I'll have to say -- finishing my list of things to be thankful for in the month of February took longer than I expected.  And I was slightly derailed about the time I was ready to post my list for the letter H.  This is what happened.  Krysta was excited about a special day at school.  It was coming up soon.


"Mom, next week we are having Handicap Day!  What handicap do you think I should have for that day?"


My response was not kind.  I replied that I didn't care what she did for handicap day and don't expect any help from me because I am not rounding up any splints or bandages or crutches or anything this year.  


I was jerked back to reality when Ellis gave me a look that said, "Cool it, Hon!"  


The evening before this special day I started asking questions . . .  "What is the purpose of this day?   Do you learn how to treat handicapped people?  how to feel more comfortable around a handicapped person?  how to start a conversation and just be yourself and especially the best rule of all -- "Don't stare."


Krysta said, "I think we just put ourselves in someone elses shoes for a day."


That brought me up short.  But then I started in again --  "Does your teacher read you stories about people with handicaps who have learned to overcome the difficulties they are facing?" 


Krysta said,  "No, not really.  I think we mostly just do this day for fun."


Just as I suspected . . .


By this time I was asking myself -- "What's with you this year?  Why are you so bothered?  after all your kids have been doing this every year for the last how many years?"


But this is the first time it ever hit close to home.  This year my twenty-five year old, newly-wed son is handicapped.  He spends his day in a wheel chair.  He goes to out patient therapy three days a week to try and learn to walk.  He is learning to transfer from wheel chair to a lower chair/bench to the floor for exercizes and then back up again.  And lots more stuff that I don't know anything about.  We hear about muscle memory and the length of time it takes nerves to heal.  


And we keep on praying and continue to hope that God and time and therapy will help our son be able to walk again.  We keep cheering Evan and Chelsea on in this new life they've been given.  We are amazed at their strength and fortitude and ability to keep on keeping on.  We are so proud of them both.  Chelsea is sticking to Evan like a burr -- always there to help and encourage.  Evan has kept an amazing attitude of, "We'll get through this.  God has a plan.  He is with us.  He will see us through."
Somehow he is an encouragement to all of us.


The morning of *handicap day* came.  Krysta walked into the kitchen.  I said, "Good morning, Krysta.  What are you going to be today?"  


She held up a notebook with these words written on it.   I am mute.


And she spent the whole day being silent . . . writing everything down when she needed to say something . . . until after school when she started chattering to Jorgan without even thinking about it.
. . .  and so ended her day of putting herself in the shoes of a person who cannot talk.