I Want God to Fix Me

Last week a dear friend of mine shared a post on facebook which, quite
honestly, has dominated my thoughts and kept me awake for several nights now. Her name is Dawn and, coincidentally, we share not only our name but the same birthday month - how cool is that? And for the sake of clarity, she is the younger Dawn by far!

Dawn and I met through our childrens' sports activities and have become good friends. Mikey, her oldest son, has the biggest, most heartwarming smile you've ever seen. He loves to share hugs, high fives, and french fries at baseball games. Mikey is also a special needs young man with Down Syndrome. When our families first met, he called me 'Mrs. Hood'. I laid my hand on his arm and pleaded with him, "Mikey, please don't call me Mrs. Hood - it makes me feel old. You can call me Miss Dawn." He threw his head back and laughed big and hard, then smiled and said, "okay, Miss Dawn." He now refers to my in-laws as Mimi and Papaw and has a not-so-secret crush on our daughter Rachel. {smile}

I am blessed to know Dawn and her family. All of her children - Mikey included - are fierce athletes. Their daughter Ashley has college scholarship potential as a softball player; she also excels academically. Their two younger sons, Evan and Zach, are baseball and football superstars and Mikey, although on a special needs baseball team, far exceeds the physical and mental abilities of his teammates. As I've observed their family dynamics over the years, I've learned that Dawn and her husband Mike rarely make concessions for Mikey. They hold him accountable for his behavior, his speech, and the sometimes belligerent taunting of his sister. Having never spent a significant amount of time around a family with a special needs child, it has been fascinating to watch how they treat him - literally - just like any other kid. Somewhere in my brain I wrongly assumed there would always be the 'making excuses', the 'indulging', the 'oh, I'm sorry'.

My perspective was always based on the family's and the inspiring way in which they completely and totally embrace Mikey. (Although it has never crossed my mind that they would do anything else.) But I never thought about it from Mikey's point of view until last week's facebook post from Dawn. On a regular morning, in the midst of a regular weekday routine in which two parents were preparing themselves for the workday ahead and four children were eating breakfast and grabbing book bags for school, Mikey said to Dawn, "I don't want to be a special ed kid, Mom. I want God to fix me." 

Whoa. Shut the front door. If this were a scene in a movie, the moment would freeze on the big screen accompanied by deafening silence.

My kids have said a few things over the years that have stopped me in my tracks, but what could any parent possibly say in response to a statement like this? Dawn shared that this is a recurring topic with Mikey and also bravely shared how it breaks her heart. Mikey knows he is special needs; knows he functions at a different level and pace; knows he will always live life 'differently' from his siblings. And it frustrates him. More than how Dawn responded to his statement, I've been reflecting on Mikey's simple, innocent proclamation: "I want God to fix me."

We all have things we would like for God to 'fix': finances, marriages, wayward children, jobs, physical features that we label 'too much of' or 'not enough of' or 'just not the way I want'. But when is the last time we asked God simply, 'fix me'? I have to admit, God has really been dealing with me in this area (no, actually it's been more like hammering - I do have a stubborn streak). I tend to look at what surrounds me and want those things to change. The 'If only...I just wish...why can't I...or why don't they...'  Maybe what I need to be looking at is me and what needs to change.

I heard a sermon recently by a man, well into his 70s, addressing this very subject. His text was 15 little words nestled in the middle of Psalm 37, "Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart" (v.4). Dr. Hill put it this way: "if you try to delight in what you desire, your desires will never bring you any delight."  His point was this: until I delight myself in the Lord first (the result of which is a contended heart), my desires will never satisfy me. You guessed it: hammer firmly in hand, nail placed strategically right between my eyes, swing with intent. Bam!

Will God 'fix' Mikey? I don't have any idea. Conventional wisdom, the history of medicine, and DNA would all say no. But everyone who knows and loves Mikey would tell you he doesn't need 'fixing'. Is this a pat-on-the-back, "just give God the desires of your heart, son" quick fix? Absolutely not. I don't doubt for a moment that God created Mikey in his mama's womb exactly the way He planned. I don't question that His purpose for Mikey's life is of any less importance than any other person on planet Earth. Does knowing that make it easy? Of course not. Does it satisfy Mikey's desire to be more like his siblings and their friends? Probably not. Does it explain God? No more than understanding how a clock works explains eternity.

The lesson is for me. For us. Fact is, we live in a broken world. There always have been and always will be circumstances and situations that we wish could be fixed. But how would those circumstances and situations change if nothing changed except the heart through which we look at them? Thank you, Dawn, for offering me a view behind closed doors; and thank you, Mikey, for being you.

I think my Christmas list will be short this year: Dear Santa, I want God to fix me.