(Verbatim)
Conversation
1: Aquarium
Cam: Mom,
can you take me sometime to the comedian?
Me: Um…
the comedian? Um, ok, ja, I guess we can go to the… Just say again…?
Cam: (Exasperated) Mom! The comedian! You
know, the zoo that has all the fish.
Conversation
2: Speed
Cam: Mom,
can I get an electric toothbrush?
Me: Ok,
I guess. Maybe when you’re a bit older. For your birthday.
Cam: Yes. I want an
electric toothbrush that also makes my teeth electric, so that I can chew my
food even faster…
Conversation
3: Travel
(After
Lachlan – who lives in Taiwan – had stayed with us for the weekend.)
Cam: Mom
can we go to Taiwan to visit Uncle Lachlan?
Me: Sure! That’ll be so
cool… We’ll have to save up lots of money ‘cause we’ll have to fly there in an
aeroplane; it’s really far; etc. etc.
Cam: But
I want to go to Taiwan in our car.
Me: No, you can’t drive
to Taiwan. You can only fly there on an aeroplane or go on a ship, but a ship will
take really long to get there.
Cam: (Sighing. Resigned.) Ok. Then can we go
to Taiwan in a spaceship?
Conversation
4: Role play
(Murray
got home the other night just in time to tuck Cam into bed.)
Cam: How
was your day, Dad?
Murray: It was fine thanks, my boy. How
was yours?
Cam: I
had quite a tough day at work. The boss is a bit of a slave-driver.
(Seriously.
I have no idea where he got this.)
Conversation
5: 1 Corinthians 13:12
(Over
supper)
Cam: Mom,
will I still need contact lenses when I’m older?
Me: Ja
my love; you’ll always need lenses.
Cam: But
Greg and Graeme (older cousins) don’t
need lenses.
Me: Yes but Jesus made
us all different… Greg and Graeme can see fine and don’t need lenses but they
might struggle with other things that you are really good at; and I need
reading glasses but Dad doesn’t ‘cause my eyes also need a bit of help; and
Meagie (another cousin) is very
clever with numbers and painting but you’ve got such a beautiful singing voice.
Cam: But
maybe Jesus can give Meagie a nice singing voice sometime?
Me: Ja… He could! But
she’ll definitely have a beautiful singing voice in heaven one day. And you
won’t need lenses in heaven ‘cause we’ll all be perfect in heaven, etc. etc.
Cam: When
are we going to heaven? Why can’t we die yet?
Me: Because there’s
still lots of work for us to do here in the world. There are still lots of
people here on Earth who don’t know that Jesus loves them, so we’ve got work to
do for him, etc. etc. [including a
toddlerised explanation of the peace of heaven and that we have no fear of
death.]
Cam: I
think I don’t want to die. I just want to move to another house with a swimming
pool.
For parents of blind or VI
children who follow this blog, here’s a note on Conversation 5:
When
Cameron was a baby, I always dreaded the day that he would realise. As in, understand that he was different and
that he couldn’t see as well as most people. I thank God that for Cam it’s been
a slow dawning of reality – a gradual gentle bit-by-bit piecing together and
acceptance.
Significant
days and conversations stand out; many of them are recorded on this blog and this one. God has opened up natural opportunities
for us to talk and explain and encourage, as situations have arisen or Cam’s
questions have prompted. Cam definitely knows. Though I don’t think he fully
understands. I’m not sure we do either.
The
way we as parents respond to Cam’s visual impairment will directly, powerfully
and irrevocably affect how he responds. So, here are a few things we believe
in:
1. Be honest. Answer every
question, explain every reality, as truthfully as you know how. Don’t insult
your child’s intelligence or his ability to absorb facts relating to his
physical, emotional or spiritual journey.
2. Be brave. Don’t cry if you
can help it. Leave the room. Cry later. This doesn’t contradict the point
above. I’m not saying be fake. I’m just saying that if you blub every time your
kid asks you about her eyes she’ll stop asking, because she doesn’t want to
upset you. Worse, she’ll feel that there must be something seriously wrong with
her, because the people she loves most aren’t celebrating; they’re sad.
3. Be open. Don’t shy away
from the stares, questions and tactless comments of other kids (and their
parents). Respond, inform, be casual in a no-big-deal kind of way. Your child
is not a freak. It’s your job to educate the rest of the world.
4. Be clear. I read about a
blind girl who was convinced that when she was an adult she would be able to
drive, because all the adults she knew could drive. Her deduction was thus that
when she was an adult she would be able to see. When these sorts of things come
up we try to be realistic and practical and honest, without detracting from the
possibilities of miracles and Cam’s astounding tendency to exceed all realistic
expectations. (e.g. We’ve told Cam that we will definitely teach him how to
drive, but that he won’t be able to get a driver’s licence.)
5. Be fun. I heard about a
blind boy who wanted a cricket bat for his birthday. He got it. Would he ever
be able to play cricket? Of course not. But so what? Every boy wants a cricket
bat. As far as it’s in your power, give him every sense of a full, dynamic
sensory life. Another blind boy was told by his grandmother that he couldn’t be
a policeman when he was big (for obvious reasons), and yet everyone encouraged
his cousin most enthusiastically, whose dream job was to be one of Santa’s
elves….? Let your kid dream.
6. Be over-the-top. Don’t just
accept your child’s blindness or visual impairment. Embrace it. Give thanks for
it. God’s ways are far above our ways; his thoughts are far above ours (Isaiah
55:9) And his plans for your child are bigger and better than any you could
dream up on your own.
Loved these conversations! Loved the comments at the end too. :)
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