watching them makes me happy. my two boys. Ben and I watch in amazement, their small bodies with such energy and drive, running around, making messes and giving us a peek into how much God does indeed, love us.
the second report card from kindergarten was mostly encouraging; improvement in areas but flat lined in others. the 6-year-old scribbles eclectically when others nearby press their crayons in focused determination, scrawling out lines in the form of letters of their names. He doesn’t mind. He laughs and the few times I’ve visited his classroom I see which kids see his soul and love his differences. He is protected. I don’t feel like I have the capacity sometimes for the the abnormal and unknown but feel the confidence of being called into a special club of privilege that has the steep price of heart ache. there can’t be regret when there is such a richness and depth. what an honor to be selected to be a mom of a special needs child and to be honest- it rarely crosses my mind that he’s any different because aren’t we all a little different, just trying to be a societal norm while hoping others see our inner beauty and care? I care.
the 3-year-old is a juxtaposition of little boy and emerging man, a strangeness I didn’t expect to see for another 10 years. sometimes he’s too smart, an old soul glint in his eyes while talking in a squeaky toddler voice yet. He sees more than I wish he did. He notices his older brother lags behind and can do less than he can physically. He’s faster, stronger and much, much more coordinated. I can hear him often, “Come on, brother!” and he’s patient, an inner softness already formed, sensing his older brother needs his protection. He is a fighter too, clad daily in super hero costumes and with a bone deep passion for destroying bad guys. I don’t want want him to loose that. When Bear is angry and unreasonable, as is common for children in general, but perhaps a bit more intense for Willliam’s Syndrome kids, I hear Bug soothing with over promising, “you want to go see Grandma?” or “you want to have my toy?“. There is such a sweetness in that but I feel the cringe of his taking responsibility for others emotions- a peace keeper can struggle with the co-dependency of making everyone happy around them as well. I watch closely with narrowed eyes, determined to do my best to raise him up healthy.
******
Last night we sat in a circle with friends, some together for the first time and we talked on community, authenticity and intentional living. There was an ease, a simplicity as we talked, interruptions of finished thoughts by someone else. I sat brimming, that place of fullness, thankful for every second having wondered if I’d ever almost be overflowing again. I watched Ben and saw life in his eyes as he spoke, the confidence and saw the burden free man I fell for when I was 19, full of the spirit and alive inside. I think he’s aged well and more my type now than then with a beard. 
we both are a mosaic, a living piece of art entwined made from our shattered former selves.