TWENTY LAPS

“Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield. For our heart is glad in Him, because we trust in His holy name. Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in You” (Psalm 33:20-22).

I shared that verse at the end of last year's post on the jogathon, Two Laps. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend you take five minutes. 

Caleb's come so far in so many ways this past year. I feel like there are more and more achievements we're continually celebrating. He still has so many struggles {it's important to remember some struggles will always be there}, but man, oh man, today I'm on cloud nine.

All week I had been reminding him about the jogathon, and for some reason he wanted so bad for me to not be there. Maybe he was remembering all of the years spent crying at jogathons. Whatever the reason, I wasn't going to get my hopes up. And then this morning while dipping his waffle in syrup, he excitedly said "Mom! You're going to watch me and my friends run today!" Talk about relief. He was cool with be being there, with wearing his old shirt from last year, with Lilly coming, etc.

This year I had to prepare Lilly...for the crowds of noisy kids, for the adults that might heaven forbid talk to her, and for the loud music they were going to be playing. Jogathons are serious business, and they're a whole lot of crazy; I just wanted to be sure that her attitude didn't change Caleb's cheery disposition during a very chaotic morning. 

Everything went incredibly smoothly. Lilly kept it together {for the most part} and Caleb proudly ran each lap and called out when he came by to get his laps tallied. When heads it to four laps, his teacher, aide, and I did a little happy dance. And then he kept going. And going. We all stood and couldn't believe how well he was doing. He was high-fiving his friends, grabbing water, walking a bit, and was overall having a great time. As one of the aides mentioned, it was like night and day from last year. 

After an hour of run/walking {in 80° dry-Santa-Ana-wind-heat}, he had successfully completed twenty laps. 

TWENY LAPS.

That help, that shield, that hope that the Psalmist talked about in the above scripture, I'm confident is what we experienced today. The Lord's steadfast love was so graciously upon us as we cheered on our Bug. Even something as small as the jogathon is going to be a big celebration in our house, because TWENTY LAPS is a big deal. Great job, Bug. Can't wait to see what you do next year. 

Last Day of Preschool

Today was Caleb's last day of preschool. 

And I cried after I picked him up.

It was around this time last year that we were sending him off to school for the very first time. He was only three years old, we had just had his first IEP, and we were still waiting for his diagnosis. I remember crying my eyes out when we drove home after being told he needed to start school the following Monday. Sobbing. How was I supposed to let go and let someone else care for my son? My son who needed help navigating the confines of everyday life, who couldn't tell me he was sick, couldn't recall the day's events or express why he was upset.

But somehow it worked. It always does. And I'm so thankful to have had the help we needed at this specific time in his development. I truly feel that teachers we had were insurmountable in their expertise, advise, and encouragement. 

And Caleb...Caleb is a rock star. He had good days, rough days and everything in between. He showed us what it meant to truly cherish the small moments as we watched him grow in ways we couldn't have imagined. 

But I'm still nervous. I'm nervous about the future. I'm nervous about his new school, his new goals, his new teacher and aides, his new classmates and potential friends. I'm nervous about finally starting ABA and I'm nervous about his neurologist's appointment next month. And I'm nervous about his HAIRCUT tomorrow! I wonder where he gets his anxiety...? 

But what I can't stay nervous about is where I find my strength...and that my friends is found in the Sovereign Lord. I have my moments of desperation, my moments of tears; but one thing stays constant. And for that I am the most greatful.

*miss you Tj

...song on my heart...

Your Love Never Fails

Nothing can separate

Even if I ran away

Your love never fails

I know I still make mistakes

But You have new mercies for me everyday

Your love never fails

You stay the same through the ages

Your love never changes

There may be pain in the night but joy comes in the morning

And when the oceans rage

I don't have to be afraid

Because I know that You love me

Your love never fails

The wind is strong and the water's deep

But I'm not alone here in these open seas

Cause Your love never fails

The chasm is far too wide

I never thought I'd reach the other side

But Your love never fails

You make all things work together for my good

Every Day

Every day Lilly and I get to pick up Caleb from school. I'm one of 3 other moms and a school bus that lovingly await the opening of the gate, which is followed by the procession of teachers, aides, and students. It's pretty interesting really...a few faces light up when they see their mom, a couple hardly have any reaction until they are two inches from their mom's face, and then one or two have no outward reaction (may I remind you, Caleb is in a Special Ed SDC classroom where Autism and other disabilities are prevalent, which also means the ability to communicate emotion does not come easy, and for some, does not come at all).

And then there's Caleb. As soon as that gate opens up and he sees my face, he yells "HI MOM!!" over and over with the biggest-chinniest grin until we're holding hands and walking to the car. I mean...it's the cutest thing ever, and I'm not just saying it because he's mine...other moms giggle when they see him every day too, and here's why:

Today, just like every day, the gate opened up and he jumped up & down shouting "HI MOM!!" as one other mom and I waited. The other mom then turned to me and said...

"You know, it is so.cute. how he does that every day. I would give my right arm for my son to be able to do that."

...and my heart sank. And ached. And here, an hour later at home, it is still aching for that one mom who holds her son's heart every day. There are things Caleb can't do; many things (which I'm sure I'll have lots of chances to write about). But this moment today made me exceptionally thankful for Caleb and for small moments like these, which are truly HUGE moments in the heart of a special needs mom.

Lastly I'll end with a picture I took last week of Caleb "playing the bongos." He pats on each and every one of those wooden stumps every day, and while some days it's endearing, and some days it's obnoxious (like seriously he has to do it every.day.) I'm reminded that not every child can do these things, and I'm very very thankful for this little bug of mine.