A baby in Alabama was born without a nose, which the doctors called an extremely rare birth defect. Despite that proclamation, the mother has declared the baby — shown in photos to be a sweet little fellow indeed — perfect.
I must agree with her because he is, like every child, the result of a miracle — the union of sperm and egg imbued with an ineffable spark provided by God.
I thought about perfect children on Easter Sunday when my husband and I traveled to South Carolina to meet our friends for Mass. The mother had joked ahead of time that if we craved a peaceful experience, we could sit by ourselves — or join them in their regular pew for something a bit more chaotic.
Of course, we opted for the latter because what would a holiday be without a touch of chaos? To my left was their little girl, 7, wearing a frothy, yellow dress along with a lacy veil and frilly socks. She kept her eyes demurely on her prayer book except for the occasional moment when I would steal a glance at her and we would both smile.
Her brother, 13, kept up a steady hum of clicking sounds as he bounced happily back and forth on the kneelers. This child, you see, was born with Down syndrome and also developed autism, so he is not one to sit quietly, no matter where he is.
Many folks proclaim the world would be a better place if babies with genetic defects had never been born, but I’ve witnessed that such children can be carriers of God’s grace — and their presence often changes a family for the better.
We have other friends who adopted a baby born with part of her brain missing. The child, now 8, cannot speak, walk or see, and takes nourishment through a feeding tube. Yet the parents — and the other three children — have lovingly nicknamed her “Queenie” because she rules their hearts.
When you see this little girl in her wheelchair at church, you’ll notice how her parents and siblings take such tender care of her. She is neither a problem to be solved nor a tragedy to be endured, but instead a blessing who helps expand the hearts of everyone around her.
I confess that in the past I’ve shaken my head sadly and told parents of such children, “Wow, what a big cross you have! I don’t know how you do it.” But they usually smile mysteriously and assure me these children, who are God’s gifts, come with an abundance of grace.
I still believe it takes the patience of a saint to tend a grown child still in diapers, and it will require remarkable skill and determination to care for that little fellow born without a nose.
And, yes, maybe some would call these children crosses, but that simply means they’re signposts to heaven. They are a reminder that we all are broken, fallen and imperfect in our own ways, but still worthy of love.
They also are a testimony that all life is precious, no matter how humble or flawed. Let’s pray that we never see a world where they aren’t allowed to exist.
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