When my daughter was small. Maybe 4 or 5, I took her to an Easter egg hunt. It was a big event. Lots of kids.

She was small. Not very fast. Never been in an Easter egg hunt like this.
She had her little basket and she was ready to go. While she waited I was worried she might not get any eggs.

I kneeled down next to her and told her “Don’t stop when the other kids stop to pick up eggs. Keep running into the field, past them. Go to where the eggs are.”
Then it started and she listened. When the other kids stopped at the first line to pick up eggs, she kept going. On into the field. Then she started grabbing eggs.
I lost sight of her for a while. Then she made it back over to me. Smiling. Basket filled with eggs. “You were right, Daddy.”
I’ve spent her whole life trying to whisper into her ear and help her find her way. Whatever I could think of to give her a leg up and maybe an easier time of it. Whatever she needed to fill up that basket.
Some days she listens. Most days she doesn’t. That’s the nature of being a teen. The nature of battling this disease. I’m not the only one in her ear. But I am the one looking out for her.
I wish I could put together the right words to help her now. I keep thinking there’s some combination of advice and warning that might click.
Truth is, as most of you know, my best offense is a good defense right now. To love her without judgement. To correct her without anger. To allow her to fail without calling her a failure.
Strength and grace, I guess. All of us caregivers should be blessed with abundant strength and grace. We aren’t. We have to work for that. Dig our own wells. Deep.
Let this holiday of renewed hope and salvation fill your heart and give your the strength and grace you need. Times are trying. Times are tough. We will get through it.
Keep running when the other people stop. The good eggs are deep in the field. They belong to you. Happy hunting.
You can follow @hopefullDadNC.
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