Hope Springs Eternal

Hope. Whenever I falter and start to worry that she is floundering, my daughter gives me fresh hope. Although she never just comes right up to me and says, “Mom, it’s okay, I’m doing better every day”, she finds little ways to remind me that she is filled with possibilities. She says new words and understands new concepts almost at the same time I start to wonder if she’s reached a plateau in her development.

I’m not a “wonder mom” by any stretch of the imagination. I’m unorganized half of the time and forgetful the rest. But always, always, I feel a strong desire to help my daughter grow a bit more every day. Even when I don’t quite know what I’m doing or if I’m doing it right, she still comes alive with hope at even the smallest of my attempts. In other words, she keeps the ball rolling even when is seems we’re going uphill.

Most of the time, I can’t help but feel like I’m failing her as both a teacher and a mother. Then, in her tender, touching ways, she shows me her amazing ability to be a sponge by proving that even in my feeblest attempts, she has learned. I’m often reminded of the story about the little girl throwing beached starfish back into the ocean and the man who tells her that there are just too many starfish and she can never make a difference. She picks up another starfish, throws it into the sea and says, ”I made a difference to that one” Like most people I am often that man, feeling as though little attempts really can’t make a difference. Then, my daughter learns a little more, and shows me that each attempt really does make a difference. I see her as one of those plants that live in the desert, the ones that only bloom every few years. They spend their time thirsty, and waiting for the smallest drops of water and then when the rains come and their thirst is slightly quenched, a beautiful bloom appears.

Teachers and parents alike often get so caught up in progress and timed milestones of development, that they don’t notice the blooms. Sometimes late at night I find myself in despair and feeling so utterly inadequate that I can’t help but question my abilities as a mother. Then, the morning comes and my daughter breathes new life into my world by saying something she’s never said before, or understanding something she’s never before understood. In her sweet and innocent way, she’s always reminding me that the little things count, and there is always hope.

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