It's hard enough to send your kid off to kindergarten. . . hard enough to pack up their little book bag, their fat yellow pencils and blunt tipped scissors. . . their Crayola crayons and glue sticks. It's hard enough to iron their little uniform pants and pick out the right school shoes. It's hard enough to kiss them goodbye and watch them step onto the school bus. It's hard enough to worry about how they're doing, what they're thinking, and if they're ok. It's hard enough to trust that they'll be fine and come home with a smile on their face.
It's hard enough. . . .when your child is normal.
But, when you've spent years struggling to get through to them. . . when you've dedicated months to teaching them how to say "yes" or "no" to a simple question. . . when you've seen them struggle to make sense of the world around them. . .when you've been their protector and their only safe place. . . when you've battled it day and night and have wept tears from the very bottom of your soul. . . and now you have to trust that it's somehow all made a difference. . . it's more than hard enough.
It's terrifying.
And yet, as part of me is nearly paralyzed knowing in 9 days I will be waving goodbye to that bus, I know that on that bus sits a miracle. On that bus is a little boy who has come farther that I had dreamed. On that bus is the person I know will grow up and amaze us all. On that bus is my baby, my son, my heart and soul. And I as I watch that bus pull away. . .as I whisper a prayer and ask the angels to go with him, I will rejoice in what God has done and is doing in that little boy. And I will wait nervously and excitedly for that bus to come back, for the smile and the hug. . . knowing that what was hard enough has now been overcome and will continue to be overcome. . .one day at a time.
