Melissa, Alisha, & Me

(dedicated to children with special needs)

She wasn't a popular girl by any means. There was something special about her. When she would do her school work there was an adult that helped her. I don't remember her having a lot of friends. I do remember her always being happy.

I was in the 3rd or 4th grade and she gave me an invitation to her birthday party. Melissa had invited numerous people to her birthday party but I remember hearing that not many of my friends were planning to go. I took the invitation home and showed my mom and asked her if I should go. Mom told me Melissa would be grateful and encouraged. I remember nodding with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Was I embarrassed? No. Was I ignorant? Yes.

We walked up to her house and I rang the doorbell. I'm pretty sure my Mom and I had gotten her something Lisa Frank. Her mom answered the door with a smile and let us in. Melissa came over quickly to greet us and I gave her my gift. In return she gave me a hat and invited me to her tea party. There at the table was another friend or two. I wanted to feel sorry for her, but she was so happy... she gave me nothing to feel sorry about.

Her mom had made tiny finger sandwiches and we had an absolute blast. I remember my imagination running wild in the colors and party trinkets. The feeling I had received that day is the reason I stand for babies and children with special needs being carried to full term and assisted through childhood today.

The next year I was transferred to a charter school. Making friends has never really been a problem for me as I usually don't have trouble asserting who I am to others (loud, ADHD, outgoing, wild, the usual). Every day at lunch I watched a young girl being pushed around in a wheel chair around the playground. I decided it was time I went to talk to her. She communicated clearly, she struggled with expression and control over her motor skills but that didn't bother me because she had the same happiness Melissa had. Her name was Alisha and she was my friend. Every day at lunch I would swing and talk to her, sometimes play the "Titanic" song on my recorder for her and set up scenarios for us to be adventurers. It was such a relief to be able to be myself and to bask in the joy Alisha had.

Today, every week I try to dedicate my Monday to head downtown and volunteer at a pregnancy help center. Sometimes my encouragement and counsel is focused around children with special needs. I've learned not to be afraid of the unknown but to trust and pursue Christ and in turn He will light the path of which we fear to walk. The joy that Melissa and Alisha brought to my life has yet to be replicated. It was special and they deserved every bit of attention they needed because of it.

I recently heard a saying, "Love doesn't count chromosomes." As a child I didn't see brokenness in Melissa or Alisha. I saw something different. They were different then who I was and I wanted whatever they had to offer to help make me a better person. The love they had to give for one person was the same love they could give to 20 people. It was truly unconditional. It was real.

This world could use more authentic, unconditional love.

National Right to Life Day 2014

It was January 22nd 2014. I woke up and knew I had to head downtown but every bone in my body screamed to stay in bed. I had stayed up late working on a few graphic design projects and my eyes just couldn't bear the rays of sun peaking through the blinds. Cora started crying so I got up, fed and changed her and sat on the bed trying to decide whether or not to go downtown for the day. I decided to go. The drive seemed long and my mind and my heart seemed to be in a horrible disagreement with one another regarding how awake and attentive I truly was. And then I met her.

She was afraid. Although it was a beautiful sunny day she didn't see the sun. She couldn't feel anything. She had just found out she was pregnant. 

"I just celebrated my birthday with my 22 year old daughter," she said as she smiled at the fresh memory of spending time with her daughter. "I'm 41 years old...I can't do this again." She took a deep breath and looked down. She felt trapped.

I stood there in awe. I couldn't imagine having a child at that age now knowing the amount of work that goes into raising a child. I stood there in silence for a moment looking at the face of my little one.

"Do you know why we have children?" I asked her not fully knowing where the conversation would end. She was silent. I continued, "My father was the youngest of ten. His mother had him at an older age than you are now and had she terminated her pregnancy, I wouldn't be here with you now." She started to cry. I scooted closer to her. "I'm not here to make you feel guilty for thinking the thoughts you are or feeling the way you do. I'm here to remind you what children do for this world. Because my grandmother chose to have my father she not only passed on her sweet and strong nature, she also passed on the hope of Jesus Christ. That's the only way this world can get better; passing down His promises, love, and hope." She grabbed my hand.

I continued. "I know you're afraid but God is going make good out of this situation by renewing your strength and bringing into your life someone who will one day look into the eyes of someone unsure and remind them of the stability of God's love."

And like that, it was as if her crashing world finally came to a halt. I saw her look into the sun. She then turned to me, thanked me, gave me a hug and walked away.

She was at peace.

Romans 8:28
We know that in everything God works for the good of those who love him. They are the people he called, because that was his plan.