Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Masterpiece

I am six months old. "Before you turn the video camera off, I have a prediction," my dad says to my mom. "Someday she'll be on the field hockey team." 

I am six years old. "You can't catch me!" I shout, and laughter dances in my voice as I stumble through the grass. My dad follows, careful to keep a few steps behind me as he pretends to be trying his hardest. 

I take a break to catch my breath and he waits beside me. 

"Every night," he murmurs, "I prayed that you would run someday." 

Sometimes I can't help but wonder...do my parents mourn the daughter that they might have had? Does my dad miss the field hockey player, the track runner that he never was given? Were they sad when my six-year-old brothers donned soccer uniforms while I sat on the sidelines and cheered?

Maybe. But I also know that my disability gave them a daughter that they wouldn't otherwise have, a daughter who helped them to celebrate the moments that other parents might overlook. They rejoiced when I stepped up on a curb, cheered when I learned how to climb the stairs...and when I finally skied down that hill, you should have seen the look on my dad's face. 

I will never be on the field hockey team, and I won't be running footraces anytime soon. Sometimes, life isn't the way we envisioned it to be. After all, when an artist paints a masterpiece, it never turns out exactly as he pictured. When he is finished, though, he might look at his work and see the beauty in it anyway, even if it isn't what he had in mind.

And that's what life is all about...life is the masterpiece that we learn to love through all its flaws and imperfections, regardless of the expectations or predictions we may have formed. If we do that, we might just find that it's more beautiful than we ever imagined it to be.




6 comments:

  1. Just beautiful x I am in tears yet again from hearing your take on life. Disability is such an individual journey and hearing it from your voice makes me more empathetic to my own child. Thankyou for sharing x

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  2. Lovely. I wrote about this from a parent's perspective. I have never 'mourned' the child Boo should have been. Because Boo is the child I was meant to have.

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  3. You are amazing. How are you so wise?! xo

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  4. You are an old soul K! I wish we could all have some of your wisdom:) The world would be a much better place then!!! Thanks again for sharing your intimate thoughts.

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  5. Another beautiful, touching post. Brought me to tears. I'm so glad I stumbled upon your blog via Bron's blog. Your insight is amazing for me to read as a mom of a soon to be 5 year old with cp.

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  6. Ahhh I love all of your baby pictures! So precious! Those moments are so hard, though, with our parents and wondering at their sadness and if they regret us. So heavy.

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