Who Taught Him That?

The moment we conceived our sweet son I knew.  I told my love so, right then -

We just made a baby.  And we laughed.

And I was right.  And three weeks later I walked right out of the laundry room into his arms.  I held there and cried.  And knowing didn't stop the tears when he said - You're pregnant.  And I nodded yes between sobs.

And I just knew I had a boy.  I just felt it.  And it felt joy.  But feeling it didn't stop the tears all the times I lay scared about teaching a boy.  The stories I had heard about how hard it is to teach a boy.

The thoughts of being close to sixty when I'd be teaching algebra - again.

And the fear of teaching him to read?  It was real. 

I am not a teacher.  I'm just a fabric loving floor plan maniac accessory junkie who one day quit her job and jumped out on a limb  - rooted and leafed in grace - and pulled her girls out of school.

A young mom.

So I cried some and prayed lots.  I prayed he would love to learn.  I prayed he would be quick and intelligent and want to learn.  Not only for myself but for him.  So I wouldn't fail him.

And he is four and reads.

And he has never been taught.

He had one lesson about a year ago.

I have the books to teach.  Wonderful books recommended by dear friends.  Books I kept stuffing away and waiting for him to have a little more time to play first.

Chicken.

And now he reads.

And he has never been taught.

A week ago he picked up a book he has never heard and read it cover to cover while I sat all misty eyed feeling warm loving Fatherly arms wrapped all around me.

What is it that causes us to doubt?  That causes fear to remain when it should fly away on the wings of a promise?

Here he is reading.

Towards the end he gets tickled about the little boy in his underwear and I turn it off.  We've had several underwear conversations and I wasn't sure where this might lead.

And we laugh and hug and I say -

You can read.

I know.

It feels good to read, doesn't it?

I know.  Can I go now?

And I watch him and wonder how long has he been reading?  How does he know and who taught him?

And there it is again - warm loving Fatherly arms.