It was the counting by 2’s that got to me.
“Zero—it is zero, right?” Kya asked as she began.
“Yes, the even numbers start with zero.”
“Okay, zero-two-four-six-eight-who do we appreciate?” she chants and dances the way we’ve been doing for months. “Ten…ten-nine-eight-seven-six…”
“No, no Kya, you’re counting backwards now.”
“Oh!” she says with a grin and begins again. “Two-four-six-eight-ten-twenty-thirty-forty…”
“Wait…now you’re counting by tens. Remember, counting by two’s is just skip-counting. Just say our little chant. Remember our little chant?” Of course you remember our chant. We’ve been doing it for months and months and months on end.
Kya jumps right in, happily chanting all the wrong numbers. 12—14—15—16, she says at last, and I do not tell her she is wrong.
“Let’s write them out on paper,” I say instead. Sometimes, seeing the numbers helps, but today, she can’t remember which way a 10 goes, and she can’t remember what to call a 12, and she’s sure that 20 should have a three in it, somewhere.
She can’t do it.
She’s six-and-a-half and she can’t do it. Not today.
I take my heavy heart upstairs, and I think I will not cry. I will not cry. Not today.
But I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what is wrong, and I don’t know how to help. I have helped so many children, but I can’t help her.
It is agony. I want nothing more than to protect her from feeling stupid or slow or different. I want to hug her and tell her it’s okay not to know 1+0 or how many cookies you have left if you eat one. Just eat them all, I think, and then it won’t matter.
Because Kya is exceptional, and I want her always to know it.
Under her bright blue eyes and dimpled smile is a pure heart and tender spirit. Always caring, always attentive, always gentle—that’s my Kya. She is delightful, and delighted, in every circumstance. We call her our Sunshine in Seattle, because it’s always sunny when Kya is around.
She is also highly creative and so perceptive, it’s almost unnerving. Even as a baby, she could tell when something was different, something was new, something was off. It was her habit, every morning, to survey my wardrobe choices and give me her unrestrained opinion in the sweetest possible way; we nicknamed her “Quality Control.” She is witty. She is funny. She is the only one of our children who gets her father’s humor and the only one who can, so quickly, give it right back.
But she is also soft. Fragile. Vulnerable. It will not take much to crush her. Not much more than a stack of flashcards she can’t answer. And I worry about that, way down deep and in words I don’t want to say. I think of my impatience and I wonder, “Will I be the one to take it from her? Will I be the one to make her feel less than she is? Will my beautiful baby grow up to feel inadequate because her mother couldn’t let her be enough?”
That brings the tears out that I said I would not cry. That brings me to my knees and I beg, beg, God to make me more patient. Now.
When I come down from upstairs, Kya has drawn a picture for me. It is a page filled up with circles, each one filled up with a different pattern of beautiful colors. Her math page has been decorated with patterns and grinning people with legs and arms coming directly out of their heads. She doesn’t believe in drawing bodies.
She tells the boys all about it, but she can’t think of a word. “I can see it,” she tells them, “I just can’t say it.” Her sentences are filled with pauses and slowly spoken phrases as she tries to collect thoughts from a brain that can’t access words very quickly. When she was a toddler, she had her own language. It bubbled out of her in giggles and turned-around phrases. But she knows enough now to try to reach for words that sit just beyond her grasp.
Oh, how I love her.
She laughs at her brothers and her own silly words and they laugh too. She lets them answer her math facts and then lines them up to tell them Bible stories that are probably heretical and asks them questions that don’t make much sense.
“Paul, what’s first Genesis chapter six?” she asks.
Paul squirms uncomfortably in his chair because he has neglected his lesson.
“It’s God. The answer is God,” she says. “Micah? Mr. Micah? Do you know who made you?”
“Dod,” says Micah, because his tongue doesn’t quite say the things he thinks. Kya understands about that.
“Yes. God,” she says as hushed and holy as possible. Micah and Paul nod and try to remember that in this class, the answer is always God.
The answer is always God.
Who made you? God. Who knows your worth? God. Who created you just as you are? God. Who can be glorified in your weaknesses? God.
I believe. Lord, help my unbelief.
Because it’s one thing to believe it for me. It’s another thing to believe it for my babies. It’s one thing to come to terms with my own faults, but God—oh God! –it’s quite another to come to terms with theirs.
That requires faith, and on this beautiful day of motherhood, I find my faith is lacking. I find my mother-heart tempted to fear. I find myself worrying when I am told to trust. Trust. It is a beautiful thing to be able to trust my children to the God who made them, to see the missing stitch and give them back to the One who knit them together. It is a beautiful thing to know that love always adds up, even when the math facts don’t.
I am loving the young Kya pics ….
This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. What a testimony of our weaknesses and our faith through giving our children to God.
Thank you incredibly substantially for your exciting text. I have been looking for these types of message to get a definitely very long time. Thank you.
all just reiterates what I mentioned on Tuesday–protein fat and carbs are key to a meal or snack. Guess what chocolate milk has in it? you don't have to give your
That was beautiful. You have a sweet daughter, and I’m sure she’ll grow up to be everything the world needs her to be.
Thank you for the uplifting end to my night.
