The Healing Power of Belonging

Dearest Daughters,

A couple of evenings ago, I was sharing a meal with some new friends when, after hearing the story of your brother Christopher, they asked me a question.

“So, does Christopher still have a disability?”

It was a question I didn’t feel had a straightforward yes or no answer. But as I began to respond, I felt that I was seeing something in a new light—something about what it really means to be disabled, and what it means to be healed.

In today’s world, disability is a pretty broad term. There are so many labels for so many different conditions. Some of these labels can certainly be helpful, but others can become identities that entrap people.

So what is disability?

In my perspective, disability is when we are inhibited by a condition, whether it be physical, mental, spiritual, or emotional, that stands between us and the purpose for which we were created, or the relationships we were meant to have.

One of the reasons we felt it was important to get a diagnosis for Christopher, and even to share it with others when he was young, was because he truly was disabled.

He couldn’t function in so many ways that are needed to make family and community life possible. His difficulties kept him from participating in our family and community. His meltdowns and violent outbursts were disruptive to our family life, and the barriers between him and everyone else seemed, at times, almost insurmountable.

But when we set out on this journey, we felt that our goal shouldn’t be to make Christopher “normal,” or simply like everyone else.

Rather, we wanted to remove the barriers that stood between him and the purpose for which God created him—barriers that hindered his relationships with others.

I remember one particular habit that developed along the way, after Christopher learned to read. As he read aloud, every few words he would groan or grunt or make strange noises. Sometimes he did this in ordinary conversation as well. It was distracting at best, and at times rather alarming to those who didn’t understand him.

Daddy and I felt that this habit was a hindrance to relationships. It made it difficult for others to listen to him, and was rather distracting and off putting. I felt the faith to help him overcome it, so we practiced. I’d sit beside him as he read, and every time he made one of those noises, I would gently set my hand on his knee.

“You’re doing it again, Christopher. Let’s get through this line. As soon as you come to the word at the end of this sentence, I want you to instantly say, ‘And then,’ which are the first two words of the next sentence. Don’t stop to make the sound.”

We cheered him on, sentence by sentence, trying to help move from one thought to the next without interrupting himself with those awful noises, and in a relatively short amount of time, he overcame that habit.

There were many situations like this over the years. We recognized something that was hindering him, and together we worked to overcome it. But we ultimately discovered something more important than simply overcoming individual behaviors.

At some point I realized that I’d been measuring Christopher’s progress by how independently he could function, and this wasn’t the right measuring line. The more he could do without our help, the more healed he appeared to be. But is independence really the measure of wholeness? Was it God’s design for Christopher, or for any of us, to become sufficient in ourselves?

I realized that I’d been asking the wrong question.

It wasn’t important for Christopher to overcome every weakness in order to be whole.

There are still things he needs us for. He needs his sister Carri Beth to help him recognize when he becomes distracted in class.

He needs Josh to help him see when it’s time to participate in a circle of friendship and games, and when it’s time to run alone.

He needs me to remind him that company has arrived and this isn’t the time to run wildly in circles around the house.

There are things he doesn’t naturally recognize about social situations. He doesn’t always know when he shouldn’t say something, do something, or make a certain noise, but he knows that he has people around him who do recognize these things.

And because he trusts us to fill in the gaps he doesn’t recognize, he can participate fully and meaningfully in relationships without constantly creating awkwardness or alarm.

Sometimes he still becomes upset over things that shouldn’t upset him, but he trusts me when I say, “Christopher, that’s not something you need to get upset about.” And he can let it go. What has made Christopher whole is not that every limitation has disappeared, although most have, it is that he has learned to recognize his need for relationships and to trust the people who love him. He knows that he belongs.

In many ways, we all have disabilities. Everyone has weaknesses, blind spots, and limitations, whether they are physical, emotional, or spiritual. We have places where our perspective is skewed or our judgment is faulty. And our ability to function as God intended is distorted, and in those areas where we need one another.

In fact, I believe we become disabled in a very real sense when we refuse the relationships that could supply what we lack. When we will not receive a different perspective than our own, or we refuse the counsel of someone who doesn’t fight the same battles, we cut ourselves off from our own healing.

God didn’t design us to be whole all by ourselves, to be Him. This is the why His design for family, church, and community is so amazing. Every joint supplies. Every member has something to give and something to receive.

The place of weakness can become the joint of connection through which strength and healing flow into our lives. And when we recognize that someone else needs what God has placed within us, our strengths become a healing to others. The things we lack can be the very things that draw us together.

I think of the Scripture that says the whole body is “fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplies.” (Eph. 4:16)

We can be members of Christ’s body, which supplies the things we can’t produce by ourselves. And in that belonging, there is healing.

So don’t remain “disabled” in any facet of life simply because you have come to believe that a particular weakness is part of who you are. Nor is wholeness a place where you don’t need anyone.

Recognize the relationships God has placed in your life, and be willing to make a joint of relationship to receive what others can supply. Above all, trust those who love you enough to help you see what you cannot see for yourself, because healing comes through the belonging to those relationships.

So back to what my friends asked over dinner:

“Does Christopher still have a disability?”

After considering it, I told them that, in my opinion, Christopher is no longer disabled, but healed, not because every limitation has disappeared, but because he knows to whom he belongs. And he trusts.

With all my love,
Mom