Our Little Miracle

The story starts that we adopted this little girl from Ukraine, and decided that we needed to plan that her disability would never change. We decided this because after adopting our oldest daughter, Swimmer Girl, we dealt with the grief of realizing that her disability would never change. It was extremely painful, and neither of us wanted to face that kind of disappointment again.

Realize, of course, that once we got past that grief, Swimmer Girl has been a great joy. How can you be nothing but proud of a child who so gracefully and faithfully rises above such severe physical disabilities? I often think of her like a modern-day Elijah, when he, by the power of the Holy Spirit, ran faster than King Ahab's chariot. How does she do it? How does she swim like she does? How does she walk? How does she play the piano so beautifully?  How does handle papers and books and opening packages?  How does she manage to carry so many things?

Still, that grief of dealing with the finality of her situation was something I just didn't want to face again. So, we went into Nappy's adoption with the mindset that she was not going to change. Once we got her home, three different doctors agreed with us. We were okay with that because we had seen how God's Glory was revealed through Swimmer Girl's life, and it was really really good.

So, we became comfortable with life as it was presenting itself. Then a doctor ordered a 350lb powerchair that we just simply couldn't accommodate in our lives, and began to push us to put her into therapeutic preschool 5 days a week. None of it made any sense to us. People were jumping the gun, telling us that she couldn't do things that she had never even tried to do. Why would we take on the financial burden (which was huge) of this chair, and rearrange her life and our family life around her disability when no one had even bothered to see what she could do?

So, we bought a manual chair off of eBay for $100. It was the wrong size, way too big, and yet, she was wheeling around in it on her own from the first evening we had it.  I guess she had no clue that she couldn't operate a manual chair. 

It was then we began to realize that maybe there was more than one way for God to reveal His Glory in the life of a person with a disability. So, we ditched the therapists that were offering adaptive devices, therapeutic preschool and other stuff and started pushing for therapies and interventions that would actually make a physical difference in her life. We found a doctor that would accommodate us.

Several months ago, that doctor ordered Nappy's first round of serial casting to stretch her legs straight. We had botox injections done in her right thigh to weaken the constricting muscles and then 3 weeks later started the therapy. Our doctor warned us that Nappy needed to gain over 60-degrees of flexibility in each leg to walk, and that that was really out of the question. The most gained in one round of serial casting recorded was 30-degrees. About 15-degrees was much more typical. She doubted, because of the tightness, that we could gain even that.


We began the process of serial casting. Every 1-2 weeks her leg was stretched a bit more and a new cast was placed on it to stretch the muscles and release the joints. Each week, the therapist would record the changes, and it was like watching a slow motion miracle. After 7 weeks, Nappy had gained almost 70 degrees of flexibility in that knee!

At the same time we were working on her leg, God sent us the perfect occupational therapist.  From the start, she said that she believed that Nappy needed to gain more flexibility in her shoulders, elbows and wrists in order to achieve the goals that we had for her-- goals of putting on her own shirt, buttoning and zipping jackets and drinking from cups without straws.  Those may seem small, but try to do all those things without bending your arms.  

So, we took measurements of her flexibility in those joints and then began the therapy.  I won't bore you with details, but will just say that in the course of this therapy, we've seen our second slow motion miracle.  Her rehab doctor claims that Nappy has gained more flexibility in her arms than she had hoped she could after a couple rounds of botox and serial casting!

In fact, her doctor said that there is only one word to describe the changes in Nappy's body.  One word she doesn't use lightly:  miracle.

We really are witnessing a miracle.

As of now, it really looks like our little girl is going to walk.   And, while we have medical science to thank for it's help, even the doctor knows that this is happening by the hand of God.

In the past month I've really tried to process what we're watching.  I have always believed in miracles, but have never actually witnessed one.  What has overwhelmed me in these past few months is this:  God loves me enough to allow me to witness this miracle.  Watching His healing hand change these joints is the most incredible thing I've ever seen in my entire life -- so much more valuable than any thing this world can offer.   I feel like a little kid who's parents have just given me a gift that I wanted so desperately but was afraid to ask for because it was so lavish and immense. 

