Life is transition and how you handle it, is how you live. Fluidity through change comes hard to a lot of us, with me at the top of the list. I tend to require a lot of moving room and plenty of advance warning, at least with the big stuff. But that's not how it works. I envy those who seem to effortlessly move through one thing or another, without much pain or difficulty. Why is it so hard for me? To take things in stride, without fear, with acceptance, seems like it would take a personality of Herculean proportions, or at the least that of a saint.
I go through weeks of life without a thought of change, and then BAM change happens and I'm like: "whoa where did that come from?"
Like where did the last two and a half years go? How did it happen that Leo's life changed from certain death to hope to life to normal? I didn't see it coming and I didn't have the time or room to prepare.
Since when is this normal?
We all have our own crosses to bear. Some are clear, the burdens engraved for all to see. Others burdens are hidden from view, yet they are not any lighter for being there. With a heavy load on your back it is hard to change direction, to be light on your feet, and every step feels like a stumble. How can you dance? But dancing is the only way to go over the shifting grounds of life, and swiftly must you move. There is no standing still, because then you are vulnerable to the reaching fingers of despair.
I don't know how it happend. How it happend that we danced with Leo through so much, to end up in such a different place then we started. Looking back, the view is shocking. Soon Leo is to be transitioned from Early Intervention therapies to the school system's. As a three year old, he will be delayed, different, and with medical issues. "Special" doesn't really cover it. How to explain to others how "exceptional" he is? That every time he calls me "mama" I want to cry from joy? That every thing he does, is a gift and a miracle? How his "delays" mean nothing to me? The medical alert necklace he wears does nothing to describe how this boy can dance through pain and limitations.
The cross he bears may be permanent, something to be lugged around for his whole life, but the harder he dances, the lighter it gets until it means nothing more than the color of his eyes or hair. You can't prepare for change, but you can practice the steps of the dance. Where there is life, there is hope for lightness; there is hope for change.