A meeting was held quite far from Earth;
It's time for another birth.
Said the angels to the Lord above,
"This special child will need much Love".

He many not run, or laugh, or play:
His thoughts may seem quite far away.
In many ways he won't adapt.
He'll be known as handicapped.

So let's be careful where he's sent;
We want his 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 their precious gift from heaven;
Their precious charge, so meek and mild,
is Heaven's very special child.  
                    By Edna Massimilla

Whoever shall receive one of such children in my name, receiveth me.
               Mark 9: 37

Mothers Are Given Special Traits

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures, and a couple by habit. This year, nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen? 

Somehow, I visualize God hovering over earth selecting his instruments for propagation with gret care and deliberation. As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron saint, Matthew. Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Cecelia. Rudledge, Carrie, twins. Patron saint, ... give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."

Finally, He passes a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child." The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy." Exactly, " smiles God. "Could you give a handicapped 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 self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off, she'll handle it. I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence that is so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has his own world. She has to make it 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."

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

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never 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 a 'step' ordinary. When her child says "Momma" for the first time, she will be present at a miracle and know it! When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations."

"I will permit her to see clearly the things I see . . . ignorance, cruelty, 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 she is here by my side."

"And what about her patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in midair.

God smiles, "A mirror will suffice."
                                            By Erma Bombeck

The Special Burden

The young woman sat alone in the dark, her head on her breast with the darkness seemingly closing in on her. In her heart, she knew she had been entrusted with a special burden - A burden that she and she alone could only bear. As she sat alone in her heart, she thought, "I just cannot go on."

In heaven a special conversation was going on between Our Heavenly Father and one of his special angels. The angel said, "Her burden is heavy, can she possibly take much more?" Our Heavenly Father said, "Yes, she can for I'll give her strength. I want you to go and give her these strengths: 

Give her patience, for in the days to come she will need it more than she ever has before. 

Give her love, for the time when she believes in her heart that she has no more to give. 

Give her understanding, for when when the days seem long and hard she will need this strength to hang on to. 

Give her hope because without hope none of the above will be possible. 

Give her patience, not only with herself but with this special burden and the rest of her family and friends alike. 

Give her assurance that I will always be just a whisper away and together we can do anything."

The angel said, "These are very special aspects to give to someone."

Our Heavenly Father said, "They are going to a very SPECIAL WOMAN." 
                                       By Leigh Ann Farmer
(* Edited for grammatical errors found in my copy, which may or may not have been in the original composition.)

Welcome To Holland

"When you're going to have a baby, it's like you're planning a vacation to Italy. You're all excited. You get a whole bunch of guidebooks and you learn a few phrases in Italian so you can get around. When it comes time, you pack your bags and head for the airport --- for Italy."

"Only when you land, the stewardess says, 'Welcome to Holland.'

"You look at one another in disbelief and shock and say, 'Holland? What are you talking about? I signed up for Italy!'

"But they explain there's been a change of plans and you've landed in Holland, where you must stay!'

"But you do stay. You go out and buy some new guidebooks. You learn some new phrases and you meet people you never knew existed. The important thing is that you are not in a filthy, plague-infested slum full of  pestilence and famine. You are simply in a different place than you had planned. It's been slower-paced than Italy, and less flashy than Italy, but after you've been there a little while and you have a chance to catch your breath, you begin to discover that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.'

"But everyone else you know is busy coming and going from Italy. They're all bragging about what a great time they had there, and for the rest of your life, you will say, 'yes, that's where I was going. That's what I had planned.'

"The pain of that will never, ever go away.'

"You have to accept that pain because the loss of that dream, the loss of that plan, is a very, significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you will never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland."

By Emily Perl Kingsley
(Diane Crutcher - Executive Director of the National Down Syndrome Congress described to a convention audience what it feels like to have a Down Syndrome child.) [However, this applies to any parent of a 'special' child]      Published: Meeting Ground: Jan/Feb 1988.

For All Parents

"I'll lend you for a little time, a child of mine, He said,
For you to love while he lives, and mourn when he is dead.
It may be six or seven years, or twenty-two or three,
But will you, 'til I call him back', take care of him for me?

He'll bring his charms to gladden you, and shall his stay be brief,
You'll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise his stay, since all from Earth return,
But, there are lessons taught down there, I want this child to learn.

I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers true
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes, I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labor vain,
Nor hate me when I come to call, to take him back again."

"I fancied that I heard them say, "Dear Lord, Thy will be done.
For all the joy that child shall bring, the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll love him while we may;
And for the happiness we've known, will ever grateful stay.

But shall the angels call for him much sooner than we planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand!"

                                                 -- Anonymous.

I Cried The First Time

I cried the first I saw my son lying in an incubator, blue with tubes going into his veins, his nose and lungs. Machines alone keeping him alive. So helpless, dependent on doctor's and nurses' skill. I'm afraid for Caleb my son.

