Beyond Labels: Seeing the Beauty in EVERY Child

Do you ever feel like your child is looked down on because of their disability or special need?

In the world, you often see a differentiation between the “haves” and the “have nots.” Those in sports are esteemed more highly than the shelf stocker at Walmart. The advice of those with the largest following on social media or YouTube is more sought after than the grandfather or grandmother up the street.

Sadly, this can even be true at churches. I hear of many parents on this journey in special needs walking through the church doors looking for community and eventually walking away because they are made to feel like their child is a burden. Congregation members treated their child as less than and not really valued.

If this is your story, I’m sorry. This Easter season, I want to assure you that God does not see your son or daughter as less than.

Here are 5 ways that we can see this in the Bible. 

1. Your child is created in God's image

"So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." - Genesis 1:27 (NIV)

This verse reminds us that every person, including those with special needs, is created in God's image and is therefore uniquely valuable and important in God's eyes.

 

2. God sees beyond physical limitations

“But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’”

– 1 Samuel 16:7 (NIV

While human beings often focus on physical appearances and abilities, God looks at the heart. He sees beyond a person's disabilities to their true character and potential.

3. God sees my child's struggles and cares for them

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

As a parent, it can be heartbreaking to see my child struggle with challenges or disabilities. But I take comfort in knowing that God sees their struggles and cares for them deeply. God is close to those who are brokenhearted, and I believe that He is with my child every step of the way.

4. We are all equal in Christ

“There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” – Galatians 3:28 (NIV)

In this passage we can see that in Christ, there is no distinction between people based on their race, gender, or social status. This includes people with disabilities, who are equal members of the body of Christ. God values each person equally and desires for us to love and accept one another just as Christ has loved and accepted us (John 13:34-35).

5. God has given your child a unique gift or talent to share with the world

"Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms." - 1 Peter 4:10 (NIV)

This verse reminds us that every person, including those with special needs, has unique gifts and talents that can be used to make a positive impact on the world. By valuing and nurturing these gifts, we can help our children to realize their full potential and make a positive difference in the world around them.

This Easter season, as we celebrate the death and resurrection of our savior, I want to encourage you that not only does our heavenly father know and love you. In the same way, He fully loves your son or daughter. He does not view them as a burden or less than.

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
    He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
    he gently leads those that have young.

~ Isaiah 40:11 (NIV)

Written by Jonathan McGuire

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Jonathan McGuire  is the dad of two boys and co-founder of Hope Anew, a nonprofit that guides the beat up, battered, and worn out parents of children impacted by disabilities and special needs through the spiritual and emotional challenges they face to Christ-centered hope and healing.

We Are In God's Loving Hands, Always

One of the hats that special needs parents wear is that of a risk assessment manager.  Depending on the special needs your child has, this looks different.  In our case, without even knowing that I’m assessing risk, I am nearly always assessing and maneuvering around potential meltdown triggers, dangers and needs. It’s amazing how fast I can survey an environment and pinpoint each and every possible worst case scenario.  How fast I then come up with a contingency plan for each possibility and a plan for continued vigilance and surveillance until our time there is over.  I am always two steps ahead in my mind.  Many times the worst case never happens, but many times I’m right on and I am ready.  My kiddo sees these risky spots just as quickly as I do, it seems.  He is also super vigilant in his surveillance of a room. For this reason, I am just always on my toes. 

There are emotional risks that are also assessed.  Will we be embraced or accepted as we are in this environment?  Will our hearts, both my child’s and mine, be safe in this space, with these people? I can make sure that a door is locked, or that there is appropriate physical accommodations made for our needs.  That part is easy.  It’s the emotional risks that often give me the most pause. 

There was a time that my heart had been hurt by watching how some people respond to us.  I was so afraid of my child ever feeling like he was less just because of things that are completely out of his control, and of myself feeling that parental pain of observing that, that my first thought would be to sit it out.  I never did.  I wanted to.  I wanted to protect us from the emotional risks so badly, that I’d consider missing the parts of life that make for a full and vibrant existence.  

I never benched us.  We never sat out, and you shouldn’t either.

Instead, the route I’ve chosen to go when it comes to shielding our hearts, is that of specific and focused prayer.  We go.  We are now making our way through the Christmas season.  A time of excitement and hope and waiting.  There are so many opportunities to encounter this pause.  Should we go?  Will we fit?  I no longer entertain those old fears when they enter my mind.  I take a deep breath and ask the Lord to guide our day, our thoughts and to be with the people we encounter.  I ask that he’ll grow their knowledge and acceptance through their time with us.  I ask that he’ll guide their hearts to be inclusive and accommodating.  I ask that they not treat us like we’re different, because we really aren’t.  And, I thank him for the grace he’s given me, as a parent.  I pray that I’ll be able to give that same grace to myself, as I navigate environments that aren’t set up for us, both physically and more importantly emotionally.   Finally, I thank him for trusting me with this incredible child, and pray that I am graceful in my parenting of him.

Not one thing has grown my faith more than this practice of specific prayer.  When the Lord answers your prayer directly, in real time, it’s life changing, life giving, and sets you free from fear.  Choosing faith over fear is no longer a choice for me.  I just plain have faith.  I’ve entered spaces after praying like this and experienced the most beautiful, caring and loving interactions.  I’ve met people that have become friends to me, and my child has also found real friendship and acceptance, as well.  I’ve felt that we were safe and protected, just as we are. 

This year, there are fewer opportunities for large gatherings.  If you do find yourself looking at an upcoming outing or event with that familiar pause, whatever you do please don’t sit out.  Take a deep breath and pray.  We are in God’s loving hands.  Always.

Written by BreAnn Tassone

BreAnn is a wife and mother to two beloved children.  Her 8 year old son is twice exceptional and has been diagnosed with PANS/PANDAS, and her 3 year old daughter is his most incredible advocate.  They both bring joy to this world in their own individual ways. BreAnn lives with her family in central Virginia.  She is a former Special Education teacher and serves as a volunteer at her church within the special needs ministry.  She is a homeschooler and coordinates groups and events within her community to support the childhood experience of her neighbors and friends. It is her conviction that all children benefit when all children are included, accepted and can live this life learning from and supporting each other.

Friendship–Please Keep Inviting Us

I had a dream the other night that my best friend had a birthday party for her daughter and didn’t invite mine. I woke up grumpy and sad, and it took me about half of the morning to realize the dream was the reason for my grumpiness. Our girls were born 4 months apart and we assumed they were destined to be best friends. However, my daughter Emmaus was born with a genetic disease that has caused her to have a global delay, autism and epilepsy. So while both girls still love each other a great deal, the picture of “best friends” is not quite what we imagined.

After figuring out the root of my mood I picked up the phone and called Emily, my bestie.  I told her that it was important to me that we be invited to things like birthday parties.  That we might not always come, but that having the option was really important to me. As always, she was gracious and thanked me for letting her know, and she validated that my request was important to her as well.

A week later we got an invite to a cookie party from another dear friend of ours, Sarah.  She called me and said that “it just seemed right that myself and Emmaus come if we could.” She had run the idea past Emily and Emily shared my dream with her. On top of that she wanted to know if it would be okay to share a little about Emmaus with the other second grade moms and girls, so they could be prepared and know how to best interact and accommodate a friend like Emmaus.  To say I felt loved in those moments is a massive understatement.

Do you remember the first time the isolation set in? For me it was a lovely spring day, years earlier, with some of those same friends. We took our kids to the park.  Emmaus and I sat on a blanket, alone, while everyone else played and chatted. I remember realizing that my daughter could not sit up to swing, and she was too big for me to hold, so I could at least go socialize. I felt invisible on that blanket watching the other moms chase their kids around. Did no one realize we couldn’t do the same? Did anyone even care?

This special needs life doesn’t always lend itself to inclusion. Especially in the social arena. But what has changed since that first isolated encounter is me. I have learned to be bold and say “The park isn’t a great option for us, could we (insert activity) instead?” I have learned to host, because often my daughter feels most comfortable at home. I have learned to be brave and attempt an activity knowing full well it might be short lived. And I have learned to be okay with “missing out” because sometimes it is not worth the effort. 

My friendships have changed, some have completely dissolved, but being willing to be vulnerable and share our needs even in the arena of friendship has lead to some rich relationships for myself and my daughter.

Written by Laurisa Ballew

Laurisa Ballew is a nurse by trade and mother to a special needs child by fate. She fiercely believes hope and grief walk hand in hand in life, and that storytelling is the universal language that connects us all.  Laurisa has three daughters and writes about the constant humility of parenting in her blog Raising A Sisterhood.