Last night Tyler and I gave our son permission to believe in himself. To believe that he is capable of great things. To believe that those horrible words his previous foster mom told him about himself are absolutely not true. We challenged him to understand what sorry actually means and why it's important to the people he loves to admit when he's wrong and to follow that admission up with a sincere apology. We continued an ongoing conversation about respecting authority and how seeing the value in that is better than living a life where he thinks he shouldn't have to answer to anybody. Our prayer for him from the very beginning is that his healing would be swift, not for our benefit but for his and that yes God is in complete control but there's still a responsibility he holds to make the right choice.
Last night, through all of our tears at our kitchen table we gave him permission to believe that he can be different and that different is wonderful and that this world is better because he is in it. We gave him permission to mess up and make mistakes but that sorry and trying to do differently the next time is where it really counts. Last night, we made progress in our loss of time. I'm not naive enough to think I won't get another phone call from the teacher or that he won't be disrespectful but I have to believe that because God chose him as His very own that there will be progress. There will be real change and that it has nothing to do with me, what a relief. Oh how He loves us.