Growing Julia Growing Me

Sometimes, when I'm putting Julia to bed I ask her how I know God is real. Sucking her thumb, she'll ask me how and I tell her it's because He put the two of us together. She smiles and snuggles in more. I silently thank Him for the millionth time for letting me have her.

She is a gift.

She is a lot of things right now, some of which she won't be forever - but she will always be a gift.

Raising this gift brings out a lot of critics - moreso than I've ever experienced with my boys. From clothes to discipline to activities to diet, I'm learning to dismiss the microscopes of idle observers and clueless opiners. I'm learning to celebrate her uniqueness - to guide it and not snuff it. I'm learning to investigate her quirks that I used to dismiss as her just being a pain difficult that may perhaps just be a symptom of a deeper fear/hurt/insecurity that we can work on together.

Yesterday morning while getting ready for school, she told me that she sees white dots. All of the time. All over the place. That float. That make it hard for her to read. And that scared the bejeebes out of me.

I got her into our beloved pediatrician in the morning and my heart melted and cringed and cried as she fumbled through a vision test. If the half-smiley glances from the nurse giving the test didn't clue me in to the fact the test wasn't going well, Julia's tiny little shakey voice as she tried so hard to give the right answers knowing she was just guessing sure did.

I had never heard Julia struggle so humbly. Normally, if she doesn't "get" something it leads to frustration....and then a grumpy little fit...and then she maybe throws whatever is frustrating her into the garbage can.

This was so different. It was so sad. I watched her looking into the vision screening machine while listening to her fish for the right answers. Each answer sounded like a prayer or a frail Hail Mary pleading to be right - and maybe embarrassed because she knew it wasn't. I get that it was just a vision test, but she just seemed so alone in her efforts. I couldn't help her. I couldn't cheer her on or give her hints. I know it's one of the many times in life I can't fix it for her. Funny how something so simple as this brings out the Mamma Bear in us.

Days like yesterday remind me to be slow to anger and slow to react to what Julia does or any of my children do. Too many times, I am so quick to judge dumb behavior as kids being defiant or stubborn, when really they just need a hug or food or a nap or in this case - glasses.

She is a gift. A challenging gift, but maybe the challenge is more about me growing with her than just raising her.