One of the steady pains in my soul is hanging out with my friends with disabilities. “Lesser” ones, like sight and hearing impairment. Big ones, like Down’s Syndrome, cerebral palsy, or spina bifida. I can’t shake some degree of “survivor’s guilt”—why can I see but he can’t? Why can I walk but she can’t? Why does his entire life on earth have to be such a daily struggle just to survive?
I think I got a partial answer in the thawing of my world. The first wave of spring has come to Milwaukee right now. Nobody in Tucson or San Diego can possibly relate to the ecstasy we Northerners are experiencing right now. March in the Southwest is nothing special. But up here it is. The last of the snow melted rather suddenly and I am surprised to see people’s yards again. Bushes and grass have emerged from their winter coats. I even love seeing litter and debris lying around that had been trapped in snowbanks. Hurray for spring trash!
Everything is possible in spring. It is fun once again to be outside. The sun feels good on our faces. Daylight saving time extends daylight another hour into evening. You can smell the earth softening up. Soon the crocus and daffodils and tulips will push up tentative shoots.
It struck me a few days ago that God may just have that same kind of surprise in heaven for all of his disabled children. While we will all be very glad to be lifted up to his heavenly mansions, my guess is that the wounded ones’ delight and joy will far exceed mine. And their “springtime” joy will never stop.
Straight talk. Real hope.