This is one of a series of chapters from my book about life with our special-needs daughter, Catherine.
Part 6 - Glimpses of God
This mid-April morning had warmed up quite nicely. It was a beautiful spring day. The plants on our little patch of property were beginning to flush with varying degrees of green. The young trees in front of our home appeared to be laced with pink as the sap coursed swiftly through the branches to the buds.
As much as I hate Ohio Winters, I know they are necessary for the bursting forth of Ohio Springs. All of that power and beauty that has laid dormant within the soil begins its upward trek reaching for the sun. It’s a sort of fireworks show in slow motion. An explosion of beauty that takes months to reach its height and is often gone too soon as the earth leans away once again for a winter nap.
Today began with a heavy frost. From the window in my office on the second floor of our home, I could see a dark trail of green that had been plowed through the glistening ice crystals that shone bright in the growing sunlight before they released their grip on the innocent blades. The trail that meandered to and fro, first to chase a rabbit, then to investigate a robin nest under construction, was made by my eldest son. These morning trails, left like the wake of an icebreaker in a sea of white and green, were never in a straight line. How could they be? With so much life growing beneath young feet, there was no escaping the energy and excitement.
As I stood by the window sipping on a cup of coffee and following the trail that was like a real life Family Circus cartoon, I wondered what would become of this boy who was now only 7 years old. Like the spring, I knew that all too quickly his power and strength would grow and burst forth. Like the baby birds, he too would one day jump from the nest to go build his own nest and continue the beauty and glory of spring. Who would he become? Who would his brothers become? Who would Catherine become?
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My youngest brother Dustin
holding our son Anthony (2001) |
As a brother of a boy, now a man with special needs, I knew how it changed you. My brother was born in 1981 when I was 9 years-old. I was oblivious to the fact that he had handicaps. He was my brother, that’s all I knew. I do remember that after he was born, maybe months later maybe years, I heard my mom and dad fighting. It’s the only time I can remember them doing so. I didn’t hear the words but I knew it was about Dustin. Today he is a mountain of man at about 6’3”, 275 lbs, and the mental level of an 8th grader. Maybe, who really knows what goes on inside that beautiful mind! I often wonder if he, Catherine, and others understand perfectly the world around them but are unable to express themselves in a “normal” fashion. His mind is actually very sharp when it’s something he cares about. He can recite scores to Ohio State Buckeye (football and basketball) games I don’t even remember watching, tell you what the weather forecast is for the next week, and catch fish like Jimmy Houston. I’m still not sure why we watched fishing shows growing up, even recording them to watch over and over but Dustin loves everything fishing.
In the 80’s Dustin rode the “short bus” when the “short bus” jokes were still perfectly acceptable and the word “retarded” was simply part of the vernacular. If my friends made fun of Dustin, I never saw it. They never did it in front of me. In fact, my experience was quite the opposite. My friends, neighbors, people at Church, they all loved Dustin, they still do. I know for a fact that he was more popular in High School than I ever was! To this day you can often find his picture in the local newspaper article highlighting his community workshop, basketball team, or a field trip they experienced. My name was in the paper once and not for good reason.
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Newspaper clipping of Bill Sauer on
his scooter with his Hall of Fame Trophy |
As I think back over the years I realize there were a great number of handicapped persons in our community, many of whom were local celebrities. For instance, Bill Sauer was born in 1908 and diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy. I remember seeing him in his motorized wheelchair at football and basketball games when I was a kid. Little did I know that this man, who wasn’t supposed to live past 7 years-old, had only missed 3 home football games in a 35 year span. Nor did I know at the time that he supported his mother and himself after his father died in 1946 by selling concessions at the Logan City Pool, Christmas cards, and magazine subscriptions. In 1975, the man who had never played a game but never missed a game or practice had the football stadium renamed in his honor and it remained until 2007 when the stadium and school were torn down. In 1976 he was inducted into the LHS Athletic Hall of Fame. I wonder if back in 1908 his mother and father worried about what would become of Bill.
For our children, having an uncle and sister with special needs probably did expose them to more handicapped people than most. I don’t think they’ve ever considered the situation. It’s just part of their life. Dustin is just Dustin and we love it when we can hear him yelling at the Buckeyes while we sit on our deck. Catherine is just Catherine and we love her when she unintentionally throws something across the room to her surprise and ours. I prayed for all of my children, living and future, that they would have softened hearts because of Dustin and now Catherine. I prayed that they would notice their differences, accept it, and continue to love them and others who they may meet in the course of their lives.
Having special needs people in our lives helps us to learn to accept people as they are. That’s what they want! They don’t want to be looked at differently any more than you or I do. They want what I want, what you want, what we all want. They want to be loved.
Today it’s easy to become self-centered. It’s easy to naval-gaze our way through life or more aptly genital-gaze or smartphone-gaze our way through life. If nothing else,
Dante showed us that Hell is the realm of the individual. It’s the realm of the I. It’s a place full of people but everyone is alone. After all, human connection is a gift, a grace that would not be permissible in Hell. In the past 50-75 years we’ve become more and more individualistic. Televisions separated us from our front-porch and our neighbors. Computers separated us from family and reality. Smartphones are separating us from the person* in the seat next to us at the kitchen table or on the bus. *The real, flesh-and-blood, living, breathing, caring, hurting, loving, suffering, laughing, crying, longing-to-be-loved person! Not the pixelated, airbrushed, everything-is-perfect-and-I’m-fine hashtag person. I believe that we are continuing to create a Hell on Earth, a realm of the individual where others are only as valuable as they are useful. People aren't valuable because of what they can produce or contribute. They are valuable because of who they are; unique, beautiful, one-of-a-kind individuals whose very existence is a blessing and a miracle.
Beautiful souls like Dustin, Bill, Catherine, and others force us to pause and reconnect in some way with our humanity. When we look up from our screens and see their innocent eyes, simple smile, and warm personality, we see more clearly. If we spend enough time with them we begin to see how similar we are, not how different. We begin to see that there’s more to life than the latest app, filter, or “like”.
Dustin doesn’t care about Angry Birds but he’ll jump at the chance to go fishing with you. He doesn’t worry about cellphone service but he’ll be ready for a Logan Chieftain or Buckeye football game in a heartbeat. Catherine doesn’t care about how many likes her picture received on Facebook but she does like it when she’s told she’s beautiful (don’t all women). She doesn’t worry about Snapchat but she’ll gladly share a bowl of ice cream with you anytime.
In the years since Catherine’s birth we have had three more children. Each and everyone one of them, older and younger, love and accept Catherine. They love and accept Uncle Dustin. People often worry about how having a special needs child in the home may affect the other children. Will they feel less loved since so much time and attention is devoted to the their sibling? Will they be resentful of this child? Having a special needs sibling changes you. Having a special needs child changes you. I know. I live it everyday. It changes you for the better. It makes you more compassionate, more empathetic, and more open to people and who they are.
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View from my office window
of frost and ice in the yard. |
As I continued sipping on my cup of coffee and following the crystal-bordered trail I saw a small figure dart from underneath a pine tree. There was Anthony again, chasing something I couldn’t see and that perhaps didn’t exist outside of his imagination. Out of the corner of my eye, to the right and behind the pines, I spied another figure. This one smaller, slower, almost as if it were stalking its prey as it moved along the same trail as the previous passer-by. Here was Christopher, following in Anthony’s footsteps, for now.
One by one each of my children will walk a similar trail. Some will follow trails well-worn by friends and family while others would create their own. Regardless of the trail taken, each one will be blessed, altered, and made better by Catherine, by Dustin, and by countless other souls who are glimpses into the heart and mind of God, Who is love.
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