Through out this process, as I've prayed with Nappy, we've talked about what God is doing.  Before she'd tell me, "I'll walk in heaven."  Now she'll tell me, "I'll walk in this room.  I'll walk on oaf (earth!)".  Then I'll tell her, "It sure does look like you will walk on earth, but even if you don't....

And, she'll finish it for me, "GOD IS GOOD!"  

More Thoughts on the Healings

I was thinking, again, about the miraculous healings found in the New Testament. The Lord has certainly changed my perspective on many things over the years, but my perspective on the healings are going through a most radical change. Perhaps other people have always had this all figured out, but I haven't (I've been too busy figuring out how to solve America's problems, I guess...).

Anyway, the healings have always been presented to me as acts of Jesus kindness and compassion. Teachers would point out that Jesus would choose to give his time to the "the crippled, the sick and those 'tormented by evil spirits' ". "Tormented by evil spirits" could mean almost anything depending upon whatever church I happened to be sitting in. To some it meant demon possession, to some it meant being tormented by illness and to yet others it meant mental illness. To me it shows that the concept of grouping all disabled people into one big "group" rather than seeing them as individuals with very unique needs can be seen even in ancient times.

The teaching tends to focus on the fact that Jesus was always willing to give his time to the "least of these", to the outcast, the people who no one valued. The thought being that if Jesus was willing to love even them, then certainly he would love me. Before my days as a mother of special needs children, that explanation was enough for me. Jesus did seek out the broken, there certainly is truth and insight in that interpretation.

However, once I became a Mom, I realized that there are some concerns with that interpretation. It began when I started reading children's literature about disabilities. I noticed a subtle attitude that would often come through the text: we should have compassion on them.

I freely admit that I am a curmudgeon, and that I often read through things looking for unspoken attitudes and cheap imitations of the truth. However, take, for instance, one children's book I read where a child and grandpa go to the zoo for the day. While out, they don't just look at the animals, they also look at a myriad of people with disabilities. "Look a monkey! Hey, Look at deaf girl!"

Albeit that was a wee bit of hyperbole, the feel of the book was simply that. The perspective it was written from was a "us looking at them". Even at the end of the book the kid writes a letter to a disabled kid saying, "I know your just like everybody else." Of course, if that's so true, then why did he have to write and tell her in the first place?

It's all so pedantic.

I started to think, "How would I feel to be the subject of a book like that?" "How would I like it to be labeled 'the person we're supposed to have compassion on.' "

Maybe it's just pride... but maybe something is there. As a child, how would I feel if someone wrote me a letter saying, "Really, I believe you're just like everybody else?" Well, I would be pretty concerned as to why a person would feel the need to say that to me.

So, does this apply to the miracles? I think so, because maybe, just maybe, the only point wasn't that Jesus was just compassionate, but that Jesus understood the value of people with disabilities, and that those who have a disability don't have to be on the margins of society. With Jesus there wasn't a "we" and "them." He didn't need to tell disabled people "you're just like everybody else." He knows it and He knows they know it.


Think, again, to the story of the man by the pool of Bethesda. Jesus asked him if he wanted to be healed. Our presumption is, of course, that he would want to be healed. The most common explanation I've heard for that question is that Jesus is asking him because maybe "he wants to be disabled, he wants to have an excuse for not working." But, perhaps Jesus knew that not every disabled person desires healing.

"Do you want healed?"

There's an option. Jesus understood that abundant life was available to the man whether or not his body was healed. Perhaps one of the points is that either way it's okay. It's okay for a person with a disability to want healing, and it's okay for a person with a disability to not want healing. It's a message of reassurance to disabled people. At the same time, it's a message of perspective for those of us who don't have a disability: don't presume just because someone has a disability that they wish they didn't have it.

