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My Child My Teacher

Ronnie was 13 years old. We were headed to the store for our weekly groceries and I was reminding him of all the fun things we did together when he was much younger.
We went on walks and searched for flora and fauna and brought things home to share with his dad. We made art from odd things we found lying around the house. Sometimes we scribbled in my day-planner as we waited in the lobby for Tara to end her therapy session. We’d take turns transforming scribbles into something recognizable. I’d scribble and he would draw, he’d scribble then I would draw.

A favorite memory of mine was when we walked to Houston’s, a restaurant just down the block from Tara’s occupational therapy clinic. While we watched the beautiful Koi swimming in the outdoor pond at the entrance, a waiter brought a little cup of food so we could feed them. We laughed as we named each one that swam right up to us with their mouths gaping open. We would occasionally return to see the fish we named.

As I recounted some of the activities we did together, I asked him if he remembered. He said he did not. He knew I was sad by my silence. He said,
“Mom, it’s ok. I am who I am today because of all the things we did back then. I don’t have to remember it.”
I was stunned by the depth of his words.

I had romanticized about the day we’d sit over coffee and share childhood memories. Because of his words to me that day, I’ve been able to calm my ego and am now living in faith that he will continue to grow into an amazing man. Someday, over coffee, or a drink of his choice, I’ll share with Ronnie, my gratitude to God for the lesson learned and His messenger.

James 3:17
But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.

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