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Until I Know

February 6, 2017

Walking into Amanda’s home, I’m immediately surrounded by it’s warmth. An old farmhouse, rustic wooden floors, breezy yellow kitchen cabinets, cozy nooks and spaces inviting you to sit, talk, read, think, listen, or just be. Amanda’s artistry dapples the walls of the house and I feel the embrace of her home welcoming like an old friend.

Towards the end of the evening, I see Reed perched on an ottoman, talking with Amanda. He invites her to play blocks in another room and she concedes. His delight is palpable. If I give anyone a pass on playing blocks with my kids, it’d certainly be another mama with three kids of her own. But she says yes and I’m touched by her kindness and generosity to my oldest.

Her ready, willing yes made me wince a little as all the times I’ve declined his invitations to play bubbled up and popped on the surface of my heart. The reality is that people, classmates, other kids, sometimes even his own siblings, turn down his invitation to play with him, sometimes simply because he’s different. Because he can be difficult to understand. Because his interests don’t line up with theirs.

But what if, in a world that will probably tell him no more often than is fair, I can be his yes person? That person who eagerly agrees to chase him around the back yard, dig in the dirt, or take a walk down to the lake. The one who sits with him in his favorite spot and reads as many books as he’ll bring. The one who will always make time to mimic his silly faces. It could be my way to tip the scales back in his favor and make right what genetics has gotten wrong.

And yet I don’t feel like the hero I think this story needs. I mostly just feel like an over-tired, never gonna get it right mama. I want my yes’s to wrap him up in love, affirmation, and being known, and yet I know how life presses in and makes demands and fogs what in my prayers I promise to do. So I am here, in this place of yearning and difficulty, this place of being pressed and uncomfortable, this place of not knowing and worry that if I don’t say yes the most to him, then…

I can’t discern the path that rightly balances me, him, them…and the rest of the world with all its no’s and yes’s. So until I know, I love. Until I know, I celebrate all the times I (and others) do say yes. Until I know, I trust in a Love that is greater than all my yes’s and all my no’s.

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