she asks me again today, out of nowhere, for the eleventy-seventh time in eight months.
Mommy, when are you going to find me a new dance class?
I found her one. I found it before we even moved here. And I emailed the teacher over the summer, though I never got a response. then more life happened, and part of the foundation fell out, and dance class, so close to the top of Priorities For Them in my heart, fell way down on a list that included rent, tuition, groceries, hopefully not falling farther behind on that sponsorship, maybe eventually finding a second car…
I can only pride myself in the thought that they don’t know. I have carefully concealed my turmoil, worries, tears, depression, best case scenarios, worst case scenarios, don’t want to get out of bed scenarios away from them. They go to school each day. They eat dinner each night. They have books and games and each other. They bake and paint and make music. They love trips to the beach and church and Sunday lunch. They have our laps and arms and bedtime prayers. They have phone calls to grandparents, siblings, and buddies.
They believe Jesus heals their special friends’ cancer and their coughs and skinned knees.
They believe that every day will begin and end the same, with a home, a family, and the security of life as they know it, even if what they know often changes.
They believe we will someday have a new puppy, a minivan, and maybe even a baby brother.
They believe in dance classes and a a theater with magic and oldies and gospel music.
and I pray: help my unbelief.
(written january 21, 2012; feeling less bleak these days)