Seldom do we view them as broken, especially if they appear to be well. Counting their fingers and toes, we equate normalcy with 10, and expect that they’ll thrive like every other child.
But it’s not that simple. Life never is. And 10 doesn’t mean what it used to. We know how to fix scraped knees and cut fingers, but what about crippled hearts and sprained thoughts? What about infected fears and blistered dreams? Why don’t pharmacies carry band aids and ointments for these? When brokenness is out of sight, who notices it before it’s too late? And when is it too late?
Over time I have learned that normalcy is overrated and brokenness is pervasive.
Rich DuBose writes from Northern California.