reasoning like a child

Years ago there was a significant part of me that would acknowledge, “I talked like a child; I thought like a child; I reasoned like a child.”  I suppose deep within each of us there will always exist some grappling with that immaturity.  12 years ago my immaturity was altered.

 

I was awaiting my authorized exit from the hospital, having given birth the day before to our third son.  My exit was authorized; his was not.

 

Note #1:  Josh wasn’t the child I expected.

Note #2:  none of our children are what we expect.

 

As valiantly as any attempt, we cannot control all aspects of any child — who they are or what they will become.  With young master Josh, we simply knew that right away.

 

Josh was born with Down syndrome.  He was also born with a life-threatening congenital heart defect that would cause us to spend a month in the cardiac ICU wing, only a few short months after his birth.

 

There is much we could discuss today in regard to the specifics…  how much we knew beforehand… how he couldn’t breathe on his own when born… how the OB staff still saw Josh as a miracle… how I felt no pain, with no meds, even with contractions at their most intense point… the night he almost died… how people walked alongside us, learning to love us both practically and well… how others stumbled forward, not knowing what to say… how it was hard for all of us… how we understood…  how family embraced us… how other moments were awkward and some even ugly… like how the geneticist greeted us by saying, “This must be the saddest day of your whole life.”

 

Each of those could serve as a blog post in their own right (… and maybe they will some day), but with the plethora of unique and raw emotion, what the Intramuralist desires to focus on today — noting all the crud and disrespectful communication that’s especially rampant in the country — is how Josh’s birth changed how I think… how this then newborn babe helped me talk and think and reason a little less “like a child”…

 

I’m a little less judgmental.

I no longer believe intelligence and wisdom are the same.

I value wisdom more.

I don’t believe intelligence is all it’s cracked up to be.

I have a different concept of beauty.

Big words don’t always speak best.

Outward appearances mean less.

I really don’t care about IQ tests.

I care a lot about solid character.

I’m more intentional in teaching our children well.

I value life more.

I realize how little I’m in control.

I know God is real.

I know his ways aren’t always my ways, but I now know they’re still good.

I see a difference between what the world calls wisdom and what wisdom really is.

My heart is softer.

I have a greater recognition of something bigger than me.

I’m not afraid to speak truth.

With compassion, of course.

I love better and less conditionally.

And I recognize that none of us know it all.

 

I didn’t — and still don’t —  know it all.  I didn’t even know as much as I thought I did.  Years ago I never knew how one small child could melt my heart… melting it down to a place of greater compassion… and far greater wisdom… and how what this world considers bad and weak could be so ironically, good and strong.

 

Thank God for 12 years ago… for reasoning a little less “like a child.”

 

Respectfully,

AR