A few years ago on a missions trip I shared with some fellow travelers my prayer that God would give me his eyes and help me see people the way he sees them. I can’t take credit for the catchy phrase…it’s the title of a well-known song by Brandon Health. Each of the lyrics hit home to me as I sing along, but “give me your eyes” is more than just a chorus in a song to me. It truly was and is desire of mine—that my impression of people I encounter would not be clouded by my own judgement or that I wouldn’t just look the other way and ignore strangers I met, but I would see them with love as God sees them.
Fast forward a couple years and I’m sitting in a crowded gym at my niece’s district basketball game. I’ve got Gage in my lap at the top of the bleachers 
with a panoramic view of the whole gym. I notice a family walking through the doors with a teenage daughter slowly and carefully taking steps across the gym floor. A couple things were apparent about this young girl—first of all that she had some sort of physical impairment that made walking challenging for her, and secondly that she had loving and proud parents who were patient and encouraging. They didn’t rush her along, but rather let her independently get where she was going. And they were there in the first place, when it might have been easier to just skip the game knowing how crowded it would be that night. For the next several minutes, this family had more of my attention than the game itself. I can’t really explain it, but I felt a sense of admiration and respect for them.
Reflecting on that, it dawned on me that perhaps my impression of that family and that teenage girl was an answered prayer. That maybe, God was giving me a glimpse of the way he sees. Before having Gage, I don’t think I would have paid them much attention. But in that moment, rather than quickly turning away to avoid gawking or feeling pity as I watched them, I could see the beauty in that moment. I imagined how proud that mom and dad must feel that their daughter could take those challenging steps on her own. I could appreciate the fact that she was not missing out on life, but participating in rooting on her team.
Sometimes God can catch us off guard by the way he answers our prayers. When I asked to see as he sees, I was definitely not expecting to achieve that by becoming a special needs parent. But without a doubt that has given me more empathy and allowed me to see others with more compassion and love. When it first occurred to me the ways my experience could shape me for the better, and when I began to feel grateful for things exactly as they are, it was a game changer. I feel loved and filled with joy in ways I can’t really explain, but I know the source of that love and joy is from above.
That’s not to say I don’t still struggle with the frustration of extra challenges. I want my son to be able to accomplish everything and get the most out of this life on earth, but sometimes his body fights so hard against him. As his mom, I want to know what’s wrong when he’s upset or uncomfortable, and he just doesn’t have the words to tell me. It can be heart wrenching to watch Gage struggle with his physical limitations, but I’m still overjoyed to be his mom. I’ll never stop being thankful to have him—just the way he is—as my son. My hope is that others won’t look at our family and feel sorry for us, but instead get a glimpse of the beauty and the joy that fills our lives.
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” John 13:34
I shared my mantra with my husband, and he helps hold me accountable. He is my go-to person to vent to, because of course he gets it. But when I start to go on and on about something that bugs me, he’ll say “better not bitter” and totally call me out on the pity party I’m having. Obviously, I’m flawed and broken and have a long way to go. But I’d like to think that little by little I am becoming better and not bitter.
it wasn’t long before we were hugging in the bathroom, staring at a stick on the counter with mixed feelings of excitement and disbelief. There’s something so fun about sharing something with only your husband for that first little bit. Like you’re both in on the best secret that you can’t wait to share, but feel a little sneaky having it just between the two of you.
throughout, and some discomfort and trouble sleeping at the end, but overall I’d say I had it pretty good. After the 20 week ultrasound, we were expecting a healthy baby boy, who even gave us a thumbs up that the tech caught on camera.
sleeping and we should wait to send out the news. We got a few blissful minutes of cuddling and oooohing and aaaahing over our tiny boy…just 5 pounds…much smaller than anyone expected. Then the nurses returned to our room to check his blood sugar and said it was low. They also pointed out the petechial rash covering his face, saying it could be the result of such a quick delivery, or could be something more. They seemed to whisk Gage away to the NICU to be looked at more closely and I was left feeling sad and lonely without my new baby to hold.
came in, he lifted the sheets and asked, “Oh, do you need to check me?” He reported that she looked totally freaked out and left the room as quickly as possible. I reminded him that not everyone would appreciate his odd sense of humor, but I adore him for it. He has a way of being the calm in the storm. He’s definitely my rock through all of our ups and downs.
taken in a vehicle! I remember yelling at Evan to slow down and he looked at me and said, “Hannah, I’m going 25 miles per hour.” I blame my crazy behavior on the fact that I hadn’t been in a car in almost a week and our precious cargo.