Does it matter in the life of a child?

Tonight, we had parent teacher conferences with my daughter's third grade teacher. My daughter and I talk realistically about expectations of her studies, and we try to keep her focused each night when we get home and remind her to complete her homework before she plays with toys, or anything else she wants to do for the night. I don't remember having this much homework when I was this age. Really, I remember a lot of homework in jr high and high school, but not this much in elementary grades.

Well, one project her teacher had the class do was to write out their personal goals for the year. My daughter wrote me a letter, and folded it neatly in thirds, and put her name and address in the return address spot, and my name and address in the recipient spot, like a business envelope.

I asked if she wanted me to read it right away, or if I should wait. She said I could read it whenever I wanted to, so I waited...and it was a good thing I did. Once we got home and I was able to settle down on the couch for a moment, I neatly lifted the blue smiley face star sticker that sealed it, unfolded it, read it, and cried. Not just a tiny trickle of a tear...but gushing waterfalls and heaving sobs came rushing out of my face uncontrollably - so much so that my husband seemed very concerned and came over to read what I just opened. These are the times I'm once again grateful that God placed him in my life.

I suppose my reaction to the letter was just unleashing the stress of the past few months on the job, and at home...or perhaps grieving yet more transition and friends moving on from my workplace. I love working in ministry a lot, but I'm finding that I'm quite dissappointed in how often people move on - and how God's plan is to grow us, which requires much change. Yes, yes, we all know that a fully grown frog looks nothing like a tadpole, a fully grown oak tree looks nothing like the acorn, and a fully grown human looks nothing like the infant it once was. And yet, even as an adult, I realize just how much growing I'm still doing. It's frightening. I don't know how to react or how to continue to stretch and grow. No wonder they call them growing pains - because they really do hurt.

My mom has been stuggling the past two years with periodic episodes of hypoglycemia. As a diabetic for 15 years, she's had to be very careful about what she eats and how she takes her medicine, and yet being "careful" could bring her into a coma when her blood sugars are too low, and she cannot function as a human being. She exercises regularly, lives independently, and eats nutritiously. But yet, she continues to have episodes like this more and more often. The many times I've called her and she's responded incoherently, or slowly, or she simply cannot move or respond at all have been terribly frightening. And anyone who has lost a parent or has been close to an ill parent can understand what I mean. It just shouldn't be this way. The person I've looked up to my whole entire life should be independent and setting an example of how to grow old gracefully, not stuggling with staying alive.

Because I'm closest to her (both geographically, and because I'm the oldest daughter) she relys on me for help with things around the house, and she helps me out by watching the kids, helping with laundry, and even with financial assistance. We're very close. We've had to establish accountability routines with each other, and that has also brought us closer. She calls me each morning at 6:30am, and that way I know that she is awake and alert, and that her blood sugar is not too low. I also call her each afternoon on my way home from work, to see how her day was and to check to be sure she has eaten a meal recently or has had a snack. I'd do anything to keep what we have going, but anything can happen, and life has a way of changing things. There's only one constant and that is that things change. And so, for the past several weeks, her blood sugars have remained more stable, she's regaining an appetite for nutritious food, and is beginning to feel much better about her health. I haven't had to worry as much about her, because she is now better able to control her blood sugar, and is able to eat when she's hungry - and she actually is feeling hungry again.

And then, it's sometime's the simplest things that make me wonder if the life I'm living is worthwhile. God brings to me a little sweetness and a memory of what life and LOVE is supposed to taste, feel, look, smell, and sound like. Like the taste of dark chocolate covered fresh strawberries dipped in soft cream cheese, the feel of a warm down comforter wrapped around me as I'm drifting off to sleep, the look of my son's face as he smiles with wide eyes and deep dimples, the smell of my husband's skin as he comes home from work, or after he's been playing hard with our kids, and the sound of my daughter's voice as she reads a book outloud or says her prayers before bed, or the roar of a hometown crowd at the world series when Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling strikes out a Colorado batter in the World Series. (Yes, the game is on in the background. Have you seen the movie "Fever Pitch?")

I'm encouraged when I get to see and hear that the people around me are affected by the way I choose to live, and the things I choose to do. Like insisting that homework be done before play, or that all things must take priority somewhere - and that really does include my family, and that mom needs to learn how to eat healthy snacks.

Although I get a lot of whines, wimpers and outright defiance from my daughter when we're working on something that's difficult for her...I often wonder if she cares, and does it matter? Although my mom insists that she's alright and has everything under control - even when I nag her about going to test her blood sugar level, I wonder if she cares, and does it matter? When my mom calls to say "I just needed to hear your voice" I second guess myself and wonder if it matters.
Here's the letter my daughter wrote...in her exact words - letter by letter, space by space. And, it was legible. Good job, honey-girl.

Dear mom,
Thank you for helping me with my spelling.
My goal for the y ear is to work on my hand writeing.
Love,
Layne
P.S. I love you.