elephants and ferraris

the last night we slept in san franisco, it was on a table at our close friends flat, looking out over the mission with a perfectly round yellow lantern moon hung low in the sky.  zoe slept and i watched that lantern rise and the fog roll and the little lights sparkle and the sounds of the city grow more quiet.  but my mind wasn't quiet- it wasn't still- it was full and not ready to re-arrange the furniture - not ready to place things.

our last day was much better than the day before.  it started with sunshine- which always helps.  we went to zoe's old school- we saw her teachers and the staff and the women who'd spent hours with her- dissecting the social challenges and the nuances of language and speech.  we heard a quartet in the elementary school gym about how music talks just like our voices- something zoe totally gets.  we moved on to her pre-school, her old doctor, and finally the beach.

we lay on that warm sand- looking over the golden gate bridge on the right and the marin headlands across the water and listened to the ocean.  she lay down and closed her eyes and smiled.  and i remembered her running on that beach,smiling, before things got so complicated, before there were other children to share my time with.  before she understood there was a 'normal' and a deviation from that.

it has taken me a day to re-equilibrate to being home.  to give some space to our trip.  the settling down after stirring things up.

i'd like to think of zoe as 'normal', but having  few 'off' years.  i'd like to think of my life as that too, but when i operate that way- i'm most unhappy.  i'm overwhelmed by her needs and how far off we are from other 'normals'.  i panic at the thought of our future.  i create plans and lists for what we need to do to catch up.

i seem to be able to articulate that our life is not 'normal'- but emotionally, i'm not quiet there.  as usual, i haven't caught up with my mouth yet.

today i stumbled into a phone appointment that i'd forgotten about.  an appointment that was about zoe, with a woman who has known her for years- a woman who runs the social group that she's been in for years.  a woman who gets her- who cares for her-a woman with patience and process and wisdom that i wish i could buy from her- that i could soak in and absorb fully and live in.  i so wish for zoe that i could be more like this woman.

our half hour on the phone- which had caught me by surprise, brought me to tears and made me take notes- literally. i was given the permission to remember that i have a 'special' kid. i was given the validation that she is different, that her life, and my life, are a big challenge- that she is both really challenged, and really great.  she asked me to hold this.  she asked me to hold the tension of these opposites-zoe at her best- zoe at her worst.  to pay attention.  to trust my clarity.  to work to help her get to a more comfortable place.  to shoot for a goal where she can take care of herself internally.

i was caught off guard.  i was still thinking about san francisco and that yellow moon and my orange flavored morning bun and here she was making it all real.  giving voice to the music in my heart.
that it is really hard.
that the inconsistency is trauma.
that worrying about which writing curriculum i should use next year- is irrelevant.
so i sat on that phone and wept in secret.
i'm still not sure why.  if i was crying because i'm tired and jet-laggy and felt sorry for myself that my trip wasn't manicures and justin bieber books,  or whether it was because she got it- nail on the head.
but she said it out loud.

'hey- kris- i know your kid really well and guess what- she's not 'normal' and so neither will your life be.'
'hey- kris- it's both- it's black and white.  she is really challenged and she's also really great and full of potential.'
'hey- hold that- hold both'

(i wish i could just get it.
grieve it and move on.
memorize the instruction book and carry it out.
follow formula.
see the future.
know the right thing.)

'but what if i hold both and it pulls me apart?'
'what if i'm drawn and quartered trying to hold the tension of those opposites?'
'what then?'

but as i dried my tears and sniffled subconsciously; i heard such affirmation, such acceptance and such watering of my soul.

"you can't remove the obstacles- but you can be with her while she navigates them and help her not feel alone."  she said.

'but i'm moving her to Uganda!! i'm taking her from her closest comfort zone! new friends, new cultural norms, new language, new sensations, new room, new everything!'

"it doesn't matter if that obstacle is an elephant or a ferrari, you can't remove it- you can only help her around it, over it, live with it- know she's not alone."

i wanted to hand over zoe to her care- i wanted to immerse myself in 'shellyness', i want to become her zen.  

but.

i am just me.

this is it.  me - faults and beauty and disaster. zoe- faults and beauty and disaster.

so.

but how lucky am i to live in the meat of life.  to know that brokenness- that in the sadness and the 'not normalness' of it all- there is also beauty and learning and a deep joy.  that the great healer is walking quietly beside us.
helping me to navigate - whether the obstacle is an elephant or a ferrari.

there is the joy.
there is the peace.