Eight years ago on the feast of St. Nicholas we received the best gift ever–the life of our baby.
We may be his primary teachers, but just by being around him we find we learn so much.
Take things a day at a time. What seems impossible today may just be accomplished tomorrow.
There were so many days when it seemed impossible he’d ever come home. And then he did. And he thrived.
Be flexible. There will be good days and bad days. Roll with the punches–but never give up. He was two before he walked–but he walked. He had to outgrow some issues in order to drink milk without rice cereal in it, but it happened. He has always been able to meet a goal set for him, but at his pace, in his time. He’s a trooper.
There is beauty and joy and gladness in the smallest of things, in the oddest of things, in the most normal and ordinary things.
He sees it. He notices the things we gloss over, ignore, or quite simply have forgotten to see.
His joy is infectious (I never thought I’d get excited about a truck, but we do).
The little triumphs of life are no less important than the great ones.
And the sweet simplicity about him. This is a boy who is content with so little, materially. I haven’t learned that yet. It’s going to take a while.
(Then there’s another thing about him I haven’t learned to enjoy quite the same as he does. Plain Yogurt. He could eat a quart a day if I let him. Me? Um…no.)
Happy 8th Birthday, our Trooper, our hero. We’re with you all the way, no matter what.