Give compassion where compassion is due. Give respect where respect is due.

Through the Roof

Today I am thinking, once again, about disabilities. What brought this to mind is that I'm reading through the Gospel of Matthew, and I just today read through the story of the paralytic that was healed by Jesus. The version rendered in Matthew is rather vague, so I moved onto the version of the story as told in Luke.

The story goes that there was a man who was unable to walk. His friends decide that his best chance for life was to take him to Jesus. Interestingly enough, the Bible doesn't say that the friends were looking for Jesus to heal him. They probably were, especially as the scripture refers to Jesus and says that "the power of the Lord was present for him to heal the sick." But still, the text never, at least in English, specifies that.

They can't get their friend to Jesus because of all the crowds surrounding, so they climb up to the roof of the house, cut a hole in the roof, and then lower their friend down to Jesus. While I find this part especially neat, I must say that all the numerous, and also near-disastrous, home improvement projects I've been involved with causes me to be somewhat sympathetic to the home owner. Perhaps Jesus fixed the roof for him and the Bible just doesn't mention it (since he just fixed the roof like a carpenter rather than as an omnipotent God).

So, the men lower their friend to Jesus. Jesus sees the paralytic lying there and then does something that no reader of the story would expect. He forgives the guy's sins.

Now, I know what some of you reading this are thinking. You're thinking, "What kind of sins can a paralytic possibly commit? He's just lying there."

Well, from my experiences with my girls I can tell you: he has many options. Our oldest daughter was, essentially, a paralytic when she was in a body cast. She couldn't move from the chest down, and then had only 1 arm to work with up top. It was pretty restrictive. She couldn't even sit up. But, I can tell you now that she was still able to: lie, smart mouth, be prideful, steal (or at least temporarily steal something by hiding it), and dishonor her parents. And that is without any knowledge of what went on in her head! The real problem, then, is not how to sin, but what to do as a parent. I couldn't exactly put her in time out --- she was already in an involuntary 6 week time out while in the cast! But, suffice it to say that sin is definitely possible in any phase of life.

Years ago, when I first read this story (long before any real understanding of disabilities), I used to secretly question how Jesus could just look past what so obviously needed healing on this man. I didn't doubt that Jesus was compassionate, I just doubted His ability to understand what earthly life would be like when you didn't have supreme powers. Now, perhaps, I have a bit more understanding than I did then.


First of all, I think we (especially those who have no experience with disabilities) who don't have a physical disability come at the healings with some serious presuppositions, the largest of which is that, of course, these people would be bringing their friend for his physical healing. And, yet, as I mentioned before, this is never overtly stated in the text. We presume that the most important part of the story is the physical healing, because, we presume that any person with a disability would desire healing more than anything. From the start of the story, in fact, Jesus had a different view of what needed healed.

I also think of this in connection with the time that Jesus healed the man in the pool at Bethesda. Before healing the man, Jesus posed the question, "Do you want to get well?"

I've heard teaching about this passage where the speaker points out that Jesus asks this question possibly because he wanted to see if this man really wanted healed. I think there is probably some legitimacy to that interpretation -- the paralytic probably did have some attitude issues or something of the like. However, perhaps Jesus asked this question because He understood the greater truth that life isn't over just because you have a disability. That understanding came through in the question to the man at the pool, and it comes to light here. Jesus went straight to the real issue, the sin, because He knew what could be redeemed from a life with a disability. The disability didn't have to be removed in order for the man to live as a son of God. His life could still have purpose, and his eternal reward would stay the same.

So, He healed what really needed healed.

Now, some of you reading this probably didn't think about how a paralytic could sin, or that Jesus was missing the point of how the guy needed his legs healed. You were thinking the same thing as the pharisees, which essentially was: Who is this guy that he thinks he can forgive sins?

