Hidden Truths, Broken Beauties

Cerebral Palsy is a pride-crusher.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in your mid-twenties and still have friends cut your meat for you.

There’s nothing more terrifying than seeing a friend’s pained expression when you shy away from holding her child because your arm is too spastic that day.

There’s nothing more frustrating than putting your schedule to the whim of a friend because you can’t drive.

There’s nothing more disturbing than finding out an acquaintance thinks you’re twistedly inappropriate because your C.P-effected hand had 20 seconds unsupervised… And it wanted to touch everything both moving & stationary in its path.

There’s nothing more annoying than understanding your two other life-interrupting disorders are only in existence because of your cerebral palsy.

I’m a prideful person… But cerebral palsy has been God’s vehicle to make sure I don’t cling to pride easily. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard God whisper, “Baby Girl, this wouldn’t be so hard if you’d just let go and laugh.

Only problem is, I rarely “hear” God say that until I’ve faked my way through the day and cried my hot, narcissistic tears of mortification.

My cerebral palsy is a life saver.
There’s nothing more humbling than realizing your childhood best friend was only given that position in the first place because you both shared a life of special needs.

There’s nothing more humbling than realizing your mother is your closest confidante because you spent a lifetime learning from her when other friends could leave their houses without their parents.

There’s nothing more precious than getting close to a young child because they announced, “You look funny, but you’re super cool. Can my hand be like yours?”

There’s nothing more humorous than experiencing genuine excitement that you carried an entire plate of food across the house and didn’t spill it once! .. You see life differently when you’re forced to take it slowly.

There’s nothing more modern-day praiseworthy than understanding that you can’t drive, which means technically, God saved you from a financial upheaval you’d never recover from.

There’s nothing more endearing, treasuring and moving than comprehending the only reason I chose to cling to my Savior was because of my pride-crushing, time-consuming, life-altering disorder.

It’s all in how you choose to look at it. As I sit here annoyed that my body is too tight to stand straight, look right or not be an initiator of all things anxiety, I only have one truth to cling to.

This messed up, broken, clicking time-bomb body made my Christ my desire above desires.


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