My Christmas Miracle
I love to read.
My heart begins to beat a little faster when I discover an interesting new title to check out at the library or the latest of issue of Newsweek arrives in our mailbox. The anticipation of being informed or entertained and escaping to another world is so enticing and exciting.
The joy I find in reading is something I cherish and hope my kids know throughout their lives.
But since we found out earlier this fall that Zoe probably has dyslexia, I have feared it is a joy she will never share.
Even though I believe that with a lot of help and support Zoe will be successful in spite of the challenges and difficulties facing her, I am saddened by the fact that reading will probably not be something she enjoys.
The sadness I feel is rooted in Zoe's behavior the past several fes months when it comes to books. With the mere mention of reading, it is a roller coaster of emotion.
Tears.
Yelling.
Anger.
Frustration.
And worst of all, stony silence.
I try my best to push on. To pick up a book, forge ahead with reading it aloud to her and telling myself it will all be ok. But sometimes ... sometimes I have my doubts and find myself wondering if any of it will ever click for her.
So it was quite a surprise when when she asked to buy some books from the school book order last month.
"We'll see," I told her, before secretly placing the order with her teacher.
As Christmas approached and her resistance to reading continued, I looked at that shiny red present under our tree often. I wondered several times if I should replace it with something else, but something told me to keep it there.
To be patient.
To believe.
Oddly enough, that compact gift was the first one she reached for last night as we began our unwrapping session.
"Can I open this one first?" she asked.
I told her to go ahead, figuring it was better to start with a "clunker" than end with one.
As she started to tear away the festive wrap, I held my breath.
Would there be tears?
That familiar angry look?
Or just frustration and silence?
As she turned the package of books over to see the cover, a wide smile slowly crossed her sweet face.
"Oh, Mommy! It's my books," she said, the excitement brimming in her voice. "I didn't think you got them for me .... thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!"
Tears came to my eyes as she hugged me and started talking about how much she had wanted those particular books and how she couldn't wait for us to read them together.
Zoe still has a lot of challenges ahead of her. And deep down, I realize she will probably never be a good reader. But last night, I began to believe that it is possible for her to know the joy of reading. Maybe not the same way that I do -- but in her own way.
I think more than just receiving the books, it meant the most to Zoe to know that we believed those were books she could -- and will -- read.
Christmas is a time for miracles.
Mine is named Z-O-E.
posted by Brown Eyed Girl at
10:11 AM
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