Promise

Last week I was trying my best to hurry Little Bear out the door and into the car.  I should know by now that you can't hurry Autism.  I still try.  Anyway, I was pulling him along, intent on getting to whatever highly important place I wanted to go to.  He, in true Little Bear fashion, had his heels dug in, intent on whatever thing it was that was of utmost importance to him.

Suddenly, he stopped.  He yelled, "Mommy!  Stop!".  I did.  "Look!" he said with excitement.  He pointed to the trees.  I scanned them, trying to quickly see what it was he wanted to show me.  A bird?  An old brown crinkly leaf left over from the fall?  What?

"There's nothing there." I told him and tried to move him toward the car.  

"No!  Look!" he said again.

Frustrated, I said "What?  Show me."  He took my hand and every so gently, he guided it to a cold naked branch on the tree nearest us.

"Spring is here!" he said with glee.

On that tiny cold branch, there, right at the end, were swollen buds.  He was right.  Hiding right there in front of me, poking out of 2 feet of frozen snow, was the promise of spring and new life.  In my hurry to get to whatever important thing (so important I now have no idea what it was), I had nearly missed this beautiful fragile yet persistent and determined sign of spring.



My challenge today is to stop, if just for a moment, and notice the promises around you.  The tiny new green grass is pushing it's way toward the warm sun.  The buds on the trees are swelling with promise.  The snow melts and runs in rivulets, streams, rivers down to the low places.  Calves frolic in the fields.  For me, both morning and evening chores are not done in daylight.  Yes!  Spring is coming!

Thank you, dear Little Bear, for making me slow down and notice these gifts.  Thank you for being exactly who you are.  I can't imagine being mama to any other boy.  I love you.

hbk