20: The Hook
He was in the Captain Hook costume, yet he had no hook. He had the winsome smiles, and I think he scored more candy than his sisters. Being in a wheelchair sometimes has its advantages!
But when it came to the time that he and his Dad were doing the trunk or treat thing…
There were stares.
Kids wanted to skip our van.
There was fear.
They didn’t understand. His strange movements set off their alarm bells.
He was perhaps the first kid they’d seen with athetoid CP (cerebral palsy).
And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all horrible. Their parents helped, and my gregarious husband pulled them in. AND there were a precious few kids that did take the time to greet him! {So grateful!!!}
…but the stares did hurt.
It didn’t just hurt that they stared, it hurt that there was reason to stare, that there is something out of the ordinary, something different.
Different. Oh, son!
Today there was the little girl in the doorway, the one staring and frozen in our pathway to the door.
How to reach her? How to put a band-aid on my heart? And how to teach you son, you who already seem to be full of so much confidence and joy, you who already seem so capable of ignoring the ignorant and tuning into those with an eye for beauty? What will I teach you one day when a stare hurts deep?
Those words will come tomorrow. They give me great hope. They help me find myself in this place.
But for today, I will say this… We danced, you and I and your Dad. We pushed your wheelchair like wild, and thankfully we didn’t take out any bystanders in the process, and it might also be good that there is no video out there – that I know of. Your sisters joined in. We danced and we reveled in the joy of knowing you, not just passing you by. We soaked in your smile and your laughter and we were better for it.
You may not have had a hook on your hand, but your hook has laid hold of all 5 of us (and so many more) and we love you dearly son!
And we praise God for the gift that you are!
One more thing. As we got in the car today, a sweet elderly woman came over and hugged me, just seconds after we made it past the statue of a little girl. She hugged me, and my boy too. She said she was so thankful for beautiful people with special needs. She’s worked with the “special” for 25 years…and she called Blue “special” and she meant it. Praise God! Praise Him and God bless the people who have the eyes to see the rearranged beauty around them!
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Psalm 51:12
Tomorrow I will share my words that I’m packing away for the rainy days with my boy.
a Rearranged Life 
Beautiful! Powerful! Love that you take your time and talent to share this very special journey. Thank you!