I have started this entry over and over again, trying to accurately describe something that happened in early December. I just can't get it right, so I'll say this.
I had a pretty awful experience leaving Avram with someone else. To be fair to them, they were overwhelmed, and unsure what to do with a non-walking-but-still-very-mobile-and-large little boy in a room full of kids of all ages.
When I came back to get him, he had been stuck in a corner in a walker (which he has never used) all by himself.
It's taken me awhile to write about it because, to be honest, it's just felt too raw. I knew they were busy, I knew it was chaotic, I knew they had too many kids and not enough people. But it still...it still ripped my heart out.
All I could think about, could ask myself, when I saw him there, sitting in the corner by himself was if this was just a preview of what is to come. What happens when I send him off to school someday, when I can't be with him all the time? Is there going to be someone to be patient with him, to take the time to work with him? Is someone going to look out for him, to understand him? Will there be someone on his side? Or will he be stuck in a corner because he's different, because it takes him longer to do what other kids do?
I dumped all this on a couple dear friends, and one of them graciously reminded me that two thousand years ago there was a young mom, with a son. A young mom stuck in a manger in a tiny corner of the world, with a baby she knew was different. She had to wonder: What will the world do to him? What happens when I can't protect him anymore? Will anyone understand him, will anyone be on his side?
In Luke it says that Mary kept all these things and buried them deep in her heart. The angels, the shepherds, the wise men. Somehow she had to know that as different as her son was, that these things were signs of comfort, signs of good things to come, signs of promise.
So instead of dwelling on all the "what if's," I am trying to keep all these things and bury them deep in my heart. The smiles, the therapy milestones, the babbles, the almost-first-steps.
These are signs of comfort,
signs of good things that will outweigh the bad,
signs of promise.