Of Magic And Miracles

Dear friends, I haven't blogged nearly as much as I thought I would- it's true! I HAVE blogged, though, and being present to the writing is always an uplifting experience.

There are so many challenges in the everyday, I'm focusing on getting through the basics. It's my own weird kind of breakthrough that not trying so hard at every single thing I do is good medicine for me. I vacuumed yesterday. It felt like magic! Because I didn't feel I HAD to do it. I just responded to an invitation in the moment. It was five minutes before time to walk to the elementary school to pick up my sons. Then, magically, I tidied the bathroom at the last minute before walking out the door. If I had gotten up with a checklist that morning, the pressure to perform these tasks would have driven me to mild despair.

So yes, magically, I had the energy, because I wasn't dragging the weight of any expectations with me. Has someone made a million on this concept yet? ;)

My kids these days aren't immune to the magic. I rather think they either have sensors for it or they are magnets of all things magical. Perhaps we all have the affinity but were taught too well to cloak and smother it? Whatever the case, there is nothing quite like the sparkle in my 8 year old's eye when he invites me to go outside after dark because Daddy saw a firefly and he wants to see it, too, but not without me. So I throw on my soft blue jacket with the thumb holes and huddle out into the cool night air.

There are children running around playing, screeching in delight, darting through the dusk becoming night. It's an everyday spark of joy to hear childish voices, unconcerned with budget, living spaces, report cards. (Ok, some of us were not immune to that last anxiety as children, though often it's an unconsciously learned trait.) One of them called out to my boy by name, inviting him to play. He stood shyly on the patio, waving. After two more invitations and some nudging from me, he ran off to join the chase.

Did you hear that? He RAN off to play. My son, with Becker's muscular dystrophy is running around playing and having an everyday childhood experience. My son, the previously anti-social, is expanding out of his shyness and bringing his own brand of humor, joy, and vision to his peers. Public school agrees with him. He is being rallied around and he is thriving. Hold on, because that's the magic. Here's the miracle, at least from my mommy-heart perspective:

I don't know what you my readers know about muscular dystrophy, but it is made distinctive often by swollen calf muscles and the inability to jump. When Kevin was just a toddler I was already bringing this up with doctors- that jumping was not something he could do yet. It's not been a both-feet-off-the-floor kind of deal for him ever. It's been one foot, then quickly the other until last night. He was so excited about being included, having fun with kids outdoors, and finally spotting the fireflies up by the outdoor light, he saw the chalk-drawn hopscotch on our patio and he just went for it. Not once, either. No, he moved across that thing enough times for me to get a really good look and believe my eyes that he was actually hopping across the cement! I don't cry at these things (I cry at much weirder things at much more awkward occasions.) I did get a little shouty for a quick second, though. (My voice goes high and sharp when I'm taken by surprise.) "Kevin, you're jumping!" He gave me that "well of course I am, Mom" look.

Of course he was. My heart flooded with mysterious excitement. These moments are priceless to me.

Happiness is like that. It makes you jump for joy, or shed two thousand pounds of worry you've been hauling and hording for your special needs child's future. A hop, skip, and a jump isn't exactly a miraculous healing, but it is a miraculous event. A huge, hallowed hope. And hope is the lifeline that keeps this tired mom going when I'm worn to shreds and wondering if I'm doing it right, or doing enough,or if all my doing is making a difference. It didn't matter yesterday, because it was all grace. And that's the kind of magic for which we all have an affinity.

Grace to you friends, in lots of magical moments and ways.



Jamie Bagley