Rekindled Love

I made a trip to our beautiful public library a couple of weeks ago to search for some books geared towards children about dealing with anxiety.  I felt compelled to take this trip just hours after hearing the dreaded words, "special needs".  This is certainly not a phrase any parent wants to hear when it is their own little cub in which the health care professional is discussing.  But on that day it was almost reassuring because that meant that the doctors were finally aware that our one-and-only, smart, beautiful, compassionate, anxiety-ridden child needed a little more help than we could offer her.

It is nearly impossible to comfort a child who always thinks about the what-if's rather than when the next play-date will be.  We have heard a barrage of questions over the past several months out of her tiny little mouth that are baffling to say the least.  Many related to her health, but the one that surprised me the most was, "Mom, what happens if a person doesn't have enough money to pay their taxes?"  Huh?  Why does my six-year old feel the need to inquire about paying taxes?  Perhaps her intelligence level is a little higher than her little brain and heart can handle.  Maybe she just listens to adults talk a little too much.  (Maybe we just have to learn when to shut-up...)  Never-the-less, we have all come to a place on this journey called life in which we need a little guidance.

That is what brings us back to my trip to the library.  The very place I rekindled an old love.  No, this love is not of the human variety, after all, I am a married woman.  The love I rekindled was that of books.  All kinds of books.  It was almost as if a new world was thrust upon my very soul.  I had forgotten just how much I loved going to the library.  The sad part is the real reason that I had locked the library out of my life so many years ago.  (Okay, it's confession time.)  I had developed such a fear of germs that rather than seeing beautiful books all I could see were pages of words encrusted by germs, dirt, and illness.  (Hmmm...Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.)  This fateful day reminded me of the importance of entering this book-filled realm once again.  I cast my worries aside and decided to live again.  I drank it all in and although I didn't find exactly what I was looking for, I found myself again.  It reignited a passion in me.  I have since been to the library several times and have taken my beautiful little girl and let her go wild with books.

As I write this, it has occurred to me that perhaps I did find just what I was looking for at the library.  Over the past couple of weeks, I have watched my daughter immerse herself in books.  When she starts to feel anxious she starts a new chapter book.  Her anxieties slowly turn to enchantment and eventually pride as she reaches the end.  She beams when it occurs to her that she has just finished another 4th-grade level book in a matter of hours.  And she is once again calm, collected, and a normal kid.

How many times have I looked back at a situation in which I believed I was helping my daughter when in all reality she was the one helping me?  I am learning how intricately our lives are woven together.  Human bonds and relationships are vital to this journey through life and God has a plan for each and every human encounter we make.  I am reminded everyday that these encounters are no accidents.

I will leave you with a photo that I took last summer that has nothing to do with this post but always seems to make me smile.