Broken

I was chatting with a friend recently about our kids. Her daughter has Type 1 Diabetes and she was telling me of the trouble she had gaining support and understanding of her daughter’s condition as she was growing up because she doesn’t “look disabled”. Recently Connor has had worsening outbursts of aggressive behavior. Because he doesn’t “look disabled” the looks he’s (we’ve) gotten are remarkable. I realized after speaking to my friend that this situation won’t change for him. In fact it’ll only get worse.

When people roll their eyes at my out of control toddler they see a tall, lanky brat who has never been disciplined so he starts to throw tantrums at a whim. What they don’t see is me bear hugging him while he screams to keep him from banging his head on the floor. They don’t see him frantically trying to rip off his shirt in frustration and aggression. They don’t see the glazed look in his eyes that sees straight through me when he’s frantically screaming “NO” when I try to pick him up to comfort him. These behaviors may get worse but I can only pray as he grows that the awareness of his disability will grow with him.

In typical little brother fashion, Connor got hurt today. Nothing serious, just a little bruise on the cheek, but of all the storms raging inside his body it almost amused me that people will notice this one. Some will even ask about it. This tiny, temporary, innate mark will be more understood and important than the very real perils he faces. It became a strong example for me that there’s so much more to people than you see, even if you think you know what’s going on.

Another friend told me of a recent interaction she’d had with someone that referred to an AHC child as “broken”. My immediate thought was, “Aren’t we all?” Maybe some of our kids wear their disabilities on the outside. Maybe some only show it occasionally. But God knows we are all broken in some way and could use a little encouragement, understanding, and grace. Especially when we don’t know someone needs it.