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Since Hallie, our special girl with Down syndrome arrived, I’ve wondered
when It would hit. I always suspected that It would, but I figured if I stayed positive and hopeful, I could avoid It. Aside for one brief encounter with Hallie’s therapists, for more than 20 months, I did. But then other night, It really hit. I was in the church nursery, a place I don’t frequent. I have kept Hallie with me since birth, except for three times when I didn’t want to walk the halls during a service. I started out the evening alone with two babies in prayer meeting. A friend sat next to me to help, but Hallie wasn’t cooperating. Eventually, my friend took Hallie to the nursery. When I went to get Hallie, 15 minutes remained for the evening’s activities. I stayed in the nursery. I put the baby and her basket on the floor and sat with Hallie in the rocker. As I rocked, I looked at the other babies. One, a tiny six-month-old, was making every effort to get across the floor. First she did the “commando crawl” on her belly and elbows. Then she got up on her knees. Soon she picked up her hand and moved her knee and actually went forward a few inches! “Hallie--watch her,” I said cheerfully. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.” No sooner had the words left my mouth than It hit me. Suddenly, I was overpowered with Sadness. That’s what my precious Hallie was supposed to be doing, but she wasn’t. In fact, she may never crawl the way a “normal” child does. Although I’ve always known this, it did not really bother me until I held another normal baby in my arms. Our new baby, CJ, will undoubtedly surpass Hallie in several areas. And each time CJ does, I’m sure my heart will ache for Hallie, as it ached when I watched the six-month-old crawl. After the service, I related the incident to another friend, a missionary doctor. “It hurt,” I said. “You can’t compare,” she said. Unfortunately, sometimes I can’t help but compare. But I can help the despair. Later that evening, still tender from the Sadness, I picked up Hallie to put her to bed. I hugged her a long time. “I love you,” I said. “Just the way you are.” Love hits harder than sadness. And thank God that it does. |