Yesterday was Father's Day. I celebrated with a phone call to my dad in Oregon and with my husband and our boys. I enjoyed seeing Facebook posts/pics filled with gratitude and love for the great men in my friends' lives. But I was most impacted by Father's Day and Facebook this morning when one friend's post shared a link to this blog post, "10 Things You Need to Know About Special Needs Dads". Whether you have kids of your own or not, I hope you take a few minutes to read this man's poignant words.
Why I feel moved to share this man's words here is because I have a niece with special needs. I have friends with special needs children. Even with these close connections, I will never truly know the day-to-day lives they are living. Their challenges and triumphs are as unique as the children they are raising. Because the disability or diagnosis is something we do not have in common, there can be a tendency to talk about something we can both relate to--spouses, weather, sports, tv show, vacation, politics, etc. Sometimes, my own insecurities of not knowing how they are doing, saying the wrong thing or being unable to provide a solution to their challenges keeps me from saying anything. This behavior keeps us from better understanding each other, learning from each other and supporting each other...truly being connected.
For years, I have had etched in my memory a brief moment in time. I was in Hawaii, visiting my sister and her family. She and I were walking from her house to a neighborhood restaurant. I was pushing my 2 year old son in a baby jogger. She was walking ahead of me, pushing her 3 year old daughter in a wheelchair. As we were walking past an outdoor restaurant, filled with diners, I caught sight of a woman look at my niece, her eyes darted to my sister and then even quicker she looked at her friend with a "oh that poor mother/little girl" look. It broke my heart. I was sad for my niece. I was sad for my sister. I was sad for myself having seen looks my sister would experience. But I was also sad/angry for the woman because, in a split second, she made an assumption about the life of my niece and sister.
My sister is an amazing woman. She was amazing before she had kids. She was amazing before her daughter's accident. And she is even more amazing. Not because of my niece's accident, but because of the compilation of her life experiences. Forty four years of life make her uniquely amazing.
The quick assessment I saw that older woman make, I am sure happens often to my sister. I have never shared with my sister what I saw and I have never asked her if she feels onlookers quick assessments. Nine years have past and I have never asked out of fear of making her feel bad or sad. I became a domino in the line that started with the woman's look. I am making my own assumption of my sister's feelings instead of talking with my sister about it and her own experiences with strangers.
Too often, thoughtful words, like this brave father's, are shared within a community that can commiserate with the experiences. Too often poignant words are left "preaching to the choir". His blog post came to me via a friend who is the father of a special needs child. Movement and understanding will only happen when words like this father's are read by "mainstream" families and individuals.
What would happen if we put aside our assumptions or perceptions and shared openly or asked directly? Special needs, different cultures, different lifestyles...if we lean in, connect, ask and share I know we will find that our unique challenges can be celebrated and supported instead of avoided or dismissed. Today, I will lean in and have the long overdue conversation with my sister. Perhaps she will give me a few of her favorite acknowledgements or conversation starters she has received from strangers that I should consider using in the future. I will keep you posted.
Why I feel moved to share this man's words here is because I have a niece with special needs. I have friends with special needs children. Even with these close connections, I will never truly know the day-to-day lives they are living. Their challenges and triumphs are as unique as the children they are raising. Because the disability or diagnosis is something we do not have in common, there can be a tendency to talk about something we can both relate to--spouses, weather, sports, tv show, vacation, politics, etc. Sometimes, my own insecurities of not knowing how they are doing, saying the wrong thing or being unable to provide a solution to their challenges keeps me from saying anything. This behavior keeps us from better understanding each other, learning from each other and supporting each other...truly being connected.
For years, I have had etched in my memory a brief moment in time. I was in Hawaii, visiting my sister and her family. She and I were walking from her house to a neighborhood restaurant. I was pushing my 2 year old son in a baby jogger. She was walking ahead of me, pushing her 3 year old daughter in a wheelchair. As we were walking past an outdoor restaurant, filled with diners, I caught sight of a woman look at my niece, her eyes darted to my sister and then even quicker she looked at her friend with a "oh that poor mother/little girl" look. It broke my heart. I was sad for my niece. I was sad for my sister. I was sad for myself having seen looks my sister would experience. But I was also sad/angry for the woman because, in a split second, she made an assumption about the life of my niece and sister.
My sister is an amazing woman. She was amazing before she had kids. She was amazing before her daughter's accident. And she is even more amazing. Not because of my niece's accident, but because of the compilation of her life experiences. Forty four years of life make her uniquely amazing.
The quick assessment I saw that older woman make, I am sure happens often to my sister. I have never shared with my sister what I saw and I have never asked her if she feels onlookers quick assessments. Nine years have past and I have never asked out of fear of making her feel bad or sad. I became a domino in the line that started with the woman's look. I am making my own assumption of my sister's feelings instead of talking with my sister about it and her own experiences with strangers.
Too often, thoughtful words, like this brave father's, are shared within a community that can commiserate with the experiences. Too often poignant words are left "preaching to the choir". His blog post came to me via a friend who is the father of a special needs child. Movement and understanding will only happen when words like this father's are read by "mainstream" families and individuals.
What would happen if we put aside our assumptions or perceptions and shared openly or asked directly? Special needs, different cultures, different lifestyles...if we lean in, connect, ask and share I know we will find that our unique challenges can be celebrated and supported instead of avoided or dismissed. Today, I will lean in and have the long overdue conversation with my sister. Perhaps she will give me a few of her favorite acknowledgements or conversation starters she has received from strangers that I should consider using in the future. I will keep you posted.
To learn more about Abbie's journey in this life, visit my sister's blog she has kept for 10 years, "Pray for Abbie"
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