Manifestation

Dreams grow once the wick of passion is ignited.

And single sighted in my vision,

I make the decision to embrace it with all of my being.



Seeing the once hazy future through the clarity of new eyes,

I realize the epic nature of this moment,

Feeling the magic sent from my soles.


It starts in my toes, as a light,

Burning bright and bursting up to my heart

Like a firework...

You know, the kind that sizzle

And pop and don't stop til they leave an expression of awe on your face.


From this space I draw forth my dream.

It comes not from my head

Or the words I just read.

It rises instead from that feeling-

Reeling with excitement-

Because I'm already there.

Acceptance

In this moment, I am praying for acceptance. My stepson is a special needs child. He is significantly developmentally delayed. He is ten years old. His reading is limited to basic cvc words and even many of those he struggles with. His vocabulary is being surpassed by my two year old. His memory recall is sometimes less than seconds. And this is really just the tip of the iceberg.

And it's sad. And it's frustrating. And I sit here and watch him strive to express love and what should be some of the most joyful moments wind up being some of the most tearful as he hands me a card that says "da yov mom" and is meant to say "to you mom".

I spend most of my time with him in an inner dialogue wishing he could be more, be smarter, be normal. And I am praying right now to wish only for him to be happy. Free from the societal standards that have taught me, and so many others, to see him as "not enough".

And those who believe that the world is but a mirror might say that what I am really feeling in these moments is that I am not enough. Maybe that's where my oportunity lies. And perhaps the lessons that I must constantly drill for him, day in and day out, are the same lessons that I most need reminded of myself.

Through this pain I seek to transform my own judgements into acceptance, love and light. I seek to remember that we are all here on the same journey. And that perhaps he made the choice to come into his perfect vessel so that he could teach the rest of us just a little bit more about love. Could it be that he truly is here as a teacher?

I'll try to remember that tomorrow when he seems unable to sound out a four letter spelling word and he's throwing toys across the room.

Change that. There is no try. There is only do. I'll remember that tomorrow. His sacrifice is his gift. His gift to me and to the world.