Today I decided to stop wondering what it might be like to see Cody shoot a basket during a basket ball game. Or see Josiah hit a baseball and run like the wind to get on base. In stead I took a deep breath and sat down be side my sons as they put together a new Lego kit. I leaned in between them fitting myself in the tiny space between their wheeled chairs. Happily they made efforts to pull themselves a few inches over to allow me space enough to be apart of their fun. Cody eagerly showed me the progress he had made on the building he had created. Josiah quietly worked on the new kit the tooth fairy had left him the night before. I looked around the beautiful Lego room I had created for them. Buildings and vehicles that they had put together lined the shelves. This was the world my sons knew. This was one of their past times they had grown to love.
Marveling at the patience it took to work their weakening hands and arms I leaned over to give them both a little kiss on the head. I watched Josiah look at the directions and search for the correct piece. Cody chatted on about how fast Josiah worked and how proud he was for him. Together we sat, away from the outside world lost in Lego land. My sons were happy, they accepted this was what they could do. I wanted to be at peace with that acceptance. I wanted to embrace all the enjoyment they felt building with Legos. I felt happy that I could give them a place to be creative, a place that they could shine and display there skills. I was so very proud of the abilities they possessed with such little strength. It pained me though knowing that this could and most likely would someday become an impossible task for them. Our friends and relatives pushed and cheered to help their children become athletes and dancers. The world I knew loved stronger and faster. The world we lived in did not know the magnitude of strength it took for Josiah or Cody to build a small structure. Or the concentration it took for either of them to follow instructions. My two younger sons would never have the athletic abilities my friends shared about their own children. They would struggle more each day to use their dying muscles. Inside I was horrified at what was inevitably to come. I knew thinking past today would however take the joy we held on to at this moment away. So Legos was our now. I picked up some blocks asking Cody if I could help make his wall on his house stronger. He smiled at me saying "mom you are good at finding ways to make something be stronger." Hugging him I said "sometimes being strong is all I know".