I know this child

A reflection for disability pride month [Part of this article was published previously on a different blog]

I know this child. I was she. With few role models to begin the journey, I faced my own mirror and saw a ‘dancer.’

There was no textbook on how a family could raise a disabled child with confidence and opportunity when I was born. In the late 1950s/early 1960s, few families had the support of established organizations, and they were not encouraged to meet and share their struggles and successes.

Even so as a child, I knew few limits. My memories take me to friendships and fun, travel, family, school, and all things that nurture a child's imagination. The obvious limits became challenges (puzzles) to solve. The world was before me; I only wanted to move through it with the spirit's music and rhythm. Many times, I needed that music to cushion and calm me. Every child has to face the hard edges of growing up. These edges were particularly unique for me (as they are for any child growing up with a disability) – I entered the world of medicine, doctors, and surgery at a very young age. Recovery from multiple surgeries was hard, but without them, it would've been difficult to move forward. So, there was never a question - I faced recovery from each surgery, eager for what was to come.

“Dancing” takes on many forms, and the steps change throughout a lifetime. Ordained an Episcopal priest, I have the honor to lead steps in faith's dance through the grace offered by God's spirit. Now retired, I am testing the next steps in this dance. Again, the textbooks are few for the road ahead, which is good because my style would most likely challenge any expectation. 

Once, when I had just moved, I went to meet a new physician. I mentioned how grateful I was to be so 'healthy.’ Her response was, ' Yes, you have a few immediate health problems, which is good. You are in pretty good shape to be so 'broken.’ 'Broken' is a word I have never considered when describing myself. I may have understood her intent, but the word used was hurtful.

I do not use the word broken to describe myself. With the same confidence that carried me through childhood, the confidence that knew few limits, I move ahead, glad I know what it means to be whole. 

Like the image of this tiny dancer, it is not about seeing the broken. If that is all we see, then we miss the beauty before us. She has all she needs.

I know that child... I am she.