What I want him to remember

Dear K, Someday you and I will sit down together and look back into the archives of my blog and I will read this to you. Or, knowing you, you will want to read it to me. I want to record this because I want you to know the way that God used you. Even when you were very young. Yesterday I sat in a room with 15 people and we planned out your upcoming year of kindergarten. Some of the individuals in that room were those who have worked with you through out this year of preschool. Some were those who have assisted us behind the scenes. Still others have yet to meet you, but will be working with you on a daily basis this fall. They are in for a treat! As I looked around that room I was struck with how one small boy can impact a whole lot of people. Your daddy shared your story with those who did not know you. To them you were just another boy coming into their class room. They didn't know how we prayed for each ounce you gained. They didn't know how every infection you picked up when you were in the NICU brought us down a very scary road. They had not experienced the fear and elation of your early days. They don't have to know all of it, but your daddy did a beautiful job of briefly sharing what a miracle you are. His eyes were full of deep emotion and he conveyed a clear sense of what a privilege it was that we were putting your education in their hands. They got it. The speech therapist who has worked with you each week this year began to read her report on your progress. She only got a few words out before being over come with emotion. Because your daddy had just shared the amazing fact that the portion of your brain most affected by the hemorrhage was in the area which interprets and expresses speech. Most of that portion of your brain is missing.Her report stated that you have achieved or exceeded all of the speech goals set for you and that at this time there is no longer a need for weekly speech services. Putting the beginning and the present together for these people left few with dry eyes. Of course there were also the emotions of those who have worked diligent with you through out the year and now have to say good bye. You brightened their world K. You showed them some new perspectives and you demonstrated some breathtaking possibilities. The director of your preschool was there along with your teacher and your aid. They were all special, but I know a particularly close bond was formed between you and your aid. She noted how different her days will be next year with out you in them. She saw you grow tremendously through out the year and she pushed you to new heights. Tomorrow you will join the other kids in your class for preschool graduation. We will drive to that wonderful caring preschool for the last time and watch you stand up front in your tasseled hat. I will thank all of the amazing people who have had a part in your school year for the past 8 months. And I will once again feel immeasurable gratitude for the honor it is to be a part of this story. I honestly feel like such a small part of it. Almost a bystander watching with awe as it all unfolds. Often people comment on what an amazing job we are doing. They ask how we do it. They affirm all of the work we must invest into you. K, what we tell them we want you to always know, that although we love you deeply and certainly make investments of that love, we can not take the credit for who you are and what you are becoming. The moment we would make it about us would be a moment our eyes would leave a very important focus. And K, at that moment we would fail you as parents. It's not about us. It is about a God who has had his hand on you since the day you were conceived. A God who was with us when we dedicated you to Him. A God who held us when we feared for your life. A God who never left our side through the grim predictions and low expectations from the doctors. He is, and has always been, your source of strength.