Schoolie

She had completely caught me off guard, as the torrent of details and plans, ideas and visions for the future for the next year unfolded.

I stood in the kitchen, reeling from the impact, unable to say much of anything coherent.

She inquired as my eyes filled with tears once, twice, three and again, four times. Did I feel disappointment in her decisions?

No, I declared, simply awash with the emotional weight that a Momma might feel when she loves her children.

I was stunned, and the next hour was a blur of robotic movements that put supper on the table. I did not fully understand why all of this information seemed so deep, and sought to sadden me, when, just as suddenly as the torrent that began the decline began, she made the statement that put the scales in balance.

"How are classes going, Bethany?" the question was posed from around the table, a gaggle of folks keenly interested in this world traveller sought to know.

"Oh great. I have to read so much to keep up, it seems that all I do is read. But that's okay. I love to read!"

The words travelled in slow motion to my ears, and time stood still. This time, as my eyes filled with tears, the tears spilled over the rim in abandon.

I love to read!

In an instant, years and years of memories flooded my being. I watched as a little brunette girl left the first grade unable to read.

A third, fourth and fifth grade girl struggle with her education.

Testing, and more testing, seeking to find an answer as to why she grappled with her school work so brought no answers.

And then, in her sophomore year, all of her coping mechanisms came crashing down. No longer could she hide the failure to thrive in an academic setting.

It was then that I took her to Sylvan Learning Center, where finally, answers came. The 'whole language' method that had been put on trial in the public schools the year Bethany entered had scarred her deeply. As a 16 year old sophomore, she could only read at third grade level. Third grade. And she hated to read.

So began the remediation.

Hours of Sylvan at an accelerated pace, plus a new academic plan gave her the opportunity to graduate with her head held high . . .and reading at grade level.

Yet I had never heard her utter the words, "I love to read.", let alone return to a place of continued education. And here she was.

My baby girl, all grown up, succeeding, reading, and loving every moment of it.

My Momma's heart simply could not take any more that night.

Through the tears of joy, we all rejoiced, knowing we were in the presence of a completed journey ~ a journey of heartache, challenges, and faith.

I post her journey here for you, because, obviously, you, too, love to read.

Pass it on.