Growing into Slow

I am a watcher of time. Being on time means being late to me.

I like things orderly and on time. Precision makes me very, very happy.

As it turns out being the mom to kids who have special needs doesn't really work out that well with this whole little quirk of mine.

And I get frustrated.

Why is it so hard to move quickly? People, people, step to it.

I am being taught some difficult lessons right now and this is one of them.

Perhaps, just maybe, the world moves too quickly and we have bought into it.

Appointment to appointment. Checklist item to checklist item.

Where is the time to slow down and savor each small, momentary success? Do we even enjoy this race we are so determined to win?

We live in a world where being slow is frowned upon and speeding up is a sign of your character.

Go.Go.Go.

These thoughts have been running through my head since last week.

I had reached out to hold my daughter's hand and take her to play in the yard.

I wanted to push her on the swing and watch her smile.

The swing was my goal, and irritation quickly set in as I realized it would take a good ten minutes just to get her down the stairs of our porch.

My dilemma was this, was the swing still the goal at the cost of teaching her how to use stairs?

I took the ten minutes to teach the stairs and then there was grass, uneven grass.

I wanted to just move, get to the swingset, but again she needed me to be slow.

And so I held her hands and shuffled my own feet to the pace of hers, trying really hard not to drag her forcefully to that swingset.

Eventually we made it, and she sat on the swing and let me push her. Her face was devoid of that smile I had worked so hard to see. And it hit me, that despite my ever moving slowness I had not JOINED her in those small steps. It was me trying to get her to go faster, trying to move my feet slower, but not really slowing down WITH her and feeling each step, hearing each movement of the wind. I was exclusive in the way that I handled her.

And so, with great pains, I am learning not just to slow down, not just to take the time to do things, but rather to join with my child in her stillness.

I am coming to understand that the slow pace has it's purpose and I am going to choose to honor the stillness in my life.

Sometimes we have to go backward to move forward. This is just one of those times. Slow is often far better, carrying more significance and stealing from time in order to teach us important life lessons.

Comments

Loving A Child Who Cannot Speak

I have a daughter and she is nonverbal. It is one of the most difficult portions of my life. When the tears fall it becomes a guessing game. When we miss the mark of the needs the tears become screams. The frustration that mounts for everyone is intense. That screaming can last for what feels like an eternity. What ends it? Her resignation. She has no choice but to quit. Nobody is answering her need. Because we don't even know what it is. Imagine all of your needs every single day and now imagine that you can never, not even once, tell one single person what you need. What a horrifying thing. Those dreams where you are being chased and you are scared and you try to scream for help but nothing comes out of your throat? That is her world. And we, as her parents, watch on in sheer pain and frustration. Just sign it!!! Just try to say something. Anything. And she does. Every single day this brave soul yells out, makes sounds, tries. Not a single day goes by when she doesn't try...

The Unchanged God and His Unchanged Call

The last few years my soul was just so doggone tired that I couldn't write, wouldn't write. I found myself too tired of the haters, too tired of being needed, too tired of advocating and seeing not one soul step forward for a child, a real child.I was sick of telling people about adoption and watching them go on about their lives as if there were not real children depending on their yes. I was tired of seeing the posts about a waiting child die. The anger was consuming me. I was tired of opening up about our reality only to have friends back away from us, from our needs. I was disgusted with people telling me I was too impassioned for the needy people in this world. I was filled with so many emotions. Frankly, I was tired of my own difficult road as well, tired of diapers, feeding times, bathing time, IEP's and teaching teachers how to teach. I wrestled with God about resting. Eventually, I heard him telling me to go to sleep, to rest in the shadow of His wing...

This Girl Can

There are moments in every single day that I want to quit. I want to throw in the towel. I want to quit being the mom who is shouting, "Yes, she can!" It's tiring. No, it's exhaustion that sinks all the way to the bone. It's laying my head on my pillow at night with one thousand thoughts scattering through my head. It's waking up, pushing power on my computer and starting to search for evidence again. It's meeting after meeting after meeting. It's laying my head on my pillow at night and praying for someone else to stand tall and take up this fight for one round so that I can rest. But I have a few things that keep me going. Every night when I do lay my head on my pillow, a memory reel starts in my mind. Every time that I question if I have lost my own mind, I see Ellie standing for the first time. I hear her counting to ten. I see Everlyse taking her first steps. I see all the times they have blown through every single low expectation the w...

Katie R. Hurst

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