I Hope He's Right!

In a quiet moment, Henry asked Kristen and me "What do you think Heaven is like?  It's probably really white and pretty and soft. Probably no one hurts. Right Mom? Right Dad?". I bet he's right. I pray with that hope every day.

The Bizarre Blessing

by Troy Foster

We were talking on the phone – both headed home from work (which seems to be good, quiet, quality time together) – when we realized it.  Our words were horrifying.  Things that you shouldn’t hear parents say about their child.  And we were saying those things, and not bothered – in fact, encouraged by our talk.  We were reminded that we are living in a bizarro world of sorts with perspectives that have changed forever.  Nothing that we wanted, but a blessing that we appreciate.

“Henry told the nurse that he couldn’t walk.  He was too tired,” Kristen reported.

“Well, good news – the insurance company called about the wheelchair and it’s been ordered – so, Henry will be happy,” I replied.

“Perfect!  I’m glad that he will tell us when he needs something, and he is excited about the wheelchair,” Kristen continued.

I agreed.  And then realized how odd the conversation would appear to an outsider.  Parents pleased that their 5 year-old would talk to them about his weakness, that his energy deteriorated to the point of needing a wheelchair, and celebrating its arrival. 

But, that’s where we are.  And it’s okay.  Mainly because Henry is okay with it.  In our world, as bizarre as it might seem, Henry helps us focus on the fun he’ll have on the ride there and at the destination (especially when it’s the playground or soccer field).  We have learned that worrying about how he gets there – by foot or by chair – is a waste of precious time.  Time that Henry has taught us to laugh with, smile at, and experience each other.

We may be on a bizarre journey, but know that we are blessed each step of the way (or turn of the wheel).

For more inspirational stories about Henry, read Three Candles (www.threecandlesbook.com) – a book that captures the gift of his perspective.  Proceeds of book sales go to Henry's Hope (www.henryshope.org).