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  • Writer's pictureA is for Agape

Living in the Wrong World

Showers taken, teeth brushed, kisses and prayers given, each in their own bed, I go off towards my

own room when I hear one of them call out, “Mommy”.  So quietly I don’t recognize the voice, “Who’s calling me?” I ask.  Again, but this time a little louder, “Mommy, it’s me”.  Now, I recognize my little boy calling out to me from his bed.

I open the door just a crack, “I think I know one of the reasons I’m feeling this way.”  So sad that sweet voice.  I slip through the door and sit on his bed, right beside him.  “What do you think it is?”  I ask him.

See, my little boy’s been having problems lately.  His sweet nature interrupted by fits of crying followed by over-activity followed by deep grumpiness then going up his room to play Legos.  We’ve been talking things out, taking lots of breaks, breathing a lot.  Some of those are just him and some are just me, needing to cope with it all.  But deep down I know him and I know what’s bothering him but I need him to tell me.

So I ask him, “What do you think is bothering you?”

“Remember homeschool?” he says and I nod, “Well, in homeschool it was just us and sometimes we would go play with friends but just for short periods of time.”  Uh, huh, I whisper so he doesn’t lose his train of thought.

“Well, now, at school, there are so many kids and five at the same time sometimes asking me questions or talking to me.”  And my heart breaks because my little boy is too much like me and that’s not what I wanted for him.  But I smile and nod, yeah, believe me I get it.  I don’t say this.

Instead I tell him I understand and I know it’s hard and I know that it’s too much.

I ask him what he wants to do about it.  And he looks at me, “I guess a year or two and I’ll be used to it.”  He’s so wise and yet, I know better.  He’ll never get used to it.  What he’ll do is find ways of coping, breathing exercises that actually work, he’ll take even longer breaks sometimes, he’ll lay in bed with covers over his head shutting out the world.  But no, he’ll never get used to it.  Because this world is not for him.  I’m not sure it’s for anyone but it’s definitely not for him.

I smile at him and tell him he’s right, he’ll get used to it and we’ll keep talking about it and he can take all the breaks he needs.  His teacher will understand.  I understand.

He nods and lays his head back on the pillow.  We say a prayer together, one about God being in his heart and giving him the peace he needs and angels watching over him.  Silently, I ask God for wisdom to raise this brilliant, sensitive, loving boy.  So, for now, it’s ok.  For now, he’s home and no one is bothering him and he can lay in bed with the covers over his head and block out the world.  He’s got me there fighting so hard for him because I know, I know.

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