Our Victories Look Different

Recently my husband texted me a picture. It was our daughter navigating her way through our front yard on the riding lawn mower.

Big deal, right?

YES!

It’s a celebration because it is yet another thing in the long list of what God has done to prove as He promised that this child is an overcomer.

For those who don’t know her story, she tested for congenital hypothyroidism at three weeks, but when we asked for results, we didn’t receive accurate results until eight weeks. A team sat us down and prepared us for mental retardation.

That alone was enough for this kid to deal with. Yet she nearly died at three months with more doctor error, had RSV at six nonths, was hospitalized at nine months for pneumonia, and around age 12, was diagnosed with Albrights hereditary osteodystrophy, AHO.

If tickets were being given out of no hope for normal, forget about it, and no chance, she would have been given the roll.

We’re thankful because God has always had the first and last word when it comes to her, us, everything. In the womb He promised she was an overcomer and by golly, she is. She’s in high school, regular classes. Oh, wait, One class is actually a college course. Take that, naysayers.

She’s active in youth group and down to do just about any activity they ask. She’s in student council and an author of three books.

Victories! Victories everywhere!

But, I’ve had to reel my emotions in more than once. Because of AHO, her bones have fused and she is done growing. Where her friends continue to grow taller, she’s 4’9″. Because of the missing thyroid meds needed from birth, she struggles with processing/comprehension. It’s not immediately visible but she has to work twice as hard, especially in math and science.

And where in our state her peers were allowed to obtain their permit at 15 1/2, at nearly 17 that’s not the case for us.

Confession?

I’m relieved.

It’s hard.

People ask her if she’s driving and why not. She knows it’s not time, but for her rep, she’s allowed to blame me. The written part is hard for her. We weren’t sure if she was tall enough to even try. There are fast decisions as a driver she has to make, and she’s not able to at this time.

Will she get there? I think so. I’m scared to death about it. I don’t want it rushed, but I don’t want to operate out of fear. I’m as much a work in progress as anyone.

The lawnmower is hope. It tells my husband he might be teaching her behind the wheel just yet. It tells me yet again God is writing the story. Not me. Not doctors. Her creator.

The picture reminds me that our victories look different. To the marathon winner, finishing a couch to 5k app might be no big deal. To the heart attack survivtor, it might mean the world. To finish an early reader might be no biggie, unless you have dyslexia. Making a pie? Sounds easy because my mom was there to guide me as I was growing up. Not everyone can say that.

What’s a victory that maybe you discounted that you should celebrate? Comment away!

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That daughter is Hannah and we just finished the last book in our series, You’re Brilliant. It releases May 22, or you can pre-order for Kindle.