She has a seizure about once a month, while she's falling asleep. Many days she loses control of her bowel or bladder, still, at almost five. She has her raspy Bostonian lisp that reminds everyone of Fran Drescher, but through speech therapy, is relearning how to use her tongue to swallow and speak more clearly.
Her eyes don't always track together, and she is a klutzy one, running into things frequently and forever bonking her head and nose on things, with a torrent of tears to follow.
But the best of therapies for my child-forever-changed are the simple things in life. Riding horseback with the York girls. Jumping on her trampoline. Going swimming. Conversing over books with Mama.
So I try to let her do what she can, try to protect her, but allow her freedom. I try not to imagine a 20-year-old who sleeps in a diaper and poops in her pants. I try to believe that she will be fully functional as an adult, and just focus on the moment. Watching her navigate the barn stairs in her own fashion. Smiling huge over the horses, and giving her deep, tenor belly laugh so many hundreds of times each day.
Please, Lord, keep healing. And keep us all focused on the ABILITY in disability. The CAN in can't. The many prayers answered instead of the prayers still being prayed.
There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he distributes them to each one, just as he determines. (from I Corinthians 12)
No comments:
Post a Comment