Yes, my mother proved those doctors wrong with prayers and perseverance in making sure I did those leg exercises three times a day. She would not even listen to me as I begged her to forget them just once. The summer I turned three years old, I was "walking" the neighborhood (no further than two doors from home) to play with other children.
The Davis family lived next door, and their daughter Linda was my age. We were "best friends," but I wouldn't realize until years later what an impact they would have in my life. Next came the Larson family. Their daughter Sandra, who wasn't home except during the holidays, would also change my outlook on life.
During the next several years, I learned to play "Hopscotch," covering our sidewalks and driveway with HUGE squares. After all, I was wearing full-length braces on both legs and wasn't the best jumper. I learned to ride a bike because I would need it once I started school. I was surprised, though, they didn't take it away from me after scratches started appearing on not only their car, but also the neighbor's. They did threaten, however, to take my rollerskates away from me after I broke the antenna off the Davis' car while trying to catch my balance. I remember looking around to see if anyone was watching and placing the antenna on the curb next to the car. I don't know how my dad found out, but I got the lecture that night at dinner, and learned one very important lesson in life. Do NOT try to lie to my father.
Before I knew it, my first day of school was upon me. My mother and I had made a few test runs to make sure I knew my way and that I knew the rules about looking both ways before crossing the road. But there was one important thing that she failed to teach me...how to deal with the other children who weren't from my "neighborhood."
There are only two things I remember about my first day at school: 1) my teacher's name, Mrs. Applegate, and 2) all the pointing fingers, the stares, the giggling, and the other boys and girls trying to "walk" like me. How could my mother have possibly prepared me for this?
It being the worst day of my life, after school I rode my bike home as fast as I could, tears rolling down my cheeks, telling myself again and again that I was NOT going back to school. I quit! As I neared home, I saw my mother standing on the front step anxiously waiting to hear about my first day. She had to have known what it would be like for me because she was the smartest person I knew.
As we sat together on the steps, she listened ever so intently to my horror stories of the day. Only when I was finished did her words of wisdom come:
"No one is perfect. Everyone has something wrong with them. It can be on the inside where you can't see it, or it can be on the outside for the world to see. God chose the outside for you, and because of this, you will become a stronger person. When you meet a true friend, you will know it."
I now believe that it was at that moment, my mother learned her "mission" in life--to prove to me and everyone surrounding us that I was "normal."
To be continued...
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