By: Dr. Tracy Bailey
I can remember the first time I held him in my arms, so tiny
and pink, head covered with shiny black curls. He was our firstborn, the
fulfillment of so many of our dreams. When I looked into his eyes all I could
see were possibilities, each one of them shored up by our love. What would he
aspire to accomplish? President of the United States? A doctor? A lawyer?
Astronaut?
He
was born to an educator and a writer, two people who had pushed themselves
beyond boundaries. Driven. Ambitions. Dreamers. I left my teaching job to spend
the majority of my time investing in his potential, reading to him, creating a
stable, nurturing home environment where he could flourish. As he matured,
though, we noticed that his personality contradicted ours in many ways. He was
more nuanced, more laid back, more mild mannered. What we wanted for him, all
we had dreamed, seemed to be of no consequence. We wondered if the capacity to
be passionately engaged was something innate or something taught. We wondered
where we had gone wrong.
The
calls came from the school regularly. “He is talking when he’s supposed to be
paying attention.” “He isn’t turning in any of his assignments.” “He seems to
be drifting off, staring out the window when he should be doing his work.” Our
child? Our beautiful firstborn child for whom we’d dreamed extraordinary,
outsized things?
The test scores said one thing – 99th percentile, gifted. The classroom
performance said something else. We were puzzled, but knew he needed to be
challenged. We spoke to the school officials and had him placed in a class for
gifted students. The teacher called one day to inform me that our son was not
gifted, that we had been mistaken, that he lacked the drive, and ambition of
the other kids. She told him that he didn’t belong.
Today,
I look into his eyes and see a young man outgrowing himself, coming into his
own. At school he has just completed his eighth year of trying to figure out
how to keep everything in order, of some teachers shaking their heads at his
lack of academic success. We’ve tried to help without trying to help too much. We’ve
tried not to allow our frustrations to damage our relationship with him. We’ve
gone out of our way to expose him to as many opportunities as possible because
we still dream for him, pray for him, but not in the same way we did when he
was an infant. It’s his path to walk, but we’ve also fully embraced the urgency
of his situation and all that is at stake.
But in the process we’ve also found
that though writing papers and taking tests may not ignite his passion, so many
other things do. He loves to read books, play the drums, participate in sports,
write songs and perform them. He’s finding success in those areas and his
confidence is growing.
The
other day he was headed out the door to his latest track meet, his gym bag
flung across his boney shoulders. He stopped for a moment, turned his almost
six-foot frame toward me, smiled slightly. “I’m going to make it into the 2020
Olympics. Wait and see.”
Those
few surprising words came like confirmation from heaven. He’s going to be
alright. He’s getting strong enough now to dream, to understand that power
already working in him. He is learning how to tap into the potential we tried
to nurture all his life. Just as my husband and I invested in our firstborn,
God has given us His very best. His son. And He still dreams for us. God knows
the plans he has for us, giving us a future and a hope. As we mature and grow
in our Christian walk, each of us must leverage our strengths, understand our
worth, and be willing to take a giant leap of faith. Dream.
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| For more on how God sees things differently than man, read 1 Samuel 16:7 |
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