A Story

I love to read. Evidently I learned pretty early, some of my first memories being those of my Grandaddy and me on the sofa reading Beatrix Potter stories, tiny books just perfect for a young child's hands.

I assumed that my own children would form early and lasting relationships with words, just as I did. But for my oldest child, this has not been the case. Everyone told me it would simply "click" one day. I smiled and nodded and hoped desperately they were right. She just started 3rd grade and I've watched her book-loving peers leave her in the dust. She has too.

The issue became even more complicated when her 5-year-old brother started reading circles around her months ago. As their mother, I've walked the tightrope of encouraging one while comforting the other, baffled that two children from the same parents have brains that process so differently.

I've waited for the elusive "click." I've talked with anyone who will listen, trying to pinpoint possible disabilities. I've researched and talked with school district people about reading services for home-schooled kids. There are none. And while I could hire private tutors and specialists, it requires money we do not have.

I reluctantly began talking to God about it (yes, after I'd done everything else first.) She is, after all, His child. He formed her down to the very last cell. I asked Him to send me experts and answers and money. I've prayed for wisdom. I've asked Him to multiply my time and energy so I can provide what she needs.

God can be dramatic. I love that. {It's further proof that I'm created in His image.} Sometimes stuff happens and I know that it could only come from Him. One good thing about being a skeptic like me is that you get to witness His bigness quite a bit...evidently that's the only way I get it. He moves big so I'll finally believe big. I imagine Him saying, Girl, I see your pleas for experts and money but I have something bigger and better. Again.

We are in the last chapters of The Trumpet of the Swan, a book I loved as a child. The older two and I piled on my bed with our book while Cupcake napped. After a chapter, I decided to rest for "just a few minutes," promptly falling asleep with seconds.

You will not believe what happened. This child who can hardly sit still for more than five minutes stayed beside me and picked up the book. While I napped, she proceeded to read the entire next chapter of the book...9 pages of small print with words like "civilization," "balustrade," and "cygnets." It took her an hour but she did it. When I woke up, I saw this:

She had indeed read the whole chapter. {She nonchalantly told me all about it, down to the details of Serena nearly having her wings pinioned if not for the brave and true Louis coming to her rescue.}

It was, undoubtedly, a miracle. I don't know if things have permanently "clicked"; time will tell. But today was a breakthrough.

As she walked away, I cried at the kitchen sink, overjoyed and shamefully surprised that God would answer so lavishly. Again.

Sometimes I'm reluctant to pray for certain things because, well, it could always be worse. I don't ask God to help my child read because she could be terminally ill or have a devastating disability instead. I should just be grateful that it's not the worst. All too often, that's how I look at my problems. My apologetic and guilt-laced prayers are timidly tossed up to Him and I don't really expect much in return because...It could always be worse.

After all He's done for me (and oh, there are stories), I'm embarrassed that my faith can still be so anemic.

I am slowly getting bolder though...and He is infinitely patient with me.

I haven't shared with her yet that I've been praying for her, that just this morning I begged the Father to help us with this whole reading thing.

But I can't wait to tell her what He's been up to.

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"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7