Tonight my friend and fellow mom of a child with trisomy-18 shared horrific news. Maybe you have heard? A six-year-old child with special needs died on her way to school. The bumpy roads of the bus moved her into a slumped position that caused her suffocation. The bus monitor apparently was on the phone with ear buds in.
Can you imagine?
I am on my phone around Wylie, too. She can be lying on the couch beside me and I turn to find her gazing at my face, looking for my eyes. I am struck every time. Stupid phone. Stupid, stupid phone.
Or is it stupid me?
With Wylie being non-verbal, I know that she and people like her need someone to pay attention in order for communication to be possible. How seriously do I take this responsibility and the opportunities I have to listen and respond?
As in so many other circumstances, Wylie gives me a stark example of what is true for all my children. They are looking for my eyes. They need me to see them.
Really there are so many with no voice. They are not just those like this sweet one on her way to school or our Wylie girl who cannot speak. Voiceless people are not always so easily identified.
Yet, if we are willing to listen, maybe we will get to hear. And we need to check and really see, because there are certainly a lot of bumps in the road.