Now, I've often found this to be one of the neatest part of the story. Jesus answers the Pharisee's thoughts! In Luke 5:22, he says,

"Jesus knew what they were thinking and asked, "Why are you thinking these things in your hearts? 23Which is easier: to say, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Get up and walk'? "

Then Jesus goes on to heal the man, just to show evidence of his authority to forgive sins.

It strikes me that the stories of the healings have much more depth than we realize. I've read that these healings were just some of the miracles he performed, so obviously there must be a reason that these particular ones were recorded. Perhaps it was the nuggets of truth surrounding the healings that Jesus was more concerned about.

Was the man's life radically changed by his healing? Of course. It would be silly to think otherwise. It was a tremendous gift to be healed. However, in the end, the guy faced the same aging process and the same grave that every other person in the history of the world faces. At best a healing of physical nature is a temporary fix.

However, Jesus fixed the real problem.

Rise Up and Walk!

The first time I ever really contemplated talking to our youngest daughter about her legs was when I was sitting in a crowded waiting area of the London Heathrow Airport, on my second trip to Ukraine in order to adopt her. All of a sudden, it hit me like a brick: Someday I am going to have to explain to her that she isn't going to walk like other children.

I tried to imagine what that would be like, and it filled me with so much sadness that I began to cry. People probably thought I was either mad a my husband, or upset I missed a flight. Or perhaps a bit miffed at the prices atHeathrow's duty-free shops. But whatever people thought, the reality of her disability hit me right then.

The thing is, that we've been through some similar things with our older daughters. It takes time for them to understand that their bodies are different. For instance, our middle daughter had been home for over 2 years, and was over 4 years old (and just really starting to learn how to count) when she made a mighty announcement at the dinner table.

"Oh my! ******* has only got 1 arm! There's only one, not two!"

We all just looked at her like she was a bit loopy.

"So," our oldest daughter replied nonchalantly, "It took you this long to figure it out, huh?"

Even with our oldest, we watched her go through the phases: thinking she would grow an arm, thinking that all children were born with a big leg and a little leg and that her little leg would start to grow at some point. She had even had the misunderstanding that we had an arm waiting for her at home when she left the orphanage. It's really hard to watch as they process the loss, especially as they don't begin to think of it in terms of a loss until they're older. Then, mix in the fact that it isn't a total loss because there is so much good that God redeems from disabilities, that in some facets it's actually a blessing, and it's just a lot for one little mind to process.

But what I should have remembered when I was in Heathrow Airport was that I didn't' know the future. I only have an understanding of what's happening now. In fact, according to I Corinthians 13, I only have a dim understanding of now, not even complete. So, there's no point in worrying how things will play out, when they never play out how you expect them to.

Take, for instance, our oldest daughter. From birth, it was expected she would never walk. She was born with absolutely no hip on her right side, a twisted hip on her left, no femur (thigh bone) on the right, and no fibulas (the smaller shin bone) in either leg. She's also missing a myriad of other bones that I won't bore you with, but suffice it to say, there was enough missing that she would never walk. She was also in a place where there was no medical intervention or therapy for her at all.

She was, however, in an orphanage where she was loved. The ladies who cared for her loved her, prayed for her, and decided that her best chance in life was to learn to adapt to herenvironment . So, they taught her, and she learned to do everything her peers did -- except to walk. Then one spring, only a couple months before we met her, her orphanage began preparations for the Easter program. She was told that she could sing in the program, but, since she couldn't walk, not dance.

That was enough for her. She was so miffed about not being able to dance in the program, she decided that that would never happen again. She created her own three-year-old physical therapy program that included lots of falling and bruising, I'm sure, but several weeks later was walking.

The orphanage staff in Ukraine told us that it was amazing she could walk, but since she was walking when we met her, it didn't really sink in. However, after arriving home and having many doctors tell us that, not only was it incredible that she could walk, but that they couldn't even give us a medical explanation for why she could walk, it began to really sink in!

