Take It Back

Last updated on: August 22, 2014 at 4:02 pm by Rebecca Frech

Take It Back 2014-08-22T16:02:31-05:00 Rebecca Frech

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I took Ella with me to Target over the weekend. We were running errands and she needed to get out of the house. That’s one of the biggest hurdles we’re facing with her – getting her exercise out of the house. She’s bored sitting around here all day, and she can’t go very far unless we take her. Add that in with how quickly she fatigues, and she’s sitting at home way too often. All of that to say that little trips to Target or the grocery store have become real treats for her as long as I keep them short.

She primped a little before we went, which in a 9 year old’s world means she brushed her hair and teeth and put on a headband. She grabbed her crutches and off we went.

We were walking through the store, me pushing the red cart and her with the now familiar click-click of crutches hitting the ground, when I heard a small voice say, “Mommy, what are those things she has?”

I looked across the aisle and saw a woman and her 4-ish year old standing among the clothing racks.

“They’re crutches, Sweetie.”

“Why does she have them?”

The mother looked up at my daughter as she walked by and answered, “Because she’s hurt…” her voice tailed off as she watched Ella’s awkward gait. “..no…she’s crippled. Her legs don’t work right, and the crutches help her walk.”

Crippled.

With that one word, the breath left my body and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I swallowed hard and my world spun for a moment. There was the truth out there for everyone to see in one awful word.

Crippled.

How have we gotten to this point so quickly? How is it that three weeks ago she was running and playing, and now her legs buckle and she collapses under her own weight?

I wanted to scream at that mother that it wasn’t true! The scream “Take it back!” became a knot in my throat that it hurt to swallow away. I looked at the floor and then at Ella, and began to move away when I heard that small voice ask ,”How did that happen to her?”

“She was probably born that way.” The mom answered.

And a single tear ran down my cheek.

She wasn’t. This isn’t the healthy baby I gave birth to. This girl with the legs that don’t work isn’t the future I dreamed for her. This isn’t the plan at all! She was our star athlete and a talented ballerina. She was our glittery fairy girl who danced and twirled her way through life.

I ache to scream at God the same way I wanted to yell at the Target woman, “No! Take it back! Take back that ugly word! She can’t be crippled. She just can’t be!” I want to scream and cry out in rage and pain. I want to beg for mercy in sobbing whispers.

But I can’t.

The words always seem to lump up in my throat, because I know that she is. She is crippled, and we don’t know why….and I just want Him to take it back…take all of it back… and make her whole again.

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