Then I got married. More to the point, I married Bard.
Some of you are laughing (at me) right now, but for those of you who don't know Bard, I will tell you, he is not trying to win the race of life and he doesn't even realize that all of life is a race!
Silly rabbit.
Fast forward ten years and I am still trying to get off the race track. Guess what, having kids makes that more complicated because suddenly you're racing them too. And it's exhausting. Add to that there are actually real battles in life that knock us down, over and over again. Now try adopting a child who has special needs and in fact, needs open heart surgery.
Bring your doubts
Bring your fears
Bring your hurt
Bring your tears
There has yet to be a doctor's appointment for my first two children where I was not awarded the golden good parenting sticker. Evelyn was reading at a 5th grade level last September which means she's probably moved onto Tolstoyevsky by now. She still has not had to study for her weekly spelling test, and if there is a song she can't sing, a line she can't act, or a dance she can't do, I have yet to discover it. Cecilia started sounding out words last year, counts past 100 easily-just for fun-and has feet that would bring back Balanchine. They are winning the race.
But when I fill out questionnaires at the pediatrician for Max I get angry at the paperwork. No, he's not doing that yet, no he hasn't reached that milestone, no, no, no. Yes, we'll make another appointment. Yes, we'll get therapy. Yes, he'll wear orthotics. Max is not even at the race. But I still am, and therein lies the problem.
Bring your tired
Bring your shame
Bring your guilt
Bring your pain
All through our paper baby (remember that little stinker?!) I had to live day by day and oh how I hated it. I longed for our next step, and the next one, and the next one. But they were all so far away, so out of my control, so vague. Now the next steps are so clear that I have a visceral response when I feel, however right or wrong, that they're slipping away. Only they are not my next steps. They belong to a little brown eyed boy who calls me "Nana" and is far more interested in how many of our household objects can be rolled under the piano than whatever imaginary milestone I have set in my mind for him to meet.
He's not even at the race.
But as days piled into months and the months turned into a year and then kept going, I started to see milestones differently. Each day was a milestone.
Max was not working toward some textbook compilation of goals. Max was working toward being Max. When I stopped trying to make each step faster than the one before, I was able to rest, abide, and Be Still. The peace I gained by deciding to live for one day has been tremendous and it's helped me to see Max in a whole new way. Too often we view ourselves, our children, and our lives as being linear. When in fact life is a dance. Always moving, forward, backward, changing shape, leaping ahead, repeating a pattern and then breaking into something new. Every day Max has struggles and victories. Minute and tremendous, he walks through them and ends each day in triumph. But as he continues to hit his own milestones in his own way, I've come to see another unique aspect of following Max. As fun as it is to see my girls develop, and as sure as I am that they will surprise me, I can see a little bit of where they're going and how they're going to get there. Not a lot, but a little. Max is a statue within the clay. Just like the girls, I know he is capable of great accomplishments, I just don't know what yet. He brings something different, an organic art to the way he develops.
Give us today...
Max was not working toward some textbook compilation of goals. Max was working toward being Max. When I stopped trying to make each step faster than the one before, I was able to rest, abide, and Be Still. The peace I gained by deciding to live for one day has been tremendous and it's helped me to see Max in a whole new way. Too often we view ourselves, our children, and our lives as being linear. When in fact life is a dance. Always moving, forward, backward, changing shape, leaping ahead, repeating a pattern and then breaking into something new. Every day Max has struggles and victories. Minute and tremendous, he walks through them and ends each day in triumph. But as he continues to hit his own milestones in his own way, I've come to see another unique aspect of following Max. As fun as it is to see my girls develop, and as sure as I am that they will surprise me, I can see a little bit of where they're going and how they're going to get there. Not a lot, but a little. Max is a statue within the clay. Just like the girls, I know he is capable of great accomplishments, I just don't know what yet. He brings something different, an organic art to the way he develops.
So all hail the underdogs
All hail the new kids
All hail the outlaws
Spielbergs and Kubriks
It's our time to make a move
It's our time to make amends
It's our time to break the rules
Let's begin...
Our world would not exist without structure, without linear thinking and accepted greatness. But deep within our soul we hunger for more. Something that breaks the mold and grabs us from sinking into mediocrity. And the more that I can see that truth lived out in Max, the more I start to see it in my girls and lived out all around me. Maybe it's a good thing I don't know what to expect from Max.
Just maybe, there's no race after all.
There'll be days I lose the battle
Grace says that it doesn't matter
Cause the cross already won the war
He's greater
He's greater
I am learning to run freely
Understanding how he sees me
And it makes me love him more and more
He's greater
He's greater
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