Gifted
This week, Trey was admitted to the gifted program at his school. To mark the occasion, I had the honor of sitting around a table with the gifted program coordinator, Trey's teacher, and the school principal. And for a solid half-hour, every wonderful, unique, outstanding quality of my boy was thrown around.
My heart grew three sizes that day.
So many, many things I already knew about this amazing human being. Some things that I had forgotten in day to day rush and our inevitable head-butting. And then some things I didn't know.
"He's such a role model." His teacher beamed, lavishing praise through the whole meeting. But that sentence early on stayed with me more than anything else that was said.
We so quickly home in on the meanness toward his brother, the stubbornness in response to our pushing and encouraging, behavior boundaries stretching with his elongating legs. We struggle daily with his anxiety and farfetched worries and fears that he will be looked at.
Oh, son. You're already looked at. Without you even knowing, without even asking you or waiting for you to come around, God is even now using something you are terrified of to share His love and inspire others.
A role model. Quiet strength, quiet resolve, quiet leadership. I would say who knew, because the comment made me visibly double-take. But this boy, he always picks the unexpected. His biggest steps in life have come out of nowhere.
And this big step, a new style of learning for next school year, seems right up his alley. His off-the-charts math scores and logic and creative thinking will be able to escape from the desk a little and fuse new paths in an increasingly complex brain.
To say we are proud of our Trey would be a massive understatement. Proud of the scores. The grades. The work. That he isn't ashamed to use the academic gifts that God has given him. That he lives a life and makes choices that can be looked up to.
Not just a gifted student. A great kid.
My heart grew three sizes that day.
So many, many things I already knew about this amazing human being. Some things that I had forgotten in day to day rush and our inevitable head-butting. And then some things I didn't know.
"He's such a role model." His teacher beamed, lavishing praise through the whole meeting. But that sentence early on stayed with me more than anything else that was said.
We so quickly home in on the meanness toward his brother, the stubbornness in response to our pushing and encouraging, behavior boundaries stretching with his elongating legs. We struggle daily with his anxiety and farfetched worries and fears that he will be looked at.
Oh, son. You're already looked at. Without you even knowing, without even asking you or waiting for you to come around, God is even now using something you are terrified of to share His love and inspire others.
A role model. Quiet strength, quiet resolve, quiet leadership. I would say who knew, because the comment made me visibly double-take. But this boy, he always picks the unexpected. His biggest steps in life have come out of nowhere.
And this big step, a new style of learning for next school year, seems right up his alley. His off-the-charts math scores and logic and creative thinking will be able to escape from the desk a little and fuse new paths in an increasingly complex brain.
To say we are proud of our Trey would be a massive understatement. Proud of the scores. The grades. The work. That he isn't ashamed to use the academic gifts that God has given him. That he lives a life and makes choices that can be looked up to.
Not just a gifted student. A great kid.
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