Tuesday, November 29, 2016

What if?

I've always wondered,
What if you were given words, my dear boy?
Would the world be kinder?
What if you were given words , my love?
Would your smiles mean more?
What if you were given words, my son?
Would your touch feel deeper?
What if you were given words, my king,
Would your laughter sound richer?
What if you were given words, my child,
Would life be more beautiful?
What if you were given words, my Morgan,
Would my heart grow bigger and
therefore break even wider
than how it already is breaking?

I wonder yet I know.
My heart
Oh this Mama's heart
is a fickle thing.
One day I am sure.
Another,  I am full of questions.
I know yet I wonder still.
For now with deep breaths,
I steer myself to what is,
To where we are
Where the ground beneath
Our feet
Moves beyond words
Where the air we breathe
Is love unnamed
Where what we do have is
More than any questions
Or the answers we seek
Where Grace finds us
When we need it the most
As I do now.

"I do not understand the mystery of grace -- only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us." -Anne Lamott

Monday, November 28, 2016

I Yuv Yoo

My boy, he pulls me towards the sofa, wants me to sit down beside him. He looks at me and says, "Yuv yoo."

My boy, I massage his legs, the toy he flicks falls down. I pick it up for him. He looks at me and says, "Yuv yoo."

My boy, he listens as I scold his brother. He covers his ears and looks at me and says, "Yuv yoo."

My boy, he cries as I scold him, After a while he holds my arm and says, "Yuv yoo."

My boy, in bed as we turn off the lights he nudges his forhead for me to kiss. He says, "Yuv yoo."

My boy, from our truck, I alight to go to work, his papa says, "Say bye to Mama," he says, "Yuv yoo."

My boy, I feared he would not know the meaning of love but he does. Oh how he does! Of all the things I have taught him he knows this word. He knows this deed. He knows only this--

Love.

I love you, I love you, I love you my boys, my dear dear boys.

Now more than ever. In a world I do not understand anymore, I love you, will continue to teach you love and love above all...

Teachers

"Where is Garret, Ma'am Bea?" a Grade 1 student asked me out of the blue. It was their recess time.

"He's having a class," I  replied.  Wondering how she knew Garret, I asked, "How do you know Garret?"

She said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Classmate man mi pag Kinder 1." (We were classmates in Kinder1). She was referring to the time when we let Garret attend mainstream class.

"Ma'am Bea, ang imong duha ka anak kay special?" (Are both of them special  children?)

"Yes, they both are special."

And then,

"Mag teacher sad sila ig kadako nila?"

I  paused. "I do not know yet," I finally answered.

She smiled and ran to play with her classmates.

Will they be teachers too? The little girl asked perhaps wondering if Garret and Morgan, like most children, would want to be what their parents are.

I don't know yet, I answered her. But what I really wanted to say was that my two boys have been my teachers for as long as I can remember.

But how to explain this to a 6-year-old?

Perhaps like this: That teachers are people who make you want to be a better person. Teachers are those who teach you love, kindness, compassion. Teachers are those who teach you to be brave. And they do this unknowingly. In the nameless, wordless acts of everyday.

Will they be teachers too? The little girl asked. Maybe tomorrow, when she asks again, I'll answer very simply,

They already are, sweetheart. They already are.