A Whole New World.


We can’t believe our baby is going to be in school all day!! What if he needs something? Can I pack a suitcase of his favorite things? Does he need his blankie and monkey? Sweet heavens, separation anxiety for parents is a real thing {too bad we know nothing of dramatics in this family}.

I re-watched our episode of The Fatherhood Project this week as I was contemplating our new transition coming up. Hearing myself talk about my desire to hear Liam’s voice brought immediate tears to my eyes and gratitude to my heart for all of the things I now hear him say on a daily basis {I ‘ove you, mom}. It also reminded of when we began this journey three years ago and we realized that my fear–our fear–can’t stand in his way of growing and learning.

We’ve been gearing up for this moment since last November, when we started inclusion into a mainstream classroom, so we are well prepared. All of our ducks are in a row, IEP meetings and documentation is in place, teachers, we’ve met paraprofessionals and resource teachers and our team is formed. So why such crippling fear? I’m sure all parents are plagued with thoughts of the future at pivotal moments of their children’s lives, right?  I realized this week that it seems we are always subconsciously pushing the future thoughts of “Will he be independent? Will he be happy? Will he have people? Will he {fill in the blank}?” away so we can live in the present in order to advocate for Liam. He doesn’t need us to live in the future, he needs us in the here and now.

It’s impossible to have all of the answers right now; we don’t even know what answers to what problems we will need! We can’t see into the future and make the path as simple and plain as we would like to, because man, cut this kid a break. Doesn’t he have enough hurdles to jump through on a daily basis? Fear is so unreasonable that way. Fear demands the answer now, and I have not encountered any life circumstance yet, when fear gets an answer to its unreasonable request. The only answer that has only ever come in the face of fear is this: Wait. Be Still. Hope. What we can do is be present, we can see his immediate need and advocate for that. We can choose to push fear aside and walk in faith and hope that God has gone before us, and knows Liam and ourselves better than we do.

And so, after we entertain a bit of our fear {dramatics and all}, we close the door to it. It still circles us, watches us, ready to remind us that we don’t know what’s going to come next; however, we close the door and say, “We are done with you for now’. We acknowledge our fear and uncertainty, but we also acknowledge the work that has been done, the faith that we have in the hope and assurance that God goes before us, and the brave courage of a 5 year old about to start kindergarten.

“On the day I called,

you answered me,

my strength of soul you increased.”

Ps. 138:3

Dear Liam,

Buddy! You are about to begin a new adventure, in a new classroom, with new teachers and new friends. You have been prepared to the best of our ability, and you have risen to every challenge you have faced so far in your young life. You always lead the charge in bravery and courage around here, and this will be no different. We have prayed that God would bring friends into your life that will make this year’s journey sweet and fun, and we believe that is going to happen. We can’t wait to see what this year holds for you, sweets.

We are your biggest cheerleaders.

Love you to the moon and back,

Daddy, Mommy & Molly


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