For those of you who know me, know my oldest child is disabled and has been since birth. While I tend not to discuss her or her condition it's not because I am secretive or ashamed, it's because I don't anyone to feel sorry for her, me, or our family.
I have always believed, even before she was born, things happen for a reason and sometimes things happen because something needs to be learned from it. My belief is that handicap children are perfect, they are so perfect that God has sent them to earth to teach others. I truly believe I was blessed with a handicap child for a reason.
Whether it was to teach me something or those who come in contact with
I am the Child by Marie Landes
I am the child who cannot speak. You often pity me, I see it in your eyes. You wonder how much I am aware of. I see that as well. I am aware of much...whether you are happy or sad or fearful, patient or inpatient, full of love and desire, or if you are just doing your duty by me. I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater, for I cannot express myself or my needs as you.
You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete at times. I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated. I do not give you answers to your everyday questions, responses over my well-being, sharing my needs, or comments about he world around me. I do not give you rewards as defined by worldly standards...great strides in development that you can credit yourself; I do not five you understanding as you know it. What I five you is so much more valuable! I give you instead opportunities!
Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not my own; the depth of your love, your patience and your abilities; the opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible. I drive you further than you would ever go on your own, working harder, seeking answers to your many questions with no answers.
I am the child who cannot talk. I am the child who cannot walk. The world would pass me by. You see the longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like the other children. There is so much you take for granted. I want that toy on the shelf, I need to go to the bathroom, oh, I dropped my fork again. I am totally dependent on you in these ways. My gift to you is to make you more aware of your great fortune. Your healthy back and legs, your ability to do things for yourself. Sometimes people appear not to notice me-but I notice them. I feel not so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright-to put one foot in front of the other-to be independent.
I give you awareness. I am the child who cannot walk. I am the child who is mentally impaired. I don't learn things easily. If you judge me by the world's measuring stick, what I do know is infinite joy in just simple things, I am not burdened as you are with the strife and conflicts of a more complicated life.
My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things as a child, to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you love. I give you the gift of simplicity. I am the child who is mentally impaired-yes, I am the disabled child I will be your teacher, if you allow me I will teach you what is really important in life. I will five you and teach you unconditional love. I gift you with my innocent trust, my dependency upon you. I teach you about how precious this life is and about not taking things for granted. I will teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams. I will teach you giving. Most of all, I can teach you hope and faith.
I am the disabled child, please acknowledge me!