| The Gift |
By: Lois Kellerman, columnist, “Mother Knows Best”
On 12/17/05
Jethro Thomas slid across the floor on his new snowflake socks faster than the speed of light; Too fast as it turned out. He slammed into me, sending me tumbling back onto the oversized sofa that had been custom-built to accommodate his mom and dad’s lanky frames.
| "Each and every one of us is a unique and unrepeatable being. Mobs may march, and marauders prowl, but people, at their best, co-create." |
I sank into the ample stuffed pillows and after it was established that I was okay, all of us gathered for gift giving, and had a good laugh.
Both Jethro’s parents were professional basketball players, and the living room décor reflected this. His mother had decided to take time off from a very promising career in order to deal with the joys and challenges of her two very special kids.
Jethro’s mind and body seemed to have been designed for a different planet. One in which more energy was needed to overcome the various strange forces of entropy. His condition is called ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), and it wasn’t surprising that Jethro had it. ADD was rampant on his dad’s side of the family.
Jethro’s little sister, Huyen, on the other hand, had problems in the opposite direction. Her tongue seemed to be in slow-motion playback mode so that she often couldn’t pronounce words properly. And a tremor in her right hand caused her crayoned circles to have an interesting, random quality to them.
The source of Huyen’s difficulties was not clear. Her mother, who had given her up for adoption, had reported to the social worker that it might have been caused by a high fever she’d had when she was pregnant. But everything about the story was vague—perhaps unreliable. Would Huyen outgrow it? Would it get worse?
So the family coped and prayed and went to various therapies with the kids and mostly dealt with the situation the way most people deal with their lives: One day at a time.
Now the great thing about Jethro and Huyen was that their challenges were complementary. Thus, what outsiders saw as “double trouble”—two kids too tough for most folks to raise—turned out in actuality to be an unusual kind of gift—an advantage that arose from the coupling of differences.
Let me give an example: Jethro has a very hard time focusing on tasks that are routine. His dad says that he has the wiring of a hunter (which is good when he’s “hunting”—for a snack from the refrigerator; for a dropped coin,). Jethro’s hunting style comes in handy when his sister, Huyen, is struggling to tell her brother important things.
“Jetra, agh nee poda” gets translated lickety-split after a search of his mind file for words that sound sort of like what his sister is saying.
“Jethro, I need to use the potty.” Of course, that’s an easy one. When they’ve got a few words strung along an imaginary string that don’t make sense, Jethro plays a simple version of twenty questions. “Sounds like.” He’s glad his mom taught him some sign language and he’s passing on what he knows to Huyen, who picks it up with a little squeal of delight, signing back.
Huyen has greater confidence that she will find the words when her adored big brother is around. Thus, his presence in her life gives her a will to persevere. And Huyen’s presence in Jethro’s life gives Jethro the motivation to focus.
Through games, liabilities can be transformed into happy assets as siblings are invited to play through their struggles as they help each other along.
Sometimes one plus one doesn’t equal a number at all. It equals a winning combination, as anyone who has experienced the power of teamwork knows. Cooperation is born of our differences—from the mainstream, from one another. It is the necessary social skill that rises up as a response to a fact: Each and every one of us is a unique and unrepeatable being. Mobs may march, and marauders prowl, but people, at their best, co-create.
So if you’re looking for a meaningful gift to give during this season of holidays and holy days, grab a card and scribble a note that goes something like this:
“I promise to give you the very best gift of all: (Fill in the blank: An hour…a day…a lifetime) of my creativity and cooperation.”
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