Being "selected"
Throughout our life, we yearn to be selected. Not just accepted, but selected.
Think back to first grade P.E. The teacher assigned two children to be captains, and they each had a turn to choose players for their team. I remember thinking, "Pick me! Please pick me! Please don't let me be the last one!"
In middle school, a select group of students were selected for the high school prep classes. I can remember thinking, again, "Pick me! I want to be the smart one!"
Then we started high school. Instead of making the cut at every sport we desired, we now had to be selected for the team. We had to try out to be one of the chosen ones to compete on the field, to swim on the state relay team, or to stand as part of the prom court.
Your senior year of high school, you wait patiently for your college letters to arrive in the mail. Did they want me?? Did they decide that I was a perfect fit for their school? Did they see the potential in my interview? Each time I ran to the mailbox and opened the letter with a collegiate return stamp, I held my breath in anticipation of being selected.
Then we entered college. Now you weren't the smartest one in the class- you are among those who were the smartest. Selections for academic honors narrowed; pledge classes for sororities and fraternities voted to decide who has made the cut; and finding your niche depended on not only your own personal choices and selections, but the pathways that had either been opened or closed during your college career.
With that hard-earned college degree in our hands, we interviewed for jobs to start our careers. Again, we hoped we were the one selected from the panel of colleagues. We wanted to begin the next stage of our lives with the feeling that we were the chosen one.
At this point in our lives, we started to search for that lifelong partner. We doodled in our notebooks about the person we have always dreamed of; we scanned a crowd for a potential husband; we were pushed into the path of a mutual friend to encourage a selection that was predetermined by everyone else. Peter and I were set up by a group of my girlfriends and his guy friends- they had picked each of us for the other. And I am thankful everyday that I was the one selected.
Parenthood brings another aspect to the meaning of being "selected." Some are not chosen immediately to be parents- unfortunately, it does not come as easily to some couples as it does for others. Other parents are blessed early with children; I remember thinking in the NICU, "God chose me to be your mommy, Paige." Out of all of the trials and moments of wanting to be selected, I couldn't have asked for a more important choice to have been made at that time.
Then we have the group of special needs parents. Mothers and fathers who had lived their entire life thinking and dreaming about their families, their vacations, their schools, their sports, and the perfection that would be given to them.
Only they,
or we,
didn't realize that we were to be selected for an entirely different type of role. That perfection that was in the back of our minds was about to be altered, because we were the chosen ones.
The word "selection" means of a higher quality than the ordinary. So many days I have prayed for that exact definition...'Dear God, please just give me ordinary. Just give me normal."
Today, our ABA therapist was running behind due to an accident on the highway. She told me she wouldn't be to the preschool until 9:30. I was scheduled to see my first patient at 9:15, and I had to pick Peyton up from the daycare by 11:15. I started to get a little anxious, and then frustrated as I sat on the benches with Hunter, who wouldn't go into the classroom. I watched countless moms walk in with their perfect children, with their perfect backpacks and perfect homework assignments, and kiss their child goodbye as they walked away, never once thinking that their child might bolt from the classroom. That their child would hit the teacher if she asked him to sit down. That their child wouldn't have anything short of a day of perfection.
That I would give anything to walk a day in their shoes.
Hunter finally walked in the classroom and I told his teacher I would wait around the corner until the therapist arrived. I didn't want to leave them with the responsibility of his actions if he decided to escape. Again, I stood there thinking about how late I was going to be, rescheduling the day in my head, and played the pity card for a few minutes about how hard this life can be.
And then, God intervened.
The maintenance men were walking down the hallway towards me, and even though we have never interacted before, one of the men stopped me and asked me with a smile if I was hiding.
"Yes, I just need to make sure my son doesn't leave."
He surprised me with his next comment: "What is your life like?"
I must have seemed caught off guard, because he quickly said, "Do you have other children? Are they OK?"
He then went on to tell me, "You know, I was here one day when he was hurting his therapist. I didn't know what to do, this young boy kicking walls, hitting her, screaming and crying."
