We have felt incredibly fortunate that both of our boys arrived healthy and beautiful. They have ridden the very bottom of the weight curve and the end of the motor curve, but they're bright and social and adaptable and developing visibly before our eyes. We know their "normalness" has made our lives--and their lives--easier.
But I am in the process of learning an important lesson about that. It probably started a couple years ago when Bryan Chapell preached at our church. From what I remember, he said that when his wife was pregnant, lots of folks wished them "a healthy baby!" I catch myself saying we don't care about the gender "so long as it's healthy!" But Chapell wondered, "Why the prejudice toward health? What if it's not healthy? Aren't we still going to love and cherish this child and do everything we can for it?"
Life is easier without illness or obstacles. But since when has life been about easier? I don't have kids to make my life easier (trust me!). I have kids because life is a blessing from God. And that has nothing to do with how healthy or talented or beautiful we are. I love my children as God made them. Period.
So why do I forget this when I look at other families and see a child with Downs or Aspergers or any other challenge? Until recently, I'm not sure I ever really thought through what it must be like to parent a child with obvious disabilities. Not the extra work or difficulty - I thought plenty about that. But to feel the same love and joy in the precious life God has put into your care regardless of how that child "performs."
As usual, God has been teaching me this lesson very gently. Last fall, we started noticing that Aaron was not keeping pace with the verbal milestones set for 2-year-olds. By December, I decided to call Tennessee Early Intervention Services for an evaluation. In January, he qualified for therapy which began in February and has continued twice weekly ever since.
I've been very hesitant to write about this, because I don't want to give the impression that Aaron is any less bright and social and vibrant than he is. If you've spent any time with him, you know this already. And I have been very thankful to be told again and again that where he is delayed, he will catch up soon, and there should not be any long-lasting issues. Speech therapy is incredibly common and one couldn't pick out the recipients in a kindergarten class, let alone in college.
But between Aaron's early evaluations and our early pregnancy tests, I have glimpsed the possibility of parenting a child with long-term disabilities in a more intimate way than I ever had before -- without having to face the reality of it (all the tests for both came back clear of any serious diagnoses). That peek into another reality has helped me see that I believe we would love our kids just as much regardless of the outcome. Their value to us is not in their utility or performance. We just want them to be who God made them to be. Nothing more. Nothing less.
So as I'm interacting with other children, I want to think that way. I want to remember that they are each precious, that God has a unique plan for each of them, and I am free to love them just as they are. No comparisons, just appreciation.
"But what happens when we live God's way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart...Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives. That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original." -- Galatians 5:22-26 (excerpts from The Message)
Well said, friend!
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