I have written before about how and why Reid sits in the sanctuary with us Sunday mornings. Nothing thrills my soul more than watching him diligently pen the key words from the sermon into his bulletin outline each week.
In a single glance down the pew, a series of images flash before my mind's eye:
...vestiges of his chubby little toddler hand...countless squatty golf pencils we collected to force a pincer grasp...hours of seemingly futile occupational therapy to correct the prehensile grasp...the vanquished hope that he would ever write his name...the introduction of an AlphaSmart keyboard goal to teach him typing instead...the accepting other approach of his private teacher Becky who simply suggested "it might be easier to hold it this way..."
...not to mention the treasure chest of rewards amassed (actually Panera cinnamon rolls) to "pay-off" staying in the pew for 2, 5, 15, then 20 minutes.......all those milestones and more that perhaps only another mother could appreciate (not to name names, but here's one).But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. Luke 2:18-20
Victory comes in slow small strokes that, before you know it, spell a sentence.
