Perspective

A friend linked to an interesting article on Facebook this morning.  It originally appeared in The Atlantic, and is called "What My Son's Disabilities Taught Me About 'Having It All'."
(http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2012/07/what-my-sons-disabilities-taught-me-about-having-it-all/260479/)

Marie Myung-Ok Lee, the mother of a 12 year-old with significant medical disabilities and behavioral problems who functions at the bottom 1% cognitive level for children his age, writes that she is often asked how she and her husband possibly manage to even function, let alone be happy, given the challenges and stresses that their son brings to their lives.   In a society obsessed with "having it all," she feels that "people are waiting for our inevitable breakdown, a breast-beating howl against fate that is sure to come once we realize we'll truly never "have it all" -- because of our imperfect son."

As I've mentioned, we had some pretty awful times with Thing Two early on.  Even after his issues were diagnosed and we started slowly moving in the right direction, there were still days when I would rage furiously at the universe because my beautiful, precious son was afflicted with so many difficulties.  Days when I would be despondent about the slow pace of progress and all the challenges yet to be overcome.  And then, often, I would get a reality check.  As if the universe were saying, "Quit your whining and count your blessings, cupcake." 

A particularly memorable reality check came the day I met the mother of severely autistic four year-old triplets in the speech therapist's waiting room.  One of the children functioned at about the two year-old level, and the other two were completely nonverbal.  Okay, universe.  Point made.  Perspective is a beautiful thing, and sometimes a step back makes all the difference in the world.  God knows, I have many, many blessings to count.

As does Lee. She lists many of them in the article, as the "secret" to her happiness.  She says: "We are chasing the wrong things, asking ourselves the wrong questions. It is not, "Can we have it all?" -- with "all" being some kind of undefined marker that shall forever be moved upwards out of reach just a little bit with each new blessing. We should ask instead, "Do we have enough?"

She believes that she has enough.  Resoundingly. 

And I have enough too.  Much, much more than enough.  My cup positively overflows.

Perspective.