"Let's get him a walker in here so he can walk wherever he wants." -our attending doctor while in the hospital this latest go 'round.
If this doctor truly knew my guy he would know his most favorite saying, "No walk today. Whomp, whomp." You see, he has absolutely no desire (or ability) to "walk wherever he wants." Ride? Sure, let's go. He wants to ride all day long in Target. But walk? "No, thank you," he says quite politely. We are broken by disability, and we are learning that's okay.
So many equate being home with being well. If we aren't in the hospital everything must be going great. There must be no more illness, no more daily nausea, no more wheelchair, no more cancer.
No. There is still daily checking for fevers. There is still often daily sickness. Walking will never be the same; walking may never be. Our lives were altered long ago by disability. Cancer took us right up next to the edge of not okay anymore.
This doctor wanted the best for our guy. He was one of the best we've had in a while since leaving our favorite hospital floor filled with favorite people. He searched for the best answers. But, while he did come to sit in the chair in our hospital room, he kept to that chair in the corner. Close, but not too close. Our pain is real. It's the kind of pain that hurts hearts not just bodies. Doctors learn early you shouldn't take someone else's pain home at night. The really good ones still do. They come close. Closer than the chair in the corner. Boy, am I thankful I know some of these doctors. (Don't think I'm not praying this new one will soon be one in the same.)
Truth is, I'm not one to get too close to people either. Hold them at arm's length is an easy way to live life. I want others to know this Jesus I know. But, it's sometimes easier to lob little bits of Him rather than give them full on Jesus. It's the same with us. We are easier to take in little bits and pieces. You get the full us and whoa—we can be too much to handle.
Are we too much?
Christ came to give his wholeself to us. "The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many"(Matthew 20:28 NIV). Does he call me to give just a part of me, of us? Or am I asked to give our whole selves, our whole, yet broken selves? Ann Voskamp's most recent book series has spoken to the multiplying in the breaking. When something breaks there is more of it. What do I hope to see when I give less of me; only a part of the Jesus I know?
Come close. There is a whole lotta broken here. Special needs broke us a long time a go. Come over. Cancer took us to the edge where we had to hang on to only Jesus. You will find sickness here. Some days it's downright nasty. (Who am I kidding? Most days we deal in the gross.) But in our broken I hope you find the whole Jesus multiplying. We are not okay, and that's okay.
My husband and I are parents of all boys. One of whom is a young adult with both physical and intellectual disabilities. I don't always know what I'm doing as I parent these guys. But what I do know is God is teaching me big things through our trials that I probably would have never learned without them. You can find more from me at www.mostlyeandme.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter @mostlyeandme.
