Jumping in the Leaves

Jumping in the Leaves
Tuesday, November 27, 2012 by pam

I raked leaves with my 3-year-old grandson, Lucas, yesterday. Well, I raked, he jumped. Remember jumping the leaves when you were a kid? I thought it was the most amazing thing to pile up leaves, get a running start and jump into it, landing with a thud on my backside. What was I thinking?? Lucas enjoyed sliding into the pile I raked at the end of the sliding board. He also wanted to be "buried" in the leaves and pretend he was a leaf monster.

I got to thinking about how a pile of leaves is similar to having a child with special needs. A pile of leaves looks soft and cushy and invites you to make that leap. But when you do, you find out it's not as soft and springy as, say, a bed mattress. In fact, you can get quite a rude thud! It doesn't matter how big you make that pile, you still land hard.

This is like your life before having a baby with special needs. Babies are soft and cuddly and you can't wait to hold your babies and snuggle them. You can't wait to get to know them, play with them, talk with them, watch them grow and have pride in their achievements. You pile up those leaves, get a running start, jump and BAM! You land hard on your back side. Reality smacks you in the face and you realize your pile of leaves is not what it appears to be.

How big is your pile of leaves? How many times have you raked and piled it back up, hoping this time the landing would be soft? I did that for years. Hoping time would bring Anna along in her development. Wishing I could have a conversation with her. Wondering what she was thinking. My younger daughter, Mary, grew and developed and passed Anna. My grandchildren are growing and developing and have passed Anna. I no longer rake and pile up my leaves of hope. Anna is 21-years-old and still functions at about 18 months. She will not be any different unless God intervenes. Most likely, she'll lose some skills as she continues to have seizure after seizure.

So, I'm burning my leaves and going on with life. What else can I do? Still, it's sad to let go of that childhood picture of what a pile of leaves can be.

Comments

pam From At 12/2/2012 4:48:56 PM

Amen, Jenny!

Jenny From Lancaster PA At 12/2/2012 8:45:31 AM

~Loved that analogy - ""burning my leaves""... For me, it's letting go of what I THOUGHT my life would be like and daily keeping my focus on WHY He created me and for WHAT... I'm right where He wants me.

pam From At 11/28/2012 4:32:54 AM

Thanks, Deb ...

Debra L. Butterfield From Missouri At 11/27/2012 8:13:41 AM

Pam, this is heart wrenching. Your analogy gives tremendous insight into your heartache and difficulties to those of us who do not have a special needs child.

pam From At 11/27/2012 6:49:12 AM

I've done the same thing, Julie. I used to wonder how things would be if Anna were ""normal."" But it's too painful, so I don't do it as much anymore.

Julie From Gettysburg At 11/27/2012 6:15:13 AM

What a perfect analogy, Pam. The thud comes time and again, like when you said that you wished you could have a conversation with Anna. I make the mistake of induging in ""what would she be like if she were 'typical'?"" That results in a huge thud.

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