Luke had his annual MRI on Monday to check to make sure his shunt is working properly and his aneurysm is stable. He did great for the procedure. I always hate it because they have to put him to sleep to do the MRI. We have heard back from Dr. Manwaring, who monitors his shunt, who said all is well with the shunt. Now we just wait to hear from the other dr that monitors the aneurysm.
We are busy getting everything ready for Luke to go to school. He will meet his teacher on Tuesday afternoon. As it gets closer, the pit in my stomach gets bigger. I just pray it is a good thing. It is so hard to know how he is going to react knowing what school and the kids he was with before he was hurt was like and then how school and the kids he will be with now. I just hope he is accepted and not laughed and stared at by the kids who knew him before he was hurt. I received this email that sums up just how I want Luke to be accepted. I appreciate all your prayers for this transition, that it may be positive, and bring more restoration in Luke. Thanks!
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities,
the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten
by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he
offered a question: 'When not interfered
with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay,
cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
Where is the natural order of things in my son?"
The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. 'Ibelieve that when a child
like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity
to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat
that child."
Then he told the following story:
Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay
asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" I knew that most of the boys would not want
someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were
allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence
to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could
play. The boys looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game
is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to
bat in the ninth inning."
Shay struggled over to the teams bench and with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I
watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at
my son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few
runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a
glove and played in the right
field. Even though no hits came his way, he obviously was ecstatic just to be in
the game and on
the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the
ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded,
the potential
winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they
let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was
given the bat.
Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to
hold the bat
properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate,
the pitcher
recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in
Shay's life, moved
in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first
pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps
forwards to
toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and
hit a slow
ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked
up the soft
grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have
been out and
that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right
over the
first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and
both teams
started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far,
but he made
it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone
yelled, 'Run
to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second,
gleaming and
struggling to make it tot he base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base,
the right
fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance
to be the
hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the
tag, but
he understood the pitcher's intentions so he too intentionally threw the ball
high and far
over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base as the runners ahead of him
circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him
in the
direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators,
were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home!
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam
and won the game for his team. "That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling
down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity
into this world."
Thank you Chloe for sharing this with Lynsey!
