Sometimes I think I have it all together.
That this RAD stuff doesn’t get to me anymore. It’s really just the same ol’, same ol’.
Then I go to Orlando. I come home. Stick poke. Stick poke. Aargh.
I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t understand why M will fold four of my shirts the right way and one backwards. Why he will wash all the dishes well except one and put all the food back in the refrigerator except some random item. And then argue that it was an accident, blah, blah, blah. Like I haven’t heard it a million times.
Because really, after almost 11 years, it’s entirely too much to expect, to hope, to pray, that he will do it RIGHT.
So after realizing there was no way devotions and reading were happening in school this morning I sent M and S to their rooms. To think. Again.
Joshua patted the couch next to him and I went over to sit and he put his arm around me. So many years of memories and feelings. If I were M and S I would be talking about my “big feelings.”
An hour spent just the two of us talking and sharing and pondering together. No huge revelations, just a life lived together for 18 years.
A relationship of respect and genuine enjoyment at being together.
Life in common. Trials endured together. A coming together instead of pulling apart.
I tear up so easily as we plan graduation and I realize the time is flying by.
So blessed to have this.
So sad for those of you who don’t.
I won’t give up hope that our “special” kids can one day know this. But for now I treasure this, knowing I’ll be mourning AND rejoicing when the day comes to take him to college.