I am the child who cannot talk.


You often pity me. I see it in your eyes. You wonder how
much I am aware of...I see that as well. I am aware of much...
whether you are happy or sad or fearful, patient or
impatient, full of love and desire, or if you are just doing
your duty by me. I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine
to be far greater, for I cannot express myself nor my needs as you
do. You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete it is at times.
I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks
to be laughed over and repeated. I do not give you answers to
your everyday questions, responses over my well-being, sharing my
needs, or comments about the world around me. I do not give
you rewards as defined by the world's standards...great
strides in development that you can credit yourself. I do not
give you understanding as you know it. What I give you
is so much more valuable..I give you instead opportunities.
Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine;
the dept of your love, your commitment, your patience, your
abilities; The opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than
you imagined possible. I drive you further than you ever go
on your own, working harder, seeking answers to your
many questions, creating questions with no answers.


I am the child who cannot talk.


I am the child who cannot walk.


The world sometimes seems to pass me by. You see the
longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play
like other children.There is much you take for granted. I want the
toys on the top shelf. I need to go to the bathroom...oh...
I've dropped my spoon again. I am dependent on you in
these ways. My gift to you is to make you aware of your
great fortune, your healthy back and legs, your ability to do
for yourself. Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I
always notice them. I feel not so much envy as desire, desire
to stand upright, to put one foot in front of the other, to
be independent. I give you awareness.


I am the child who cannot walk.


I am the child who is mentally impaired.


I don't learn easily, if you judge me by the world's
measuring stick. What I do know is infinite joy in the
simple things. I am not burdened as you are with the
strifes and conflicts of a more complicated life. My
gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things
as a child, to teach you how much your arms around
me mean, to give you love. I give you the gift of simplicity.


I am the child who is mentally impaired.


I am the disabled child.
I am your teacher. If you allow me, I will teach you
what is really important in life.
I will give you and teach you unconditional love.
I give to you my innocent trust, my dependency upon you.
I teach you of respect for others and their uniqueness.
I teach you about the sanctity of life.
I teach you about how very precious this life is and
about not taking things for granted.
I teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams.
I teach you giving.


Most of all, I teach you hope and faith.


I Am The Disabled Child.

~Author Unknown~




This page I dedicate to my sister Kathy, in heaven, with all my love.
Kathy was always an angel even with her disabilities.
I received this writing in my email and I found it so
Profound that I felt I couldn't write anything any
Better that would recount the life of a disabled child.

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The midi is Brokenwing. God loves all angels even those with a broken wing.