a different kind of Fabuland...

It’s Saturday night – four more sleeps ‘til the EUA. Speaking of sleep, we are so grateful that Cam is sleeping through. Please pray that he sleeps especially deeply and soundly the night before the EUA, since I can’t feed him for a good eight hours before they put him under anaesthetic…

We’ve had an emotional couple of days, at times experiencing feelings of real hope and expectation, and then fear and sadness and anger. At times I get so overwhelmed by the enormity of what may well lie ahead for us and for Cameron. Please continue to stand in the gap for us.

A couple of people have sent me this article, and it aptly and beautifully expresses something of the magnitude of what we’re feeling (and it reminds me of the point that Sheryl and I were trying to make in our book ‘Flight to Fabuland’ – which is now available at Exclusive Books, we are chuffed to say!):

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas of Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It’s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around… and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills… and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.

But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special , the very lovely things… about Holland.

©1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley.