Progress, Sort of

The riding facility where Noah rides is a therapeutic center which specializes in helping children and young adults with all sorts of diagnoses.  Some of the riders have learning disabilities, some have physical disabilities and some of them are sick.  The horses, instructors and volunteers all play key roles in helping these kids and young adults conquer whatever issues they have going on in their lives.  All of us parents share commonalities: helping our children, occasionally fighting against the world and just wanting better for our kids.  For 45 minutes each week, we just want as much normal for our kids as possible.


In my world, helping my own child includes teaching him to use a "filter" between his brain and his mouth, and teaching him compassion.

Noah's riding schedule changed this time around, so we've had a chance to meet some new people and make some new friends.  One of the students who rides after Noah is a little girl who is winning her battle against cancer.  I say little, but in reality, she is probably a few years older than Noah.  Either way, she's a sweet girl and I always have to resist the urge to hug her and her mom.  I have to be honest with you, as a mom, it hurts to see her.  These are the sort of moments I question God and want to shake my fist at Him: "It's not fair!  Give it to me!  Give it to one of us!"  There are so many of us moms who would step up in this young girl's place and take her cancer for her.  I struggle with this situation, and whatever the lesson here might be, I really do.

Anyway, back to the Noah part of the story!

Noah came up after his lesson while I was talking with this young lady and her mom today.  Inside my own head, I was silently willing my son to please remember to use his filter.  Even though at this facility, we all have children with differences and we are more understanding of each other's children than other parents might be, I still cringe expectantly whenever Noah opens his mouth.  I just never know what he's going to say!

Today though, I was extremely proud of Noah.  As the young lady and her mom made jokes about her wispy, baby-fine hair (and I silently willed Noah to remain quiet), Noah commented, "So, you're a survivor?"  My first thought was, "Yes!  Whew!  Good thinking, Noah!"  The young lady beamed up at my son, and her mom smiled and replied, "Yes, she is definitely a fighter and survivor.  And we're so grateful for that!"

On the way home, I asked Noah if he had any questions about cancer.  I kind of expected him to have some of the same larger-than-life questions I have about childhood cancer, but I have to remember that Noah takes things at face value, and we've taught him that you just don't question God.  Besides that, he was nose-deep in a new book.  He didn't have any questions, but we did talk about how he approached the subject and that I thought he did a good job.  He said, "Well, I realized it would have been rude to come right out and ask her if she has cancer, so I used a technique I call side tracking instead."  Wow!  He came up with that all on his own!  We also talked about treating people like people, rather than by their diagnoses.  I asked him how he would feel if someone asked him what's wrong with him, why he gets to ride the horses at Rainbow, then explained that even though he approached the situation with his new friend in a very good way, it was still kind of like asking her that question.  I gave him a few suggestions, such as asking her which horse is her favorite and why, what grade she's in, if she has a favorite book, movie or subject in school.  He said, "Okay, I'll remember that next week."

Then his nose dove back into his book.