I had to gulp down my pride and briefly explain his health history. I told him the story and said, "Sir, he was normal until all of this happened. He was a typical boy with no issues."
The sweet man looked me in the eyes and as his eyes filled with tears, he said, "What is your son's name?" I told him his name, as well as my own, and he said, "I am going to pray for you."
I started to cry as well and he said, "You know, you were selected. God selected you."
In the past I have always had a hard time when people have told me, "God only gives you what you can handle. God knew what he was doing when he gave him to you. This is God's will."
For some reason, with this man's wording and his unfamiliarity with my life, my family, my past, it actually made sense. And it made it easier to accept.
I was selected for Hunter, and even as hard as it is to go from normal to abnormal in the blink of an eye, I am still the one that God selected to be his mother. Peter has been selected to be his father- I married him because I thought he was "of a higher quality than the ordinary"- so God likewise chose him as well to lead this child in his life.
I have made selections in my life that have been positive as well as negative; we can't always predict the outcome when it comes to choices. Each day is filled with decisions, and we make the best selection with our knowledge, faith, and intuition at the time being.
I want Hunter to know someday that every choice we made, every step throughout this journey was led with the belief that we used all of the strength, faith, and knowledge given to us...
to conquer this disorder.
to give him unconditional love.
and to live up to His selection.
JJ Heller: Your Hands
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YiULD_Ng8o
I have unanswered prayers.
I have trouble I wish wasn't there.
And I have asked a thousand ways.
That you would take my pain away.
That you would take my pain away.
I am trying to understand.
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crooked lie.
Oh Lord before these feet of mine.
Oh Lord before these feet of mine.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave your hands.
When you walked upon the earth.
You healed the broken, lost and hurt.
I know you hate to see my cry.
one day you will set all things right.
one day you will set all things right.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave your hands.
Your hands, your hands that shape the world
are holding me, they hold me still.
Your hands that shape the world,
are holding me, they hold me still.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave you
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave,
I never leave your hands.
Think back to first grade P.E. The teacher assigned two children to be captains, and they each had a turn to choose players for their team. I remember thinking, "Pick me! Please pick me! Please don't let me be the last one!"
In middle school, a select group of students were selected for the high school prep classes. I can remember thinking, again, "Pick me! I want to be the smart one!"
Then we started high school. Instead of making the cut at every sport we desired, we now had to be selected for the team. We had to try out to be one of the chosen ones to compete on the field, to swim on the state relay team, or to stand as part of the prom court.
Your senior year of high school, you wait patiently for your college letters to arrive in the mail. Did they want me?? Did they decide that I was a perfect fit for their school? Did they see the potential in my interview? Each time I ran to the mailbox and opened the letter with a collegiate return stamp, I held my breath in anticipation of being selected.
Then we entered college. Now you weren't the smartest one in the class- you are among those who were the smartest. Selections for academic honors narrowed; pledge classes for sororities and fraternities voted to decide who has made the cut; and finding your niche depended on not only your own personal choices and selections, but the pathways that had either been opened or closed during your college career.
With that hard-earned college degree in our hands, we interviewed for jobs to start our careers. Again, we hoped we were the one selected from the panel of colleagues. We wanted to begin the next stage of our lives with the feeling that we were the chosen one.
At this point in our lives, we started to search for that lifelong partner. We doodled in our notebooks about the person we have always dreamed of; we scanned a crowd for a potential husband; we were pushed into the path of a mutual friend to encourage a selection that was predetermined by everyone else. Peter and I were set up by a group of my girlfriends and his guy friends- they had picked each of us for the other. And I am thankful everyday that I was the one selected.
Parenthood brings another aspect to the meaning of being "selected." Some are not chosen immediately to be parents- unfortunately, it does not come as easily to some couples as it does for others. Other parents are blessed early with children; I remember thinking in the NICU, "God chose me to be your mommy, Paige." Out of all of the trials and moments of wanting to be selected, I couldn't have asked for a more important choice to have been made at that time.