Thank you. She is a treasure!
Kya is one of God’s great souls. She has HUGE gifts. i love Kya. I am glad we all don’t have the same gifts. God loves diversity.
Kya is so beautiful inside and out. :>) I just know God has made her special. He knows how much you and Jeff want to be there for her and help her be all she can be…He honors faith. This speaks to my heart as I still find myself not always accepting myself for who God made me to be and being satisfied with that.
I have read and re-read this post over the last few days. I have a child who has a different way of viewing the world. He has many “special needs” that seem to vary from day to day. Some days he seems almost “normal’ and the next day anything but. I too have 5 children- he is my middle child. I just can’t get the statement you made: “It is a beautiful thing to be able to trust my children to the God who made them, to see the missing stitch and give them back to the One who knit them together.” out of my mind. That is the way I have felt, but could never express. You have given words to my feelings about my son. This post will be tucked away and I’m sure read and read again. May God continue to use you and your writing as encouragement to other moms!
P.S. It’s okay to cry. Tears are the way God gave us to ‘safely’ clean us from the inside out. We all need cleaned out now and again.
It’s okay Kristin that Kya doesn’t know how to count by 2’s. She’s just Kya. Just like my Nathan is just Nathan. At 4 he can’t even say “good morning MOM”. But I do love him so much. And God has used him to teach me so many things. And because of Nathan I’m closer to God and have a testimony to share. So it’s okay. Nathan may NEVER count by 2’s and you know what I’m okay with that. (As long as he learns his abc’s ha ha just kidding). I’m okay with whatever comes because Nathan is Nathan, a gift from God just like his name means, and I don’t want to change that. I am just coming to that point where you have to balance between Nathan is just Nathan, and helping him be all he can be without pushing too much. All I can do is hope that God leads and helps me in this as well.
Brilliant. Thanks
Oh how I needed this post. I struggle with one with learning issues as well. God has used you to help me in my response to him. Thank you!
just a cautious suggestion-look into some testing for dyslexia for your sweet girl (if you haven’t already) 🙂
Yes, thank you Ingrid. We will be doing a range of tests this year. She has many markers for dyslexia, and my husband is severely dyslexic so it stands to reason that she got his brain wiring. There’s something else going on,too, so we’re hoping to be able to do more than the standard tests. We’re really hoping to be able to figure out how to help her feel equipped to succeed!
Your words are a great encouragement for me as I struggle with the same situation with my daughter of the same age. Thank you for sharing your heart and your faith.
Kya will have insights that other’s don’t have. Understanding in ways that not all have. Oh how I love her as well! A MOST precious child!
You are doing a great job. My Courtney (10) had trouble with reading and it took forever for it to click. Every consonant made the sound of O and every word had the sound R in it when read. It took years of her reading incorrectly and me gently reading it back correctly for her to finally let go of the letter R in every word, and to learn that only O makes the sound for O. There is always hope and God will bring her math together in his perfect timing…because his timing is always perfect. One day it will be a distant memory just as ours is a distant memory when she reads to me at bedtime books that I once thought would always be beyond her grasp.
I have a recommendation–for you, too, Steph, for Julia. Buy the Brain Integration Manial from Diane Craft. I think it is Dianecraft.com. Not sure. Shoot me an e-mail if you can’t find it or want to hear more.
Thank you, Tracy. I’ll look into that!
I love the way her mind works – her brain is definitely is wound differently. Hopefully one day the math will click. In the meantime we’ll pray for patience for the mama! 🙂
Thank you! She is such a gem, I wouldn’t want her mind to work any other way. But, I do want to help her as best I can and give her the tools she needs to learn better. We’re looking forward to having some testing done this upcoming year.
Thank you.
One of my sons sounds just like her! He is eight now. A late bloomer, but oh how he is blooming now! He is such a creative thinker, he does not see the world in a linear fashion like the rest of us. We are in the midst of some developmental testing right now. He views the world in a more wholistic manner, having a hard time focusing on small details when he is always so focused on the greater whole.
Thank you for that! I grieve for her because I don’t want it to be terrible. I don’t want her to look back on these years and remember pain and suffering. I should worry because SHE doesn’t seem to be bothered in the least. But worry is something I’m exceptional at. 😉
Oh, how our love for your girl shines through your words!
She is so precious.
I’m sorry I meant a new family of 6.. 4kiddos 🙂
Thank you! I needed this today. Trying to adjust to a new family of four and today it just didn’t work. Their were a few rare beautiful moments, sun shining through some of our clouds but all in all a kind of day that make me as a mom/parent question myself. God is good even on the not so good days.
It is a big adjustment. I had to remind myself of that often when we went from 3 to 5 kids overnight. On the really hard days, I just had to say, “What did you THINK it would be like?” When you’re totally outnumbered by the kiddos, it stands to reason that some days they’re going to win. 🙂
I would love to see her and Julia together. They both notice new things and Jules is/has always been the one to bring joy to our house. The only difference between her and her cousin-twin is that Julia gets the math. It’s the reading that she has struggled with – and in that she is opposite to most of her siblings. I didn’t know what to do to help her. God answered with the help of our pastor’s wife. Praying for some wisdom.