My husband and I were reading a story in Reader’s Digest about a father who was raising his disabled son—something we can relate to. The man in the article pointed out that he not only felt robbed, but that his son was robbed, too—presumably of a “normal” life.
And yet when you think through that statement, how can any of us feel robbed of something we never had? How can our son miss a “normal” life when he’s never known such a thing? How can we feel robbed, because we never had the experiences that this particular child, if he were healthy, would have—the soccer games, the spelling bees, the friendship circles, the graduations, etc.
My husband also reminded me of something his mother once told him. Her mother died when she was a baby, a loss his mom feels every day of her life. Yet how can she miss something she never had?
It’s a very real feeling, this loss of something we never had.
Do we feel it because we see what others have, and want it because of that? I know from personal experience that I don’t covet the healthy children my friends have. I don’t wish them a disabled child, either, so it’s not a wish for a trade. It’s not as simple as jealousy. For example, a relative of ours has a boat, but neither I nor my husband feel “robbed” because we don’t have have a boat. We don’t want one.
What about aspiring writers who spend literally thousands of hours practicing their craft? Subjecting themselves to criticism through critique groups, then to the pain of rejection from agents and editors? Do they feel robbed of publication, even if it has never been theirs?
Not doubt it all ties in to simple expectations—we think something ought to go a certain way, and when it doesn’t the disappointment can be devastating.
In my feeble attempt to have this blog post be more than just an observation of life, I offer you the thoughts of John Eldredge from his book, Wild at Heart. Life being what it is—imperfect, lived in a fallen world—there are only three ways to carry on. We can live with:
A delusion
An addiction
or
An ache
Perhaps those who live in their own (delusional) world avoid being adversely affected by disappointment. They might seem happy. And those who depend on an addiction can forget, for a time, their losses. But for my husband and me, every time we’re reminded of our challenges, we’re also reminded that it’s “normal” to live with an ache. Most people do, of one size or another.
Somehow knowing this is part of a universal human experience makes it easier to acknowledge—and to carry on. There’s an old story about people being able to bring their burdens into a room and lay them on a table. They must leave with a burden, but they can exchange their own for another. Most people in the story, though, leave with the same one they went in with—almost as if they’d been designed to deal with it.
I guess this isn’t the typically cheerful way to start another week, but there you have it. At least we can celebrate that this life isn’t all there is!
Join Me!