Those efforts are your way of telling your child, “I believe.”
When I thought I was failing because my child still struggled, this is what I was missing, I still believed.
And I did. I just didn’t tell him every day. By my actions, he knew. He knew, I never gave up.
But I know I told him too, I just wish I had told him every single day.
I believe.
I believe in you.
I am fighting for you because I know who you are.
I am crying for you because I believe you are going to show them all.
I believe in you.
When John left for boot camp, I placed my hand on his mountainous chest, this 6’3” 200-pound man, who had been the smallest of my babies, the weakest of my litter, and my “struggling learner,” was now boarding a bus to serve his country. I could feel his heart racing. Neither of us knew what it would be like. I had always been there to fight for him, but he said, “I have to go, but it is ok.” And I said, “I know, you can do this, I believe in you.” And he said, “I know, I love you.”
I believed.
I still do.
That is the greatest gift a mom can give her struggling learner, to believe in them.
So grieve, cry in your car for this struggle. But do not believe your time is wasted. This is the essence of your motherhood, to fight for this human. He or she may not be “normal,” thank God for that. This struggle, this battle cry may last years, or it may be over by the fourth grade, but fight it well. Grieve like you love, fiercely. Let them see you cry, and let them know you rage on because you believe.
May your floors be sticky and your learners be far from normal. Semper Fi. Love, Jami
But those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31
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This article originally appeared at Sacred Ground, Sticky Floors. If you liked this, grab Jami’s new book Stolen Jesus here.
