From Down to Up
-Below is a re-post of something I had written for my personal blog, but now I have a more appropriate place for it. -Allison
As the mother of two boys with gross-motor delays, I am constantly aware of their inability to do "normal" childhood things. They cannot run in the yard with friends, or ride bicycles in the driveway. Their instability makes it hard for them to stand and play for long periods of time, and so they spend a lot of time on the floor. Because they fall frequently, they wear helmets to protect their heads from furniture and objects that do not pose the same risk to children of typical development. Their speech is not exempt from these issues, and it can be difficult for those outside the family to understand their words.
But my children are not clueless about their supposed inadequacies. Speaking to them, you might think they don't care or understand that their bodies are different. Those developmental delays do not affect their minds, however, and the older they get, the more aware they become of their challenges.
Two days ago I began reading a story to Daniel from a child's anthology book. It was called Wilma Unlimited, and was the "true story of a young woman who overcame the crippling disease of polio to become the world's fastest runner". As I read, Daniel looked up at me quizzically when my voice changed. I could not help but cry over the beauty of the story, and dream of the day that my children might someday accomplish great things in spite of their handicaps.
After finishing, Daniel stated very matter-of-factly that he could not walk, but that he wanted to. I hugged him, kissed the top of his head, and told him I wanted that too. He knows he is different, and he is learning that sometimes people think that different is equal to bad. When his legs are "in the way" of other children and he is not able to easily move himself, he has been called "mean". My heart aches for him over this, but I know that I cannot completely shield him from the coldness of a sinful world. He will be passed over frequently because of his physical lack, but I pray that he becomes a gracious young man who is strong in character and compassion for others.
Yesterday was another occasion where we were exposed to the reality of "other children". While at the YMCA, Daniel played in the children's room with other boys and girls. I asked him later if he had fun playing with the other children.
"They not play with me, Mama."
But then we went to Wal-Mart, and there we met a little girl with her mother. Daniel was in his stroller/wheelchair and the girl was in her mother's cart. She was laughing and playing and seemed to really be enjoying herself. When we stepped in line behind them, this little girl immediately said hello to Daniel and waved at him. She asked about his blanket, which had obviously seen much love and affection, and Daniel smiled at the attention and returned the greeting. To this little girl, there was nothing different about Daniel that would keep her from treating him like any other child. She didn't ask why he was in a wheelchair or why his words weren't as clear as hers. She wanted to know all three of our names, not why the boys couldn't walk. It was all I could do not to hug her mother and thank her for having such a sweet child.
What really struck me about this exchange, though, is that the sweet little girl at Wal-Mart had Down Syndrome. She herself was not "normal" by the world's standards, but she wasn't constrained by that standard and acting within it's bounds. I do not know what level she was at in cognitive age versus chronological age, but she was kind and thoughtful and did not let preconceived notions about wheelchairs and funny speech keep her from talking to my boys.
I don't know exactly why this little girl was so especially sweet, except that the people I have talked to with Down Syndrome children all testify to this. What is it about them that makes them so accepting of others? Do they know they are different and so are determined not to look at others the way others look at them? Or maybe that is just a special gift they are given to compensate for the challenges they face - to make others see the good over and above the different?
That is how I want my children to be. While they must be taught that their bodies do have limitations, their minds do not. They should have the ability to be kind to others, no matter the person's station or function level. A person appearing to be different should not prevent them from showing the simple kindness of a 'hello' and a smile.
This is very, very hard for most people, myself included. Still, we have an obligation to kindness toward others. We who are the strongest in society have much to learn from those who are considered the farthest from it.
As the mother of two boys with gross-motor delays, I am constantly aware of their inability to do "normal" childhood things. They cannot run in the yard with friends, or ride bicycles in the driveway. Their instability makes it hard for them to stand and play for long periods of time, and so they spend a lot of time on the floor. Because they fall frequently, they wear helmets to protect their heads from furniture and objects that do not pose the same risk to children of typical development. Their speech is not exempt from these issues, and it can be difficult for those outside the family to understand their words.
But my children are not clueless about their supposed inadequacies. Speaking to them, you might think they don't care or understand that their bodies are different. Those developmental delays do not affect their minds, however, and the older they get, the more aware they become of their challenges.
Two days ago I began reading a story to Daniel from a child's anthology book. It was called Wilma Unlimited, and was the "true story of a young woman who overcame the crippling disease of polio to become the world's fastest runner". As I read, Daniel looked up at me quizzically when my voice changed. I could not help but cry over the beauty of the story, and dream of the day that my children might someday accomplish great things in spite of their handicaps.
After finishing, Daniel stated very matter-of-factly that he could not walk, but that he wanted to. I hugged him, kissed the top of his head, and told him I wanted that too. He knows he is different, and he is learning that sometimes people think that different is equal to bad. When his legs are "in the way" of other children and he is not able to easily move himself, he has been called "mean". My heart aches for him over this, but I know that I cannot completely shield him from the coldness of a sinful world. He will be passed over frequently because of his physical lack, but I pray that he becomes a gracious young man who is strong in character and compassion for others.
Yesterday was another occasion where we were exposed to the reality of "other children". While at the YMCA, Daniel played in the children's room with other boys and girls. I asked him later if he had fun playing with the other children.
"They not play with me, Mama."
But then we went to Wal-Mart, and there we met a little girl with her mother. Daniel was in his stroller/wheelchair and the girl was in her mother's cart. She was laughing and playing and seemed to really be enjoying herself. When we stepped in line behind them, this little girl immediately said hello to Daniel and waved at him. She asked about his blanket, which had obviously seen much love and affection, and Daniel smiled at the attention and returned the greeting. To this little girl, there was nothing different about Daniel that would keep her from treating him like any other child. She didn't ask why he was in a wheelchair or why his words weren't as clear as hers. She wanted to know all three of our names, not why the boys couldn't walk. It was all I could do not to hug her mother and thank her for having such a sweet child.
What really struck me about this exchange, though, is that the sweet little girl at Wal-Mart had Down Syndrome. She herself was not "normal" by the world's standards, but she wasn't constrained by that standard and acting within it's bounds. I do not know what level she was at in cognitive age versus chronological age, but she was kind and thoughtful and did not let preconceived notions about wheelchairs and funny speech keep her from talking to my boys.
I don't know exactly why this little girl was so especially sweet, except that the people I have talked to with Down Syndrome children all testify to this. What is it about them that makes them so accepting of others? Do they know they are different and so are determined not to look at others the way others look at them? Or maybe that is just a special gift they are given to compensate for the challenges they face - to make others see the good over and above the different?
That is how I want my children to be. While they must be taught that their bodies do have limitations, their minds do not. They should have the ability to be kind to others, no matter the person's station or function level. A person appearing to be different should not prevent them from showing the simple kindness of a 'hello' and a smile.
This is very, very hard for most people, myself included. Still, we have an obligation to kindness toward others. We who are the strongest in society have much to learn from those who are considered the farthest from it.
posted by Unhidden Frames at 8:23 AM
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