So, I should've remembered that with our youngest daughter. However, she came home unable to walk, and her legs and body were limp with atrophy. For the first few months home she was so weak that her favorite position to play in was laying on her back on the floor. Doctor after doctor told us that the surgical options for helping her to walk were too extreme and we should just train her to using a wheelchair. There would be no walking in her future.

We began to work toward that goal, and since her doctor was recommending that we fit her for a power wheelchair, we began to work towards accommodating that. We had her feet surgically unclubbed so that she could wear shoes, but not thinking that she could ever bear weight or walk on them. Then a funny thing happened.

She began trying to stand and walk. While wearing her braces, she learned to balance on her feet while holding herself up on a step stool. Then she began trying to walk on her knees. Then she began trying to walk while holding our hands.


'


While this is a long way from walking, it is amazing nonetheless. And, I am reminded that we really don't know the future, and we really don't know what God will do. It's easy to forget that with God, all things are possible.

Each night when we tuck the girls in bed we pray, sing and read the Bible with them. Our daughter's favorite song is based on the miraculous healing Jesus worked through Peter and John, and every night she asks to sing it (and also a song about being quiet, which is really funny because she is never quiet, and she actually shouts the song).

"Peter and John went to pray.
They met a lame man on the way. (side note, I hate this line --what, was the guy boring?)
He held out his palm and he asked for some alms
And this is what Peter did say:

Silver and Gold have I none (amen to that brother!)
But such as I have I give thee
In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Rise up and Walk!

And he went walking and leaping and praising God!
Walking and leaping and praising God!
In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth
RISE UP AND WALK

I'm left wondering if God is actually going to let us witness a miracle with our own eyes. But until then, I pray that we can be content with whatever His plan is to reveal his glory in her life.

A Big Ugly Dog and Forgiveness

Several years ago, I was the victim of a crime. The event was perpetrated by a dog, but the crime was really the ignorance of its owners. They bought a dog (in a city, where it is statistically likely to have been bred from fighting stock) that was known for its power, strength and aggression, and then they never bothered to put the dog in obedience training. Instead, fairly ignorant of dog behavior, they kept the 80+lb dog in their home, letting it interact with guests and children in their neighborhood.

I met the dog when it was only about 2 or 3 years old, and within seconds of the meeting it ripped my nose and lip nearly off. The owner drove me to the hospital where I had my face pieced back together by a plastic surgeon. I was terrified, my husband was terrified and my children (who stood next to me as the dog attacked) were terrified. I spent the next week drugged in order to cover the pain which was not only in my face but entire body which had bruises, scratches and teeth marks from the dog jumping on me. With that attack, nightmares, a constant sense of shock and fear became ingrained in me.

On the way to the hospital, I could barely talk and I was praying that my lips were still attached to my face. I also begged Jesus to just get me through this ordeal and help me to use it for his glory. I held the towel over my mouth (to catch the blood) and looked at the man who owned the dog.

"I just want you to know that I forgive you for letting this happen." I said, "I understand that things like this can happen and I just want you to know that I forgive you."

He responded with some apologies, and I thought that this was going to be some great thing that God would work for his glory. Well, it was, but not in the way I thought.

The next day the owner and his wife came over to see how I was. I was still drugged and terrified, and I appreciated their concern. But then, the owner said something that made it feel like the attack was happening all over again. He implied it was not his fault or the dog's fault.

"I don't know what happened. I mean I don't want to make this matter smaller than it is or anything, but this he's such a good dog that I just have to think that this was a playful nip that just went too far."

A playful nip that went too far???? I had over 54 stitches in my face!!!

On that day, I couldn't deal with the guy anymore, so I just smiled, told him I appreciated his visit and secretly hoped he would leave.

Several weeks later, though, I got a call from him. He had talked to his vet, and his vet had suggested that the dog (because he was such a great dog -- or perhaps because he helped to make the vet have a successful practice?) not be put down. Instead, they suggested dog therapy.

