No one requests this gift.
No one day dreams of their baby being disabled.
No one asks for the reward of limitations.
I was lent a book recently by Aimee's vision teacher called 'Adam: God's Beloved' by Henri J. M. Nouwen. Her teacher said that reading it reminded her so much of Aimee and how she has always seen her as such a pure angel.
The book is by a Catholic priest who spent much of his life writing and teaching on spirituality. In his late years, he pastored a community of handicapped individuals and spent 14 months participating in the care if a disabled man named Adam. The experience changed his view of himself and his view of God. Although Adam could not speak, walk independently, and suffered from seizures, he became a mentor to this wise man. Although many would only see the many needs and thus the burden of caring for Adam, the author began to see the sacredness of the person. He writes:
"Adam was sent to bring Good News to the world. It was his mission, as it was the mission of Jesus. Adam was -- very simply, quietly, and uniquely -- there! He was a person, who by his very life announced the marvelous mystery of our God: I am precious, beloved, whole, and born of God. Adam bore silent witness to this mystery, which has nothing to do with whether or not he could speak, walk, or express himself, whether or not he made money, had a job, was fashionable, famous, married or single. It had to do with his being. He was and is a beloved child of God. It is the same news that Jesus came to announce, and it is the news that all those who are poor keep proclaiming in and through their very weakness. Life is a gift. Each one of us is unique, known by name, and loved by the One who fashioned us. Unfortunately, there is a very loud, consistent, and powerful message coming to us from our world that leads us to believe that we must prove our belovedness by how we look, by what we have, and by what we can accomplish. We become preoccupied with 'making it' in this life, and we are very slow to grasp the liberating truth of our origins and our finality. We need to hear the message announced and see the message embodied, over and over again. Only then do we find the courage to claim it and to live from it."
Truthfully, I cried about 12 times while reading this book the other day. Partly, because of Adam's passing at the end of the book. I may have squeezed Aimee a little tighter and cried over her. I also cried, because of the beauty of being lovable when one is completely empty. The message that is lived out by those who have nothing tangible to offer the world and instead seem to be a burden only.
We live full lives. We measure our successes and feel confidence or happiness based upon our abilities. Though we may not consciously think it, we commonly value ourselves based on what we can do. We don't even know ourselves beyond the deeds and items that surround us. We are known for these things. We are afraid of our weak areas and ashamed when we cannot do what we see others able to do. We may honestly look at ourselves and see nothing worth loving after we are stripped bare of our good deeds, our talents, and our strengths. Some may see a severely disabled person in the same way. What is there to do but take care of them? They are automatically empty where we are full of any activity we can conjure up.
It is in this emptiness that the truth lies. We are all broken, whether visibly disabled or invisibly faulted. The truth of divine love reaches past ability, beyond our pursuits, to our true value. You are valuable and precious. Not because of your talents. Not because of your wise decisions. Not because of your selflessness.
I am proud of my daughter. Not because she learned faster, got better grades, talked earlier, always obeyed, never lied. I am proud of HER. And this same way, you are beloved. Always you are loved, beloved of God, as Aimee is loved. Just as you are, just as a person with visible or invisible disabilities. In Aimee's brokenness and inability, she is whole. When we are able to let go, empty ourselves of all these pursuits, we too can be made full. Even when we have nothing to show for ourselves, we are beloved. Not in spite of our weakness, not because of our strengths. Simply, we are made uniquely, creatively, wholly His own.
This is the message, the gift that Aimee's very being communicates from the heart of God. The gift of being in relationship with an individual who is completely reliant on others for care is the peace, the confidence in knowing you are valuable. We can freely receive this gift of seeing what we would be when completely emptied of everything we could bring to the table, of seeing that we would still be loved. In this way, the disabled person, who seems broken and empty from our perspective, is actually whole. The gift that they give us is healing and completeness beyond our abilities.
By accepting this message, we are accepting the unsought gift. No, this is not the gift I asked for or wanted. I never wanted to have a child who could not have accomplishments or do good deeds. I don't want to look into Aimee's eyes and wonder how long I get to be her mom. Yet, what I most want for my children, Aimee has. She knows she is loved and she shares her message freely. It is the priceless gift I have been given, the gift Aimee has been entrusted, and the gift that I can share with you. I will be always thankful for the unsought gift Aimee brings in her immense weakness and in her astounding strength of spirit.
