“Mom! My toe feels better today! Thank you so much for praying for me.”
Write a 5-page essay on this quote. Examine each word and consider the source. Once completed, publish to blogger. Due October 13.
Oh, wait. This isn’t class.
The dumb thing is, I could do it. Three short sentences. So much meaning.
The source? My sweet Ellie. From her mouth. The mouth that wasn’t “supposed” to spew out words. I’ll never forget the day Ellie’s speech therapist stood in our living room and told us that he’d bring some augmentative communication devices during his next visit. Because Ellie would probably need help expressing herself. Sometimes, I like to remember those early predictions because they help me see how far Ellie has come. And how people, even those with graduate and medical degrees, aren’t God. They can predict the future, but not ensure it.
The toe issue? I’ll spare you the gruesome details (and won’t post a pic!), but let’s just say that Ellie’s got some serious toe nail issues. Because she drags her feet when she walks and crawls. She’s got layer upon layer of toenail, because she’s constantly damaging it. I’ve often thought that her toes MUST hurt, but the girl rarely complains about it. It could be because the pain is less important than the independent mobility. Every book I’ve read about CP includes information about pain, and explains that as affected bodies age, the pain gets worse. It hurts my heart. I wish I could take it from her. I pray for grace. That Ellie will deal with her pain with grace and composure. And that God would be gracious and take it away.
“Thank you so much for praying for me.” Oh, Ellie. If she only knew. Perhaps one day she WILL know. Maybe there will be a day when she prays for her kids and she’ll understand it. It’s the only thing I know to do. I feel so helpless so much of the time, the only thing that is assured is prayer. Not assured to be answered the exact way I ask, but assured to be heard. I think Ellie’s starting to, in her seven-year-old brain, understand a bit of that. She’s starting to comprehend that while praying “to feel better” doesn’t mean that her sickness or pain will be immediately (or ever) healed, talking to God brings comfort. It’s amazing to see. It is the sweetest sound. It is humbling.
“Mom”. I know there are many of you reading this blog who want nothing more than to hear that word. I don’t take it for granted.
One line. So much meaning.
(Aren’t you glad that I didn’t actually write five pages worth?!)