Welcome to Holland

 

written by

Emily Perl Kingsley, 1987

 

I am often asked to describe

 the experience of raising a child

with a disability. To try to help

people who have not shared

 

that unique experience to understand it, 

to imagine how it would feel. It´s like this... 

 

When you´re going to have a baby, it´s like planning

a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of

guide books and make your wonderful plans.

The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The

gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy

phrases in Italian. It´s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation the day finally

arrives. You pack your bags and off you go.

Several hours later the plane lands. The stewardess

comes in and says "Welcome to Holland".

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean

Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I´m supposed

to be in Italy. All my life I´ve dreamed of going

to Italy!"

But there´s been a change in the flight plan. They´ve

landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven´t taken you

to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence,

famine and disease. It´s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And

you must learn a whole new language. And you

will meet a whole new group of people you

would have never met. It´s just a different place.

It´s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy.

But after you´ve been there for a while and you

catch your breath you look around....

and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills,

and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going

from Italy, and they are all bragging about what a

wonderful time they had there. And for the

rest of your life you will say

"Yes, that´s where I was supposed to go.

 That´s what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go

away, because the loss of that dream is a very

very significant loss.

But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you

didn´t get to go to Italy you may never be free

to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things

about Holland.

 

 

 

Heaven´s Very Special Child 

 

A meeting was held quite far from Earth:

"It´s time again for another birth."

Said the angels to the Lord Above,

"This special child will need much love."

Her progress may seem very slow,

accomplishments she may not show.

And she´ll require extra care

from folks she meets way down there.

She may not run or laugh or play,

her thoughts may seem quite far away.

In many ways she isn´t adept,

and she´ll be known as handicapped.

So let´s be careful where she´s sent

we want her life to be content.

Please Lord, find the parents who

will do a special job for you.

They will not realize right away

the leading role they´re asked to play.

But with this child sent from above

comes stronger faith and richer love.

And soon they´ll know the privilege given

in caring for the Gift of Heaven.

Their precious charge, so meek and mild

Is Heaven´s Very Special Child.

 

Edna Massimilla

 

 

 

I am the Disabled Child

 

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 nor 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 around me. I do not give you rewards as

 defined by the world's stardards...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 ever go on your own, working harder, seeking answers to your many questions, creating

questions with no answers.

 I am the child who cannot talk.

 

I am the child who cannot walk.

The world sometimes 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 top shelf. I need to go to

 the bathroom... oh...I've dropped my spoon again.

 I am dependent on you in these ways. My gift

 to you is to make you 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 the 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 of respect for others

and their uniqueness. I teach you about the

sanctity of life. I teach you about how very

 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.

 

 

 

 

From the Ohio Coalition for the

Education of Handicapped Children

 

 

 

I have taken this picture

in Rochester, Minnesota

 

 

 

 

 

 

Did you ever wonder how mothers of disabled

children were chosen?

Somehow I visualize God hovering over the earth

selecting his instruments of propagation with

great care and deliberation.

As He observes, He instructs His angels to make

notes in a giant ledger.

 

"This one gets a daughter. The Patron saint

will be Cecelia."

 

"This one gets twins. The Patron saint

will be Matthew."

 

"This one gets a son. The Patron saint...

give her Gerard. He´s used to profanity." 

 

Finally He passes a name to an angel and smiles.

"Give her a disabled child".

The angel is curious. "Why this one God?

She is so happy."

"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I give a disabled

child to a mother who does not know laughter?

That would be cruel!"

"But has she patience?" asks the angel.

"I don´t want her to have too much patience

or she will drown in a sea of sorrow and

despair. Once the shock and resentment wears

off, she´ll handle it. I watched her today, she has

that feeling of self and independence that is so

necessary in a mother. You see, the child I´m

going to give her has his own world. She has to

make her live in her world and that´s not

going to be easy."

 

"But Lord, I don´t think she even believes

in you."

God smiles, "No matter, I can fix that. This

one is perfect - she has just enough

selfishness."

 

The angel gasps - "Selfishness? Is that a virtue?"

 

God nods. "If she can´t separate herself from the

child occasionally she won´t survive. Yes, here

is a woman whom I will bless with a child less

than perfect. She doesn´t realize it yet,

but she is to be envied. She will never take for

granted a spoken word. She will never consider

any step ordinary. When her child says "Mommy"

for the first time she will be present at a miracle

and will know it. I will permit her to see clearly

the things I see...ignorance, cruelty and

prejudice...and allow her to rise above them.

She will never be alone. I will be at her side every

minute of every day of her life because she is

doing my work as surely as if she is here

by my side."

 

"And what about her Patron saint?" asks the angel,

his pen poised in mid air.

God smiles,

"A mirror will suffice."

 

 

 

Could this be a fairy-tale view of a

mother who has lost a special child?

Aren´t all children special to their mothers?

 

I came to believe that I can be anything

I want to be and allow myself just any

point of view no matter if or how it may fit

into other people´s philosophy of life.

This little story is not only absolutely

charming but like a warm breeze of comfort.

I love the idea of how I might have been

chosen to be Adriana´s Mommy.

To me it is just another piece

of the big puzzle called "Life".

 

Sabine

 

 

 

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