mustard seed

that little thing is a mustard seed

Jesus said that faith the size of a mustard seed, can move a mountain.  have you seen a mustard seed?  they are tiny, and mountains, well, they are huge.  sometimes i think that Jesus said that, and matthew wrote it down, just for me.

i used to think that faith was like patience- either you have or you don't- either you spend your life working on it, or you've been blessed. i have not been given the gift of patience- i struggle with it daily, okay hourly- but faith, i've always thought i was pretty solid on that. but. i'm finding that faith is more like love. love is something that everyone has for someone or something - in varying degrees, for varying situations, and people and seasons.  faith is like this- well for me.  maybe there are people who have it more universally- but for me, it changes in strength and size and amplitude with each different circumstance.

with zoe- it's only the size of a mustard seed- on a good day. 

school starts in two days.  i can feel it shrinking.  this morning poor mike got back from his run and was faced with my fine coffee ground size faith.

"mike she is never going to make it in school. we are CRAZY. we ARE crazy. WE are crazy." 

i recounted her educational history- her IEPs- her work- her attention- the issues- the recommendations- the challenges at special schools where the zoe's of the world are their raison d'etre. i worried that i hadn't done enough prep work with her, or the school.  that everybody's expectations wouldn't be met.  that everyone would be disappointed.  (maybe mostly me).  because it feels like the more times something fails, the greater the let down- there is more riding on the hope of it working.  

i know all of this banter is pointless.  she's going to school in two days even if that means all of my greatest fears coming true- desk hiding, ear covering, screaming out in frustration or the sight of a vacuum, speaking in whatever foreign language seems appropriate based on the way someone looks to her, whistling through her day, flapping and force laughing at a funny joke, announcing in class that she's having a hard time because she has a "non--ver-bal--learn-ing-dis-ord-er" or because she's "turning 13 soon and is growing... you know...." while pointing to her chest. 

oh. dear.

"i mean i do have faith.  it's there.  somewhere."  i said finally, but i'm not sure it brought much relief to either of us.

this does feel like a mountain. one i've been looking at for a long time.  one i've been climbing up, trying to understand: why it's so high, and bald in some places and forest like in others. why it's so steep, why there are desert parts even.  why i don't have the right equipment, why no one told me i needed crampons and an ice pick.

but what is "working" anyway? what does "making it" look like?  and is this even about her? is it perhaps about me letting her go? releasing her to the one who told me i only need a tiny speck of faith for big things to happen, for the world to shake, for change, for the impossible to become possible.

so i grabbed my mustard seed and my girl and we headed out to face the music- to have a day together and to go see her teacher and her classroom.  it was delicious.  our mountain hasn't moved- but i felt  a tremble. 

we started at the salon, because i had an appointment. zoe was her charming self and they offered to wash and style her hair for fun (and for free). 

"yeah right!" i thought. she has sensory issues. she hates getting her hair washed and brushed and dried. 
but no- she wanted to- and. she. was. fine.

and then she was thrilled. so thrilled that she danced around the salon to the club music, looking in every  mirror she passed. then we went for our lunch date. sushi. like old times. she tried to speak japanese to the tagalog speaking sushi chef, thankfully the japanese branch of the UN were dinning there too so zoe was able to both salute and impress them with her greetings.

girls day out

 

then we stopped by school, she saw her new classroom, and her teacher, and the desks and book nook, stuffed frog, and other fun items.  she saw her cubby, and asked some questions. 

there was no magic and it wasn't a 'perfect day'- there was a quick shriek at the hair salon when she couldn't get something to work, some mild frustration as she attempted to use chopsticks, and some ear covering when she heard a drill at school. but it was delicious because of the words quick, mild and some.  it was delicious because this day reminded me that Jesus never tells us how the mountain will be moved or who is doing the moving, or when it will be moved.  maybe the mountain moving process matches our faith.  for me, with zoe, at this place in life, it might be moved one pinch of dirt at a time.

part of my mustard seed faith is knowing this, and being okay with this, and trusting that what i have faith about -will happen.  our mountain will move- but most likely by a means that i never dreamed of, in a time period that i will find frustrating, with help that i never thought would come my way.

i have faith that zoe will be happy and not afraid (most of the time).  i have faith that zoe will know and love God and other people.  i have faith that zoe will love herself as. she. is.  i have faith that zoe  will someday leave my house, for her house.  these are the things that i want for her.  but i have no idea what any of that looks like.  all i know is that it probably looks nothing like my happy, my not afraid, my leaving, or my house- and that is okay.

mustard tree

so i will plant my small mustard seed.  and this giant tree will grow.  and the mountain will move- somehow, someday - and i will smile and get my hands dirty and wait to be surprised.