This picture captures my son’s personality like no other. He loves adventure, he loves animals, and he loves being silly. He’s currently relishing time in Thailand with Josh and his post-army brother and I look at this picture and simply marvel at where we have been; and where he is now.

Let me explain…

There are a few broken tiles on the bathroom floor in our kids’ bathroom. When you walk across the floor, you can hear the click, clack sound as the tiles move under your feet.

They are no big deal; perhaps someday we will get them fixed.

But to me, they are a reminder every single time that I click and clack across the floor.

A reminder of one of the hardest days of my life and of the day that changed my son’s life.

A reminder that we can live through really difficult moments and that being “whole” can take on all sorts of new meanings; that the dreams that a child may have for themselves and that you may have for them can change; and that life can still be beautiful even if life’s prism has clicked to another screen.

Two summers ago, my then 17-year-old was on the cusp of getting his driver’s license; he had just earned his very high profile score for the army; and we were getting ready for a large family vacation to see extended family in the States.

And then he started having these strange, almost electric, surges. He and I spent three weeks getting testing done, driving around the country to get a quick MRI, eye checks, neurological screenings and more. We were aided by some amazing friends who moved heaven and earth to help us get a diagnosis as quickly as possible.

And then one morning, as I woke him early to get bloodwork done, he fell on the floor in his bathroom. And he and I, the only two people home that day, sat there for what felt like hours as he had these surges. I wondered to myself how we were going to get through this; how we were ever going to get off of the bathroom floor. I wondered where my phone was, and how I was ever going to call for help.

It was definitely one of the low points of my life as a parent and a human.

And then he had a massive seizure. And even though I know what seizures look like, I thought he was dying.

Zoom forward a few days in the hospital, and he was diagnosed with epilepsy and put on medication. Epilepsy, however, has many caveats as it’s possible to continue to have seizures and it’s important to get to the right medicine level to stabilize. Our summer turned into one of postponed driver’s licenses, cancelled travel plans, changed army visions, fearful days watching for further seizures and worries about hiking and water activities.

Two years later, he is thriving. It’s such a blessing to see how he is doing and how he has overcome these challenges. He had a wonderful 12^th grade year, although one where we had to decide which hikes and which early-morning trips he should go on; and which he should skip. He found a post high school program that he felt was perfect and he just finished one happy, fulfilling, exciting year there. He’s going back in the fall for half a year before joining the army. We know his army experience won’t be what he had originally dreamed that it would be; but it will, hopefully, still have great meaning and it will certainly contribute to the country.

He worked very hard to get his driver’s license as well, and is now driving just like all of his friends.

This year was also filled with more challenges than we could possibly have imagined, as two of his brothers spent months fighting in Gaza, as he spent months under fire in the Golan, and as we experienced yet another cancelled adventure this summer for the ACL surgery of another brother.

At the beginning of the summer, as I looked at the challenges ahead, and those behind us, I had an idea. I would send this son on a pre-army trip a bit early to meet up with his traveling brother.

And this brings us to the elephants.

It’s always wonderful to see your child enjoying himself.

But to see your child enjoying himself to this level, after the challenges that he has faced, is simply beyond description.

When I walked through his bathroom today and heard the broken tiles under my feet, I was brought back to those incredibly challenging months. But I was also, now, able to replace some of those painful memories and visions with those of playful elephants, of my laughing children, of joy.

We are all cracked along so many different lines; we have all been given the job of learning to live with the cracks and learning to dance around them. And, boy, is this child learning to dance with the fissures.

May he continue to learn and gain strength from his experiences and to find deep joy around the difficulties that life throws his way.