We celebrated my son's first steps last night. Zach took three wobbly steps before falling back to earth. At that point, his eyes were as wide as ever as he tried to make sense of the clapping and cheering from friends and family. For a brief moment, he wasn't quite sure whether to be afraid and cry or whether he should join in the celebration. The smiles of all onlookers must have clued him in that the noises were joyful and he immediately began clapping, although he likely had no idea why he was clapping. He probably had forgotten the struggle and significance of those three steps almost as soon as he landed with a grunt on his behind.
Of course, most parents can relate to that sense of overwhelming pride welling up in their chest and perhaps even tears welling up in their eyes when their child takes their first steps. However, (although I recognize my bias) I know better the significance of those three steps. I could immediately sense the joy and relief of the event when I glanced over at my wife and noticed her glassy eyes and beaming smile. I immediately reflected on the struggle for Zach - hours upon hours each week in physical therapy, occupational therapy, and related medical appointments. 2 1/2 years after most children are already walking and running, Zach was the master at army crawling and some sort of break-dancing, butt-scooting method of his own creation. With the combination of Down's Syndrome and numerous medical issues and surgeries, particularly the major heart surgeries, Zach's developmental progress has been significantly delayed.
But finally, at age 3 1/2, Zach took his first steps. So we may have yelled and cheered a bit louder than most when he took those first three steps; we may have clapped a bit longer than most. In fact, we celebrated the celebration as we continued to talk about it after the fact and continued to encourage Zach to stand up and take more steps - to which he promptly would say, "All done" and shake his head and hands back and forth indicating he was done.
But he did it. He walked. The little miracle-boy whom doctors said might not survive birth. He is now walking. And I can't wait until he is running! He does a pretty good job at army crawling, scooting, twisting, turning, and rolling over to me when I come home from work - in fact, he doesn't let anything stop him - he figures out how to get there somehow. I at least know that he'll figure out how to get to me one way or another. But soon, he may be walking and running to me when I come through the door.
Zach's baby-steps help me to remember and reflect upon my God who who has placed me in a position that I never thought I would be in. Many of you know my story and know that the last thing that was in my plans was to be the dad of a child with special needs. Here I am - repurposed by God.
