The Magic of Believing
Will my kids ever remember the mom I was? Or will they always remember me a sick mom. Or having a bad day mom. Or “I can’t” mom. I hate that they have to hear that word so much from me. I worry that if that’s what they hear from me, what’s to stop them from thinking it themselves. I want them to know that there is nothing they can’t do. So why do I find myself, so often, saying “I can’t”?
Perhaps it is because I’m practical. I know that there are limitations to what I can do. There are limitations to how long I can do it, and there is always a price to pay. That is not what I want my kids to learn. That is not what I want them to see.
What I do want them to see
I want them to know that the possibilities are endless. They need to know that they can do anything. There are is certain magic that comes with childhood. Believing the impossible. Seeing past imperfections. Children are gifted with an innocence that allows them to see so much good, when the rest of us can’t. When my daughter says, “Race you to the house!” She really believes that I, in fact, can run and race her. I don’t know. Maybe I can.
Lessons in the magic of believing
Maybe this is just another lesson I can learn from her. Maybe, with the season of believing right around the corner, I should learn this lesson from her. I should believe. I should see the magic in believing. I’ll be the first to admit, this is not the first lesson I’ve learned from my kids.
Now, I’m not naive enough to think that just because I believe, that it will be so. I can’t simply believe that it won’t hurt if I race her to the house. I’ve certainly lived long enough with this disease to know that no matter how strongly I believe, it will still hurt.
But, and here is the ticket, living with this disease has stolen my belief and it’s about time that I take it back. I’ve spent the past year learning all the things “I can’t do” instead of focusing on what I can do. I need to remind myself that I can believe. I can continue to learn how to live with chronic illness. I can keep pieces of the “old me” and instead of simply “surviving” each day, I need to believe that I can thrive, not in spite of chronic illness, but dare I say, because of my chronic illness. That is the magic in believing.
So today, I will take a page out of her book, and believe, not that I can, but that I will.
Have a happy Sunday and keep believing,