Why I’ve learned to see gifts where others see limitations

The tenure track job.

It came up again today in conversation and I heard myself explaining away Lucia as somewhat of a limitation, a barrier to my acceptance of a prestigious position at a faraway university, and the words stung on my lips.  I didn’t like the way they sounded, not because of what they necessarily made Lucia out to be, but as to what they failed to communicate about my life with her. We may not be in China or Europe or even the Midwest anytime soon given that moving, let alone traveling with Lucia is daunting, but I’m starting to see that parameters aren’t always limitations, but often, good and wonderful gifts.

When I focus on the things I can’t or no longer do as Lucia’s mother, I neglect the way in which our tax payment to the state of New Jersey took on new, holy meaning this year, as we’ve become so gracious for the services our daughter receives from the state everyday.  Even the fact that we are seemingly grounded here because of Lucia’s state services misconstrues the amazing provision that we just happened to have a special needs child in one of the states with the greatest benefits for such kids.  Lucia wasn’t accidentally born into such a blessing, but wonderfully, purposefully so.

And then there’s the incredible academic rebirth I’ve had as a result of learning to love Lucia.  Whereas I was already studying foster children with disabilities in China, my experience with Lucia pushed me to develop and teach a new course on “Disability and Difference” at Princeton, to write on my personal experiences, and to begin to combine my scholarly and personal pursuits.  My journey alongside Lucia to reconceptualize diversity, justice, and faith through the lens of disability has been revelatory, and I am so grateful for her guidance.

There’s a really mixed bag here because I often suffer with Lucia, and I also struggle to comfort her, understand her, and help her.  I feel firmly that Lucia’s daily struggles shouldn’t be eclipsed by my own growth or edification.  But several years after God acquainted me with foster families raising children with disabilities in China who made us want to become parents, then God granted us our one-in-a-million Lucia.  I seek to embrace what God has shown me as God teaches me so profoundly that my daughter is fearfully and wonderfully made.

Another thing that I see is God melding these seemingly separate lives–that of the scholar, the pastor, and the parent–in far more intentional ways than I ever could.  In other words, we have partially stayed in New Jersey because of Lucia’s special needs, but I’ve also stumbled upon an opportunity to minister and teach and care for my child here that is life-giving and good.  The gift of living life alongside Lucia has taught me that life is not always as it seems, because there is blessing in what God builds amidst difficulty, sacrifice, and challenges.

In a recent blog post, a friend of mine wrote about how much his son with special needs has taught him not just about life but about the Bible and about God.  The truth is so much of Lucia’s giftedness is in revealing to me my own limitations, in enlightening me in what God is already doing, and in inspiring me to be a better follower, servant, and mother.  Lucia shows me the fullness of life, not in her limitations, but in our mutual, challenging, deep relationship, and I am deeply grateful.  Lucia continues to push me to fulfill my purpose in God and for others.

I might have said then, that Lucia is hardly a limitation–rather she is a gift.

She is a person that has made my life so much more meaningful than it could have been otherwise.  From one vantage point, her life has placed certain constraints on my own, but I believe she has also grounded me to see and experience the gifts and the goodness of God anew.  She has pushed me to reevaluate that tenure track job, not because I can’t have it or she doesn’t want me to have it, but because it doesn’t necessarily represent promise, privilege, or prestige that really matters.  She pushes me to live a life that matters, a life worthy of the calling I have received: she makes me whole in a way I could never have conceived.

And so I say, thank you God, for this good and perfect gift.

Lucia and Daddy
Lucia staring into her Daddy’s eyes during a recent hospital stay.  My photo.

 

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