Eli.
Started strong. Quietly enthusiastic in his quintessential Eli way. Half way up.
A glance down.
Recognition of how high he is slowly spreads all over his face.
Upward motion halted. Need to come down apparent.
Stuck.
Unable to let go. One hand gripping at all times.
Watch the others come down, all the others, with his very own eyes.
Others offer encouragement, you-can-do-it's, and eventually...pleadings.
Still stuck.
Paralyzed.
Me.
Started strong. Nothing but patience. We've come so far.
Heart hurts that he feels stuck.
Hate that he feels anxious, fear.
Mingled with pride...look how high up he got!
More patience. Some pleadings.
I know he will get down.
It'll just be on his terms, his time...or when his arms give out.
And I'll be here for the landing.
I'll always be here.
My role as his mom played out in this: I provided the experience, the lesson, the equipment, the encouragement, and a pair of eyes to watch.
He has to climb. He has to trust. And, eventually...he has to jump.
I just hope to get to see it with my very own eyes.
Conclusion.
He did it.
He let go.
We high-fived.
I asked what he was feeling up there.
He answered...anxious.
I answered...I understand.
We come up with a plan. Try again. This time only climb to a lower level.
He did it.
And did it again, one handhold higher.
And again. And again. And again.
Hands blistered.
Time to rest.
Pride felt, by both of us.
More than walls were scaled today.
I'm just so very thankful I got to see it with my very own eyes.
1 comments:
So good Jenn! (And I might have even cried a little bit) That is a huge win.
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