Parenting is hard. I don’t think anyone who as been a parent for any amount of time would disagree. There aren’t always easy answers for the problems we face. Again and again, we need to ask God how to best face the challenges before us. Never is this more true, though, than when one is raising a child who is different.
“Do you know what pliable means?” my mom said as she looked up from the book she was reading. We were in the middle of Pilgrim’s Progress and had reached the part where Pliable and Obstinate were trying to convince Christian to turn back from his dangerous journey.
“If something is Pliable it means it can be easily bent around– like play-dough,” my mom went on.
I’ve always been happy to see my children coloring, especially when they were younger. I figured it was a painless way to achieve better motor skills and improve their handwriting, something that some of my boys really needed work on. There has been evidence that benefits to coloring don’t stop when you grow out of childhood.
I almost didn’t share this post. I thought maybe it’s too real — too honest. And then I thought maybe I’m exagerating the state of my house and of my mind that Sunday evening a few weeks ago. And then also, what can I say that hasn’t been said before?
Tears stood in my eyes as I listened to my son pronounce the words to his speech therapist. “Cat, cut, cow, call.” First the hard c sound at the beginning of words, then in the middle, then at the end. Then the same with the hard g. I was amazed. Every single c and g (at the beginning, middle, and end of words) was perfect.
Recently there was one of those polls on Facebook that likes to ask senseless questions. You know the kind. The kind that asks you if you’d rather know how to play all the instruments in the world or know all the languages in the world. The ones that often remind me of my four boys who have an endless supply of perplexing questions they like to throw at my husband and me at the dinner table.