I cried the first time I looked into his sister's eyes and saw her pain and fear. So engrossed in my own grief have I failed to see hers? What can I say? What promises can be made? I love her not less, but more. We both grieve for Caleb my son.

I cried the first time I held my son. So small and fragile, unresponsive to my voice, my touch. Still connected to tubes and machines. Will he live? Will God call him home? My heart aches for Caleb my son.

I cried the first time I took him home, so frightened and insecure. Can I care for this child who makes no sound? Will he be o.k.? Will I recognize his needs?

I cried the first time the doctor said cerebral palsey. What does this mean? What kind of future will he have? Will he walk, or crawl, or even turn over? Will he be in a wheel chair, dependent on me forever? Will he be retarded? Can he be cured? What will happen to Caleb my son?

I cried the first time my son cried. He made a sound. His first communication. Now I will know when something is wrong, when he needs my attention, when he needs my love. Now, it sounds like there's a baby in the house. Caleb my son, can cry.

I cried the first time my son smiled. A sign of pleasure. His life's not all that bad. He does feel joy and comfort. Something is right! His eyes twinkled. His cheeks turned up. How precious, my son's first smile.

I cried the first time my son said, "MAMA". So proud of his accomplishment. He placed his lips against my cheek, took a deep breath, and with all his might he formed the sounds. My son, a young man, knows my name.

I cried the first time I looked at him and saw beyond myself. A person, though small, an individual, with his own needs, his own joys and his own fears. He needs love and gives love beyond measure. My son, a young man indeed.

I cried the first time with tears of joy. No longer with pain or fear, but with comfort and pride in a young man who has worked so hard, for he can appreciate the simple things in life. Not afraid of the future. He lives each moment as it is, and finds pleasure in being Caleb my son.

By Helen Clary
(A parent of a young adult with special needs in Warrensburg, MO.)
Published: Parent to Parent: Missouri Newsletter: Jan '91 vol 3. no 1.

We Never Learned To Hate

Who are we? We are known as the Mentally Retarded in this world. Are we different from you? In some ways yes and some ways no. We do not always think like you, but this does not make us any less of a human being. We do not ask for elaborate homes, expensive cars or to travel to Jupiter and Mars. We cannot fight for ourselves. Others must determine our fate. We never learned to hate.

What do we ask of the world? We ask only to be treated with respect and dignity and to be provided with the basic necessities in life. As you can see, our needs are not so great, we just never learned to hate.

What do we have to offer the world? We offer God's greatest gift to mankind and that is "Love." We share this Love with all the people of the world. With the sharing of this love, perhaps we can make it a better place. Could it be that God gave us a mission in life to have you see through us the true meaning of "Love" and what it's all about and as a result, you too will learn to always love and never hate.

By Ray Long
(In memory of Christie Long and all the mentally retarded of the world)

Like Me

I went to my dad and said to him,
There's a new kid who's come to my school.
He's different from me and isn't too cool.
No, he's nothing at all like me, like me, he's nothing at all like me.

He runs in a funnyish jerkyish way,
He never comes first in a race.
Sometimes he forgets which way is first base,
He's nothing at all like me, like me, he's nothing at all like me.

He studies all day in a separate class,
They say that its called, "Special Ed."
Sometimes I don't understand what he's said,
He's nothing at all like me, like me, he's nothing at all like me.

His face looks kind of different from mine,
And his talking is sometimes so slow.
It makes me feel funny and there's,
One thing I know;
He is nothing like me, like me, he's nothing like me!

My father said, "Son, I want you to think
When you meet someone different and new
It may seem a little bit strange, it's true,
He's not very different from you, from you,
He's not very different from you.

Well, I guess, I admitted, I've looked at his face;
When he's left out of games, he feels bad.
And when other kids tease him, I can see he's so sad.
Goodness that's not so different from me,
That's not very different from me.

And when we're in Music, he sure likes to sing,
And he sings just like me, right out loud.
When he gets his report card, I can tell he feels proud,
Well that's not very different from me, from me,
That's not very different from me.

And I know in the lunchroom he has lots of fun;
He loves hot dogs and ice cream and fries.
And he hates to eat spinach and that's not a surprise,
'Cause that's not very different from me, from me.
No, that's not very different from me.

And he's always so friendly, he always says hi,
And he waves and he calls out my name.
And he'd like to be friends and get into a game;
Which is not very different from me, from me,
No, I guess that not different from me.

And his folks really love him. I saw them at school,
I remember Open School Night --
They were smiling and proud and they hugged him real tight,
And that not very different from me, from me,
No, that's not very different from me.

So I said to my dad, Hey, you know that new kid?
Well, I've really been thinking a lot.
Some things are different . . . and some things are not . . .
But mostly he's really like me, like me, 
Yes, my new friend's a lot . . . like me.

By Emily Kingsley
(Emmy award-winning television writer [Sesame Street, The Dick Cavett Show] who has worked for the rights of disabled children. She has raised a child with Down's Syndrome)