You know who they are. The kids who look different. The kids who act different. The kids who live different. Whether it be Down syndrome, CP, blindness, or anything else that sets them apart, they are seen as different. Weird. Out of place. Even those of us who don't want to give in to stereotypes still notice the differences. And sometimes we judge without understanding. I'm guilty. I think we all are.
Craig and I had the blessing of meeting a little girl with special needs last week. A little girl who will be seen as different for the rest of her life. A little girl who was neglected for years and will forever be changed because of it. She will be our daughter in a few short months. And let me tell you something. Becoming the parent of a special needs child completely changes how you view those differences.
I want to tell you a little about Maia. (Yes, we changed the spelling of her name.)
Maia will be 8 years old in a little over a month. She is 3 feet tall and weighs around 28 pounds. The "average" 7 year old is 56" tall and around 70 lbs. She is lacking drastically in her size. (Side note here: her size is not due to her disabilities but due to neglect. No, Mama Bear is not happy about this.) Maia is not walking and is not bearing weight on her legs. She is crawling which is more than we were expecting when we visited her but she uses a stroller instead of her legs to get around. she might need a wheelchair at some point. She is non verbal and we have no idea what her intellectual abilities are.
But that's not what really makes her different. You see, children who grow up in institutions develop "ticks" to help them survive the monotonous days and the intense neglect and loneliness. Maia is no different. We saw these ticks firsthand this past week and there's no doubt they will draw stares from people.
She rocks when she's bored or uncomfortable. If she can't rock she will shake her head or bang it against something. She doesn't seem to have any concept of physical pain. She hates to be undressed and will shake and cry until her clothes go back on. She holds her hands in front of her face and stares at them aimlessly. She holds her ears and sucks her thumb. Her index fingers twitch uncontrollably. She is different.
But she is oh so very special. This 7 year old in a 3 year old's body has seen more pain and trauma in her life than most people ever experience. She was neglected by her birth mother. She was placed in an orphanage (while completely healthy) and left in a crib for years. She ate from a bottle propped up in her bed. Her diaper may or may not have been changed during the course of the day. No one talked to her. No one rocked her to sleep at night. No one whispered "I love you" as she fell asleep. No one cared.
And yet this neglected, delayed, stunted child spent almost every moment with us smiling. She laughed at the drop of a hat. She reached for me and squealed as i snatched her up and held her close. She is genuinely happy and full of joy. The child who has NOTHING has joy unspeakable. There's a lot we can learn from her. She is crawling despite all odds. She is expected to be able to walk and eventually talk. God is redeeming her and it is the most beautiful thing in the world to watch.
We hear all the time that we are doing something so amazing by saving this girl. And yes, we are saving her life. We are rescuing her. But friends, she is saving us as well. The happiness in this sweet child is unexplainable outside of the grace of God. The joy she brings to our hearts we would never have expected. She is different. She is strange by the world's definition. But she is beautiful. She is strong. And she is loved. She is so very special. Not because of her needs, but because of her heart. She puts everything in perspective.
God has big plans for her. Starting with how she is changing us. And I can't wait to see her redemption fulfilled.
Next time you see a child who's different, do me a favor and think about the good in them. Think about how perfect they are in Gods eyes. Don't judge their differences, but smile at their strengths. Look them in the eye and smile. Show them you love them because they are a child of God, no matter how they look or act. And think of Maia when you do it. She's not home yet, but she can still change our lives.
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