was something I'll always remember. She was so amazed, so surprised by herself that she could actually do it! We picked up the next one and as she gained more confidence, the books read faster and faster. We cheered when she finished each one.
It was a special moment, and I was so proud and happy for her. It was so neat to have witnessed the progression that brought us to reading that book. To know how hard we've worked and to see it pay off in her confident smile, was such a warm and wonderful feeling.
As she went to her room to do her earned tablet-time, the smile stayed on my face while I got supper ready in the kitchen. It was so beautiful, such a special moment. A Kairos moment my friend calls it---when time stands still. We all know how the minutes of each day work, but those special times, the moments...those are the Kairos ones, those we should try to find in each day. And when we experience them, we should recognize them as gifts, something to treasure. This was one of those moments.
As she went to her room to do her earned tablet-time, the smile stayed on my face while I got supper ready in the kitchen. It was so beautiful, such a special moment. A Kairos moment my friend calls it---when time stands still. We all know how the minutes of each day work, but those special times, the moments...those are the Kairos ones, those we should try to find in each day. And when we experience them, we should recognize them as gifts, something to treasure. This was one of those moments.
And the more I thought about it--it dawned on me that the moment was untouched by Drew! It hadn't even crossed my mind that I'll never watch him learn to read in this lifetime. I didn't feel sad that Drew wasn't there to cheer Molly on with me. I was totally "in the moment" with Molly. Something that at the beginning of loss, when its so much a part of every thought, you never think is possible. I said a prayer of thanks, that the Sprit made me able to appreciate that moment for what it was, and feel the joy and wonder of the new experience, moving past the shadow of grief.
I remembered the words of a different friend too. One who also lost a son, a five-year-old, twenty years ago to childhood cancer. She told me last year that the time would come when I don't think of Drew everyday. And it's not like you have forgotten, he'll still very much be a part of you, but you move past constantly having him on your mind, she suggested. I told her at that early point in my grief, that I couldn't imagine that happening. But I remember asking, "isn't it sad to realize you didn't think about them?" No, she told me, "it's peaceful." It is a moment of hope because you realize you can be free from that constant nagging that they aren't there, she shared.
This week, as I rejoiced with Molly during this big moment for her, I understood what that friend told me. As it hit me that I didn't have any thought of Drew, but only the celebration of Molly's accomplishment, I felt a little sense of accomplishment as well. I am making progress! I am getting through this difficult season, one day, one row, at a time. I can see how the rest of my life doesn't have to revolve around this--it isn't always going to be the first thing that comes to my mind. And it is so peaceful, so freeing.
I'm sure Drew was cheering too as he watched Molly (however we think they watch) read that first book of her life--saying to the little girl next to him, "That's my big sister!" with a big proud smile. And I was smiling too, because for one of the first times, I didn't even think about the fact that he wasn't here with us, and it was okay.
I remembered the words of a different friend too. One who also lost a son, a five-year-old, twenty years ago to childhood cancer. She told me last year that the time would come when I don't think of Drew everyday. And it's not like you have forgotten, he'll still very much be a part of you, but you move past constantly having him on your mind, she suggested. I told her at that early point in my grief, that I couldn't imagine that happening. But I remember asking, "isn't it sad to realize you didn't think about them?" No, she told me, "it's peaceful." It is a moment of hope because you realize you can be free from that constant nagging that they aren't there, she shared.
This week, as I rejoiced with Molly during this big moment for her, I understood what that friend told me. As it hit me that I didn't have any thought of Drew, but only the celebration of Molly's accomplishment, I felt a little sense of accomplishment as well. I am making progress! I am getting through this difficult season, one day, one row, at a time. I can see how the rest of my life doesn't have to revolve around this--it isn't always going to be the first thing that comes to my mind. And it is so peaceful, so freeing.
I'm sure Drew was cheering too as he watched Molly (however we think they watch) read that first book of her life--saying to the little girl next to him, "That's my big sister!" with a big proud smile. And I was smiling too, because for one of the first times, I didn't even think about the fact that he wasn't here with us, and it was okay.
Wow Molly, you have come so far. And Heidi, so have you. You've hit a milestone which is good. God Bless you both and all the family.
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