For the past couple of weeks, I've been helping a friend write her biography. And, when I got up this morning, I began to work on it for her once again; compiling all the notes she'd given me and the voice recording that she's passed on to me, along with some odds and ends. As I rummage through it all, and began to type away, reading the material as I moved along. I came across a poem. And, it moved me to tears. I have a Special Needs child. My son has severe Sabot-Autism, yet, for all those that know me, they know that he is my pride and joy; and even that is not enough to express how much I love, cherish and admire my son.
Yes; Admire! He's had many challenges and has won them all, and for his persistence, and determination, I admire him. Then as I worked my my friends project, I came across this poem. I can't out into words, how blessed I feel right now!
The Special Mother
A Poem By:
Reprinted from “Motherhood, the second oldest profession”
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 the instruments for propagation with great 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. Rutledge, Carrie, twins, Patron Saint... give her Gerard. He's used to profanity.” Finally He passes a name to an angel and smiles, “Give her and handicapped child.”
The angel is curious, “Why this one God? She's so happy.”
“Exactly.”, smiles God. “Could I give a handicapped child a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel.”
“But, does she have 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 had that sense of self and independence that are too rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has his own world. She had 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. 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'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 'Mama' for the first time she will be a witness to a miracle and know it. When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as a 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 mid-air.
God smiles, “A mirror will suffice.”
|My Son, Gino :-)|