Detours

If I were to go back 10 years and think about how my life would be right now, I'd say that I am pretty close to where I imagined, but not exactly. Getting to this point is a whole different story. Some things have happened that have really thrown me for a loop. Hard, confusing, frustrating things. Things that I never imagined occurring when I was daydreaming about my future life. I'm sure you can relate.

For the most part, these things have been trials, undoubtedly sent to refine me in some way. As a result, they have been the times when I have been on my knees the most. I suppose that's why they've come. I don't particularly feel refined, although I'm sure I have somehow been strengthened. I have definitely learned a lot, but sometimes I am bugged that my life isn't going according to plan. I'm still grateful, of course, for all the good that has happened and I hardly ever fail to count my blessings, but still. When my life is pushed off course (my preconceived course), it doesn't always make me happy.

Every challenge whether big or small allows us a choice. We have the freedom to choose how we will react. An example from this morning--just the week my washing machine is not working, Madison wets the bed after refusing to go to the toilet when I took her at midnight. I have to admit I was frustrated this morning with the situation, but found an easy solution once I stepped back and thought for a moment.

I found something written by Emily Kingsley that pretty much sums up what I'm talking about. She is actually writing about having a child with a disability, but if you insert your trial or unexpected life occurence in the appropriate place, I think you'll find that she hits the nail on the head. I love it and have gained a whole new perspective on life from it; something I'll need for the detours that are bound to happen in the next 10, 30, 50 years of my life.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandt's.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.