look at what I made

She is drawing.  Writing.

The tip of her tongue sticking out tells anyone at a glance that she is working.  Hard.

It is hard.  For a few obvious and a million secret reasons, it is very hard.

She is tired, and there are tears.  “It’s just a picture, honey.  Try again, try your best.  But try not to let it get to you.”

She rights her grip on the marker- like her OT has shown her a million times– and starts again as I wander down the hall.

I am lost in research when she finds me 15 minutes later.  She wears a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eye.  She is hiding something- though, not very well– behind her back.

“Mom!” she yells, brimming with laughter.  “Face. Purple. No out!”

Look, she says in her special way.  Look at what I made.  It’s a face.  And there’s purple.  And I stayed in the lines.

It was so hard, she says.  But, I did it.

She is a parent.  I.  I am a parent and a wife.

It is hard.  For a few obvious and a million secret reasons, it is very hard.

I am tired, and there are tears.

“It’s yours, Katie.” He says to me in quiet moments.  “It’s for you.  Try again, try your best.  But try so very hard not to let it get to you.”

So I steel myself, I ready myself, for the next hurdle.  Joke.  Chore.  Blessing.  Miracle.  Opportunity. And, I start again.  A hundred times a day, I start again.

Because, one day, I expect to run to Him- when I get my 5 minutes alone- I will run to Him with a twinkle in my eye.  And I want to double over with joyful laughter when I show Him.

Look at what I made.

Thank You for believing in me, for trusting me.

A hundred times a day.  Thank you.

It was so hard, but I did it.

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