Then we have the group of special needs parents. Mothers and fathers who had lived their entire life thinking and dreaming about their families, their vacations, their schools, their sports, and the perfection that would be given to them.
Only they,
or we,
didn't realize that we were to be selected for an entirely different type of role. That perfection that was in the back of our minds was about to be altered, because we were the chosen ones.
The word "selection" means of a higher quality than the ordinary. So many days I have prayed for that exact definition...'Dear God, please just give me ordinary. Just give me normal."
Today, our ABA therapist was running behind due to an accident on the highway. She told me she wouldn't be to the preschool until 9:30. I was scheduled to see my first patient at 9:15, and I had to pick Peyton up from the daycare by 11:15. I started to get a little anxious, and then frustrated as I sat on the benches with Hunter, who wouldn't go into the classroom. I watched countless moms walk in with their perfect children, with their perfect backpacks and perfect homework assignments, and kiss their child goodbye as they walked away, never once thinking that their child might bolt from the classroom. That their child would hit the teacher if she asked him to sit down. That their child wouldn't have anything short of a day of perfection.
That I would give anything to walk a day in their shoes.
Hunter finally walked in the classroom and I told his teacher I would wait around the corner until the therapist arrived. I didn't want to leave them with the responsibility of his actions if he decided to escape. Again, I stood there thinking about how late I was going to be, rescheduling the day in my head, and played the pity card for a few minutes about how hard this life can be.
And then, God intervened.
The maintenance men were walking down the hallway towards me, and even though we have never interacted before, one of the men stopped me and asked me with a smile if I was hiding.
"Yes, I just need to make sure my son doesn't leave."
He surprised me with his next comment: "What is your life like?"
I must have seemed caught off guard, because he quickly said, "Do you have other children? Are they OK?"
He then went on to tell me, "You know, I was here one day when he was hurting his therapist. I didn't know what to do, this young boy kicking walls, hitting her, screaming and crying."
I had to gulp down my pride and briefly explain his health history. I told him the story and said, "Sir, he was normal until all of this happened. He was a typical boy with no issues."
The sweet man looked me in the eyes and as his eyes filled with tears, he said, "What is your son's name?" I told him his name, as well as my own, and he said, "I am going to pray for you."
I started to cry as well and he said, "You know, you were selected. God selected you."
In the past I have always had a hard time when people have told me, "God only gives you what you can handle. God knew what he was doing when he gave him to you. This is God's will."
For some reason, with this man's wording and his unfamiliarity with my life, my family, my past, it actually made sense. And it made it easier to accept.
I was selected for Hunter, and even as hard as it is to go from normal to abnormal in the blink of an eye, I am still the one that God selected to be his mother. Peter has been selected to be his father- I married him because I thought he was "of a higher quality than the ordinary"- so God likewise chose him as well to lead this child in his life.
I have made selections in my life that have been positive as well as negative; we can't always predict the outcome when it comes to choices. Each day is filled with decisions, and we make the best selection with our knowledge, faith, and intuition at the time being.
I want Hunter to know someday that every choice we made, every step throughout this journey was led with the belief that we used all of the strength, faith, and knowledge given to us...
to conquer this disorder.
to give him unconditional love.
and to live up to His selection.
JJ Heller: Your Hands
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YiULD_Ng8o
I have unanswered prayers.
I have trouble I wish wasn't there.
And I have asked a thousand ways.
That you would take my pain away.
That you would take my pain away.
I am trying to understand.
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crooked lie.
Oh Lord before these feet of mine.
Oh Lord before these feet of mine.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave your hands.
When you walked upon the earth.
You healed the broken, lost and hurt.
I know you hate to see my cry.
one day you will set all things right.
one day you will set all things right.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave your hands.
Your hands, your hands that shape the world
are holding me, they hold me still.
Your hands that shape the world,
are holding me, they hold me still.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave you
When my world is shaking, heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking, I never leave,
I never leave your hands.
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