I wrote a few months ago about the deep joy and deep pain we
have faced working with families in the community – and about the lesson we have learned that the hard always goes hand in hand with the beautiful. In the same post, I wrote about a mom who had come to the gate wanting us to take her son.
The desperation a parent must reach to bring their own flesh
and blood, their child, to the gate
of an orphanage is something I can’t fully comprehend.
But I stop and listen, and try to understand.
It is always different; it is never black and white.
But today I am here to share the story of one
mother and son.
It always begins with someone coming to me saying
“Auntie Emily, there is someone at the gate with a child.”
So I walk down the driveway barefoot and head to the large
gate where Simon, our day guard, is seated with a smile on his face. As his own parents bought into the cultural belief that disability is inability, he takes
great joy in seeing the change that sometimes transpires at our gate.
On this particular day I reached the gate and greeted the
mother, meanwhile watching this little boy standing next to her out of the
corner of my eye. Within seconds of observing it was clear this little boy had
Autism. I smiled at his mom, and she
asked me “can you take him?” Without much thought I replied to her my automatic
response “No, but you can come inside and we can talk about different ways that we
can help you parent your child.”
She did not move from her spot and enter the gate, she
instead looked down at her son and mumbled a question; a question I was not
prepared for. As she looked down at her
son, who was spinning around in circles, she raised her eyes and looked up at
me and whispered “can you fix him?”.
And just like that my heart hits the floor. I am slapped in the face with the cultural
stigma and ignorance many people have towards disabilities. I can tell this mom until I am blue in the
face that her son doesn’t need to be fixed, that he is fearfully and wonderfully
made and PERFECT.
But cultural stigmas
and beliefs don’t change that easily...they run deep as roots.
So I met her gaze and simply replied "He doesn't need to be fixed. Come inside."
After we talked I offered her a job.
A job where she could bring her son, Praise, to work and he can have a safe place
to play. A job where she can learn from
our mamas about autism. A job where
counseling is available to her when she needs it. A job that provides this single mother enough
money to provide for her and her son.
A job where those negative stigma's don't make it past our gate.
A job where I pray she can learn to love like the One who so loves us.
And so, root by root, we are digging up those old lies and planting truth.
