As always I begin my story in another spot…a different time.  A time I thought would never end and I just wasn’t sure I would make it through.  I am 35, Eden is 6 months old, Elijah is 7, and Ezekiel is 4 but he communicates like an 18 month old.  It is early July and there is a bird on my porch.  I sit slumped against the couch my pores dripping with discouragement and exhaustion.  We have been detoxing Zeke for three and a half month.  I am not even really sure what the word means, I just know it has shaken me all the way to the roots of my soul.  My holistic doctor believes his body is full of toxins and his strange autistic-like behaviors which include the inability to look me in the eye or call me mama, are caused by a body polluted by the world.  I am not sure what to believe all I know is that I have leaped off the cliff of normal and entered a strange dream like place filled with vitamin shops, supplements, and gluten free weirdness.  Mike and I have no idea if this will work, but we have played every other card … this is the final hand.

Most days I free fall through what feels like a nightmare, holding down my screaming child while he kicks and refuses to enter unfamiliar places, cradling him in my arms as I feed him organic gluten and casein free pancakes filled with supplements, and whispering in his ear, “I love you, and I will try, I love you and I will not give up.”  I have surrendered to the outcome…I have mourned for the girlfriend he might never have, and the birthday invitations which may never come.  He has been responding to the treatment…some.  My doctor explained there are cycles of regression and healing and this is part of the process. He started a new round of detox last week and there have been no real words today, his eyes slide away every-time I tap his face, and he flaps his arms ready to take flight.  It is time to begin the process of making dinner, which will include using stainless steel pots, grinding supplements, and helping him eat each spoonful.  I long for the drive-through, when fluttering wings catch my eye.  It is a plain grey brown sparrow. He hops happily searching for crumbs, finding none he stretches his wings to leave the emptiness and find a place where he can feed.  In split second before flight, with all my heart I become the sparrow, I soar into endless blue skies leaving behind the endless cycle of weariness and despair.

And suddenly, Christ is there. He is so close during this time, walking hand in hand and carrying me on the days when walking is too hard.  “Lord,” I beg. “Please set me free from all of this.  I can’t do it anymore. I had so many dreams for family, for myself…and Lord he is my son.”  He says nothing, but I look into a craggy face and feel the warm winds of hope spreading out from his gentle smile.  He, who has known pain and death, scoops up my tears, lifts me to my feet, and sends me back into the kitchen.  “This is your journey, my love.  Every time you cook, comfort, and hope you are my hands and feet…go bake those veggie brownies.  I love Zeke and it will be OK.  Someday you will soar like that bird. I made you both and I am keeping your dreams safe.  This is your work for today, but I promise you another day will come. “

And five years later there are multiple birthday invitations in the mailbox, Zeke plays back-up quarterback on the St. Joan of Arc football team, is the most loving member of the Fante household, and another day has come.  I know with certainty it is time for my own little dream for myself.  I need to return to K-12 education…this time to elementary school, but I blinked and I am 40 years old and many years have past.  I have spent a decade in the ivory tower working at the college as the ECE Program Director, and like Rapunzel I am not sure how to get back down.  As I peer down from the high walls of the keep I see a posse of teachers have gathering around the stone base.  Marci Jahn my loyal true-hearted cooperating teacher, Sarah Toko, my warm supportive teacher friend, and Marie Smith, a veteran teacher/commander send up shouts of encouragement, “What are you doing up there?  Come down right now, there are children down here who need your help. “

I yell back, “But, it’s scary down there, and how the heck can I make it …there are thousands of teachers and just a few job openings…what if they don’t want me, what if I fall?”

Marci responds, “Look at the picture I gave you on your fourth day of student teaching.”

I glance at the print.  It is a lovely framed print hand-signed by Kelly Roe.  A beautiful sparrow perches on a branch.  But this birds wings are a kaleidoscope of colors…pinks, orange, and leopard print.  With a flash of insight I understand…I am the bird.  My wings have turned from grey to a rainbow hue.  They are colored by the sacrifices of compassion and love.  My cell phone rings, “This is Mary from UCS, we would like to invite you to interview for an elementary teaching position. “ The voice wonders, “Can you fly?”

I hop on the window ledge.  I peer over the edge unsure of my transformed self.  But I see the smiling faces, I hear their words of faith and hope.  I get past the first interview and another is scheduled.  I still hesitate, knowing the ride down will be turbulent with change.  And Mike sends a text message, “Nothing great happens when you hold back.” I close my eyes, spread wings taunt, and leap from the window.   FALLLL….ING….(no phone call back, weeks pass, waiting for my ZG certificate to post…to “I have been authorized to offer you a job, please come to the new hire orientation.”)..FFF…..LL….YYYING.

I land on the ground with my new friends, a fresh soldier on the battle ground of teaching elementary school in a 21^st Century Classroom.  They hug me tight…there are preparations happening all around us, bulletin board cutouts, word walls being erected, desks being labeled.  They hand me a stapler and we are off with new mountains to climb, and reading assessments to complete.  I tuck back my wings, and look down to discover I am wearing a necklace with the simple word, “truth” printed on it.  I look up to see Christ has been watching all along.

“Keep that necklace,” He says.  “You’re going to need it.”

I smile thinking to myself…a decade felt like 10 minutes.  I wonder what the next leg of this journey will hold, but knowing I am not, nor ever have been alone.