Translations

Last weekend H played in an all day tournament in Bowling Green. This was the first time we took the wheelchair out of our very familiar territory. I probably should have seen it coming, but I was a little unprepared for the comments etc that this little contraption brought. As soon as I lifted it out of the van, heads began to turn. We saw and heard lots of things so here is what was actually said, and my rough translation.

As B and I walked in, a coach from another team offered L candy. Translation: I can't believe I just yelled at my perfectly healthy child for missing a ball when this small tyke can't even walk. At least this small token makes me feel better. (Of course B wondered what kind of weirdo this was and wanted to make sure the package was wrapped and had not been tampered with. Actually this happened several times)

How old is she? Translation: What's wrong with her?

What a pretty girl. Translation: I realize that I have been staring at you. Obviously the deformed ear, the extreme stiffness, the chunks of missing hair and unfocused eyes mean something is wrong but hopefully this will excuse my rudeness.

Me-"If you want to go on to that field, push yourself." Imagine the vicious stares. Translation: How can you talk like that to this poor invalid child.

I personally find children much easier to deal with. They say "What's wrong with her?" Translation: I really want to be informed- what's wrong with her. Then I can answer his or her question without any pretenses. Children also accept the answers and go on in a way adults can't seem to do.

The amazing thing about wheelchairs or challenges like CP or Down's syndrome or anything else is that how you see them is nothing but perspective. The man who says "Look at that poor little thing." as we walk by doesn't realize that quite the contrary, this wheel chair empowers her and gives L control she could never otherwise have. The fact that I can fuss at her to move herself is a statement on how far she has come. No one would have looked at me funny for making H carry her own bag or J walk on his own feet. One of the things I love most about our trips to Vandy for therapy are the others in the waiting room. All of these children have unique special needs. As L gets mad when she can't make a turn and I am not helping, no one gives a sympathetic look, instead, they say " You can do that" or to me "Don't let her give up now". People share your delight with the arrival of new equipment. Equipment is power and freedom. Wrestling that spoon means self feeding is even on the radar. Spewing the drink out all over me is irritating, but drinking from a straw is a priceless skill -never under estimate the freedom a child drinking from a straw gives you. You may see a mess, but I see a child who can get a drink in the school cafeteria.

L has some really rough days and we pray for healing, strength and patience on a moment by moment basis, but I am also very thankful for the strides she has made and the opportunities we have been given. Nothing is "wrong" and she isn't "a poor little thing." She is a fabulous little girl with a lot harder climb than you or I. She is a spitfire rebel determined to do things her way. She is power. If you doubt that , let her take a bite of you. We all have bruises and scars that prove it. She may not be as verbal as we like, but those closest to her know the translation "I WILL BE HEARD!"