Finishing the course

This little guy’s determination.

We went to the park yesterday. He watched another family playing soccer, walked up to the daddy, and asked if he could play soccer with them. He told them his name. I don’t even think this family spoke English, but that didn’t stop Noah. They took him in and played with him for 45 minutes.

Then we come home, and he gets on his bike. He’s only just learned how to push hard enough on the pedals of a tricycle to move himself forward in the last few months. Today he tackles his bike.

He rode up and down in front of our house, over and over, for about an hour, figuring out where he needed to push his feet harder when the driveway sloped upward, how to get himself unstuck, how to turn while still pedaling to avoid hitting something else. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth in deep concentration.

I watched him and had to shake my head. He’s overcome so much. This is the little guy that the neurologist said may never stop aspirating, may never get off thickened liquids. This is the little boy who wasn’t walking at 18 months. This is the little boy that no one knew what was wrong, only that something wasn’t quite right.

When he was 3, we took him to a go-cart track. His big brother took to driving well, but Noah couldn’t quite coordinate everything yet. I saw him cover his eyes and put his head down, and my heart squeezed up. I yelled at the attendant to let him get out and come to me, aching to hug my boy.

He got out. But instead of running to me for comfort, he took off full-speed on foot around that little go-cart track. He ran 3 full laps. If he couldn’t drive it, well. He was gonna run it.

This is my boy. Defying all odds. No more thickened liquids. No more orthotic shoes. No heart problems. No hearing loss. No low calcium levels. No seizures. No red flags for learning disorders. No social anxiety for this guy-he can schmooze, snuggle and smile his way into anyone’s heart.

I’ll never fully understand why God chose this for Noah, for us. I don’t know why Noah was gifted with such a seemingly mild case. I think I understand pieces – I am to live this specialist, special needs life through the lens of faith. For my good, for Noah’s good, for the glory of God. And to share God’s glory and our story with others who need to hear it. I’m sure I’ll never fully know how God has used our humble little lives to further His great plan.

God’s sovereignty kinda blows my mind if I think about it too long.

But here is my little guy. 5 years old. 2 and a half years into a very scary diagnosis. Reaching developmental milestones. Talking my ears off. Loving sweet on everyone, playing hard with everyone. Trying so hard, even if it’s just for himself and his bike.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith

2 Timothy 4:7 NASB

Keep running, Noah. Keep pushing those feet. Let’s both fight the good fight and keep our faith.

Let’s see where God’s course leads us.