As my children were born I wanted them to be
perfect. When they were babies, I wanted them to smile and be content playing
with their toys. I wanted them to be happy and to laugh continually instead
of crying and being demanding. I wanted them to see the beautiful side
of life.
As they grew older, I wanted them to be giving
instead of selfish. I wanted them to skip the terrible twos. I wanted them
to stay innocent forever.
As they became teenagers, I wanted them to
be obedient and not rebellious, mannerly and not mouthy. I wanted them
to be full of love, gentle and kind-hearted.
"Oh, God, give me a child like this" was often
my prayer. One day he did. Some called him handicapped... I call him Perfect!!
Author unknown
Welcome to Holland
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 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 the 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 never have 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're 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 a dream is a very very significant
loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the
fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very
special, the very lovely things... about Holland.
By Emily Perl Kingsley
I Am the Child
...........
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 the infinite joy in the 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.
I am the disabled child. I am your teacher.
If you will 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.
