"Why Me?"

It was just like any other visit I have made before in the past. I stopped by the house hoping that my client would be at home and my drive was not wasted. They have been referred to by many names; client, consumer, disabled, retarded. When I speak of "them", I tend to catch myself disassociating from "them". Sometimes I will be looking forward to seeing "them" and other times I will hate what I do.

I approached the front porch greeted by the stepfather. Unfortunately many have only one parent looking after them, or in some cases you will have stepparents in the picture. Making my way in the home I would find the child sitting in the floor of the living room entertaining himself. I would speak out, as if he could here me. I would reach to touch his arm, so he in turn can caress my hand and up my forearm as he always does to learn that it is just that man that comes and visits every now and again.

The child can only feel and smell his surroundings. His touch is very sensitive so as to understand who would be in his presence that day. He has glass eyes, because the ones he was born with did not work. He has a device implanted in to the side of his head that would help him to create some vibrations for hearing purposes, because the ears he was born with did not work. He has not quite got the use of a bathroom schedule down, so he wears a diaper. Due to his lack of sight and hearing he will use noises and vocalizations to stimulate his brain in letting you know the only way he can what he is feeling and needing.

He use to not know me and push me away after he would feel my hand and arm. But that is all it takes for him to get to know you. Now when I visit he will touch my hand and arm and sometimes hug me. Realizing who I am he will have me sit down beside him on his couch. Then he will make noises and laugh out loud to communicate with me. He will periodically reach over to see if I was still there beside him.

This visit became different than those before, as I gazed upon this precious child. I was compelled within my spirit to ask my Lord, Why me? Why was it I that would come to visit someone else disabled child? Why would I be the one to sit and look upon this innocent soul who did not ask to born this way? Why would I be the one to go home to my beautiful and healthy family? Why would I only worry about things like my children starting school again and not have to worry if my child will put his head through the window of the bus today because he CANNOT SPEAK OR SEE ANYTHING? Why Me, Lord? Why am I so BLESSED?

I love what I do and sometimes it gets to be more than I can bear. But, when what I do becomes difficult and I get weary of doing the good that I do, I just remember that it could be my child I was visiting; and so I ask the question, why me?

James 5:9 "Don't grumble........."