This is the 2nd post of my memoir about life with our special-needs daughter, Catherine.
Who Sinned?
His disciples asked him, “
Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.” - John 9:2-3
As I knelt in church before the large wooden crucifix I began to pray. I’d like to say it was a deep, heartfelt, earth shattering prayer. Maybe it was in it’s own way. I prayed the words of Jesus, “
not my will, but yours be done.” I also pleaded. I cried. I threatened. I denied. I squirmed in that pew like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s snare.
Tired of squirming, I knelt quietly and tried to listen. In my heart of hearts I knew this was God’s plan from the beginning. I’d always believed that God gives special-needs children to special parents. I just never thought I was a special parent, I still don’t. Yet deep down inside me, deep in the recesses of my heart, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, had always known, that this day was coming. I can’t explain it but I knew. I’d known for years and years. I just didn’t know the “hour” or the details. I’m thankful for that. It was like a premonition or an unshakable knowledge of the truth.
I often look at others and their situation and think, “
wow, I could never handle that. How do they do it? They must be saints! Where do they get their strength?” The truth is, if you or I knew what God had planned for us in advance, we’d go mad. We may think that we could never handle this or that situation and we’re right, in a way. It’s not God’s plan for us. It’s His plan for them. He gives them the graces they need for their situation. He does the same for you. He does the same for me. The question is whether we will accept those graces or not.
I know that if I’d have looked at our family years down the road from this moment in the church, I would have thought that there’s no way I’ll make it. I would have ran from the tube feedings. I would have ran from the cancer diagnosis. I would have ran from changing diapers on an 11 year-old girl that needs to have her arms pinned down to keep her from grabbing and flinging the diaper across the room. I would have ran from it all. However, I would have been running away from the joy of bringing her home after 4 months in the hospital. I would have been running away from an infectious smile that no one can escape. I would have been running away from the joy of watching her fall in love with popcorn, pizza, and ice cream. I would have been fleeing from the way she makes each of my other children step outside themselves and become more compassionate. I would have been fleeing from the grace that God is giving to the world through her.
I’ve come to believe that children like Catherine are special. We use that word almost in a negative sense. We say “special-needs” child like Orwell says the “
Ministry of Peace”. There’s no denying that these beautiful human beings do have special needs but that’s not what defines them. Heck, we all have special needs. I need eyeglasses to function. I need aspirin for my aging, aching body. I need bourbon for dealing with 8 children!
Children like Catherine are special not because of their needs but rather because of what they give! In the scripture passage I quoted at the beginning of this chapter, Jesus is asked whose sin caused the child’s issues, deformities, or special-needs. The questioners want to lay blame. Jesus says that it’s not sin to blame, no one is at fault. God grants some souls the special privilege of being “special needs”, of being totally dependent on Him and others. It’s a gift of God that will allow His grace to become visible through them and those who care for them. For me, they are mediators of grace. They pull all of us outside our ego, outside of our navel gazing. We are forced, in a sense, to get over ourselves and get outside ourselves. My ego has been checked at the door too many times to count with Catherine. I’ll admit, sometimes she is hard to take, hard to handle.
I remember going to Confession not long after the diagnosis and realization that things weren’t okay, this wasn’t a fluke or an easy fix. I told this man behind the screen that I was really struggling with the situation. I wasn’t overjoyed at the thought of a 5th child and certainly not one that was going to require so much extra care. We had four children, I wasn’t making a lot of money, my wife was stressed, and on and on. This priest allowed a few moments for my pity party and then simply told me the truth.
“
God is giving you this child because you need this child. This child will pull you outside of yourself and make you a better person.”
Those darn Dominicans! If you’ve ever doubted that Christ speaks through His priests, trust me, He does. The words echoed through the valleys of my mind. I knew he was right. I hated that he was right but I knew he was. In hindsight, I have no doubt that Christ spoke those words to me through that priest on the other side of the screen. I’ll never know his name or face but I’m thankful for his vocation.
In his book,
Happy are you Poor, Fr. Thomas Dubay suggests that we need to stop living in other people’s minds. In other words, we need to stop being concerned about how others see us. We need to stop looking at ourselves through their eyes and thus trying to keep up some sort of falsified image. It’s egotism, often unrecognized but that’s what it is.
Catherine has certainly helped me stop living in other people’s minds. I used to get embarrassed by so many things that she would do, now I just laugh and love. Honestly, I do get upset, I do get frustrated but I’m never embarrassed. She is who she is and I love her faults and all, just like the rest of my children, just like my wife, just like myself.
For example, when she’s sitting, often times she will rock back and forth. However, this isn’t the Dustin Hoffman, Rainman-type rocking gently back and forth. No, this is more like a Metallica head-banging type of rocking with her hair flipping, chair rocking, and if she’s on the floor, actual head-banging against her arm against the floor. We don’t know why she does it. Maybe it’s for stimulation of her brain. Maybe it feels good. I think it’s because she’s a typical kid with too much energy and since she can’t jump up and run around the room, she rocks, or rather, she rocks on, man!
As I continued to kneel in St. Michael Church the only prayer that would come was, “
I unite this suffering to yours on the cross Jesus. I don’t know what is happening. I trust in You. Your will, not mine be done.” It was sincere if not enthusiastic. I knew that only God Himself could set me free from the hunter’s snare and He wasn’t about to do so in this situation. It was for my own good that I was caught, slowed, and made to look outside my own selfish heart.
After kneeling there for what felt like days, I slid back onto the bare wooden pews. I wiped the tears from my eyes with my fingers and wiped them on my pants. I took the deepest breath I think I’ve ever taken. I imagined that it must have been the same feeling Adam experienced when God breathed life into him. It felt good to breath again. Had I taken a breath since I first knelt down? I exhaled and spoke the words of Christ on the cross, “
Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” I stood on that cold, green, stone floor in the center aisle, genuflected and took the first step toward an unknown future.
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