We did it. We finished it. All six hundred and something pages. And, at this point, I'm not even really sure how I feel about it.
The past couple of weeks have been reminiscent of five years ago. Those were the days when I just didn't think we were going to make it. I saw no hope of Mason ever learning how to read or being the least bit successful in school. Those were the days when there were so many questions and no answers. Those were the days when I kept saying, "I can't do this anymore," and asking, "What are we going to do?"
We are so far removed from those five years now. It seems like a lifetime ago. It really does. We've been through so much and covered so many miles, both literally and figuratively. I don't even know how we made it through two years of private therapy two days a week after school. I really don't. I think I did it with my eyes closed. In a way I feel like I've been walking on egg shells lately . . . the darkness of those days feels sometimes like it's chasing me, like it's almost caught up, like it's going to overtake me again. So I've just been waiting. Waiting on that one thing that would all of a sudden be the "impossible" or the thing he'll "never do."
The past two years have been so much easier in a way. I knew the hard was coming again though. I knew it would be seventh grade. I don't know why. I just knew. And it is. Even though we now homeschool and can essentially choose what we do and how we do it and can provide perfect accommodations for Mason geared towards dyslexia, that's not exactly the road we've chosen. I've often wondered if we've chosen correctly. I wonder if we are going to be able to continue on the current path we're on. So many people question why we have him handwriting papers and essays when it would be so much easier to type them. Or dictate them. Or not do them altogether. So many people question why he is studying Latin, particularly when most kids with dyslexia do not learn a second language because they can be exempted from a foreign language requirement. I'll not answer those questions here, but I can assure you I, too, struggle with those questions.
Remember. To bring to mind or think of again. To retain in the memory.
Oh, I remember all right! I remember the tears, the struggle, the questions, the fears . . . Mason isn't going to pass second grade . . . this probably isn't the best place for Mason so you should consider sending him somewhere else . . . another failed reading test . . . the hours and hours and hours of therapy and sitting in that lobby with the girls while we were waiting on Mason. Everyday right now is a reminder of this.
But one day I hope to look back on all of that and be thankful, grateful for the special way the Lord made Mason, the gifts He has given Mason. I mean, I am thankful . . . he is strong and healthy and smart and funny. He is diligent and hard-working. His logic teacher this week told me he has a stick-to-it-ness. He hasn't given up. And, again, he has essentially CONQUERED dyslexia!
It just seems like the remembering brings with it more of the difficult memories than the victories. One day I'd like to remember the victories more than the difficult.
God often told the Israelites to remember. He wanted them to remember the years of slavery in Egypt. Why? Because then they would remember how He brought them OUT of Egypt. That was cause for celebration. Celebration because they had been delivered (Deuteronomy 16). It would also help shape their response to the foreigner and the fatherless and the widow (Deuteronomy 24:21). They had such a personal, unique perspective of bondage and helplessness and not-belonging-ness that could enable them to effectively minister to others. And then - FINALLY - came the moment the Israelites crossed over the Jordan River into the promised land. Joshua had them take twelve stones from the middle of the river and build a memorial with those stones once they got to camp. Why?
And Joshua set up at Gilgal the twelve stones they had taken out of the Jordan. He said to the Israelites, "In the future when your descendants ask their parents, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.' For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The LORD your God did to the Jordan what he had done to the Red Sea when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God." ~Joshua 4:20-24
Remember. So they would remember their deliverance out of Egypt by the powerful, mighty hand of God. So they would remember that God always went before them, always provided a way. So they would remember that God is good. So they would remember that God keeps His promises. So they would remember that God is faithful. So they would remember that God loves them with a forever kind of love that culminated with the death of His Son at Calvary. So that "all the peoples of the earth" would see the evidence of the might and power of the LORD GOD.
When I look back on the past eight years, God's faithfulness is woven through every single thread. He has moved and worked in ways that I couldn't even have imagined, and He continues to do so. I have to remind myself daily that He loves Mason even more than I do, and He has a plan for Mason's life - a GOOD plan. I realize that dyslexia is definitely NOT the end of the world or the "worst" thing that could happen. I do. But it has been a huge struggle for me watching my child navigate the challenging waters of a learning disability, especially in a world that isn't always so friendly to learning differences. It has even bred bitterness and anger that has needed to be reckoned with and rooted out.
Mason is thriving. He really is. I watched him write an essay for science today, and I was amazed because he was correctly spelling words that I never thought he would. His Latin teacher, who also has a son who is dyslexic (and currently in college), told me he never would've known Mason is dyslexic had I not told him. What?!
And, speaking of remembering . . . Facebook reminded me today that exactly four years ago on this day, Mason made a B in reading on his report card for the very first time ever (he was in third grade), and I bought him a cookie cake to celebrate. Now that's the kind of remembering I want to do!
