Aug 28, 2006

I am the child

This is one of my favorite bits of writing from the our-kids archives. I am not sure of the original author, but it was contributed to the list by Peter Jones, Oct 17, 1995. A bit of insight into our world:

I am the child who cannot talk. 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 impatient,
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 do.

You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete it is 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 the world about me. I do not give
you rewards as defined by the world's standards.. great strides in development
that you can credit yourself; I do not give you understanding as you know it.

What I give you is so much more valuable... I give you instead opportunities.
Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine; the depth of
your love, your commitment, your patience, 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 seems to pass me by. You see the
longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other
children. There is much you take for granted. I want the toys on the shelf,
I need to go to the bathroom, oh I've dropped my fork again. I am dependant
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 for yourself.
Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always 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 easily, if you judge me
by the world's measuring stick, what I do know is infinite joy in simple
things. I am not burdened as you are with the strifes 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.

I am the disabled child. I am your teacher. if you allow me, I will teach you
what is really important in life. I will give 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
teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams. I teach
you giving. Most of all I teach you hope and faith. I am the disabled child.

2 comments:

  1. I don't know how you do it! You're all lucky to have each other.

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  2. mmmmmmmmm... That's just fine, fine, fine. I got me a passel of special kids meself: son with autism, older daughter with Asperger's Syndrome, littlest lil' 2-year old bug with developmental delays. Wouldn't trade 'em for nuthin' even though 2 can't talk.

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