Yes, I know it's really really really stupid. But what came next was even more incredible.

"See," he told me, "Sometimes a dog can misinterpret your motions and think you are being aggressive. Your body language told our dog you were a threat, so he bite you."

Oh my, I thought, he's really telling me that this attack was my fault! Instead of the victim, I was the instigator!

Let me stop here and explain just what it feels like to have a crime committed against you, to be brutally attacked and then have the perpetrator suavely explain that it was your fault. There was nothing, nothing that could've hit harder. My face was still ripped up. I had a son who was showing symptoms of PTSD, it hurt to move my arms, I was scared to take walks outside, I was scared to go to the park, I was scared of my own dog, I couldn't sleep at night without nightmares .... and he sat there and told me that it was my fault! Even now as I write about it it raises up anger, guilt, fear and shame.

He went on to ask me for my blessing on his idea to forgo terminating the dog and putting it into therapy.

Obviously, I made it sincerely clear that I thought that was a irresponsible idea. Then I hung up the phone, and really let my husband know just how irresponsible and selfish I thought it was!

Over the course of the next few months I really processed all that had happened. I couldn't believe that that guy would value his dog's life over my face, the safety of his neighbors and wife, and all rational thought. That dog could've easily killed one of my children! Thank God it attacked me and not them! But, still, he did value that dog so much more than human life and health! To my knowledge that dog is still alive today. It did help that their home owners insurance (as well as the laws of Ohio) didn't agree that the attack was my fault! And, God did use this to his glory when we were compensated for the attack and able to pay off adoption debt.

However, there was another lesson in it that came to mind again the other day when I was reading in Colossians.

'But now He has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation." Colossians 1:22

I was thinking about what a tremendous gift this is. Christ suffered so much on our behalf, took our punishment for our sins and then just simply forgave us. For those of us that recognize the gift, it is the most wonderful thing. Similar in some ways to how I suffered through the dog attack, taking the brunt of the dog's aggression because of the owner's incompetence in dog behavior, training and handling. Then I forgave him -- something that should've been so freeing to him, and truly given by me as a valuable gift.

But just like the dog owner, there are people who don't recognize the gift. I forgave him. I'm glad I did. I'm glad that I chose to do what Christ wanted me to -- even though it fell on deaf ears. His actions showed that. My forgiveness didn't matter because he was certain that he (or his dog) had done nothing wrong. So, he threw it back in my face, almost to the point of trying to manipulate me with it.

I realized how much that is a picture of how people reject Christ. They take his forgiveness and throw it out. There is no gratitude for the blood that was shed, there is no sensitivity to the losses he faced, and there is no real acceptance of the forgiveness because they believe that they have done nothing wrong. Through this dog attack, I was able to have a tiny understanding of how Jesus feels at this rejection.

That perspective is another way that God redeemed it. Now when I look at the thin scar running across the top of my lip, or when I feel how my left nostril is blocked with scar tissue, it isn't a reminder of how I suffered. It's a reminder of the gift that Christ gave me when He took the punishment for my sin.

I also now understand that nothing, not even all the money an insurance company can throw at you, can replace the lost relationship that happens (even with a mere acquaintance) when a person refuses to accept forgiveness because they refuse to acknowledge the wrong that they've done.

I've wrestled with the question of whether or not I have truly forgiven him. Up until the night of the phone call, I felt that I had. But that phone call was so difficult to get past, that I do still question it. I can honestly say that I don't harass the guy, I don't gossip about him, I haven't made any mean websites about him, I pray for him and his family (especially their safety since they still have the dog), and I don't think mean thoughts about him. I actually don't think about him much at all. I still trust that God can redeem his way of thinking, and that God will righteously judge this incident as He will all others. So, from my human perspective I think I've come as close to forgiveness as I can, and my prayer is that I will continue to live in forgiveness towards him in whatever God calls me to.