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Sunday, July 05, 2009

Faith.

Such a small word, isn't it?

Faith in something, it's belief in things unseen or unproven as well as belief in what you know to be a truth. Truth is also a pretty slippery word. Where is your faith? How does it balance between the seen and the unseen?

I've had faith in a lot of dark moments as a parent. Things will work out. Somehow, somewhere, things will keep on. The sun will rise tomorrow, and all of us will be alive when it does. Whether we sleep, whether we're walking the floor with a sleepless child, whether we are driven to our wits end and lock ourselves in the bathroom crying after the little darling hellions are tucked into bed. We start at point A, we will arrive at point B and the distance between the two is not always a straight line. Nobody ever said the world would be easy. Nobody ever said that it has to be hard, either.

I've learned to always look for a bright side to every circumstance, and to try and frame it in my mind as a not-bad thing. My daughter doesn't communicate much? She teaches me to be more observant, and to truly cherish every glance she gives me and every word from her mouth. In the past month she has begun to take the "kiss" game to a new level. In case you've never played it, the kiss game is done thusly: lift your child's elbow, knee, foot, hand to your mouth and kiss it. Say "kiss" in a happy voice while making eye contact. It was one of many ways I got her to learn body parts, while communicating at the same time. As she learned her body parts, she also learned about kisses. She laughed, had a great time, and there was full engagement on her part. Periodically she would even come to me and sit on my lap, lifting her elbow to my mouth repeatedly without any other communication or engagement, and wait for me to kiss it. When I would do so, she would then meet my eyes. And laugh.

So her new thing is to come over to me, take my head between her hands, pull me towards her, and pucker up. She says "kiss!" and lets me lean over to smooch her. This is one of those things that makes me cry for joy.

I had faith that one day she would start breaking through this mental wall. It's starting to crumble. Bit by bit, slow progress, and I can see more of the sunshine gleaming through to the other side.

Likewise, I have faith that my son will continue to grow and thrive. It's a slow journey. It will take a lot of time and some sleepless nights and I know I'll cry as much as I laugh. And yet... one day the sun will shine through on both of them and I will see them whole and happy.