Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs Read Online Free
Author: Jack Canfield
further negative comments.
This angry new patient returned to group week after week, and with John’s encouragement and guidance, he began to share his fear, pain, and frustration. John was a powerful role model for this patient. He extended hope and encouragement that he, too, might move forward with life plans by learning to live with his disability.
John was on my rotation for eight weeks. During that time, we worked closely together and began to develop what would later become a lasting friendship. He told me that, at age seventeen, he and a group of friends went swimming at a local rock quarry. He dove in and hit the bottom, breaking his neck. John talked about his struggles to cope with his family’s reactions and the drastic changes this single event made in his young life.
When I voiced my own fears about becoming disabled, he made a profound comment. He said, “Jo, a person can be more disabled by their fears than I will ever be by my physical challenges. The most important lesson I learned during my recovery is the difference between a disability and a handicap. A disability means the loss of part or all functional ability of certain parts of one’s body. Handicaps are the roadblocks other people, and in some cases our own minds, put in the way of people with disabilities who are trying to live normal lives.”
John went on to say, “I can’t get out of bed or even roll over without the help of my attendant. Once I am in my chair, I can do almost everything for myself. My life is more challenging, and I have to be creative in solving life’s problems. But, as long as I remain hopeful, anything is possible.”
John went on to receive a master’s degree in social work. He used his talents by working at the Center for Independent Living, counseling others with significant physical disabilities.
John taught me a lot during the course of our affiliation. The true significance of his gift was not realized until the birth of my youngest son, born thirteen weeks premature. Soon after his birth, Vincent was diagnosed with an eye condition called retinopathy of prematurity. This condition can result in total blindness. Four eye surgeries later, the doctor told us, “We were able to save some of Vincent’s central vision, but he is still legally blind.” This was a devastating blow to our family.
When Vincent was two, we noticed that he didn’t seem to respond when we spoke to him. A trip to the audiologist revealed that he had severe hearing loss in both ears. Vincent also has a chronic lung disease, a reflux disorder, and several other physical conditions that greatly delayed his development. With the discovery of each disability, I grieved as any parent would. Then I thought about John and what he taught me about the difference between being disabled and handicapped. I vowed not to become a handicap to my son.
Vincent has limitations, but compensates well. He can run, ride a bicycle, and swim like a fish. He is a high-spirited child with a wonderful sense of humor. His love of life gives him the determination to laugh at himself and keep on trying. The hope John instilled in me the day he shared his own experience has been a source of strength for me each time Vincent faces new challenges. This hope keeps me focused on Vincent’s “other abilities” rather than his disabilities. I am constantly amazed by his tenacity and determination, but, then, I had John for a teacher, and he taught me well.
Jo Clancy
Jo Clancy, LCSW, received a bachelor’s degree in psychology in 1985. She completed a master’s degree in social work in 1987. Jo is employed full-time in the Trauma Recovery Program at the Houston Veterans Affairs Medical Center. Her specialty areas include anger management, relapse prevention, and psychiatric trauma. She dedicates her story to the memory of John Parker, her teacher and friend.
The Miracle of Jay-Jay
A ge does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent,
This angry new patient returned to group week after week, and with John’s encouragement and guidance, he began to share his fear, pain, and frustration. John was a powerful role model for this patient. He extended hope and encouragement that he, too, might move forward with life plans by learning to live with his disability.
John was on my rotation for eight weeks. During that time, we worked closely together and began to develop what would later become a lasting friendship. He told me that, at age seventeen, he and a group of friends went swimming at a local rock quarry. He dove in and hit the bottom, breaking his neck. John talked about his struggles to cope with his family’s reactions and the drastic changes this single event made in his young life.
When I voiced my own fears about becoming disabled, he made a profound comment. He said, “Jo, a person can be more disabled by their fears than I will ever be by my physical challenges. The most important lesson I learned during my recovery is the difference between a disability and a handicap. A disability means the loss of part or all functional ability of certain parts of one’s body. Handicaps are the roadblocks other people, and in some cases our own minds, put in the way of people with disabilities who are trying to live normal lives.”
John went on to say, “I can’t get out of bed or even roll over without the help of my attendant. Once I am in my chair, I can do almost everything for myself. My life is more challenging, and I have to be creative in solving life’s problems. But, as long as I remain hopeful, anything is possible.”
John went on to receive a master’s degree in social work. He used his talents by working at the Center for Independent Living, counseling others with significant physical disabilities.
John taught me a lot during the course of our affiliation. The true significance of his gift was not realized until the birth of my youngest son, born thirteen weeks premature. Soon after his birth, Vincent was diagnosed with an eye condition called retinopathy of prematurity. This condition can result in total blindness. Four eye surgeries later, the doctor told us, “We were able to save some of Vincent’s central vision, but he is still legally blind.” This was a devastating blow to our family.
When Vincent was two, we noticed that he didn’t seem to respond when we spoke to him. A trip to the audiologist revealed that he had severe hearing loss in both ears. Vincent also has a chronic lung disease, a reflux disorder, and several other physical conditions that greatly delayed his development. With the discovery of each disability, I grieved as any parent would. Then I thought about John and what he taught me about the difference between being disabled and handicapped. I vowed not to become a handicap to my son.
Vincent has limitations, but compensates well. He can run, ride a bicycle, and swim like a fish. He is a high-spirited child with a wonderful sense of humor. His love of life gives him the determination to laugh at himself and keep on trying. The hope John instilled in me the day he shared his own experience has been a source of strength for me each time Vincent faces new challenges. This hope keeps me focused on Vincent’s “other abilities” rather than his disabilities. I am constantly amazed by his tenacity and determination, but, then, I had John for a teacher, and he taught me well.
Jo Clancy
Jo Clancy, LCSW, received a bachelor’s degree in psychology in 1985. She completed a master’s degree in social work in 1987. Jo is employed full-time in the Trauma Recovery Program at the Houston Veterans Affairs Medical Center. Her specialty areas include anger management, relapse prevention, and psychiatric trauma. She dedicates her story to the memory of John Parker, her teacher and friend.
The Miracle of Jay-Jay
A ge does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent,
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