Normal

I've been thinking a great deal about the concept of normal.  A month ago it was a vocabulary word that was included in the curriculum for my English students.  The definitions varied, but as we all know, the general idea is that it means what is expected, what is usual, what the majority of the time would happen...

In that same period of time, I've been inundated with answering adoption questions from PAPs (prospective adoptive parents.)   Often the questions "normally" run from "what is being an adoptive family like?" to "what is the adoption program like that you've been through?"  Yet, sometimes, I get questions about my kids' "special" needs.  (ie, missing left eye, missing fingers, the things that are not "normal", etc.)  I use the words special needs all the time, especially as I find it helpful in communicating about the specific adoption program that all four (soon to be six) of our children have come through.  The Special Needs track of adoption is different than the "non-special needs" track within the adoption world.

Anyway,  too often when my mother and I talk, she asks me how we're doing and I answer "busy as usual."  While it is true, life is perpetually busy living Here with seven kids, teaching full time, and all that goes with our projects...we are always busy.  So, I've been thinking, my correct answer to the question of "how are you?" is, " everything is normal."  In fact, I used to think that someday soon things would slow down, we'd get a less-pressing stretch of time, and we'd catch our breath.  But, even as the eternal optimist, I think it is now intellectually dishonest of me to continue to fantasize about that time that is never coming...maybe not for at least the next ten years? (I come by this trait passed down by my mother who forever told me as a child when things were difficult, "We're just about to turn the corner!")

And in terms of my kids "special needs"....well, everyone of my children by marriage, by birth, by adoption, has special needs.  Without a doubt so do Daddy and myself!  Maybe our special needs are not so easily identified externally, but we all have them (extra bone in the foot, poor eyesight, anxiety, large birthmark, control issues, difficulty in focus, and on and on.)  It has become increasingly difficult for me to be able to talk about my children using the labels that were initially assigned to them through the adoption system.  Yet those were the labels that in some cases struck fear in my heart when we considered IF that child was to come home to us.

Often, when asked, I have to think about it for a second to REMEMBER what the the special needs are of each kids.  And truly, those identified special needs have tended to be the least of what has made their lives challenging.  In truth, it has been the issues of insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, institutional delay, or the feelings of loss that are the matters of greatest consequence when it comes to family relationships.  The physical issues that affect all of our children are the very least of the matters that impact their lives.  Of course, it is true that their physical issues will have impact on their lives in varying degrees as they navigate through their lives.  (Ezra's life in a wheelchair will demand accessibility as he travels, works, has a family of his own some day. Bub's single eye will affect his depth perception and can be a factor in his future driving, employ-ability, and he'll never be a fighter pilot.)  But the issues that have made raising the children challenging are the "heart issues," for all of them, regardless of how they came into the H family.  I suppose that each of our the members in our family are simply normal.

On Tuesday this week we had a power outage at our apartment and the school.  It lasted for about four hours.  We had to walk down the eight flights of stairs to get to school (which had us all imagining the near future when Ezra is home and we will have to carry him down the stairs on such a day.)  The classrooms were really dark, so I moved my students to sit on rugs near the window and we read a story together.  The next story in our reading book was about a goose, who had only one foot.  The story involves a little girl who worries and worries about the goose.  She wants to help the goose because she is sure that the goose will not be able to eat, swim, and most importantly, fly south when the freeze comes for winter.  One day all of the geese are gone.  She frets all winter and spring about what must have come for the goose.  Then one day, the flock returns to the pond behind the girl's house.  The one-footed goose now has a mate and shortly seven baby geese have hatched.  I asked my students when we finished reading the story, "what did you learn from this story?"  (This can be sort of an advanced question with my third year ESL students, as they may well understand the story and my question, but to be able to articulate their answer in English is a heady proposition.)

Toby piped up and told of a story he saw on the internet of a woman who was born without legs, but that he was so surprised to see how "happy" she was in her life.  That she could do so many things and he had been amazed.  Then Terry quickly added to the story of Nick V (the Australian guy born without arms or legs) and his independent lifestyle...even learning to swim! Then others, like popcorn, started relaying their knowledge of people born with physical "special needs", including some of my children.  All of them agreeing that just because one is born with a physical special need (like the goose in the story) it did not mean that they would have a bad life or that they would not have the blessings of love, family, and community that we all cherish.  Finally Ethan said, in his awkward English, "It make me think, if these other peoples are borned with no arm or leg but they do their best and live happy, I should do my best and be happy for my life too."  Then just as the whistle blew on class (the bells are powered by electricity)...Jack, previously deep in thought, said, "trouble with your body does mean nothing if you have a family who gives you love."

I walked away from that class, immensely grateful, for what my "normal" children have taught me about myself and the concept of physical special needs...about what this adventure of following Him has done for my realization that to have special needs is in fact, normal...not extraordinary at all...